When I sense him enter the room, I stand silently and wait for the perfect moment to strike. He doesn’t come any closer, though, much to my disappointment. Instead, he heads upstairs. I’m tempted to follow him, but I stay where I am, letting sparks of electricity tingle over my fingers.
It feels like a lifetime before he stomps downstairs, sounding pissed. “Where the fuck is the little bitch?” he hisses. Maybe he thinks I’m not here. Or perhaps he’s just not scared of me.
Time to change that.
As soon as he steps into the room, I zap him. His whole body locks up before it starts to seize. I pull my power back and smile when he drops to the floor, his eyes wide with terror.
The lamp clicks on, illuminating the area around us. “Hello, Dale.”
“What did you do to me?”
“Don’t tell me my father didn’t tell you what I’m capable of?”
He swallows. He knows what I am. I’m just not sure he believed it before now.
“You have to be all kinds of stupid to frame a witch. I mean, I’ve spent fifteen years learning everything I could and honing my craft for this very moment. I knew you’d come. You couldn’t risk the truth getting out, even if the chances of people believing me were slim. Someone might, and that would plant seeds of doubt.
“See, I finally get it—why the people around here are so wary of me, or act like I have the plague. I assumed, naively, that it was my father’s doing. And perhaps that is the truth, in part. But it was more than that, wasn’t it? People were scared of me because of my heritage. Of course, I was oblivious to it all. But I sure found a lot of interesting things to read while I was incarcerated, including the history of this town and its part in the witch trials. Ironic, really, that most of the women burned were nothing but regular women, framed by fragile-minded men because they couldn’t handle a woman being stronger or smarter or indeed braver than they were. Sound familiar?”
He whimpers, his eyes darting around the room looking for help. But nobody is coming to save him. It’s a feeling I’m all too acquainted with.
“They were right about one woman, though. A Hart ancestor of mine was hanged for being a witch. She left behind three daughters. One fled to protect her unborn child. Two went on to kill the man responsible for their mother’s death, which resulted in them being hanged too. And do you know who this man was?”
He stares at me, but I wait him out, demanding an answer.
“Their father,” he states with a knowledge that lets me know he’s far more aware of this town’s history than I ever was.
“Was that part of the plan? To play into history? There was a precedent set after all. You failed to remember what came next, though, didn’t you? Because when your ancestors hangedDorothy Hart, she left more behind than just her daughters. She left behind a curse, tying the land to her bloodline. To my bloodline. Is that why my father kept my mother’s last name? Did he think he could trick the curse somehow?”
His mouth opens in shock as his eyes flutter, thinking back to all the text he’d skated over. It’s the same kind of small-minded bigots you see twisting the Bible, picking out passages that fit their agenda while disregarding the parts that contradict their ideologies. Idiots. For every person who finds peace in their faith, you’ll find two more who will twist that same faith just to declare war.
“Crops started to fail, the birth rate declined, and people fell on hard times. See a pattern? But then that third sister gave birth to a little girl of her own. Only she died before she could warn her daughter about this place. I can only imagine the draw she felt to come here. I felt it every day of my life, even when this place was my own personal hell. I wish to god she never came back. If she’d have fought her feelings and never returned, it would have withered and died. You’d have all gotten exactly what you deserved, and I’d have been spared all this bullshit. My mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother felt like they owed this place something, even when it drained them dry. Not me. I’m gonna be the one to break the cycle, even if I have to burn this town to ash.”
I bend down, tracing my fingers over his face. The electricity crackles over my fingertips, making him cry out.
“You’re a monster,” he spits.
“You came to kill me, even knowing the town would die too. What kind of monster does that make you?” I lean down and let my lips hover ever so slightly over his. “Tell the devil I said hi.”
I press my hand to his heart and let my power loose, swallowing his screams as the lights flicker around us in afrenzy. When his heart stops, and I’ve consumed his last breath, I get to my feet with a smile and call the police.
Chapter Eleven
Isit in the backseat of Officer Asshole Andrews’s cruiser, ignoring the pain in my wrists from the cuffs. I won’t give anyone the pleasure of seeing my discomfort. Part of me hoped that Shepard would come. I’d thought about calling his number instead of the station, but decided I needed to keep this as clean as possible.
I let my eyes drift closed and consider taking a nap, as it doesn’t seem like they’re in any rush to take me to the station. Once it became clear I was going to be arrested, which I hoped wouldn’t happen, but assumed would, I asked to call my lawyer. I was promptly denied. The thought of Jen losing her shit over this made it tricky to keep from grinning, which, given the circumstances, I figured wouldn’t be wise.
I hear another vehicle approach and sigh, wondering when this circus will be over. This was not how I thought I’d spend my second night here, and I can feel how antsy the house is getting.
When the car door is yanked open, I jolt in surprise at Shepard’s pissed-off expression.
“What happened?”
I blow a stray hair from my face, but before I can answer, Officer Asshole Andrews and his sidekick Hostile Hollis walk up to Shepard.
“Sir. I told dispatch not to call you in unless necessary, as I know you aren’t due on for hours.”
“In cases of homicide, it’s all hands on deck. You know that, so imagine my surprise to find myself out of the loop.”
