Witch Fury - By Anya Bast Page 0,1

wanted to appease Robin, but they both knew her words were a lie. Sarafina only came back here when she absolutely had to.

“Will you, really?” asked Robin suspiciously.

“I-I promise to think about it.”

Robin patted her back. “Will you at least call when you get home? I’m going to worry about you all day.”

Sarafina nodded. “I will.” She paused, swallowing hard. God, she wished she could cry.

It wasn’t that she wanted to leave her friends. Sarafina loved them, as she’d loved Rosemary, but the town itself held too many bad memories. Once she’d turned eighteen she’d saved up her money, bought a car, and had driven away. Spending time here now, just breathing the air, it made her feel suffocated.

“Why didn’t Alex come with you, anyway?” Nick asked.

Sarafina looked down at her toes. Ugh. “Alex and I broke up.”

“What? When?” Robin exclaimed.

“About a week before Rosemary died. It just wasn’t working out.” Alex had dumped her, actually.

“I’m so sorry, sweetie,” said Robin, cupping her shoulder.

Sarafina probably should’ve broken up with Alex first, a long time ago. Selfishly, she hadn’t wanted to be alone. She’d been afraid to be alone, to be perfectly honest. Because of that fear she’d stayed with him long after the fire had gone out, up until Alex had decided to give the relationship the axe. He’d done them both a favor. It’d been like pulling a dying plant out by its roots. It was a relief not to have to watch the leaves wilt anymore.

“Honestly, I don’t miss him much. I do miss you guys, though,” she finished, her voice breaking.

Robin hugged her again, making Sarafina let out a small sob. “Well, then, come back,” Robin whispered.

Sarafina shook her head and held on to her friend for another long moment. “I can’t.”

Robin drew back and smiled sadly. “I know.”

Sarafina turned and walked away, toward her rusty Honda Accord. “I’ll phone you when I get home,” she called over her shoulder. That was, if her telephone service hadn’t been shut off.

Robin and Nick stood at Rosemary’s grave, waving.

She might be penniless and on the verge of bankruptcy, she might have no family left, and she might be newly dumped, but at least she had good friends. There was always a spot of light in the dark if you looked for it.

The Accord started with a little hitch that made her heart pound.

“God, please, no,” she whispered. The last place on Earth she wanted to get stranded was Bowling Green, Kentucky. “If you’re going to have trouble, do it far from here, okay?” she crooned at the vehicle. “Or better yet, don’t do it at all. My bank account can’t take it.”

Holding her breath, she guided the car away from the curb and out of the cemetery. She’d take the long way back to the highway, avoiding the subdivision where she’d grown up. It was a pretty drive from here to Louisville, full of hills, gorgeous exposed rock walls, and green trees. Kentucky was a beautiful state, but Sarafina couldn’t wait to get back to Chicago, where the scent of car exhaust filled her nose and the honking and voices of humanity constantly filled her ears. Where no one knew her on sight. No one knew her bizarre family history.

Where there were no whispers.

As she drove, a swell of memory assaulted her. Images her brain was able to suppress in Chicago reared their nasty heads here, so near her childhood home. In her mind a memory of her mother flickered. The middle-aged redhead stood on the lawn of their home brandishing a grilling fork, insane words pouring from her lips. Flames and the scent of burning . . .

Sarafina lunged for the radio and found a good station that played loud hard rock music. She opened the window of her car and threw herself into the song, singing the lyrics out loud. She wouldn’t allow her mind to go back there, she just couldn’t.

Instead, she thought of Grosset, her Pomeranian. She’d left him with her neighbor for the trip south and couldn’t wait to see him again. Sarafina smiled. See? Life wasn’t so bad. She had friends, a job, and most importantly, she had the love of a good dog.

Then there was that guy who kept asking her for a date. His name was Brian. No . . . Bradley. Cute, too. He was a UPS guy, came into the office every afternoon and sought her out specifically to sign for the deliveries. What was it about UPS guys?