Something Wicked
I can tell you exactly when I became a bad guy. I can describe it down to the very moment, as abrupt as...
As the blow of a hammer.
My knees squelched in blood-soaked carpet where I'd landed, trembling, beside my older sister's body. At that moment, the shock was too fresh even for tears. My mouth gaped into a scream beyond sound. Not Diana. No....
But I'd been a hospice nurse for three years; I was no stranger to death. Although I hadn't embraced our family tradition of witchcraft like Diana had — witchcraft as in goddess-worship, I mean, not that fantasy TV stuff — my instincts were solid. And despite my sister's mottled face, now caked with blood, I knew her too well to find any comfort in denial.
She'd been my constant in life. My guide. My friend. I'd once badly braided that long, golden hair, so different from my own, now streaked with more blood — we'd laughed, and posed and taken pictures. I'd often held those now broken hands, still wearing their ever-present silver rings. They'd held me, countless times, especially after losing our parents. And Diana's necklace...
Most witches wear ... read full excerpt from: Something Wicked ebook
