Smoke billowed into the sky from the direction of my house long into the night, lacing black curves over the heavy gray clouds. I sat on a stiff mattress, watching out the window from the hotel we'd holed ourselves in for the night from the money I'd taken from Ty's wallet.
My family's murderer was dead, and I should've felt vindicated. Instead, a strange sense of guilt swamped my insides with a greasy feeling I couldn't shake. He'd once been my best friend-I'd been proud to call him that, too-and now he was a magicless, tied-up-in-barbed-wire corpse inside a burnt house. Sure, he deserved it, but that didn't make it right. Or maybe it did. Hell if I knew the difference anymore.
But if all witches, not just me, would be taking back their power from the fae and waking tomorrow to the firs
