Waking the Witch
Page 79

“Kayla,” I said. “Please. It’s a mistake. I never meant—”
The car started rolling away. I jogged alongside it. Adam started walking fast, closing the gap between us.
“Kayla, please. I can explain. I didn’t do this. I’d never—”
The woman hit the gas. I lurched forward. Adam caught me. I pushed him away, but the car was already too far gone to catch.
“Savannah,” Adam said, reaching for me.
I circled around him and headed back toward the Jeep. I passed it and kept walking. Adam jogged after me.
“For a sick woman, you’re running away pretty good,” he said.
“I’m not—”
“Running away?” He caught my arm and pulled me up short. “You’re running as fast as you can, which, thankfully, isn’t very fast.” He didn’t even try for a smile. “I know how bad you feel right now, but—”
“Do you? Do you really? That little girl finally got exactly what she needed, and now she’s lost it.”
“You tried to make sure that didn’t happen—”
“But apparently I didn’t try hard enough, did I?”
“What the hell else could you have done?”
I didn’t answer that. Couldn’t. I could only feel it, in my gut, guilt blazing through common sense. I should have stopped Leah sooner. Anticipated this final attack.
“Stayed away,” I murmured. “That’s what I should have done. I should never have gotten involved in this damned case in the first place. All I did was screw it up. Got Michael killed. Ruined Tiffany’s daughters’ lives. Ruined Paula’s. Ruined Kayla’s.” I gave a bitter laugh. “Par for the course, isn’t it? Everything I touch turns to dust. Everything dies. Everyone.”
“Don’t be—”
“Melodramatic? Am I? Too bad, because I’m feeling a little melodramatic right now, and I’m sick to death of pretending I don’t ruin everything I touch. I got my mother killed—”
“You had nothing to do with—”
“Yes, I did. They came for her, and I was there, playing sick, wanting a day home from school. She would have escaped if they hadn’t grabbed me. I got her captured, and that got her killed. Then Paige takes me in. Am I grateful? Do I smarten up and behave for her? No, I just kept plowing along, turning the Coven against her, getting her house burned down, getting her run out of town, ruining her reputation, killing her dream of leading the Coven—”
“Do you think she cares? If it wasn’t for you, she wouldn’t have Lucas. She’d gladly have traded her old life for him. You know that. You didn’t—”
“I killed my father.”
His mouth opened. Closed.
“Can’t argue with that one, can you?” I said.
“No, I’m just trying to figure out what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not. Your father died when the house collapsed. Maybe that collapse started with your magic, but you certainly didn’t kill—”
“Don’t lie to me!”
Sparks sizzled from my fingertips. My hair snapped with electricity. I stepped toward Adam, but he stood firm, holding my gaze, not even flinching when the sparks singed his shirt.
“I know what happened that night,” I said. “I’ve pretended not to know what happened because that was what you all wanted. I lashed out at my father. I threw him into a wall. I killed him. I know that. I’ve always known that.”
The look on his face then—the sympathy and the pain—was almost enough to make me break down completely, and when he reached for me, I imagined myself collapsing against him, how good it would feel—eight years of pain washing away. But I couldn’t. I stepped back, teeth gritting, sparks flying.
“Go away.”
“No, Savannah.”
He stepped forward again.
“I said go away!”
My hands flew up to ward him off, and he sailed off his feet, chin jerking up like he’d been hit with an invisible uppercut. He crashed to the ground, keys sailing from his hand, blood gushing from his nose.
I ran over. “I didn’t mean—” I stopped. Swayed. Looked down at him, dazed and bleeding. I stepped back. “Don’t you see? I never mean it. Never. But it doesn’t matter. My mother. My father. Paige. Michael. Paula. Kayla. Everything I touch, everyone I touch.”
“Not me.” He pushed to his feet. “I’m not going anywhere, Savannah.”
“No, you’re not,” I whispered. “You’re staying right where you are. Because you know not to come any closer.”
He screwed up his face. His nose gushed again and he swiped the blood aside, impatient. “What?”
“Nothing.”
He moved in front of me. “There, is this close enough?”
I said nothing. He took another step, so close I could smell the blood.
“Still seems safe,” he said.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
I lifted my gaze to his. “Don’t mock me.”
He looked me in the eye. “I’d never mock you, Savannah. I know you’re hurting and you’re going to lash out, and if you need to do that, then I’m right here. Lash away. I can handle it. Just don’t do this to yourself. You want a target? Use me.”
I started to shake. I clenched my hands to stop it. Waves of energy pulsed from my fists. Sparks popped, singeing his clothes, burning his skin. He only stepped closer, eyes locking on mine.
I stumbled back. Then I ran. I scooped up the keys and I ran, and I didn’t care how immature it looked, what he thought of me for it. I took his keys and I ran because if I stayed, he’d get hurt. Or I would.
I ran to the Jeep, leaped inside, and pulled away from the curb, tires chirping, dust flying, seeing him out of the corner of my eye, but not daring to look. Just get away. Get away fast. Get away far.
 
 
forty-two
 

I drove to the motel. I grabbed my things, stuffed them into my bag, and took off on my bike, leaving the Jeep behind, keys on the bed where Adam could find them. By the time I was pulling out of the lot, I could see him, coming toward the motel. His arm lifted, hailing me. But he didn’t pick up the pace, knew it wouldn’t do any good.