Page 10 of Innocent Until Proven Witch

"And you're already arguing with everybody."

I shrug. "Only when everybody sounds ridiculous."

Row lets out a short laugh despite himself. "I'm serious."

"So am I." I straighten. "What proof do they have?"

"The storm."

"That's not proof." I exhale.

"The lightning wasn't normal."

"Still not proof." I counter swiftly.

"The fog wasn't normal either."

I spread my hands. "Neither is half the magic in Moonhaven."

Row looks unconvinced. "The weather started getting strange again."

"And somehow that automatically becomes Reina's fault?"

He studies me for a moment. "You know her name already."

"My mother mentioned her."

"Of course she did." The answer carries enough meaning to make me curious.

"You don't like her?"

"I don't know her."

"Then why blame her?"

Row opens his mouth, stops, tries again. "People have been saying things for years."

That isn't an answer, and we both know it. Before I can point that out, shouting erupts farther down the harbor. Several fishermen hurry toward the docks, others following, the atmosphere shifting instantly from conversation to urgency.

Row glances toward the crowd. "They're putting together another search."

I don't hesitate. "Let's go."

His eyebrows rise. "You volunteering?"

"Old habits."

"You always did have terrible habits," Row mutters, falling into step beside me as I start toward the harbor.

The sea is calmer than yesterday. Not calm. Just less determined to kill us. The search vessel cuts through dark water while gulls circle overhead, clouds lingering across the horizon. The storm may have passed, but its shadow remains.

I stand near the bow and scan the waves. The crew moves quietly around us, nobody wasting energy on pointless conversation. Search missions create their own kind of silence. Every person aboard is looking for the same thing—a sign, a clue, anything.

I focus briefly, and the wolf inside me stirs. My senses sharpen. The scent of salt floods my lungs. Fuel. Wet rope. Fish. Wood. Human scent from the men aboard. I push farther, searching, listening, hoping.

Nothing. No trace of survivors, no lingering scent drifting across the water, no indication that anyone remains nearby. The ocean has swallowed everything.

I breathe, the feeling in my stomach growing heavier.