Cara Blackwell's Arc

Chapter 1 of 4

Cara Blackwell kept a secret in her eyes, and the walk to school was where she practiced hiding it. Six blocks between her building and Hawthorne High. Six blocks to breathe slow and stay calm. When she got upset, her green eyes flashed purple, and she still had no idea why. She had asked no one. Her mother was dead, and dead women could not answer questions. Rico trotted beside her, leash loose in her hand. The German shepherd matched her steps like he always did. She scratched the flame-shaped birthmark on her wrist, an old habit when her chest went tight. "Almost there, boy," she said. "Nobody looks close if we walk fast." The sky turned wrong on the third block. Clouds rolled in gray and fast, though the morning had been clear. Wind slammed a trash can into the street. Rain fell hard, then sideways. Cara pulled her hood up and quickened her pace. Then lightning cracked so close her teeth buzzed. Rico lunged, yanking the leash from her fist. He bolted into an alley between two buildings. "Rico! No!" She ran after him. The fear hit before she could stop it. Her eyes went hot. She felt them change, the way she always did, purple bleeding across the green. The wind screamed louder around her, matching something inside her chest. A window above cracked. She froze, terrified, and the storm seemed to lean toward her. "You're doing that." Cara spun. A boy stood at the mouth of the alley, soaked, not flinching at the thunder. He looked her age. Mud caked his boots, the dark kind that came from deep woods, not city streets. He watched her eyes with no fear at all, only recognition. "I'm not doing anything," she said. Her voice shook. "Your eyes are purple. The storm followed you. You call it, you don't know you're calling it." He crouched, and Rico went to him, calm now. "I've been looking for someone with the Blackwell mark. That birthmark on your wrist. Your mother had one too." Cara backed against the wet brick. "You knew my mother?" "I knew what she was." He stood. "Same as you. It's in your blood. The storms, the eyes. It doesn't stop until someone teaches you." The rain slowed. As her breathing steadied, the purple faded from her eyes, and the wind died with it. She understood then. The storm had not been a freak accident. It had been her. "Who are you?" she asked. "Someone who can explain your mother." He held out Rico's leash. "But not here. Not in the open." Cara took the leash. For the first time in years, she had a name for the thing inside her. Witch. And the only person who knew the truth had walked out of the dark woods to find her. She had spent so long hiding. Now she wanted answers more than she wanted to be safe.