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I dissipated my shadows. The girl was innocent. She didn’t deserve to be frightened.
I wasn’t even sure that Walker deserved it.
But he has to be guilty, I thought, or else the real killer is still out there.
“Who is that?” she asked. Her voice dripped with skepticism.
“Go back inside,” he grumbled.
I drew on the life around me and muttered a quick sleeping spell under my breath. Cadence’s jaw went slack, and she wandered back inside to her bed. Though it was for her own good, guilt gnawed at me. Her young mind was so easy to command.
“What did you do to her?” the hunter demanded. “What did you do?”
He charged me. I summoned my shadows once more, but he walked right through them. His face was pale as a ghost, and he shook from their chill, but he didn’t slow down. I muttered a spell to make him stop. His steps stuttered, but he kept walking.
It didn’t convince me he was a trained killer, but his willpower did impress me.
I could’ve knocked him back with a gust of wind, but I let him get closer to me, until he stood inches away. His tall frame towered over me. This close, I noticed dark circles under his eyes and stubble on his chin. The faint smell of animals still clung to his clothes.
I waited for him to throw a punch or attempt to use the gun he clenched so tightly, but he did nothing. He flexed his fist, but it stayed at his side.
“I don’t know who you are,” he said slowly, “but I’m not who you’re looking for. I’m not a killer.”
I studied the desperate lines of his face, his clenched fist, and the pistol in his hand. He’d use it if I didn’t tell him where his sister was, yet he didn’t throw a punch now. I’d done nothing but terrorize him, yet he showed me mercy. Even if he did attempt physical force, it only further proved he was no trained witch hunter. My mother wouldn’t have died at an amateur’s hands.
I believed him.
“Your sister is safe,” I assured. “She’s just sleeping.”
I knew it was what he most wanted to hear because it was what I most wanted to hear when Josephine had returned from her search for my mother.
“But you are not safe—that’s not a threat,” I explained. “You’ve been deemed a witch killer. Others will come for you.”
My words weren’t a bluff. The rest of my coven wouldn’t give him a chance to explain, nor they would stretch out his death as I had intended to. Even if he were innocent, none of them would shed a tear over a Reid’s death. His very blood robbed him of his innocence—I could’ve killed him and been celebrated for it.
But I was so very sick of death.
“W-witch?” Walker stuttered.
“What do you think I am?” I asked. “A mermaid?”
“Yeah,” he huffed and glanced at my hair. “I thought Ariel sent an army of shadows after me.”
He ran a hand through his curls and laughed humorlessly.
“This is insane,” he breathed. “Witches aren’t real.”
I tried to be patient with him, but we didn’t have much time for processing. I’d exposed my kind. Even if his family had ties to the magical world, Walker hadn’t known about us, and I should’ve kept it that way or killed him.
Our only shot at survival was to find the real killer and clear both our names. Then, Walker’s memory of us could be wiped clean, and he could go back to the normal life he clearly belonged in.
Maybe he needed further proof that wouldn’t scare him.
I lifted my hands, and fallen leaves beneath our feet mirrored the motion. With a tiny bit of wind, I twirled them around me. Walker’s eyes grew as large as saucers, and his jaw went slack.
“We are real,” I said, “and someone has been killing us. The first remain was found last night.”
“It belonged to your mother?” he asked softly.
