Page 25 of Bewitched (Hexes and Fangs: Holiday Editions #1)

T he engine rumbles beneath me, vibrating through my whole body as the bike jolts forward.

Nox said I’ll do just fine as ‘a backpack’.

That means me behind him. I grip him tightly, my hands wrapped around his waist, leaning slightly into him for balance.

Every bump sends a shock through my limbs, every turn tilts me into the movement, forcing me to trust Nox completely.

The scents of earth and gasoline fill my lungs.

I am going to kill him. Someday… He is just a teddy bear. For now.

I sprint down the stairs, heart racing at the news. Zilla is already lacing up her boots.

"I can’t believe it." Her tone is trembling, yet slightly pleased.

"Do we know for sure it’s a fire?" I slide my feet into my shoes.

"I’ll stay until that shit is nothing but ashes!" That feeling—of knowing something is inevitable before it unfolds, crawling under my skin. Its sharp claws puncturing my veins, making my insides bleed to attract my attention.

Zilla parks the car next to the forest near the orphanage.

Or what was left behind, like echoes of a faded memory.

We grew up in here. Zilla never met her parents, while my mother died giving birth to me.

The Coven. Never a home. It was a sanctuary for witches to master the art of magic.

Failures incurred the dark consequences of magical punishment.

I was punished a lot. They tucked me in a dark room woven with spider silk, a whispering nightmare.

Each night, tiny spiders performed their eerie dance, tickling my skin.

For days, I cried, haunted by those long legs that crept across my flesh.

The sensation filled me with dread, igniting my deepest fears.

Zilla’s punishment… She witnessed the heartbreaking spectacle of them taking the lives of animals.

This sorrow ignited a passion, a calling, propelling her to become a vet.

Terror hung thick around the Coven, casting shadows of fear.

Yet, in its dark embrace, we were fed and we discovered our inner witches.

The flames consume the structure, sending thick smoke into the air as heat radiates outward.

The fire crackles and roars, windows shatter from the intense temperature, and debris falls as the building weakens.

The bright glow illuminates the surroundings.

I can feel the flames warming up my skin and Zilla is smiling.

A vile smile. Emergency crews rush in, working tirelessly to contain the blaze, while onlookers watch in shock.

Something attracts my attention to my right.

A shadow shifts between the trees, barely visible against the darkness.

I walk to it. I strain my eyes, catching fleeting glimpses of movement—a figure slipping through the undergrowth, careful, calculated.

The moonlight filters through the branches, casting eerie patterns on the forest floor.

Nox is leaning against a tree trunk, a cigarette in his mouth. He makes use of wipes to clean his hands. I walk to him and seize his wrist, raising it to my nose. A blend of gasoline and mint.

"What did you do?"

"Played with fire."