Beautifully Broken

by Sherry Soule

  “Never,” I said. He came closer, and I kicked. My pink Doc Martens hit his evil face with a terrible reverberating crack. Score one for the good guys!

  My gaze darted to the coven. I joined the circle. Clasped hands with Aunt Lauren. The Blood Rose Circle resumed their chanting.

  Esael screamed—a shriek that reminded me of ancient predators. Blood frothed from his mouth. Esael gritted his teeth and called out, “What have you done?” Around him, his demonic power churned, its dark radiance encompassing him. It blocked out the frosty light. “You can’t hurt me.” He glared at the alabaster magick swirling him. “I’m immortal.”

  At that moment, the house shook violently. Beneath us, a terrible reverberating crack echoed through the house. Like a gaping mouth without teeth, the floor yawned open. Flames burst through the gap from within the nexus beneath. Hell beckoned Esael. His eyes widened in surprise. A bright hot glow emanated from the center of the hole. The white magick from the coven’s spell whirled like a massive silver tornado, the gray current intensifying around Esael. Mystical vapors engulfed his body and sucked him into the fiery chasm.

  Trent appeared beside me. He grasped my hand, and we stared down at the gaping hole in the floor (only the foundation exposed now), and then over at our sister’s lifeless body.

  The sadness in his voice matched the tears in his eyes. “It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t mean to hurt her.” His cheeks were flushed and muscles twitched near his eyes. “What just happened?”

  I went into his outstretched arms and buried my face in his chest. I was weak after Claire’s possession and his scent, familiar and comforting, was like coming home. My promise not to love him anymore, not to feel anything except hatred, untangled in that instant.

  “Too much to go into tonight,” I lifted my head to stare into his face. “You’d better have a long talk with Evans when he returns…oh, and sorry about the house. Guess it’s gonna need more repairs.” A sob threatened to reach my throat. I swallowed it down and pushed Trent away. “Why didn’t you rescue me from that—that hell hole?” My voice rough with emotion. “Why?”

  “I didn’t even know you were there! I swear it,” he pleaded with his words, his eyes. “I found out from my uncle. Please forgive me,” he said and I was startled to hear his words echo my thoughts. “I love you, Shiloh.”

  I raised my arms to hug him and stopped. “I love you, too.”

  My stomach heaved and pitched. Madison is dead. And it’s all my fault.

  Trent crouched down to close her lifeless eyes. The coven hung their heads. Aunt Lauren had tears in her eyes. Sitting on the bottom step of the staircase, I buried my face in my hands and my whole body shuddered with sobs for a sister I’d never know. I should have been angry and bitter and blamed someone else, yet I had no one to accuse but myself. My impulsive actions had led me on a dark path of self-destruction and now Esael had claimed another soul.

  The police barged through the front door. Next the paramedics. Then the coroner. They asked questions, took statements, and photographed the scene. They questioned us each separately, and Sherriff Boyd spent a long time with Trent. At dawn, the police ended their questioning and laid Madison’s corpse in a zippered black bag.

  I stood on shaky feet and walked toward the door. Before I snuck outside, Trent touched my arm. “Where are you going?” He grinned blandly.

  I stiffened, shame eating away at my insides and darkening my heart. I despised myself for being incapable of submerging my emotions and loathing how obvious and utterly exposed they were. No matter what sort of cognitive armor I had created to use against the supernatural, it was no good on him.

  “I can’t imagine what you’re thinking. Or what type of hell you’ve been through.”

  My tone was sterile, as if my heart had been removed. “I survived.”

  “I realize I was wrong. I thought you were losing it. Your mom…” His voice came from a raw, bruised place people liked to pretend didn’t exist. But we both knew it did. “She was so convincing, telling me that you were mentally unstable. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have listened to her. I should’ve believed in you. Trusted you.”

  “Yeah, well, she’s a conniving bitch.” I licked my lips, avoiding his eyes. “And I’m sorry too.”

  “I’m still sorta confused about what just happened. It was my mom, right?”

  I picked at a frayed seam on the dingy dress. “Yes. Basically, I let her use my body to yell at Jillian...”

  He sighed noisily, his voice seized with anguish, “So this is it?”

  “I’m not sure.” My head bowed.

  I’d humiliated my family and exposed our secrets. Embarrassed myself in front of my classmates and caused the death of my sister. Dark feelings coiled inside me, squeezing tighter until my heart constricted. I raised my head to look at him. His lips quivered, his eyes tinged with misery. The distance that divided us was so opaque and tempestuous it filled an ocean. An ocean I wasn’t ready to cross.

  “I need time, Trent...” My voice was a hoarse croak, filling the space between us with my emotions. “Please understand.”

  I’m so lost I don’t know what else to do or say. I’m too fragile and jaded.

  I considered explaining myself and defending what I’d done. By the look in his eyes, he wanted the snarky, impetuous girl he’d met four months ago back, but that girl was dead. A darker, shrewder girl was left in her place.

  Yet I still hoped he might change. That I might too.

  He nodded, shuffling his feet. “We both have a lot to think about. Damn, I feel so betrayed.”

  I lay one hand on his chest. “You do?”

  “Yeah, I was lied to just like you. My father is gonna have a lot to explain.” He grasped my fingers, lacing them with his, but I slid them out of his grasp.

  “No. It’s simple. Your father didn’t actually fib about Madison being your sister. He just didn’t tell you that you had different mothers. Didn’t want you to realize the ugly truth.”

  “I guess…” He clutched my upper arms and rested his forehead on mine before he moved away, leaving a huge ache in my chest.

  The weather had calmed like the storm within me had resided and retreated. Quiet and still. On the horizon, the sun awakened, rising over the hillside and peeking through the clouds. Shades of color streaked the sky, turning it crimson, then gold blended with violet, and bringing with it the assurance of a new day. The tempestuous ordeal had taught me one thing.

  I am a survivor.

  As I walked down the driveway, the shadows whimpered, begging me to turn back. With the sun shining down upon my damp face, the darkness in my heart retreated. Hibernated. The cleansing drizzle soaked the gown, making it cling. My arms were cold. My nose ran. My teeth chattered. I let go of the apprehension that plagued me like a bad dream. I’d faced my inner darkness, stared down into the face of my own fears. And won. Sort of.

  I’d failed to save my sister. I’d failed to protect Paige. And Jada. And I hadn’t found a way to break the curse on Whispering Pines. But I vowed to find a way. I’d started all this trying to protect myself and the other kids from Esael. And everything had snowballed from there. I’d learned quickly it wasn’t just the teenagers in town in need of protection—so many others had needed to be saved too. Now the town would be a safer place to live. For now.

  Before I stepped through the gates, I turned and looked behind me. On the porch, Trent stood, watching me still. He smiled, slow and steady. Hope flashed.

  For a moment, I forgot the horror of being different and experienced a burst of pride for who I was, while deep inside the blood of my ancestors rejoiced. Now I was more determined than ever to find a way to protect the town. How? I wasn’t sure. But I was determined to become the most powerful Wicca the world had ever seen. And neither demon nor human could stop me from fulfilling my destiny.

  I knew there had been a design, hidden in the chaos. For me, it was something I couldn’t change. Or escape. Or deny. I was stuck.
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  I am the thirteenth daughter. I am a heritage witch. I am a demon slayer.

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  About the Author:

  Sherry Soule has won numerous awards for her short stories and now writes full time. She lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her family and a very spoiled black cat. She is hard at work on the next book in the Spellbound Series.