Page 69 of Bound By Fury

And yet, what Lucas said about the accident presses a heavy hand against my chest.

He blames himself.

“One in twenty-five…,” I whisper, and he nods.

“Ready?” he asks, and we count together. “One, two, three—”

He says, “fifteen,” at the same time I say, “thirteen.”

“Damn,” he laughs, and I bite my lip to keep myself from smiling. It’s not at all like old times, bored and overheated from the summer sun, dirt-caked fingernails and knees skinned and knobby, our games of “What Are the Odds” growing increasingly delirious until one of us—usually Lucas—ended up in a tree somewhere, trying to hop from branch to branch like Katniss Everdeen.

I pick up the pace, heart working a little harder as I reach for my water bottle in the hopes that it will satiate the burning in my belly.

I’m not sure what his goal is—reminding me of the past, trying to form some kind of truce with me, maybe—but it’s not comforting, it’s concerning, and it happens all at once, the way my heart slams shut to keep him out.

“Well, anyway, I’ve got to…” I gesture to the library as I start to climb the steps.

“Oh yeah, of course,” he says, hand running through the back of his scarlet hair. “Um… see you around.”

“See ya.”

I shake my head as I watch him walk away.

What the hell was that about?

He crosses over the quad with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. I’m turning around when I notice the headmaster cutting him off at the edge of Biltmore.

The change in Malachi’s body language is immediate. His shoulders stiffen and his fists clench at his sides. I don’t realize I’m still staring until he turns and glances at me like he can feel me watching him just as much as I can feel when he’s watching me.

“Oop!” I startle and turn, rushing through the heavy library doors.

Once inside I head straight for the spiral staircase leading to the basement.

There’s something seriously wrong with that family. I knew that Malachi hated his parents, his violent dad and his do-nothing mother, but he loved Lexie more than anything else, and he loved Lucas, and I thought he might have loved Alastair, too. But now I’m not so sure.

In the back corner of the large room I find what I’m looking for. The mahogany desk stands—or leans, really—against the wall, an ancient monitor purring loudly in the quiet. A single yellowing lamp emits an ominous glow against the dark. Beside the computer is the microfiche that Lucas showed me the last time we were here.

I flop down in the seat and press the space bar on the keyboard, waiting for the monitor to wake. Somewhere in the back of the room a cascade of thumps punctures the quiet like an avalanche of books. My fingers tighten on the mouse, but I close my eyes and breathe. The ensuing silence is only broken by the whir of the computer’s motor kicking on. The welcome screen casts me in a soft teal light.

History: A Comparative Study of US Values and the Impact on Local Government. The project assigned by Dr. Rogers is so broad and generally uninteresting that I’ve decided to use it to my advantage. As far as I know, Gigi’s side of the family has lived in Earnest, North Carolina for as far back as we can remember.

And if my dream was really a sign, and Daisy’s claims about the Lee Valley Witches are true, then it’s safe to assume that maybe I can find answers for myself and complete a halfway decent project.

I type my searches into the database.

Witches in Earnest, North Carolina. Nothing.

Witch coven in Western North Carolina. Nothing.

Witches thrown from mountainside in Earnest, North Carolina. Nothing.

Maybe it’s all just a rumor. With each search ending in an error message, I’m beginning to feel discouraged. If this project doesn’t lead me to the truth, I might never find it.

I have nowhere else to turn. No one to ask.

I exit the database and move my search to the microfiche.

I know from the photos hanging in the administration building that the school was opened in the late twenties, so on a whim I start a decade before, just to cover my bases. Scrolling through many newspapers and clippings, I breeze past several years’ worth of ancient articles.