A Witch's Trial (Witch's Path Series: Book 3) by N. E. Conneely Read Free Book Online Page B

poured each of us a glass. "I figured you'd need this," she said, handing me a glass.  
    "Thank you." I took the glass from her.  
    We sat down to eat, and for a few minutes there was nothing but the sound of our chewing.  
    "With all the excitement, I forgot to ask: how are you?" I set down my fork while Amber looked at me with big, round eyes but didn't say anything. "Please talk to me. I want to help."
    Amber sighed. "I don't know if you can help."
    "I'll try; just tell me what you need." I knew she was still having a rough time after her ordeal, and I was desperate to help.  
    "That's the thing. I don't know that I need anything. At least not anything you can give me."
    I patted her shoulder. It was the best I could do since I didn't have any comforting words.
    "I don't like being alone, but being in a group is worse because they know what happened to me and they watch me. I can see the pity or anger in their eyes, and when they don't think I'm looking, I see fear. After all, before I was abducted, they could go about their lives, secure in the knowledge that nothing bad would happen to them. Now they see it differently." She ran out of steam and sat there looking at her plate.
    "It's hard for people to see bad things happen to their friends. It tears away the illusion that they're safe and immune to the bad in the world." There wasn't anything helpful I could say about the looks of pity.  
    "But why are they mad at me?" Amber asked.
    "Because it's easier to be mad at you than to confront their own fears. Adder is out of their reach. They can't blame him, so they focus on you."
    "Hardly seems fair." Amber took a sip of wine.
    Leaning back in my chair, I studied her, from the faint tremor in her hand to the wide eyes. "Have you talked to anyone? A professional?" When Amber shook her head, I asked, "Why not?"  
    She pushed the pasta around on her plate. "I don't know. It seems wrong. Nothing bad happened to me. I've read stories about other victims, and as kidnappings go, this was nothing. What right do I have to be upset when there are people out there who have suffered so much more?"
    I looked her in the eye. "Oh, sweetie, you've got it all wrong. Those other victims, their struggles, they don't invalidate your feelings. You can be afraid, hurt, have nightmares, and feel bad. That they suffered more does not change your experience."
    "But—"
    "There are no buts," I said firmly. "You can feel what you feel. There is nothing wrong with that. If the police didn't recommend a counselor, I can."
    Amber sighed. "They gave me a few names."
    "And?"
    "And I'll make an appointment." She glared at me. "Why are good friends always bullies?"
    "Because we care." I smiled softly. "I care, and I'm here to help."
    "I know, and you do help. This helped." Amber rubbed her eyes. "Can you help one more time and turn this back into a fun afternoon?"
    "Sure. I think there's a few pieces of key lime pie in the fridge. Do you want one?" It wasn't chocolate or cookie dough, but this wasn't a drown-your-sorrows moment. We needed to celebrate making it through a rough patch.

Chapter 3: Michelle

    I woke from my nap feeling somewhat better and reasonably sure that Amber was doing as well as could be expected. Considering what she'd been through, that was progress. It took a few minutes to work up the courage, but I finally picked up the phone and called my father. He would be more reasonable about the entire clurichaun thing. Mom wouldn't take it well.  
    "Hello?"
    "Hi, Dad. It's Michelle." I winced at how formal I sounded.  
    "Are you okay? I didn't expect to hear from you so soon." He didn't have to say it—I knew he meant that he hadn't expected me to call him.  
    "I'm fine." Which was mostly true. Neither the scrapes nor the lack of energy were cause for concern. "So, I was kinda hoping you would make me a wand."
    He took so long to reply that I began to think the line had gone dead.
    "Why do you need a wand?" he asked softly.
    "The