The Secret Life of a Witch 2 (Mystic Willow Bay, Witches 2)

Huh?

“He should be dead,” Hunter mutters from the other side of me.

I grit my teeth, turning to face him. “Great, you’re still alive.”

“Aw, Eva, I’d be hurt if I didn’t know you really don’t mean that,” he jokes, his fingers grazing the back of my arm.

I jerk away and roll over to get some distance between us before facing him again. “Don’t touch me.” Then I trip to my feet, brushing the bits of gravel and dirt off my legs. “In fact, don’t ever touch me again.” I start to storm off down the street, but the memory of the scream has me slowing to a confused stop. I glance around at the silent street, my gaze traveling to the shut doors, broken windows, and the crooked rooftops. “Where did that scream come from?”

“From Carter.” Hunter moves up behind me, lightly skimming his finger along my lower back.

“I said don’t touch me.” I say that, yet I make no effort to move forward as I turn my head to meet his gaze. “The scream was from the demon?”

Hunter nods. “He was in pain.”

“Why?”

“Because he was dying.”

“Again, why?” I gesture for him to get along with it. “Come on, dude; you gotta give me something because, right now, I’m freakin’ out and am seriously one step away from running from you again.”

His hand darts out and snatches ahold of my wrist. “Don’t.” When I wince in pain, he frowns. “What’s wrong?”

“You hurt my wrist early when you grabbed me,” I tell him bitterly. “You know, when you showed your true evil colors and tried to force me into a demon’s arms.”

Remorse fills Hunter’s eyes, but all he says is, “Quit being overdramatic.”

I wrench my arm free from his hold and run backward away from him. “You know what? I’m out of here.”

When he stands there, watching me run away from him instead of chasing me, I know something’s wrong. Then, when he whips out his wand and points it at me, I instantly know why.

I increase my speed and move to zigzag around, searching for a place to hide. “Don’t you dare—”

Undiluted heat slams against my back, and my legs lock up as I tip over like a falling tree. Right before I greet the pavement with a kiss, my body rises and levitates in the air with my arms and legs immobilized, facing downward.

“Seriously?” I grunt. “You hit me with a freezing spell? After I just came out of a petrifying curse?”

Hunter’s boots appear in my line of vision, and then he trails his fingers up and down my spine. Normally, the touch would send me into giddy girl, lovey, dovey land. Now, I simply shiver. Or, well, I think about shivering, but my body remains frozen due to the spell.

“I’m sorry, but it’s for the best.” I feel him press the tip of his wand against the back of my neck. “And so is this.”

“Hunter …” I plead, unsure of what he’s going to do to me, yet knowing it can’t be good. “Please don’t. I’m sorry for trying to run away, okay? I won’t do it again.”

Disregarding my whining, he mumbles the incantation to the sleep spell, causing sparkling heat to glisten across my skin, kissing my fingertips, my toes, my lips …

I let out a soft, exhausted purr before my eyelids lower as the spell overtakes me and whisks me away to dreamland.

Chapter Seven

Please don’t let this be happening. Please. I don’t want to wake up and see the crazy Hunter. I want this to all be a dream. I want to go back to when Ryleigh was alive. Back to when my life was boring and normal. Back to when I was boring and normal.

“Eva,” a lovely voice graces my ears. “Can you hear me?”

I blink my eyes open to see wispy clouds lazily floating across a glittering purple sky. It is so breathtaking that it instantly makes me feel calm and at peace. But then wariness sweeps through my body as the clouds shift and begin to trickle downward, like a dripping watercolor painting.

I cover my head with my arms as the drops of clouds splatter across my skin like paint.

“What the hell?”

I turn in a circle, trying to figure out where the bleep I am.

A grass field surrounds me, and in the distance, trees rise to the smeared sky. The area carries a vague amount of familiarity, but I can’t place why.

“Why am I here?” I turn in a circle, searching for any sign of life.

“Eva …” A shadow of a woman materializes in front of me. “Eva, can you hear me?” Her voice is distorted, but is clear enough that I recognize it.

I race through the grass toward her. “Ryleigh, can you hear me?”

The shadow grows vibrant until I can see her clearly. She looks like she did when she was dead: long, blonde hair lily white; her big, blue eyes bloodshot; and her golden tan pale. But she looks lovely, nonetheless.

“Eva, I need you,” she whispers, extending her hand toward me. Drops of blood drip from her hand and splatter across the grass. “Eva, please help me … Save me … I can’t survive here …”

I stop in front of her and reach out to touch her. But my fingers slip right through her.

I frown. “What’s going on …?” I peer around. “Why are we here, in this strange place …?” I look back at her. “Why can’t I touch you?”

She shakes her head, her hair blowing in the wind as the ground ripples. “I can’t tell you … I don’t even know how I got here … Please… This place … where I am …” She shudders as her eyes glide across the grass and trees enclosing us. “It’s so cold and dark, and …” She swallows hard as she looks back at me. “The demons … They’re going to make me do awful things.” She stares down at the blood on her hands.

Tears burn at the corners of my eyes as I reach out to touch her again. Like the first time, my fingers again move right through her.

“There was a demon—I didn’t catch his name—but he was supposed to get you and bring you to me,” I tell her. “We have a deal.”

“You made a deal with a demon?” She shakes her head, causing strands of hair to move around her face like snakes. “How could you do that, Eva?”

“I did it for you!” I panic as she begins to fade in and out. “It was the only way I could think to save you without going into the underground tunnels myself?” I step toward her, the dry grass hissing against my legs. “But maybe I should just go by myself? I mean, I know the entrance is at The Illuminating Horror House of Truth. I could just go there and sneak in. It might be better than trusting a demon, right?”

“No!” Her sharp voice echoes across the land, causing birds to scatter from the trees. “You can’t go to that place, no matter what happens.” She gives me a pressingly urgent look. “Promise me, Eva. Promise me that, no matter what, you’ll never step foot in that place. That you’ll find another way to save me.”

I open my mouth to promise her, but the words get stuck on my tongue. “I can’t do that, not when you’re trapped there.” I shift my weight as guilt bears down on me. But the guilt is mild in comparison to the thought of letting my sister remain with

demons. “If the demon I made the deal with doesn’t come through”—a shaky exhale slips from my lips—“then I need to save you myself.”

“No!” She reaches out as she’s hauled backward.

I scream, running after her, but the sky chooses that moment to explode and rain down on me.

Instead of splattering like paint this time, the drops tear into my skin like sharp fragments of glass. Blood oozes from the wounds on my arms, shoulders, and face, while drenching my shirt. The branding hot pain has my legs giving out on me, and I buckle to the dirt.

“Ryleigh!” I cry out as I squint through the pieces of glass-like drops raining from the quivering sky.

I can’t see through the blood seeping from my head and dripping down into my eyes.

Chapter Eight

The pain in my skin calms as the ground below me softens. Suddenly, I feel so at peace, blissfully content. Why? Aren’t I bleeding from the strange raining glass?

What the hell …?

My eyelids shoot open, and I bolt upright. Then blood rushes from my head, and I promptly fall back onto a mattress. On edge, I look around at the purple walls that make up my bedroom, the window where moonlight streams in, and then my gaze drops to my arms.

My jaw drops.

After what happened, I thought I’d look like I’d been tangoing with a paper shredder, but my skin is smooth and free of cuts and blood.

“It was just a dream.” I sigh. “Great, now I’m even talking to dead bodies in my dreams.” I wonder what that means?

I gaze up at the magical glow of the bright stars on my ceiling, pondering what happened. One star shoots across my room, and I smile, remembering when Hunter cast the illusion spell for me when we had moved in. He had done it in my old bedroom, too, for my birthday.

“So that you’ll always be able to fall asleep under the night sky,” he said as he stood on my bed and painted the ceiling with constellations and shooting stars.