Blood Witch Read Online Free PDF

tiger, waiting to pounce.
    “There is one thing you should learn, Morgan,” Hunter remarked. “Cal isn’t the only blood witch around. He’d like to think he’s a big man, but he’s really just small fry. One day you’ll realize that. And I want to be there to see it.”
    “Go to hell,” Cal spat.
    “Look, you don’t know me,” I told Hunter loudly. “You don’t know anything about me. So shut up and leave us alone!” I stomped angrily to the car. But as I pushed past Hunter, barely brushing against him, a sickening rush of energy hit me in my stomach—so hard that I gasped. He’s put a spell on me, I thought in a panic, groping for the door handle. But he’d said nothing; he’d done nothing that I could see. I blinked hard.
    “Please, Cal,” I whispered, my voice shaking. “Let’s go.”
    Cal was still staring at Hunter as if he’d like to rip him apart. His eyes blazed, and his skin seemed to whiten.
    Hunter stared back, but I felt his concentration break: he was shaken for a moment. Then he steeled himself again.
    “Please, Cal,” I repeated. I knew something had happened to me; I felt hot and strange and desperate to be gone, to be at home. My voice must have alerted Cal to my distress because he took his eyes off Hunter for a second. I stared at him pleadingly. Finally he pulled his keys from his pocket, slid into the car, and opened my door.
    I collapsed inside and put my hands over my face.
    “Good-bye, Morgan!” Hunter called.
    Cal gunned the engine and sped backward, shooting snow and ice toward Hunter. I peeked through my fingers and saw Hunter standing there with an indecipherable expression on his face. Was it . . . anger? No. Snow swirled around him as he watched us leave.
    It wasn’t until we were almost at my house that it suddenly hit me.
    The look on his face had been hunger.

5
    Dagda

    Mom came into my room that night as I was getting dressed to go to Jenna Ruiz’s for the circle. “Are you guys going to a movie?” she asked. She automatically began straightening the pile of rejected clothes on my bed.
    “No,” I said, and left it at that. When it came to Wicca, silence was the best policy. I turned in front of the mirror, frowning. As usual, I looked hopeless. I pulled open the bathroom door and yelled, “Mary K.!” Having an endlessly trendy sister had its perks.
    She appeared at once.
    I held out my arms. “Help.”
    Her warm brown eyes skimmed me critically, then she shook her head. “Take it all off,” she ordered.
    I obeyed meekly. Mom grinned at us.
    While Mary K. pawed through my closet, Mom tried to wheedle more information from me. “You said you were going to Jenna’s? Will Bree be there?”
    I paused for a moment. Both Mary K. and Mom had mentioned Bree today. I wasn’t really surprised; she had been a virtual fixture at our house for years—but talking about her was painful. “I don’t think so,” I finally said. “It’s just going to be our regular group, getting together. You know, I’ve never been to Jenna’s house before.” A lame attempt to change the subject, I knew. Mary K. threw a pair of skinny jeans at me, and I obediently shimmied into them.
    “We never see Bree anymore,” Mom commented as Mary K. disappeared into her room.
    I nodded, aware of Mom’s eyes on me.
    “Did you guys have a fight?” Mom asked straight out.
    Mary K. returned, holding an embroidered cotton sweater.
    “Kind of,” I said with a sigh. I really didn’t want to get into this, not now. I pulled off my sweatshirt and tugged on the sweater. It fit smoothly, to my surprise. I’m taller and thinner than Mary K., but she inherited my mom’s curvy chest. My adoptive mom, that is. I wondered fleetingly if Maeve Riordan had been built like me.
    “Did you fight over Wicca?” Mom pried with the subtlety of an ax. “Does Bree not like Wicca?”
    “No,” I said, pulling my hair out of the sweater and examining my new look. It was a big improvement, which lifted