every piece of magic in me. Fae and wolf.
In my mind’s eye, I could see a thick band cutting through the northeast edge of the bone yard, moving straight through the riot of growth of what remained of my mum’s herb garden. Knew with absolute sureness that it went straight through the roots of the old maple on the edge of our point.
And then—oh, the sweet irony of it—proof that the witches knew squat about real magic. Can’t make magic over water, huh? I knew without a doubt that the thickest line ran right under the pond. The last ice age had left my pirate rock sitting right on top of it.
Stupid witches. Elizabeth had been close as she searched for the leylines, but she’d been as useless as a mortal sniffing for smoke. So easily distracted. She’d only caught a faint, distracting whiff of it. Enough to know it was within reach, but unable to detect its originating source.
Imagine what the coven could have done if they’d actually tapped into that hidden reservoir of power square-on?
As it was, they’d unleashed something evil.
Chapter Six
The pressure in my ears and sinuses turned into a swift agony when Fae-me and mortal-me met the vile corruption unleashed by the coven’s summoning.
I couldn’t see it. But I could sense the evil. An intangible presence as frightening as if a hoof-footed, scaled creature had crawled up from hell. Now, it floated in our world, and it sucked in deep hungry breaths. Tasting the air for magic.
My Fae slid off my hip and found a place to huddle against my belly.
Those stupid, stupid, ignorant women. This unseen entity—this manifestation of bad—was so much older, so much stronger than any coven of witches. And he would demand such payment that a thousand Fae Tears could not absorb his evil.
I would not pay that bill.
Nor could I protect my Fae or myself from the pain of his desire. So we endured, the four of us. Merry, sparking at my throat. My Fae, a flinching coil of misery. And my wolf, who howled and bayed, as if she’d seen the opposite of the moon and now knew true terror.
My eyes ached in their sockets. Goddess, they could burst under this pressure.
Don’t surrender to this evil. Don’t give it anything.
You’ll lose pieces of yourself forever if you do.
But it was a literal agony to suffer it. I rolled, looking for release from its call. And as I did, my Fae spasmed and thrashed with me. Hitting the sides of the shaking truck with dull thuds that released a scent of crushed flowers. Filling my head with her high cries of hurt and fright.
The vacuum grew stronger. Winds that once howled now shrieked.
I flinched as something clawed at the cover over our heads.
Stay away!
There was a bang, followed by a quick, sharp crack as the wind sucked away the back window. “Shit!” I heard Itchy shout—his curse almost simultaneous with the sound of the hailstorm of glass hitting the cover over my head.
Don’t come in!
The air was too thin, and I cried out in fear as an object, solid and heavy, hit the back bed hard enough to fold the side panel inward and send the car skidding to one side. Itchy shouted—though I couldn’t make out what he said—and the truck lifted on both wheels.
Please, no.
I felt sudden, bowel-loosening fear that the unseen evil would pick up the vehicle like it was a Matchbox car and toss it right over the edge of the cliff, and then we’d drown in our very own fairy pond, trapped in the back of some biker’s vanity truck.
That’s when absolute panic broke loose inside that truck bed. My Fae went bat-shit. And me? Can’t breathe! Can’t get out!
I guess I went a bit crazy too.
* * *
“Trowbridge!” I screamed over the howling wind. “Cordelia!”
“Harry! Biggs!” I frantically swung my legs, trying to break Gerry’s precious rollback cover, but I couldn’t get enough swing to do much damage. With every desperate kick, I screamed another name. Trowbridge. Cordelia. Harry. Biggs.
Then finally,
In my mind’s eye, I could see a thick band cutting through the northeast edge of the bone yard, moving straight through the riot of growth of what remained of my mum’s herb garden. Knew with absolute sureness that it went straight through the roots of the old maple on the edge of our point.
And then—oh, the sweet irony of it—proof that the witches knew squat about real magic. Can’t make magic over water, huh? I knew without a doubt that the thickest line ran right under the pond. The last ice age had left my pirate rock sitting right on top of it.
Stupid witches. Elizabeth had been close as she searched for the leylines, but she’d been as useless as a mortal sniffing for smoke. So easily distracted. She’d only caught a faint, distracting whiff of it. Enough to know it was within reach, but unable to detect its originating source.
Imagine what the coven could have done if they’d actually tapped into that hidden reservoir of power square-on?
As it was, they’d unleashed something evil.
Chapter Six
The pressure in my ears and sinuses turned into a swift agony when Fae-me and mortal-me met the vile corruption unleashed by the coven’s summoning.
I couldn’t see it. But I could sense the evil. An intangible presence as frightening as if a hoof-footed, scaled creature had crawled up from hell. Now, it floated in our world, and it sucked in deep hungry breaths. Tasting the air for magic.
My Fae slid off my hip and found a place to huddle against my belly.
Those stupid, stupid, ignorant women. This unseen entity—this manifestation of bad—was so much older, so much stronger than any coven of witches. And he would demand such payment that a thousand Fae Tears could not absorb his evil.
I would not pay that bill.
Nor could I protect my Fae or myself from the pain of his desire. So we endured, the four of us. Merry, sparking at my throat. My Fae, a flinching coil of misery. And my wolf, who howled and bayed, as if she’d seen the opposite of the moon and now knew true terror.
My eyes ached in their sockets. Goddess, they could burst under this pressure.
Don’t surrender to this evil. Don’t give it anything.
You’ll lose pieces of yourself forever if you do.
But it was a literal agony to suffer it. I rolled, looking for release from its call. And as I did, my Fae spasmed and thrashed with me. Hitting the sides of the shaking truck with dull thuds that released a scent of crushed flowers. Filling my head with her high cries of hurt and fright.
The vacuum grew stronger. Winds that once howled now shrieked.
I flinched as something clawed at the cover over our heads.
Stay away!
There was a bang, followed by a quick, sharp crack as the wind sucked away the back window. “Shit!” I heard Itchy shout—his curse almost simultaneous with the sound of the hailstorm of glass hitting the cover over my head.
Don’t come in!
The air was too thin, and I cried out in fear as an object, solid and heavy, hit the back bed hard enough to fold the side panel inward and send the car skidding to one side. Itchy shouted—though I couldn’t make out what he said—and the truck lifted on both wheels.
Please, no.
I felt sudden, bowel-loosening fear that the unseen evil would pick up the vehicle like it was a Matchbox car and toss it right over the edge of the cliff, and then we’d drown in our very own fairy pond, trapped in the back of some biker’s vanity truck.
That’s when absolute panic broke loose inside that truck bed. My Fae went bat-shit. And me? Can’t breathe! Can’t get out!
I guess I went a bit crazy too.
* * *
“Trowbridge!” I screamed over the howling wind. “Cordelia!”
“Harry! Biggs!” I frantically swung my legs, trying to break Gerry’s precious rollback cover, but I couldn’t get enough swing to do much damage. With every desperate kick, I screamed another name. Trowbridge. Cordelia. Harry. Biggs.
Then finally,
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