“This is amazing.” Nick leaned forward on the couch and peered at my computer screen. “Have you told the sheriff?”
Emmie lay curled on her favorite blanket beside the glowing Christmas tree. Lightly, she banged a block on the carpet.
“Not yet.” I shifted Mitch on my hip. “I wasn't sure how I was going to explain how we got this web address from Castor’s hotel room. We were breaking and entering.”
“And you say you have screen shots?”
“More than that. I saved all the threads I had access to.”
He sat back on the couch and eyed me. “I wish you'd have stopped at hacking. If you wanted to talk to Mory, I should have come with you.”
“I was in a public place.”
He raised a brow. “Alone with him in his office?”
“I hadn't realized we'd be alone. But… Okay, you're right. I should have waited for you, but things are happening so quickly. And I have a sick feeling that there's something next, something new and terrible. I want to be done with it all.”
He rubbed his hands across his face. “I hear you. I'm going to take some time off until this is over—the book, the Black Lodge, all of it.”
“Can you?”
He took my hand and massaged it gently. “Even defense attorneys get sick days.”
My laptop beeped.
Releasing me, Nick leaned forward and frowned at the screen. “I think Castor's got a message.”
I handed him the baby and sat beside him. A new message had appeared in dark blue at the top of the screen: YOU'RE LATE.
I clicked on the icon, and a message box opened.
We expected a report yesterday. What's the status of the item?
I grabbed his arm. “They must mean the book.”
“Whoever sent this knows it's being read.” Nick tapped the screen, and a status message appeared: OPENED.
I cursed. Nick covered Mitch's ears.
“If Castor doesn't respond,” I said, “whoever it is will know someone else is reading this.”
“Respond,” Nick said.
“What do I say?”
“Just say you're closing in on the item, but don't have it yet.”
I don't have the item yet.
I pressed send.
The cursor blinked.
Location?
“The lodge doesn't know where the item is.” I glanced anxiously at Emmie. “What should I tell them?”
“You don't know where it is. Keep it short.”
I rubbed my damp palm on the thigh of my slacks. I typed. Unknown.
And our friend?
“He must mean Trevor,” Nick said.
Mitch burped, sighed, and snuggled on Nick's chest.
“We need to make them think we have nothing to do with Trevor's death,” I said, “because we don’t.”
“Just keep it brief,” Nick repeated.
Evidence suggests witches not involved. I sat back, holding my breath.
The cursor blinked.
Who is this?
“Dammit,” Nick muttered, “they know.”
My hands turned clammy. “Do I tell him the truth?”
“I don't think anything good's going to come from engaging them directly.”
“So, what do I say?”
“Say—”
My laptop clicked. The screen went black.
A wave of energy burst from the computer and raised the hair on my arms. The screen cracked. A puff of smoke emerged from the keyboard.
“Tell me you backed that up,” Nick said.
“I backed it—”
A second wave of energy rolled through me, making me gasp. My wards. Either the magic had triggered them, or—
There was another, louder crack that jerked my attention toward the Christmas tree. A long fracture cleft the window.
I leapt to my feet. “Emmie, get away from...”
The blanket in front of the tree was empty. An abandoned block lay beside it.
“Where's Emmie?” How had she moved so quickly? We hadn't been at the computer long. The door to the backyard was closed, so she hadn't gone out that way.
She'd probably wandered to another room. I hurried into the hallway.
A chill breeze prickled my flesh.
The door at the end of the hall stood open to the outside.
I’d locked that door.
“Emmie!” I jogged down the hallway, Nick on my heels. “Emmie!”
“She's quite the escape artist,” Nick said, his voice uneven.
We raced into the dark yard. “Emmie?”
A door banged shut.
My shed. Its door swung slowly open.
“Oh, no.” It wasn’t possible. I’d padlocked it. I’d double-checked the padlock. Heart pounding, I raced across the damp grass to the shed and flung open the door.
Emmie lay on the floor in front of the sink. I dropped to my knees. “Emmie? Emmie!”
My daughter lay unconscious, the book open beside her.
∞
Emmie was hurt and it was my fault. My fault.
I stood in the waiting room, barely able to breathe, and clutched Mitch to my chest. Nick's arm tightened around us both.
The doctor was talking, but she and her words seemed far away.
“If there's nothing wrong with our daughter,” Nick was saying, “why isn't she waking up?”
“We're doing our best to figure it out,” the doctor said. “But her breathing is steady. Her pulse is a little fast, but not in a dangerous range, and her heart isn't struggling.”
My sisters looked at each other.
The book, the book, the book. She'd touched the book. “Can we see her?” I whispered.
“Of course,” the doctor said. “All of you can. We'll be moving her for tests shortly, but there's nothing to stop you from seeing her now.”
“Thank you,” I managed to choke out.
The doctor showed us to the small room, where Emmie lay in a child-sized hospital bed. My daughter's face was pale, her lips drawn back in something like a snarl.
I handed Mitch to Nick. Heart squeezing, I stroked her cheek. “Emmie? We're here. It's okay.”
“A nurse will be back to take her in for testing,” the doctor said and left the room, closing the door behind her.
“Lenore?” My voice cracked.
Hurriedly, she stepped to the bed, and I straightened away. Lenore held her hands, palm down, a few inches above Emmie. She jerked them away.
“Lenore?” I repeated.
“There's something connected to her.”
I swayed. “Well, get it out!”
“It's...” Lenore swallowed. “It’s really big.”
Nick raked a hand through his hair. “She's only a baby.”
“It's the book.” I moaned. “She touched the book.”
“How?” Nick asked. “Didn't you put it in the safe?”
“I did! It was locked up!” I knew it had been. The house doors had been locked, the shed padlocked, and yet…
“The book's been playing all sorts of tricks with us,” Jayce said quietly. “It's been doing its best to get out. This wasn't your fault, Karin. The book did this. Not you.”
“But I had the book.” I moaned. “It was my responsibility.”
Let me in, little witch. A voice graveled.
I turned, looking wildly about the small hospital room.
“It's not a spirit,” Lenore was saying. “What's in the book is...” She glanced at me. “Look, we can detach it from her. We've done this sort of thing before.”
Let me in, little witch, and I shall leave it.
I blinked. The book. The thing in the book had possessed my daughter.
Connor strode into the room, my backpack dangling from his broad hand. “Got it.”
“Did you wear gloves?” Lenore asked sharply.
“I'm a cop. I wore gloves.”
I sent my will toward the book. What do you want?
A trade in kind.
You mean, if I let you take me, you'll let her go?
Yes.
I couldn't trust it. The thing in the book could take me over and then kill Emmie and Mitch and everyone else I loved. How do I know you'll keep your word?
There was no response, because of course I couldn’t trust it. Sickened, I gripped the back of a chair. I couldn’t—
“Karin,” Lenore said sharply.
“Sorry,” I said. “What?”
“Can you see any threads between the book and Emmie?”
The book lay wrapped in plastic on the linoleum counter, beside a box of tissues and glass jars filled with swabs.
“Right,” I said, swaying. “I'll check.” I relaxed my vision. Black cords flowed from the book’s spine and ensnared my daughter.
I shall kill it. I shall kill your spawn, and you shall watch, impotent.
Emmie groaned and shifted.
You shall watch, and you shall mourn. Your family will curse your arrogance. And your spawn will be done.
Nausea gripped me, and my sight snapped into reality. I'd seen enough.
Emmie's tiny form relaxed.
“What did you see?” Lenore asked.
“It's the book,” I whispered.
Invite me, little witch. Invoke me.
My head jerked up. A possession was when a demon or spirit crawled inside you. The cords had been wrapped around Emmie. “You said there was something connected to her?” I asked Lenore. “Not inside her?”
“As far as I can tell,” Lenore said, “she's being influenced, not possessed. But the thing in the book is really, really strong. It's influence could be as strong as a possession.”
I grabbed the book. Icy tentacles twined around my wrists.
“No!” my sisters shouted. Nick rounded the bed toward me.
I gazed at the oily cords tightening around my wrists, flowing up my arms. My mouth twisted in disgust. I threw the book to the floor, shuddered, and rubbed my wrists. “You're right. This isn't a possession. It’s trying to trick us.”
“What did you see?” Jayce asked. “How?”
“I didn’t—” I shook my head. “It told me if I invited it to possess me, it would leave her. The demon is still trapped inside the book. This is all just another ploy to get free.”
“But it's not just a ploy.” Nick’s neck muscles bulged. His jaw tightened. “Our daughter's in a coma.”
We couldn’t wait any longer. Emmie couldn’t wait. It was time to face the demon head on.