So Rebecca draws from celestial bodies, Julia draws from others’ life forces… “Any other types of witches I should be worried about?”
“My coven had all kinds. Green witches, sea witches…and there are certainly more I haven’t met.” She pauses, watching me. “A sanguine witch is the most powerful, and there are—were—only a few of us in the world, in case you’re wondering.”
The thought of even one other witch like Julia is enough to make me shiver.
If Riley really is a witch, I wonder what kind she is. Not that she should matter to me anymore.
“How many were in your coven before your, um…nap?” I ask.
She shoots me a glare at my word choice. “Nine, but it fluctuated as members came and went.”
The unknown state of her coven hangs between us. Over a hundred years of comings and goings. Even for a murderous witch, that has to hurt.
“How long do witches live?”
The bus stops, and the doors hiss open. An old woman wearing a lot of layers and carrying two shopping bags hobbles aboard.
“Hundreds of years, if we’re prudent,” Julia replies. “Most aren’t. Violence finds us more often than old age.”
Another silence. In other words, almost everyone she knew is probably gone, one way or another.
As much as this is literally the worst thing to ever happen to me, it’s clear that this is even worse for Julia. At least I haven’t woken up in a different time period, unsure if everyone I know is dead or alive.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly.
She scoffs. “For what?”
“I’m just sorry for what you’re going through.”
She doesn’t respond.
Another semi-truck roars past, and this time, she doesn’t flinch. Progress.
“Thanks for telling me all this,” I say, oddly touched by her honesty.
She lets out a low laugh, watching me with those unsettling eyes. “A word of warning, Hannah. In matters of witches and magic, be careful what you dig into. The more you learn about our world, the harder it becomes to pretend you’re still innocent.”
I scoff. “I was never innocent.”
I’m not sure why I said it. I guess I don’t want her to think I’m some sheltered little flower who can’t handle whatever we’re up against.
“No?” Her tone is amused. “You threw yourself between me and a stranger tonight. That’s either innocent or incredibly foolish.”
“It’s called having a conscience.”
“Hm, a luxury I can’t afford. Neither can you, if you want to survive what’s coming.”
We turn a corner, and the force bumps me against Julia. I keep my gaze ahead, ignoring the tingle under my skin.
“I’ll take my chances with my moral compass, thanks.”
“How noble. Tell me, does your moral compass account for the fact that you enjoyed it?”
My hands tighten on the back of the seat in front of me. “Enjoyed what?”
“You know what I’m talking about.”
“That was—” It’s suddenly way too hot in here. I shift, keeping a few inches of space between us. “It’s the binding spell.”
