Cursed Waters

20

Ten minutes later, the four of them were back inside the Smiths' house.

The rain had started up seconds after Brandon's statement, and Bridget had quickly ushered them all toward the house, her troubled gaze lingering on the gray storm clouds collecting.

The weirdest part, Millie thought as she sat at the Smiths' kitchen island, was that the clouds had only gathered over Brandon's house.

"So," Millie said conversationally as she stirred her spoon in the hot chocolate Bridget had sat in front of her. "How's the weather?"

From his position by the kitchen window, Sam snorted. "Terrible, just like my entire life."

Brandon sighed and rolled his eyes.

"It wasn't so bad up until now, was it, Sam?" Bridget patted him on the shoulder.

"Well, I just found out that my best friend has been lying to me my entire life, that the girl I had a thing for is going to kill me, and my godmother is a witch." He turned to face her briefly. "So, my life has been pretty terrible the whole time. I just didn't know it."

When he turned back away, Bridget looked at Millie and Brandon, both at the island. "That was a rhetorical question," she said.

Millie cleared her throat. "Should we talk about this? Or just . . . pretend it isn't happening?"

"What? The rain?" Bridget glanced out the window. "Yeah, that's pretty weird."

"Pretty weird is an understatement," Millie said, shifting on the stool. "First there were seagulls dropping dead fish on your street and now it's raining, but only above this house. Don't you think people are going to start noticing something weird is happening?"

Brandon sighed again. "Humans will ignore a lot of weird stuff if their brains can't explain it," he said, waving his hand in an offhanded way. "Dead fish falling from the sky? They won't remember it. Clouds gathering over one street and only raining there? Global warming. Millie Clearwater having a thing for Sam White? Now, that's the kind of magic they won't be able to ignore."

"Brandon!" Bridget yelped at the same time Millie slapped him on the shoulder. Between clenched teeth, she growled, "Shut. Up."

However, if Sam was aware of what was happening in the kitchen, he didn't show it. Instead, he continued to stare blankly out the window. Big, fat water droplets rolled down the glass and black clouds gathered angrily in the sky.

Millie watched him over the rim of her mug as she pretended to sip at her hot chocolate.

Even kill someone?

Sam's face had blanched white when Millie had turned her head to look at him after what Brandon had said. Seconds after their eyes had met, it had started raining, and whatever Sam might've said in that moment had disappeared.

Millie had a feeling that whatever Sam might've felt for Millie in general was dissipating the longer this curse clung to them. She couldn't blame him; because of her (and Brandon) he was going to die soon, unless, if Brandon wasn't just fucking with them, they were willing to kill someone else.

If Brandon was being honest about that . . . Millie stared at the back of Sam's head, contemplating.

Was she willing to hurt someone to save him? She'd definitely hurt herself for him. The thought rose in her unbidden and suddenly, with a fierceness that scared her.

Just a few weeks ago, she'd been clinging to her life, desperate to keep it. But if her life meant Sam had to die, she wouldn't hesitate.

She turned her head to find Brandon staring at her. His expression told her he knew exactly what she was thinking — and agreed. Together, they would do anything to save Sam.