Boil (Salem's Revenge Book 2) by Estes David

Author:Estes, David [Estes, David]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2014-09-30T16:00:00+00:00

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The White House looks like Roman ruins. For one, it’s no longer white, more like gray, with random circles of black spotting its walls, as if the historic building’s been hit by firecrackers let loose by mischievous deviants. Only two of the six iconic pillars are still standing, the others broken in chunks that litter the lawn and steps. I can almost imagine a future where young magic-born go on field trips to the White House. “And this is where we conquered the humans,” their teachers will say. “Come on now, let’s take a picture.”

“The witches sent Slammers to assassinate President Bartlet,” President Washington says, turning back to speak to me for the first time since our journey began. “His skull was found crushed and his spine snapped like a twig.”

“TMI,” I say, trying to vanquish the image from my mind.

“Knowledge is power,” the president says.

“Original,” I say. I’m not sure why I’m being so snarky, except that I feel unsettled. It might be a defense mechanism. Or maybe I’ve just been spending too much time with Laney.

“You’re not intimidated by my political standing,” the president says.

It doesn’t sound like a question so I don’t respond.

“Good,” she says. “There’s no room for intimidation in this world. You either stand and fight, or cower and die.”

“You’d suck at motivational speaking,” I say, which draws a surprising laugh.

“I would,” she says, turning away to move along a path cut through the rubble. Despite the seriousness of the occasion, I can’t help but feel a swell of excitement in my chest as we pass through the doors. To the White House.

I’m in the White House.

Weird.

My first thought is: I can’t wait to tell Laney. And that’s when I know it’s officially started. The moving on. I’m sorry, Beth, I whisper in my mind. I’m so sorry. It’s supposed to be her that I want to share my experiences with, who I think about when something incredible happens. But all that feels like a lifetime ago. We’re a lifetime away from football practice and school newspaper articles and Xave’s boyfriend dramas. I’m changed and Beth is dead. And Laney is alive.

My eyes are flooded before I know it and I have to blink furiously to get control.

I look around me at the ovular space into which we’ve entered. Busts of former presidents lay sideways on the floor, missing noses and ears. No one’s bothered to pick them up, to restore them to their stands. Such symbols have no place now.

The space is well-lighted, and not by candlelight or lanterns like I expected. Light bulbs! “You have electricity,” I blurt out.

“Rationed,” the president says, moving through the space. “We have a sufficient store of batteries to keep the generators going for several more months.”

“Why not just have the witches create light?” I say, unable to hide the contempt in my tone.

“The people are scared enough of our witch allies without them flaunting their power,” the president says, taking my question more seriously than I expected.

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