by Anna Abner
And nothing put a caster at ease like seeing someone else use magic.
“I’ll do a locator spell, and then you’ll know where Ryan is,” she offered.
There was no reason to feel silly. Dani cast magic in front of people. Yesterday she’d cast a spell on Rebecca Powell in front of Holden Clark. No, not yesterday. Over a week ago.
But that was different. Holden was a caster, too. And Rebecca had been under a demonic-summoning spell. She’d had a quick and brutal introduction to the supernatural. But David claimed he didn’t believe in magic. It was possible he’d never seen a caster at work, let alone a witch.
He stared at her like she’d suggested they polka. “You’ll do a what?”
“I’m a witch.”
He snorted. “Right.”
“Whether you believe me or not doesn’t change anything.” Kneeling, Dani laid a palm on the cold concrete floor. Her power surged like a blizzard under her skin and connected her nerve endings in a net of magical energy.
The outline of all fifty states appeared in neon-blue lines on the concrete. “Show my location.”
A lavender dot burst into being within the borders of North Carolina, her home state. So, their abductor hadn’t carried them too far. Good.
“Show Ryan,” she said.
Another lavender dot joined the first in nearly the same spot.
“How the hell did you do that?” David asked.
“Magic.”
Dani lifted her hand, breaking the spell, and when she next flattened her palm against the floor, a neon-blue map of North Carolina appeared. “Show me where we all are.” Three dots popped up in David and Ryan’s hometown of Auburn.
Scrutinizing the map, David eased nearer than she was comfortable with. On a normal day, she liked a three-foot bubble of empty space around her at all times. What she called her no-touch zone. David was about eighteen inches away, and this was far from a normal day.
“Is that real?” he asked.
“One hundred percent,” she said, trying not to notice little things like the silky caramel color of his trousers or the fine sprinkling of hair on his forearm. It really wasn’t fair that he was that good looking and still so out of bounds. “I, uh, I can be more specific.”
“Please.”
“What’s your new address?” She hadn’t been to his home since he’d moved away a year ago.
“It’s 232 Pear Street. Down at the end of Western.”
In increments, Dani drew new maps. Auburn, his neighborhood, and finally a sketch of their home on Pear. Ryan’s lavender dot lay in bed.
David leaned in, narrowing the gap to about twelve inches, tops. She stiffened, her breathing accelerating. “Can you see who’s with him?”
She magically redrew the blueprint of his condo. “Show me who is in the home with Ryan.” One other lavender dot appeared with a little glowing tag that read “Joan Wilkes.”
“Your…?”
“My mother,” he said.
Thank God. The little boy was safe with his grandma. Whatever plot she and David were part of didn’t include Ryan, and that made everything more manageable, even David’s extreme proximity.
“Show me where I am.” The map’s lines adjusted themselves. Her dot paused north of Auburn off Highway 17 on the edge of the old Hofmann Forest.
“We’re so close to town,” David marveled, hopping over to the window and pulling himself up. “Hey!” His voice boomed in the quiet space. “Can anyone hear me?”
Dani sagged in relief, her no-touch zone blessedly reestablished, and then shook off a cold sensation like frost bite. A symptom of practicing magic. She laid her chilled palm flat against the brick wall beside her. “Show me the spells cast on this room.”
Spell marks burst into sight like fireworks around the door and window. Impenetrable, one-way barrier spells.
These were necromancy marks. She couldn’t break them. Only another necromancer could do that, and she was fresh out of those. She knew exactly two. Holden Clark was trying to keep a demon out of Rebecca Powell. Maybe he already had. Or maybe he’d failed while Dani slept helplessly in this basement cell.
The other was Cole Burkov, the biggest, baddest caster in town. He’d be a huge help right now. But she couldn’t get his attention. He wasn’t here, and neither of them was psychic.
“No one will be able to hear you,” she confirmed. “They’ve cast a couple of different spells. Nothing can escape, not even sound, from either the window or the door.”
“This is so absurd.” Massaging his temples, he frowned at the glowing orange spell marks around the window frame.
Dani plopped onto her bottom and hugged herself for warmth because her temperature had dropped a degree or two during the spell. That was the tricky thing about her magic. It was fueled by her body heat, and it eventually chilled her to the bone.
“Now you know.” Her teeth chattered, and she briefly clenched her jaw to stop. “Ryan is with his grandmother.”
“Yeah. What a relief.” David didn’t sound very relieved. “You don’t know why we’re here?”
“No. Are you ready to tell me why a necromancer put you in this room with a witch?”
“I only understood about half of that sentence, so I guess the answer’s no.”
“Then why are you here?” Dani asked. It couldn’t be to simply pretty up the place. Though he was doing a damn fine job at it.
Hands on hips, he faced the window. “Has it really been a whole week?”
The floor was too cold for her now, so she paced instead, rubbing her forearms to get the blood flowing again. And with that window broken, it would only get colder after nightfall. If they were still there after dark.
“Afraid so.”
She was on her own. She’d have to escape without any help. Which meant she was going to have to lay her hands on whoever walked through that door.
“I’ve never seen anything like this,” David grumbled. “I didn’t know…” He reached for the marks, but his fingers passed right through them.
“Y-y-yeah.” Damned chattering teeth. She sounded like a cartoon character.
His brow furrowed. “Are you okay, or aren’t you?”
“I’m fine.” And then to distract him from her slight case of hypothermia, Dani added, “What do you remember about the abduction?”
“I’d rather hear how you became a witch.”
“That’s easy.” She completed another circuit of the room. Five strides one way, four strides the other. “I was born this way.”
He returned to the door but didn’t knock. Instead, he eyeballed its framing and the narrow seam along the bottom edge.
“Can I try?” she asked.
David stepped out of her way.
Neon spell marks floated around the edges of the door, but maybe her witch magic could overpower the necromancer’s spell. After almost an hour in this place, she was desperate enough to try.
Over the past few years, magic had gotten easier to control. If she wanted to straighten her hair, it fell in black, glossy strands. If she wanted her work scrubs ironed, the wrinkles vanished. If she wanted her fingernails painted purple with white polka dots, presto change-o. She was further in sync with her power every day. It was possible she was more powerful now than she’d ever been. Wouldn’t that be convenient?
Dani pressed the palm of her hand against the cold metal door. “Open.”
An opposing force blasted her flat on her back. Stunned, she lay there for a moment, focusing on drawing breath as foreign power fizzed like soda bubbles under her skin.
So, lesson learned. Witches still couldn’t do jack shit against a necromancer’s spell.
“Jesus. You okay?” David dropped to his knees beside her, smack-dab in her no-touch zone.
No. All this power battling within her was messing with her equilibrium. “Don’t touch me.”
“Right.” His voice echoed in the quiet room. “Message received, Dani.” He gave her a hurt look and put a
whole lot of empty space between them.
Dani bit back an explanation. What was the use? She should have a blinking caution light over her head because touching her was hazardous to a person’s health. It was easier if he thought she hated him. Better than her mutilating him with magic and being unable to stop.
Dani stood and drifted to the window to stare at dirt and light and a whole lot of nothing. “I finished my shift,” she said into the awkward silence. She’d replayed her final conscious hour in her mind a thousand times since waking up in a strange bed. “I walked out with Georgie. I got into my own car and drove away. But after that, nothing. Until now.”
“You didn’t see anything?” he asked.
“Nope.”
“Same here. They must have drugged me. Or hit me. I don’t know.”
“Or spelled you.” That was more likely.
They both heard it at the same time.
He hopped away from the door. “Holy shit.”
“Sounds like car tires.” Two vehicle doors slammed shut. A couple of minutes later they heard footsteps on stairs.
“Get behind me,” David said, rising to his full height.
“No, darlin’.” Dani shook her hands to get the blood flowing and then cracked her knuckles as power tingled into her fingertips. “You get behind me.”
Chapter Two
Dani quickly catalogued the most dangerous spells at her disposal. She’d have to touch the person to cast, but if she threw herself at him, or pretended to faint, or played the seductress—whatever it took to get within arm’s reach of whoever was on the other side of that steel door—this could work.
“If you can,” she whispered just loud enough for David to hear, “help me lay hands on one of them.”
He nodded once.
A lock clicked and the door creaked open, revealing a red-haired, middle-aged man with a belly paunch protruding from an otherwise nice suit. She didn’t recognize him.
He carried two plastic sacks that smelled of cold cuts and mayo. Dani’s traitorous stomach rumbled.
“Hello.” He smiled, looking supremely comfortable on that side of the door’s barrier spell. “I hope you’re feeling well.” His set the sacks on the floor at his feet. “Sorry about all the subterfuge, but I’ve been looking for a chance to talk to you both for a while now.”
“You don’t have a cell phone? My number’s online.” She approached the door. “You didn’t have to abduct me and put me to sleep. That sort of thing is a big turnoff for me.”
“I apologize.” He sounded like he meant it, too. “I have a bit of an impulse-control problem, but if you can forgive me, I have a proposition for you.” He glanced at David. “Both of you.”
“I’d feel a lot more comfortable,” David said, “having this conversation in a public place.”
“My name is the Carver. Maybe you’ve heard of me?” He raised his eyebrows at Dani.
“Nope.”
“I serve the Dark Caster.”
She sighed. Of course. She should have known this had to do with Rebecca Powell and that blood spell Dani had cast on her. Pesky demonic-summoning spell. “You can go ahead and let us out right now. I’m not joining your cult.”
The Carver’s expression hardened. “It’s not a cult. It’s a revolution.”
She snickered. She couldn’t help it.
Every once in a while a guy, a bigger dork than the average caster, came along with the brilliant idea to break all the rules and get away with it. A few years ago the Dark Caster had tried to open a Chaos Gate between this world and the demon realm, freeing the demons to run rampant. But agents of heaven stopped him before he finished the long and complicated spell. They took away his inborn necromancy ability to channel spirits, leaving him powerless. If he had resurfaced, he’d need help from other casters. Like the Carver. Like Dani.
“What do you want?” David asked. “You must have demands. Is it a ransom? Is it favors?”
“There is no ransom. You’re not prisoners.” His nostrils flared, and it was obvious he had a loose hold on his temper. “You’re my guests.”
“Bullshit,” she spat. “Is that why you’ve spelled the door and removed any possible weapons from the room? Because we’re honored guests?”
The Carver’s face flushed red with rage.
“We should hear him out,” David said, stepping beside her and directly into her no-touch zone. “Go ahead.”
“Thank you.” The Carver visibly relaxed a notch. “The Dark Caster is opening a Chaos Gate as we speak. He requires talented and powerful casters to serve him. As I serve him.”
Some casters messed with dark magic and thought themselves gods on earth. They’d never seemed very dangerous. Until now. A Chaos Gate was no joke.
Was Rebecca Powell in a matching cell down here? What about Holden? Or Cole?
The Carver dipped his fingers into the inside pocket of his suit and pulled out a bulging manila envelope.
“I put together a little kit for your needs, including hair and blood samples. I heard witches need those.” His tossed the envelope at their feet. “I recommend a strength-sapping spell coupled with a demonic-summoning spell, but I have every confidence you two will work it out.”
“What’s in it for me?” Dani asked, trying not to roll her eyes. Pissing him off any further wouldn’t help anything, though she couldn’t believe he’d gotten the drop on her. This guy was more high school English teacher than menacing monster. Outsmarting him should be a snap.
“Power,” he intoned, his face lighting up. “More power than you’ve ever dreamed of.”
Dani shrugged. “I’m of the mindset that I have too much power already, friend.”
“Imagine it,” he said, ignoring her. “Demons on earth and under your personal control. All the money and influence in the world at your fingertips. And the Dark Caster handpicked you. It’s an absolute honor—”
“If you want us to take your offer seriously,” Dani said, “let us go. I don’t make deals with kidnappers.”
“But,” the Carver continued as if he hadn’t heard her, “we need a show of good faith. We want you to cast a summoning spell.”
No way. “What would I be summoning? And into whom?”
“A demon,” he answered as if it were no big thing, “into Derek Walker.”
Real fear flooded her senses for the first time since waking up in this place. She didn’t know who Derek Walker was, but he probably didn’t deserve a demonic possession. “Are you the guy trying to possess Rebecca Powell?”
“Are you refusing?” The Carver’s cold eyes narrowed.
Dani had never liked being bullied. “Yes.”
“You’re refusing.” He said it like he couldn’t believe it.
“That’s right. My answer is going to be a respectful no.”
Gritting his teeth, the Carver jabbed a finger in her direction. “You’ll regret not taking my offer more seriously.”
“Hang on,” David said, holding up his palms and nearly jabbing her with his elbow. “Let’s talk this out.”
“Joke’s on you, witch,” the Carver snarled. “You think you can disrespect me?” He seemed to grow in height. “Do you know who I am?” He grabbed a large sub sandwich out of one of the sacks at his feet. With a guttural growl, he hurled it like a fastball at Dani’s head. She ducked just in time to miss being covered in mayo and shredded lettuce. The sandwich exploded on the floor behind her.
“Fuck you both,” he shouted, spit flying and landing on his lapel.
The Carver could cross the barrier, which meant he could toss a grenade in next. Or a Molotov cocktail. Or knives. A guy calling himself the Carver had to be skilled with a knife. She put herself between David and the submarine sandwich destroyer.
He threw the next sandwich at her, too, but it also hit the wall. His fancy suit in total disarray and his red hair tumbling into his eyes, he next pulled out two water bottles, cracked them both open, and overturned their contents onto the concret
e.
“You had your chance.” He slung the now empty bottles at the recliner. “I came in here willing to negotiate. But you’ve ruined it. You’ll do what I ask. There is no option B.”
He reached for the door, and she panicked. He couldn’t leave her here with David in this ever-shrinking room.
“Game’s over,” she said in her toughest teacher voice. “Drop the spell and let us out.”
He slammed the door and locked it.
“No!” David attacked the sealed exit, pounding on it with both fists. “Come back!”
“Holy shit,” Dani whispered. This was way worse than she’d thought.
“What the hell is going on?” David turned on her. “Who’s Derek Walker, and what are we supposed to do to him?”
“Kill him. Essentially.” Once a demon took over, it didn’t leave without a fight. And while it was along for the ride, it encouraged violence and chaos and murder. It would take pleasure in hurting women, children, and all manner of innocent creatures.
David paled. “I’m not doing that.”
“Me either,” Dani assured. She was no killer. She cared for people. She didn’t hurt them.
“I don’t understand.” He stared accusingly at the door. “What’s a summoning spell?”
“It’s where a necromancer summons a demon from hell into a human being. The person ceases to exist, and their body, personality, and memories become playthings for the demon.”
“I’m guessing demons don’t do good works.”
“They crave violence and mayhem,” Dani said.
“Right.”
David returned to pacing and a waft of air that smelled like a New York deli hit her. Bits of lettuce, meat, and black olives held together with gloppy mayonnaise littered the floor and the foot of David’s mattress. As a preschool teacher, she’d been yelled at and had toys thrown at her, but by three- and four-year-olds in the heat of temper tantrums. Grown men did not ever get murderous gleams in their eyes and hurl food at her.
Any pithy remark she might have made died on her lips. Nothing about this situation was funny. They were being held captive by a madman. She watched David, and her heart went out to him.
