I soared in the ley line like a speeding bullet. So fast, I barely registered my body leaving Davenport House as images sped by, blurred and barely recognizable.
Though, I did catch a glimpse of a large, silverback gorilla tearing up the street as he pushed his body forward with his muscular legs at an impossible speed. He was magnificent.
I blinked and he was gone. Not him. Me. Because, well, let’s face it, my ley line was much faster. Like driving a Maserati next to a scooter.
Bending slightly forward, I laughed—or maybe I howled, I wasn’t sure—letting it spill from me as my hearing was assaulted by the rushing wind. It was exhilarating. I felt alive, so alive, as though I was feeling every nerve in my body for the first time.
Riding ley lines was both thrilling and terrifying. But bending them to your will was, well, that was magical.
I figured I had about nine minutes, to grab Estelle or Patricia—whatever her name was—drag her butt with me in a ley line to Montevalley Castle, and get her to confess to the murder of her husband in front of Greta.
Easy peasy, right?
We’d see.
Images blurred as I sped forward in the ley line in a wail of wind and colors. Moving this fast was exhilarating. I felt like I was Superwoman, a new superhero. Did I put my body in a superhero flying pose? You bet I did. I had to clamp my mouth shut as to not scream in delight. The last thing I wanted was to alert Estelle.
I was getting really good at bending the lines. Hell, I was a freaking pro.
Take that, Greta.
Energy rushed through my head, my body, my nerves, everywhere. Houses, streets, roads, and trees blurred past me like I was on a speeding train—more like I was riding a jet. A ley line jet.
Focusing, I willed the ley line to go slower, so I could find Estelle’s house. I did not want to miss it at this speed.
A moment later, my eyes found a small sage-colored cottage with a red door, sitting peacefully between two massive leafless oak trees. Black windows stared back at me. Straining, I bent my ley line to go through her house to the second floor, moving from bedroom to bedroom until I found what I was looking for.
A woman, a witch who looked to be in her early seventies slept comfortably in a large king-size bed under a lavender comforter. She lay in the middle of the bed, her limbs all spread out like a queen, like nothing could touch her. The faint snores told me she was sleeping.
You’re mine.
I pulled myself forward, gauging the distance, ready to jump out from the ley line and into her bedroom.
Steadily, I yanked myself out—
And let out a howl of pain as agony stretched inside me, strained to the breaking point.
The ley line’s magic severed.
A string of pain in me snapped like a broken twig. Holy hell it hurt. My breath escaped me as I was thrown back. Darkness churned, sucking the power out of me and driving it deeper away. The ley line’s magic streamed out of me in a flood of pain until there was nothing left but a dull throb.
I hit solid ground with a thud. “Ow,” I choked out. “Where did that come from?”
Blinking through the tears, I took a breath of cold air. Cold air? I looked around. I was outside, lying on my side in the front yard, my face half-buried in the snow. I pushed myself up, my head throbbing from the sudden ley line smackdown. “Definitely not inside the bedroom.”
Okay, so this wasn’t as easy as I thought.
I blinked, rubbing my head and my eyes found the problem. On her front red door, barely visible under the porch light, was a diamond-shaped symbol with three squiggly lines drawn across it.
A ward. I wasn’t a ward connoisseur, but I recognized it from my studying. It was a trespassing ward, one against magic, sort of a “do not enter with the use of magic” kind of ward.
Okay, so she wasn’t that stupid.
But neither was I.
I pulled my head up and took a breath, my ribs protesting like someone had taken a two-by-four and played racquetball on my chest. I glanced over my shoulder down the dark street. Marcus wasn’t here yet, but I couldn’t waste any more time waiting for him.
I yanked out my phone and glanced at the screen. 11:53 p.m.
She might have put a ward up against using magic to get inside her house, but the idiot forgot to add the use of any physical means to get in.
“Let’s do this.” I walked over to the snow removal driveway stakes, hauled one out of the hard-cold earth, and stepped up to the front door.
Holding the snow removal stake like a spear, I aimed it at the glass window in the middle of the door. Of course, once I broke the glass, she’d wake up and I’d only have a few seconds before she would react, possibly with a spell.
I needed to make every second count.
Holding my breath, I raised the stake—
“Let me do that,” said Marcus’s voice behind me, making me flinch.
I whirled around and gasped.
There was Marcus, standing on the front porch next to me with steam rolling off his body like a freshly baked potato. And yes. He was butt naked.
He stood there, unashamed, golden, and muscled like a Roman statue. Such a pretty, pretty statue.
“Nice,” I said before I could stop myself.
Marcus grinned. “I know.”
I laughed. “Mmmkay,” I said and turned around. “You going to help me with that or are you just going to stand there all naked and muscled… and did I mention naked?”
“I’ve got this.” Marcus stepped next to me, completely unconcerned with his lack of clothes, which I couldn’t complain about. He looked at me and said, “Get ready. She’s going to be pissed.”
I let out a breath. “Ready.”
I knew there was a one percent chance Estelle hadn’t poisoned her husband, and we were about to commit a crime, but I was holding on to the ninety-nine percent. I was right. I had to be.
Marcus exploded into motion and kicked down the front door with a powerful hit. Estelle’s front door burst open and slammed into an adjacent side wall with a thundering crash. Yup, Estelle would have heard that. The whole damn town would too.
But I was already moving.
I hit the stairs two at a time, ignoring the pain in my ribs, head, legs, everywhere. I could worry about the pain tomorrow. Marcus’s heavy footsteps thudded right behind me.
Panting, I reached the landing. I’d seen where she was, so I made for the master bedroom opposite the stairs.
The door was open, and I shot through.
Only Estelle wasn’t lying in her bed anymore. In fact, she was standing next to it, not stooped with age, but straight and strong. Her long white hair floated around her in an invisible breeze. She eyed me with glittering hazel eyes full of hate from within a weathered but rosy face. She wore a long flowery nightgown that brushed the top of her toes and a murderous expression on her wrinkled face. With her arms outstretched before her, a dark curse spilled from her lips—
“Duck!” I yelled and threw myself on the ground, grabbing Marcus’s arm and bringing him down with me, just as whatever spell Estelle shot at us hit the doorframe.
The frame exploded in a shower of wood splinters, dust, and drywall. A steaming black stain covered the spot where it had been and part of the wall, and a sour, bitter stench filled the air.
A dark curse, a killing one at that.
She’d just tried to kill us. Yes, I was a stranger to her, but she knew Marcus. Yeah, she was guilty.
The little old lady had some serious magic skills. But so did I.
Pissed, I gathered my will, rolled to my knees, pulled on the elements around me, and shouted, “Stagno!”
A kinetic force smacked the witch in the chest. She staggered back, her eyes widened in fear, and then she stiffened like a statue and keeled over.
“Well, then,” I hauled myself to my feet and wiped the hair from my eyes. “You’ve been a naughty little grandma. Haven’t you?” I said as I stepped next to the fallen witch. Her face twitched in fury, but nothing else moved.
“Impressive,” said Marcus as he stood next to me, still in his nakedness. I tried to keep my eyes on the witch, but it was damn near impossible with him looking like that.
“Thanks. It’s a new power word I learned recently. It immobilizes your enemy. Just enough to keep them from trying to kill you.”
“Can she speak?” Marcus watched the old witch with curiosity.
“Oh, yeah. She can speak.” Total lie, since I had no idea, this being the first time I’d tried it. Well, I was going to find out.
“Hi, Patricia, or should I say… Estelle,” I said, seeing her eyes widen at the mention of her real name. “Yeah. I know about that. I also know you killed your husband and let Ruth take the blame for it. Thought you’d get away with it. Didn’t you? Well, I’m here to tell you that you didn’t.”
She looked more like a nice old grandma who spent her time baking cookies for her grandkids rather than a black widow.
I waited for her to speak but she didn’t say anything.
“Maybe her voice doesn’t work,” said Marcus. “Maybe your spell hit her too hard.”
My gaze fell back on her face. She was looking rather smug for a witch statue. She had the look of someone who’d done something terrible and knew she had gotten away with it.
I checked my phone and cursed.
“What time is it?” asked Marcus.
My tension made all my muscles stiffen. “It’s 11:55 p.m. I’ve got five minutes for her to talk. Looks like I’ll have to torture her.”
“You can torture me all you want,” said Estelle, her voice raspy and hard. “You have no proof I killed my husband.”
“She speaks.” I looked down at her, smiling. “I have proof that you bought the black belladonna.”
Estelle snorted. “That proves nothing.”
“Maybe not. But a confession will. And you will confess to his murder. Because I’m going to make you.”
“I won’t.” She flashed me a contemptuous smile. “I’m not afraid of you. See. I’m old. I’m not afraid of some pain. It goes with age. So, go ahead. Do your worst.”
I strained to resist kicking her. I had five minutes. I’d never tortured anyone before, but I was pretty sure it took a lot longer than five minutes. And by then, it’d be too late.
Marcus leaned over. “What do you want to do? We don’t have much time.” The concern in his voice only made my tension rise to new heights.
My thoughts rambled, and panic rose, making it hard to concentrate. Five minutes. What could I do in less than five minutes?
“No, we don’t.” Something occurred to me. “But if she won’t talk to me, I know who’ll make her talk.”
The chief’s face wrinkled in a frown. “Really? Who?”
“I have an idea,” I said, my veins pumping with adrenaline. I looked at the chief. “Wait for me at Davenport House. I’ll see you later.”
Marcus flashed me a smile. “I’ll be waiting.” He stared at me with those damn fine eyes of his. It was so, so easy just to stand here and get lost in them.
But I had other plans.
Grabbing Estelle by the foot, I yanked her forward out her bedroom, down the stairs (you bet I did), and out the front door.
“You’ll pay for that!” she hissed as I dropped her in the snow just as Marcus joined us in the front yard.
“Sure. Whatever you say.”
Thrusting out my will, I reached out to the nearest ley line. It answered. I pulled it to me, bending it with my mind, willing it forward until it was right there with me.
A sudden blast of wind shuddered around us, unleashing a flow of energies that pulsed in the air, ley line power.
And I held it, a screaming storm of power. Me.
With one last look at Marcus, I reached down, grabbed the old witch by the front of her nightgown, and dragged her to her feet. “Let’s go, Grandma.”
And then I jumped into the ley line, hauling Estelle with me.