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"Um... Yeah," I say confusedly. "I just wasn't watching where I was going."
She fiddles with a crescent moon-shaped pendant dangling around her neck as she assesses me with her startling turquoise eyes. “What are you? I can’t read you at all? Do you have a shield on you or something?”
And people think I’m crazy?
Deciding to ignore her, I swing to the side to go around her. “Sorry I ran into you,” I apologize again, then move to hightail it out of there.
But she reaches out and snags my arm. “Did the coven send you after me? Because I’m not going back.” My skin sizzles as she grips my arm. “I won’t ever go back to that hellhole.” She growls. “I want to stay a huntress. It’s what I’m good at. The gift… It bleeds in my bones.”
My skin grows so scorching I feel like I’m blistering from the inside out.
What the hell is happening? Who is this person? And what in the crap is she rambling about?
"I don't know what you're talking about." I jerk my arm out of her grasp, and the heat leaves my body. But coldness replaces it, an icy chill glazing inside me. "I'm going to leave now. " I start to walk away when she lets out the most blood-curdling scream I've ever heard.
“Darkness!” She throws her hands over her ears, staring right at me. “You’re evil! A monster! Get out of my head!”
And that’s about when I say peace out, fleeing the area and running like mad toward my house, leaving Miss Pink Haired Crazy Pants behind. But her screaming chases me for at least another mile.
Haven
I’m late. Of course I am. I didn’t stand a chance after I ran into that crazy woman. I’m beyond frustrated and kind of weirded out. Yeah, the woman seemed off her rocker, but that’s not the first time someone has called me evil or a monster.
I’ve heard it tons of times. I’ve just never had a random stranger throw such hate at me before. Did she somehow know about what I did to Mia? It’s been years since I crossed paths with someone who remembers that awful day, but it’d explain her reaction to me.
Sort of…
The town clock chimes the next hour, tearing me from my worries and making me focus on another much bigger problem.
Summoning a deep breath, I twist the doorknob and walk into the single-story house that reeks like old shoes.
Tina, my foster mother, is waiting for me in the living room. Her frizzy hair is pulled back into a ponytail, her arms are crossed, and her expression is filled with irritation. But that’s just Tina.
“You’re late,” she says to me with her eyes narrowed. “Tardiness is a sin.”
I close the front door behind me.
The curtains are all shut, so the atmosphere is dark—it always is. And the walls are covered in crosses and framed religious quotes. The first time I walked into this house, the sight made me uneasy. I soon learned why, that I could sense the darkness living within these walls.
“Sorry,” I tell her as I hand her the sack with flour in it.
She’d sent me to the store to pick it up because her husband had requested biscuits with his dinner tonight. And she always makes him what he requests, I think because she's afraid of him. And she has a good reason to be. The man is a straight-up asshole, evil hidden behind a mask that no one else seems to be able to see.
But I see it. All the damn time.
She snatches the bag from me. “Sorry isn’t going to help me get these biscuits done in time, is it?”
"No," I grit my teeth as she glares at me. "I really am sorry. There was this construction spot, and they had the sidewalk blocked off, so I had to go around it," I try to lie.
“You’re such a bad liar.” She points a finger at the door that leads to the basement. “Go. Now. And think about your sins.”
I ball my hands into fists, fighting back the urge to scream at her. But I want to. Dammit, do I want to. "Please don't make me do this again. I hate… I hate the dark. It makes me anxious." That part is true.
It started the day I hurt Mia. Darkness had been a big part of that day—had been all of it.
Memories of that day try to surface, but I shove them back, refusing to remember what happened—what I did.
“You know the rules,” Tina snaps, continuing to point at the door. “Tardiness is a sin in this house.”
