Chapter Three
“Please tell me you didn’t say that, Had,” my mom said as she put a plate down in front of me. “Jackson’s an elder and deserves your respect. He could mean the difference between your tapping in to your heritage or letting your craft fizzle out. And besides, what he’s teaching you could actually save your butt one day.”
We were sitting at the kitchen table, a pepperoni-and-onion pizza between us, the cheese hot and gooey. I’d been so fired up about what had happened at the meeting that I’d made the mistake of participating in some mother/daughter share time before dinner. You’d think I’d have learned by now: when in doubt, fill your mouth with cheese so you can’t get yourself into trouble with your mom.
“But, Mom, he asked me a question and all I did was answer. I wasn’t being disrespectful . . . I was just being honest,” I said between bites. “And isn’t it you who always says that honesty’s the best policy?”
Mom tilted her head at me, not at all amused with my ability to argue about anything. In this case, however, I didn’t have the power to convince her to see things my way. I wasn’t sure if it was the familial lineage or that her magical skills were simply stronger than mine, but what usually worked to my advantage on others fell flat whenever she was around. It was a minor setback that I was constantly working to rectify. In the meantime, it was just plain annoying.
“Hadley Anne Bishop, you know that’s not what I meant. Yes, you should tell the truth, but not if it means being rude,” she said. “I’ve seen you around your friends and classmates and you’d never talk to them that way. If one of your friends was having a bad hair day, you wouldn’t say they looked like they’d been hit with the ugly stick, would you?”
“There’s an ugly stick?” I asked, suddenly interested in where this conversation was going.
Mom’s eyebrows knit together in frustration. My face fell as I realized there was no magic wand out there that granted or took away beauty.
But what if there were . . .
“Don’t even think about it, Hadley,” she warned. My mouth dropped open, a piece of pepperoni falling to my plate. She’d managed to read my mind again.
I have to stop letting her sneak in like that.
“I don’t understand why you’re so amicable with your friends, but when it comes to the rest of us—your family and coven—you’re so . . . combative.”
“I’m not combative,” I mumbled. But I knew it was true. For some reason when it came to other witches, I simply didn’t hold back. Why was that? Maybe because they knew all my secrets? There was definitely something a little scary about someone really knowing you. And the truth was, the kids at school—even my good girlfriends—didn’t really know me. Well, not the whole me, at least.
“Case in point,” my mom said. “And in this case, you’re wrong.”
“I’m just thinking rationally. Look, Mom, you know I don’t believe in this whole prepare-to-die, epic good-versus-evil battle stuff. I know you and Dad and the other elders want me to think the same way as you, but I’m sorry, I just don’t. I stopped believing in the boogeyman a long time ago, and as far as I’m concerned, the Parrishables are just one big boogeyman. They don’t exist. And until I have proof that they do, I’d rather be worrying about something else,” I said.
My mom closed her eyes and tried to control her breathing. “For a girl who’s usually so smart, you’re incredibly naive sometimes, Hadley,” she said.
The comment caught me by surprise and my blood began to boil with anger.
“I’m not the naive one here. You are,” I spat. “Look, I agree that what the Parrishables did to our family and others over the past three hundred years sucks. At one point, they were a real threat, and if I’d been alive back then I would have taken them all out. But living our lives always looking over our shoulders when there’s not even any proof they’re still a threat? I just think there are better things I could be doing with my time. Things that actually matter.”
“And you don’t think that what Bridget Bishop went through matters?” she asked, her voice raising an octave.
“Of course it matters,” I answered, thinking about the dream I’d had the night before, and the feeling of the rope around Bridget’s neck. I swallowed hard to clear the lump that had suddenly formed in my throat. “But that was then and this is now. And news flash: we’re alive now. I believe in living my life to the fullest instead of focusing on the maybes and the what-ifs.”
My mom paused and looked at me suspiciously.
“You’ve been dreaming about her again, haven’t you?” she asked me. “That’s not good, Hadley.”
“Geez, Mom! Get out of my head!” I growled, and started to stomp out of the room in frustration. I was halfway to the door before I whirled around on my red heels and stared hard at her, feeling slightly unhinged. “If you guys want to live in fear, be my guest. But don’t drag me down with you. As far as I’m concerned, you guys are just as crazy as the Parrishables were.”
I heard my mom gasp at the words, but I was already turning and heading out the door.
I was having a really great dream. A great dream about a boy. No, not a boy; he was an almost-man. I think he was in college or something. But those details didn’t really matter. What mattered was that he was hot. Way hotter than that kid in those Twilight movies (and my dream guy was definitely not a vampire; although I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have stopped him if he’d tried to bite me). And he was into me, too.
In the dream, my dark-haired hottie was walking through a crowd of people, his eyes trained on me. I could tell he wanted me by the fact that he wasn’t even looking at any of the other girls he was passing by. At one point, he even walked by Trish, and I could see the disappointment on her face as he ignored her. Not that I was happy that she felt bad . . . it’s just nice when your dream crush actually goes for you instead of your friends.
So, Dreamy McYummykins was making his way toward me, and even though in the back of my mind I knew he was a stranger, I was oddly drawn to him. I also knew with absolute certainty that he was going to kiss me.
And I was going to let him.
I lightly licked my lips in anticipation and prepared for him to take me in his arms and . . .
“Hadley, let’s get to it,” he said, placing his hands firmly on my arm.
“Huh?” I asked, confused. I’d been ready to kiss the guy, but a line like that was the last thing I’d expected to come out of his mouth.
Then he started to shake me, lightly at first, and more firmly when I didn’t do what he said.
“Had, it’s time,” he said again, though the voice sounded farther away from me now.
My eyes fluttered open and suddenly I was no longer looking at my hot, young man-boy.
Nope, I was looking straight into the eyes of . . . my dad.
“Hey, little girl, it’s time to get up,” he whispered to me in the darkened room. “If we want to get that workout in before I have to leave, we need to start in fifteen. You still want to go?”
Shaking the image of my nighttime rendezvous out of my head, I pulled myself up so I was resting on my elbows. “No, yeah, I’ll get up. Just give me a few minutes?”
I watched as my dad padded out of my room, leaving the door open as he left. There was just enough of a glow from the night-light in the hallway for me to see the workout clothes I’d laid out on my chair the night before. I crawled to the foot of my bed and retrieved them, looking back at the clock as I pulled on my sports bra, a pair of shorts, and my sneakers.
Six a.m.
Ugh. If my dad weren’t leaving for three weeks, there’s no way I’d willingly be getting up at this ungodly hour. But it was hard to score time with him as it was, since he was always working late or traveling for business, so I’d take the father-daughter bonding any way I could.
I couldn’t exactly be mad at him for not being around though. My dad runs a nonprofit organization called Empower, which helps battered and abused women get support and restart their lives. Because it’s nonprofit, it means that most of the year he travels from state to state to try to convince various Fortune 500 companies to donate to the cause. My dad’s also a witch, although the other employees at Empower aren’t exactly hip to this fact. But to put it simply, that’s why the company’s so successful. See, Dad shares my powers of persuasion—that’s where I get it from; some people have their parent’s nose or eyes, but my genes are of the magical variety—which comes in handy when you’re asking multibillion-dollar companies to spare a couple hundred grand for a good cause.
Let’s just say he’s very good at what he does.
But this also means that he’s gone more often than he’s home, which brings me back to the reason I was walking through the living room like a zombie at the butt crack of dawn that morning. Working out wasn’t usually a part of my a.m. routine, but when my dad asked, I said yes. Even if my body was screaming, “Go back to bed, you idiot!”
“What torture are you putting us through today?” I yawned as I dragged myself over to where my dad was stretching near the couch. Taking his cue, I grabbed onto my right foot and pulled it behind me until it was resting against my butt. I let out a little groan as I felt the muscles in my thigh stretch like a rubber band.
“I thought we’d start off doing two miles to warm up and then head back for some kickboxing and a cooldown. We’ll be done in just a little over an hour,” he said, looking down at his watch. It was black and plastic and had a stopwatch and heart-rate monitor embedded in it. I’d given it to him as a present when I was nine, and he never took it off. It was a really sweet gesture, but even I knew that it clashed with the suits he wore to meet with potential clients. Yet I think someone would’ve had to pry it off him if they wanted him to change it up. “Don’t worry, Had. We’ll be done in plenty of time for you to get to school.”
“No worries, Daddy,” I said, although part of me was wondering whether I’d be able to perform my usual morning routine and perfect my look before I headed off to class. I didn’t have time to worry about it now though, because Dad was already headed out the front door.
Outside, it was just cool enough to need a light jacket, and the grass and leaves were all dewy, leaving sprinkles of wetness on the backs of my legs as I sprinted off across the lawn. I took a deep breath. There was nothing like the smell of morning. Everything was fresh and clean. For some reason, it was always easier to breathe at this hour. You know, before the heaviness of the day started piling up on you.
I followed behind my dad as he led us out of the neighborhood and onto a trail through the woods at the end of the next block. There were several different paths to get lost on, but he chose the one that would lead us just inside the fold of the trees. Neither of us spoke as we jogged along, enjoying the company and quiet the blanketed woods provided.
Twenty minutes later, we turned onto our block and headed toward home. I surveyed the houses of our neighbors as we ran by, wondering if anyone was awake inside yet. As we passed a brown-and-white house off to our left, I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye. The front door opened soundlessly and a guy walked out and started down the driveway.
He was my age, I guessed, but walked with an ease that most teenagers our age didn’t have. His hair was jet-black, messy, and came to a point at the top of his head in a fading faux-hawk. As my gaze drifted to his face, I was startled by what I saw. His eyes were the color of the sky after a storm and his lips . . .
I became so distracted that my foot caught on an uneven part of the road and I stumbled slightly before resuming my original gait. The guy chuckled quietly before raising his hand and giving me a wave. The gesture was so simple, yet it caught me off guard. I was used to guys keeping their distance. My friends said it was because they were intimidated. The fact that this guy had the balls to act like we were old friends was new territory for me.
“You know him?” my dad asked, raising an eyebrow at me.
I tore my eyes away from the cute guy and focused instead on the pavement where my feet were currently pounding. But even once I’d looked away, I could still picture him.
“Nope,” I answered.
“Must be Ms. Abbott’s nephew,” he said. “Mom mentioned he moved in a few weeks ago.”
“What’s he doing here?” I asked, curious to learn more about our mysterious neighbor.
“No clue,” he said. “You’re lucky I even remembered that. Sometimes when your mom talks about neighborhood gossip I can’t help but tune out. Don’t tell her, though.”
I laughed. We were always teasing Mom behind her back, but it was all in good fun. Only this time I saw the truth in his words. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
“Speaking of Mom,” he said as we lumbered up to our house. “She told me all about your conversation last night.”
I collapsed onto the lawn and breathed in deeply. My lungs felt like they were on fire and my legs had officially turned to Jell-O.
“Let’s be honest,” I said between gasps. “It wasn’t a conversation. It was a full-blown witch hunt.”
Dad joined me on the grass and began to stretch. “Poor choice of words, Had.”
“Well, if the broom fits,” I muttered.
Dad gave me a warning look. I refrained from continuing and instead kept my mouth shut. We’d been having such a great morning and I didn’t want to ruin it with something so stupid.
Taking my silence as a momentary peace offering, Dad got to his feet and helped me to mine. We headed inside and straight down to the gym in the basement. He tossed me my red boxing gloves and began to pull his own on. Once mine were secure around my wrists, I punched them together a few times like the professionals always did in the ring.
“Now remember, keep your arms up near your face and never stop moving,” he said, throwing a half-speed jab at me. I easily blocked the hit and then threw a few of my own, too fast for my dad to avoid. Speed had always been one of my biggest assets when it came to hand-to-hand combat. That and being able to intuit what my opponent’s next move would be. Not that I got into fistfights often, but after more than five years of karate, self-defense, and boxing, I’d managed to learn a thing or two.
My parents had said it was so I could defend myself against the Parrishables or any other coven-on-coven attack that might happen. I agreed to participate because I thought, as a female especially, I should know how to take care of myself. It was a practical skill to have, and it made me feel powerful. Like no one could touch me. And now they couldn’t.
Jab, jab, right hook. Jab, jab, uppercut.
But this thought brought me back to the argument I’d had with Mom and I became instantly annoyed all over again. Part of me didn’t want to bring it up, but I knew my dad was more rational than Mom was and wouldn’t likely blow up on me. “I just don’t understand why everyone thinks the Parrishables are still around,” I said, slightly out of breath.
“Hadley, you know that many of our ancestors were killed by the coven,” Dad said. “Nana used to tell your mom what it was like losing her grandmother at the hands of Samuel’s brood. It was devastating to her. So Mom’s vowed never to let you feel the same grief over losing someone you love. And between you and me, neither of us could handle losing you. So, please, just do whatever she asks, even if you do think it’s a waste of time. Humor your old man, will ya?”
“Do you really think they’ll come back, though?” I asked, throwing a particularly powerful punch his way. “I mean, really, Dad. You’ve got to know this is silly. I think you’re really only teaching me this stuff to fend off the college boys. I’m onto you.”
“Don’t even joke about college boys, Hadley Anne,” he said seriously, dropping his hands to his sides. “And just because you don’t see the Parrishables doesn’t mean they don’t exist. An intelligent man is wise enough to expect the unexpected.”
“Woman,” I corrected. “An intelligent woman is wise enough to expect the unexpected.”
Then I moved forward, closing the space between us within a second, and threw three punches in a row. He wasn’t prepared for the first but managed to block the others.
“I would say I’ve got that covered, wouldn’t you?” I said gleefully before walking over to the counter where he’d placed an ice-cold bottle of water. I pulled off my gloves, then twisted off the top and gulped down the contents in under a minute.
I definitely earned a Krispy Kreme this morning.
“Look, sweetie, we just want you to be prepared for anything,” he said. “As much as I wish I could be around my two girls twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, to protect you, we both know I can’t. And it would just make me worry a lot less if you knew all the ways to defend yourself. Your mom feels the same. So do me a favor and just grin and bear it?”
I moaned to exaggerate the pain it was going to cause me to do as he wished. “Fine! I’ll try and lay off her for a bit. But I’m not going to be happy about it. . . .”
“Deal,” he said, reaching out and shaking my hand. Then he paused briefly as he looked at me sideways. “You were joking about the college boys, right?”