CILLIAN
She came back with a funny smile on her mouth. But I knew. How hard she was trying to hide the fact that she had just cried.
She was dressed in one of the hand-me-downs that witches of the coven gave the primrose church on a weekly basis. A simple white shirt, faded jeans and a pair of old leather slippers.
"Here," she said, handing me back my jacket. It was moist. Maybe from sweat. It was also covered in blood and ash.
I looked into her eyes and wondered if It was appropriate to ask if she was alright. Though a nagging thought at the back of my mind told me she probably didn't want me asking so I simply accepted the jacket and slinged it over my shoulder.
"So what happens now?" She asked, scratching at her eye. It was red and puffy. Which made it difficult to ignore but if
