Witch Fire (Burn Mark) by Laura Powell

Author:Laura Powell
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing
Published: 2013-01-29T16:00:00+00:00

At night, the centre of San Jerico was shaking. Every window and open doorway pulsed with heat and noise; ropes of coloured lights strung between the buildings added to the carnival atmosphere. The rain had been replaced by a warm breeze that smelled of fried fish and spices. Cars cruised up and down, honking horns, blasting music. Girls in towering heels and skimpy dresses tottered along in giggling groups. Packs of men pressed around them, whistled, yelled and moved on.

Glory and Candy got their fair share of attention. Candy was wearing a snakeskin-print playsuit; Glory a strapless red dress borrowed from her cousin. She’d slept for most of the afternoon and was feeling giddy with freedom. When was the last time she’d been out for a night on the tiles? No more pointless essays or spelling tests for me, she thought triumphantly, as Candy led the way to a beachfront bar.

‘I’ve stopped the pills,’ her cousin confided. ‘They, like, totally mess with your head. And I don’t do the whole binge-thing any more. Just a tot of good ol’ Cordoban rum now and then . . . well, a little of what you fancy does you good, right?’

Glory wasn’t so sure. There was a tremor in Candice’s hands, and her eyes never seemed to focus properly. She decided she’d stick with iced tea.

Todd was staying at home, to work on his screenplay. After he’d left his sci-fi TV show (‘Creative differences,’ Candy explained), he’d decided to turn his disillusionment with showbiz and the American Dream into movie material. ‘It’s gonna be very dark, very raw,’ he said. In the meantime, life at the villa was financed by Candy. She complained she was only receiving a pittance from home – Troy had dramatically reduced her allowance after she skipped rehab, and was apparently threatening to cut her off altogether unless she came back to the UK and cleaned up her act.

‘He’s turning into an even bigger grouch than Dad,’ she grumbled. ‘Throwing his weight around like you wouldn’t believe. He might be boss of the coven goons, but he’s not the boss of me.’

‘I s’pose Troy’s feeling the stress,’ Glory said cautiously. ‘It must be a right headache, keeping the business going with Charlie so ill.’

Candy took another swig of her rum and coconut water. Her fake American accent had started to slip, along with her high spirits. ‘Poor old Dad. What a shocker. I cried buckets when I heard the news. That’s why I thought it was better if I didn’t come back and see him. Might set off a relapse, y’know? The counsellor at the centre, she said my family relations were very unhealthy, very pressurised.’

‘D’you think you’ll ever go back to the coven?’

‘No chance. Soon as I do, Mum’ll get her claws in me. She’s still scheming to train me up, and she’s almost as big a slave-driver as Troy. They’re always ganging up on me . . . always nagging. You’re lucky, Glor. Patrick’s so dopey you’ve always been able to do whatever the hell you like.

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