Spells Trouble by Kristin Cast (mystery books to read .txt) 📕

of cool spring air quelled her roiling insides. The corner of Hunter’s lips quirked and a chuckle scratched at the back of her throat as she stared at the blustering windbag. All machismo, no substance. She would have pitied him had he not just trampled her sister.

Kirk lifted his chin and the shocked murmurs of their peers ceased. “What are you laughing at, dyke?”

Hunter held out her hand and motioned for Jax to stay back as he surged forward and Mercy stiffened.

Most people went their whole lives without a good showdown, with only the fantasy of burning their ex or quitting their job to fuel them from one unsatisfying moment to the next. Hunter had only had to wait sixteen years.

“You’re not worth the trouble it would take to hit you.” She untethered her smile and let it roll across her lips as she recited the Yates quote from memory. “You’re not worth the powder it would take to blow you up. You’re an empty, empty, hollow shell of a man.”

Right now, her library card and every book she’d ever checked out were worth their weight in gold.

Kirk rushed forward and Jax charged out in front of Hunter. This time, she didn’t stop him from intervening. She wrapped her arm around her sister and guided her from the wall of trees and the uniformed spectators chanting for a fight. Jax could hold his own and, with the number of parents and coaches off in the parking lot starting the traditional after-practice tailgating extravaganza, a fight wouldn’t get very far.

As they neared the bleachers, Mercy pushed away from Hunter. “I just”—she hiccupped between cries—“want to—be alone.”

Hunter twisted the hem of her shirt between her fingers. “I don’t think you did anything wrong, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“It’s not about what you think, Hunter.” Mercy’s lip quivered as she swiped the back of her hand across her tear-streaked cheeks. “You couldn’t possibly understand what this feels like. I need to be alone right now.” She slipped into the shadows under the bleachers, her feet making sharp scuff scuff noises as she jogged the length of the metal steps.

Choked sobs echoed through the shadows and filled the space between the sisters. Like caustic fumes, they twisted Hunter’s insides. After everything they’d been through, could Mercy handle another blow?

Hunter ran under the bleachers. “Mag! Wait!” she called as Mercy plunged into the sunlight on the other side. The last time she’d given Mercy space to process her grief, her sister had been nearly catatonic. Hunter charged forward, faster. “This isn’t your fault!” she shouted into the shadows. This was all Kirk. Mercy had done nothing wrong. If only Kirk had been better, had actually been the guy Mercy thought he was.

Hunter’s shoelace had come untied. With each rushed step, the plastic ends of the ties struck her shin.

But Hunter had warned her. So had Emily and Jax. Even Xena had made her disapproval known. Why hadn’t Mercy listened? Did she not trust her friends and family? Did she not care for them more than she cared for Kirk? The questions stoked the graying coals in Hunter’s belly.

Since the beginning of their relationship, Mercy had put Kirk first. You were so powerful tonight, Kirk. So perfect. This couldn’t have happened without you. The words Mercy had spoken after the grief spell spit fuel on Hunter’s anger. She coughed as heat surged through her chest, up her throat.

You’re jealous that someone loves me and no one loves you.

Hunter shielded her eyes as she emerged from the bleachers. Until Mercy apologized for placing Kirk above everyone else, she could run off alone.

Hunter stepped on her untied shoelace. She tripped forward and caught herself before she faceplanted in the gravel. She shuffled over to the shade of the now-closed snack hut and crouched down to tie her shoe. Her stomach churned as she crossed one shoelace over the other and tugged so hard she nearly ripped them from their holes.

Maybe this time Hunter would let her rage swallow her. A dying star spitting fire into the cosmos. She’d go back to Kirk and wouldn’t choose the high road. She’d choose the low road, the same road he’d just torn down, slamming into everything he could on his way to feeling like a big man. Hunter double knotted her laces and brushed her hands on her shorts as she stood. Yes, that’s what she’d do. She’d find Kirk and—

A man’s wracking cough pulled Hunter’s attention from the molten lava pooling in her gut. Sheriff Dearborn buried his face into the crook of his arm and leaned against the lamppost on the other side of the snack hut, a plate of nachos scattered in the gravel around his feet.

Hunter chewed the inside of her cheek. She wanted to leave, wanted to let the volcano of anger burbling in her stomach erupt all over Kirk and his jock friends.

Another bout of wet coughs. Sheriff Dearborn spit a phlegm ball onto his nachos, wiped his mouth, and sagged against the metal post. Hunter wrinkled her nose. The sheriff wasn’t the youngest guy, but it wasn’t her responsibility to help someone who had a cold. She squinted back at the packed parking lot. She didn’t think she had it in her to fix another situation. Hunter exhaled and half expected smoke to billow from her parted lips.

He gripped his chest and lurched forward. His sunglasses slipped from his ears as he sucked in breaths between more throat-shredding coughs.

Concern doused the anger roiling within Hunter. She ran over to the sheriff and caught him as he pitched farther forward. Spittle dangled from his chin and she averted her eyes and helped him up. “You … okay … Sheriff?” she asked between grunts as he used her shoulders as crutches and righted himself.

“Fine. Fine.” His voice had the same dry coarseness as the gravel beneath her feet. “Damn chips must’ve gotten me.”

Hunter plucked his sunglasses from the gravel and wiped the dusty lenses with the bottom