Waking the Witch
Page 46

“You said rituals. Multiple ones then?”
“Right. My source can’t narrow it down. You’re looking for a druid, though, one who still practices human sacrifice.”
“Nasty habit.”
She made a noise that could be taken as agreement, but almost certainly wasn’t. Molly had likely sacrificed people in protection rituals for her daughters.
I thanked her, hung up, and started hitting speed dial to call Adam and ask him to renew the search, narrowing it down to druidic rituals—
I stopped. I stood there, finger poised over the screen for at least a minute. Then I pocketed the phone and kept walking.
 
THE ADDRESS TIFFANY had given me led to the town’s abandoned newspaper building, three blocks from Main Street. It was ugly—shit brown and squat with tiny windows, as if the reporters knew nothing newsworthy would be happening outside and didn’t want to depress themselves by looking.
I tried the front door. Locked. I hit the buzzer, but didn’t hear anything. Disconnected, I guessed. I knocked. No answer.
I walked around the side. A door opened and a slender hand gestured frantically.
“I said to be careful,” Tiffany hissed as she pulled me inside. “That means not using the front door.”
“There’s no one around,” I said. “And even if there was, they just saw me trying to get into an empty building. Typical PI work.”
“Did you tell anyone you were coming here?”
“No.”
“Good.”
The electricity must have been completely disconnected, because the only light filtered in through tiny windows.
“Go left,” she said. “Then we’ll head downstairs to the presses.”
“Who’s going to hear us up here?”
“There’s something down there I want to show you.”
Yeah, right. I only nodded, though, and played along. At the top of the stairs, I paused.
“It’s awfully dark down there,” I said. “Did you bring a flashlight?”
“There’s a lantern down there.”
“Huh.” I peered into the darkness as I teetered on the top of the steps. Behind me, she cast a binding spell under her breath. Exactly what I expected.
“I can barely see—” I began, then wheeled and hit her with a knockback spell. Or I tried. It failed and as I launched another, she finished hers and I froze in place. I mentally struggled to get free, but the spell held and all I could do was stand there as she ran at me, hands out, and gave me a tremendous shove.
I toppled like a statue, hitting the stairs hard. Pain screamed through me, jolting me out of the spell, and my arms flew out to brace myself before I hit the concrete floor headfirst. I staggered up and wheeled. Tiffany stood at the top of the stairs, casting aloud now, trying to lock me in another binding spell.
I leaped aside and cast an energy bolt. It went off course and hit the wall beside her head with barely a pop.
I raced into the dark basement. I’m sure my battered body complained, but I didn’t feel it. All I could think was: Two failed spells in a row? No way. No fucking way.
I squelched a bubble of panic. The second had screwed up, not failed. My fault for jumping aside when I should have been concentrating.
I raced into a dark corner, cast a cover spell, and felt the mental click of a successful cast. As for whether I was hidden, that remained to be seen. Hence the really dark corner.
Tiffany’s cautious steps sounded on the stairs. I forced myself to relax and focus. Stick to simple spells for now. Defensive magic.
At the bottom of the steps, Tiffany created a light ball, sending it into every corner, including the one I was in. The cover spell worked fine.
When she turned her back on me, I hit her with a knockback that slammed her into the wall. That was more like it.
As I advanced on her, she flipped over and started her binding spell again. I smacked her down with another knockback.
“Your choice of spells leaves a lot to be desired,” I said. “In a pinch, skip the binding and go for the knockback. Efficient, effective, fast launching ... But I’m going to guess you don’t know sorcerer magic.”
She sat up and her hands shot down. An energy bolt sizzled past me as I stepped aside. It hit the wall with a faint pop, leaving a charred circle the size of a dime.
“Huh, I stand corrected. But that’s really more of a party trick. What you need is one of these.” I slammed a high-voltage energy bolt into the wall inches from her head. It left a hole the size of my fist.
Still sitting, she started to cast a binding spell. I smacked her with a smaller energy bolt, making her jump.
“You really are a one-trick pony, aren’t you?” I said. “Well, two, I guess, if you include that pathetic energy bolt.” I leaned down and whispered. “It’s really kind of embarrassing.”
She lunged. I grabbed her by the front of her shirt and threw her into an ancient printing press.
“Not expecting that?” I said. “Lesson two. Learn some self-defense tricks as well as spellcasting.”
Tiffany rose and touched the back of her shoulder. Her fingers came away bloody.
“You bitch,” she whispered.
She launched an energy bolt. I darted to the side, but not fast enough. It caught me in the elbow, jolting me enough to make me bite my tongue. Rage rushed through me. My hands flew up. The energy bolt hit her in the shoulder and scorched through her blouse. She screamed, and I smelled burning flesh.
When her hands rose again, I hit her with a spell Paige and Lucas hadn’t taught me, one they didn’t know. It pinned her to the wall, her guts on fire, her face contorting in agony.
As I held her there, blood roared in my ears. Seeing her writhing, hearing her mewling ... I amped it up, just a notch, watching her face, seeing and feeling her terror and—
“Enough, Savannah.” Paige’s voice, deep in my head. “You have her. You won. That’s enough.”
The rush evaporated and when I looked at Tiffany again, I saw her terror and panic. I released the spell.
“Now you know what I can do,” I said as I stepped toward her. “If you cast any more spells you’ll get another taste of that one. Got it?”
“Bitch,” she said.
“You keep calling me that. I have a name, you know, though it seems you don’t know exactly who I am, so let’s try a proper introduction. I’m Savannah—”