Page 40 of Hex You

“Night-nights,” said Mercy. She watched her sister disappear up the stairs before she turned to Khenti. “Are you up for some research?”

“Absolutely. But what is an internet?”

SIXTEEN

Hunter had no intention of taking a bath. She hid at the top of the stairs, around the corner from the bathroom, and waited until Xena turned off the tap and padded out of the room and down the hall, steam trailing behind her like wings, before Hunter dashed to her closed bedroom door and turned the handle.

“Kitten, your bath is all warm and bubbly and ready for you,” Xena said from behind Hunter, her slippered human feet as silent as cat paws.

“I’m not a bath person, Xena.” Hunter groaned and released the door handle. “It’s the human soup of it all. With your hairs and sock fuzz floating around you…” She grimaced. “I can ground myself in my room.” She pushed open her door, the lowcreakof old hinges punctuating her statement.

Xena narrowed her yellow eyes and tilted her head. “Kitten—”

“I’m fine, Xena. Promise,” Hunter said, slipping into her room before the cat person rubbed her all-too-human tongue against her cheek. “I just need to rest.”

Satisfied, Xena shrugged out of her fluffy robe, revealing smooth, pinkish-white skin the same color as her soft cat belly. “Mustn’t let the warm, bubbly water go to waste.” She plucked the robe off the floor, tossed it over her shoulder, and vanished into the bathroom, another ghostly wave of steam rushing from the humid space as she closed the door.

With a sigh, Hunter leaned against her own closed door. She bit her lip, her hand hovering over the lock. She didn’t lock her door, not normally, not in this house, and not when she’d stayed in the Ashleys’ garage apartment. Had she been better at securing her space, she might still be there. But that didn’t mean she needed to lockthisdoor. No matter how annoying her sister’s past unwelcome, unannounced visits to talk boys or clothes or plants or spells, they had also been a comfort.

Will I ever find comfort in Mercy again?

Hunter backed away from the unlocked door and dropped onto the edge of her bed. She was home. To stay. The thought tugged on her throat, and she stifled a cough. Yes, this was the house she grew up in, and this was the room she’d once painted mauve and then green and finally the deep, unending navy of the night sky. But this house, this room, still held the same coldness it had all those days ago when she’d made her escape, dragging her duffle behind her down to the first floor, the sound of her exit like a body falling down stairs.

I can’t stay.

This time, it had nothing to do with her sister. Pushing Mag aside, finding fault with everything she did, holding on to grudges like friendships, had nearly destroyed them both. Hunter wouldn’t make the same mistakes again. She also wouldn’t stay in a place that hindered her growth. She wouldn’t sacrifice herself for the sake of history—just to write in her grimoire that she’d chained herself to Goodeville to keep its people and the Goode magic safe. Mercy could do that. Mercywoulddo that. Hunter didn’t have to…

She could be free.

A lightness filled her stomach, a balloon swelling with helium, floating up, up, up until she was standing, only tethered to the ground by the shoes on her feet.

“I can leave,” she said to the room, to the house, to her god. “I can start over. Go to Chicago. I can do…” She pressed her palm over her heart to keep it from beating out of her chest. “I can do whatever I want. I cangowherever I want.”

She darted to the maple desk that sat under the picture window and dropped onto her chair. Switching on the full moon lamp Mercy had given her last Yule, Hunter opened the top drawer, wiggling it a bit so the old, warped wood wouldn’t wedge itself into an impossible-to-close position. An oversized pad of lined neon-pink Post-its sat on top of a stack of completed journals. She picked up the notepad, her fingers sweeping over the top journal, silver crescents pressed into a glittering silver cover. This journal, just like the four beneath, was full, every page covered in ink. But she still had yet to complete her manuscript. She had barely thought about it, much less worked on it, since her mother died.

“That’s what I’ll do.” Again, she spoke to forces bigger than herself. “I’ll find a coffee shop in Chicago and finally finish my book.”

Stomach warm and filled with joy, she closed the drawer and chose a silver metallic pen the same color as moonlight on water from the holder on her desk. She would get to work planning the rest of her life as soon as she took care of the present, or, at least, the very near future.

heal the gates

stop the trail of goo creature

fixhelp Kylie/tell the truth/undo the spell

identify the trail of goo creature

She chewed on the end of her pen and studied the list, the metallic ink glinting in the light. It was out of order, and a disorganized list was as bad as no list at all.

identify the trail of goo creature

help Kylie/tell the truth/undo the spell

stop the trail of goo creature

heal the gates

leave Goodeville and start my life