A Magical Shift: A Hot Paranormal Fantasy Saga with Witches, Werewolves, and Werebears (Weres and Witches of Silver Lake Book 1) (24 page)

The door opened. “Come in, Rye. Tell me what’s wrong.” The man was the epitome of calm.

Rye was barely able to get the words out. “Izzy’s in trouble. I think Owen Chancellor has her.”

James led him over to the sofa. “Slow down and tell me everything.”

Here he thought the man had super human powers and would already be aware of what had transpired. As coherently as he could, Rye imparted only the most important pieces of information. “Can you ask your source for the location of their witches?”

“I can try, but there’s no guarantee Izzy is there. Seems to me this Chancellor person has an agenda we’re not even sure about.”

“I need to start somewhere.”

As if Izzy were resting comfortably somewhere sipping tea instead of being held against her will, James eased up from the chair and went in search of his cell phone. Rye wanted to shake him at his lack of urgency.

“Here it is.” James held up his cell and dialed someone. He explained what he needed and then listened for at least a minute. “Thank you.”

He returned to his seat. “There are two witches that my source said might have dealt with your stalker.” He wrote down their names and addresses. “I hope you know your way around the hills, as addresses are not well marked.”

“I’ll find it.”
With Izzy’s help
.

Rye ran out without thanking James. Damn. Once in the SUV, he dialed Izzy’s cell, hoping she had her phone with her, but it went to voicemail as Elana had said. In case Chancellor had confiscated it, he didn’t leave a message.

“Izzy, I’m going to find you. Hang in there.”

“Hurry.”
The communication was much clearer this time. She sounded stronger, and the tightness in his throat relaxed somewhat.

“Can you tell me anything about your location?”

“In the trunk of Chancellor’s car.”

Acid burned a hole in his heart.
“Kalan and I will find you. If you learn anything, let me know.”

“Rye?”

“Yes.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too. Hang in there.”

“I’m trying, but I’ve been shot.”

With that news, Rye nearly ran off the road.

‡

W
hile Izzy was
relieved Rye knew she’d been kidnapped, she wasn’t sure it would do her any good. The hole in her arm seemed to have stopped bleeding, but the wound to her hip was killing her—literally and figuratively. Every bump sent spikes of pain up her spine, and from the amount of the liquid on the carpet, she was losing blood rather quickly.

Damn. Why hadn’t she thought to contact him when Chancellor shoved that gun in her back? Because she’d been overwhelmed and this whole telepathy thing was so new to her.

Rye’s comment came back to her about how she’d have improved healing powers, but if that were true, why was she still in such pain? Was it because she needed to shift first? Unfortunately, that was out of her control. What she wouldn’t give for her sister’s healing ways now.

Needing to focus on escaping, she concentrated on what she’d have to do next. When Chancellor opened the trunk again, assuming he would, she’d have to use her magic on him from a prone position, as she was in no shape to jump out and attack. Fire seemed her best solution, but her aim when she was healthy was poor at best. Sadly, shooting fire didn’t happen instantaneously, and she doubted he’d stand there while she created the heat.

If he were pointing a gun at her, she’d have to do as he said.

Izzy closed her eyes and pictured Rye sitting on the rock overlooking Silver Lake, hoping to reestablish the connection. In her weakened state, she wasn’t sure she could communicate.
“Rye, where are you?”

“Trying…you.”

She wished she understood how this mental communication really worked, because the connection was so weak. The trunk opened and Izzy froze.

“Fuck. You bled on the carpet.”

The rental car company would have a field day with that. “It wasn’t
my
fault.”

He reached in to grab her, but she waved him off. “I’ll get out by myself.”
Even if it kills me.

Chancellor aimed his gun at her heart. “No shenanigans or I’ll shoot you dead this time.”

She believed him. A door opened, and footsteps sounded. “What’s going on here?” It was a woman’s voice and hope surged.

“Isadora isn’t feeling well. Can you do the spell from there?” her captor asked.

Another spell? Her stomach cramped. She’d be helpless if her magic was taken from her again.

Suddenly, a young woman moved in front of the trunk, blocking the piercing sunlight. The backlight haloed her long black hair, but her facial features were in the shadows.

“She’s injured. We need to get her inside. I’m not doing anything until her wounds are tended to.”

When Izzy tried to sit up, she had to swallow the pain to keep from crying out. She ached in places other than where she’d been shot. Picturing Rye, Izzy pushed up and gasped.

The woman leaned over and placed her hands under Izzy’s back. “Move her right leg,” the woman commanded to the man.

With a grunt, Chancellor flung Izzy’s leg over the side of the trunk lip.
Asshole
. “I can do it myself,” Izzy said.

Between the woman’s supporting arm and Izzy’s sheer determination, she managed to stand, but as soon as she stepped on her bad leg, her knee buckled.

“You need to carry her,” the woman said.

He waved his gun. “No way, she’ll use her magic on me.”

“I’m too weak,” Izzy said. “My magic won’t work.” A blatant lie, but she was desperate.

The woman huffed, wrapped an arm around Izzy’s waist, and guided her toward the double-wide trailer. The outside was gray vinyl, but the twelve by ten foot porch looked to be a makeshift add-on. The lady helped her up the three steps. Why was this woman being so nice? Rumors had it that all Changelings were bad. Perhaps a few had caused the hype.

Once inside, the woman guided her to a chair. “I’ll get a towel. I don’t want blood on my floor.”

So much for altruism. The interior was sparse. What there was of it was mismatched furniture of poor quality. The only visible room was the living room they passed through and a dining room. A door off to the left probably led to the kitchen.

Owen Chancellor withdrew two pairs of handcuffs from his back pocket and leaned close. “Can’t chance you doing something.”

He yanked her arms behind her and snapped the cuffs closed, causing her to swallow a scream. Shit that hurt. Not only was her arm throbbing, without her hands, Izzy was powerless.

“Rye, can you hear me?”
Crap, she forgot to focus on his image first. Staring straight ahead, she pictured how adorable he was encased in rumpled sheets this morning.
“Rye?”

“I’m here,”
he replied right away.
“I’m sensing a lot of pain.”
The worry in his voice tore her up.

He could feel her ache?
“I’m okay. Chancellor has me handcuffed inside someone’s house. A woman in her mid-twenties with long, straight black hair seems to own the place.”

“I’ll find you.”

A hard slap across her face stunned her back to the present and she let out a loud grunt. Tears brimmed on her lashes, but she wouldn’t cry in front of him.

“Izzy?”
Rye’s plea tore at her heart.

“I’m okay.”
From the way her fear reached out to him, it wouldn’t matter what she told him. He’d know the truth.

“Pay attention,” Chancellor commanded.

To what?

The woman cleared her throat then pressed a dishtowel over Izzy’s hip wound. Another piercing ache stabbed her and her breathing turned ragged. “That should help,” the witch said. “The bleeding on your arm seems to have stopped.”

“Thank you.”

The witch stepped behind the table then lit four white candles. She carefully measured out a tablespoon of vanilla and placed the liquid in a bowl. She repeated this four times, moving her metal spoon slowly as if she feared she’d spill the precious liquid.

“What the hell are you doing, witch? Get on with it.”

The young woman glared at Owen, and Izzy swore he flinched. “You said you wanted a binding love spell. This woman does not appear to be particularly willing, so I need to take my time to make sure it holds. You’re welcome to leave, but I’m keeping my fee.”

He snarled and narrowed his eyes. “Just do it.”

A love spell? Was he kidding? Izzy could only hope this woman wasn’t experienced enough to do a good job.

The witch nodded, pulled two long pieces of different colored yarn from her pocket, along with a pair of scissors and a six-inch ruler. She spent half a minute measuring the thread, and Chancellor shifted from side to side. A few times he looked out the window, as if he expected someone to come to her rescue. Izzy thought about saying something to hurry the witch along to prevent Chancellor from harming her further, but the longer this woman took, the better chance Rye had of rescuing her.

The witch placed both threads on the table in front of her. “Sir?”

Chancellor returned. “About fuckin’ time.”

“Please pick up one piece of thread with your left hand.”

He huffed but obeyed. “Now what?”

“Repeat after me: Let this thread, unjoined and free, represent my woeful soul.”

“That’s crazy talk. My soul is not full of woe.”

The witch stilled. “You paid me to make certain this woman falls in love with you. Now do it.”

Her harsh tone shook Izzy, but the small boost of energy didn’t last. She was finding it hard to keep her eyes open. Her strength was diminishing at an alarming rate. She needed help soon or she’d die, never to see Rye again. She sucked in a sob at that horrible thought.

“Fine.” He said the words with much disgust. It was almost as if he believed Izzy’s small cry was an expression of urging.

“Sir, I cannot guarantee success if your attitude does not improve.”

“Fuck my attitude.” He waved his gun. “Finish and be quick about it.”

“As you wish.” She lifted the other piece of yarn. “Take this in your right hand and repeat after me: Let this thread represent…” She glanced at Izzy. “I forgot your name, dear.”

“Izzy.”

“Her real name is Isadora Berta.”

The witch shot her a glance, and her heart hammered. “Let this thread represent Isadora Berta. May she desire me and I her.”

Chancellor mumbled the same response.

“Fine, now tie the two pieces of yarn together loosely and say: With this knot, may our souls be forever bound in endless love.”

Her captor spit back the response. “Is that all?”

The witch nodded. Chancellor stepped behind her so she couldn’t see what he was doing, but the metal clank implied he’d set down his gun. A few seconds later, he returned into her visual range, gun in hand.

The witch held out her palm. “Give me the yarn. In one hour, I will return it to you, and the spell will be cast.”

“We don’t have an hour.”

Oh shit. What did that mean?

*

Rye picked the
first of the two names from the list that James had provided and then told Kalan to check the second house. Instead of using telepathy like he had the first time, he called his Beta using his cell. Whether it was atmospheric conditions or what, his connection with Izzy hadn’t been all that clear, and Rye couldn’t afford for Kalan to miss any instructions.

Ever since he received the names of the witches from James, Izzy’s pain came at him in waves, stabbing at his soul. He could almost feel the life drain from her and willed Izzy to fight.

“What do you want me to do if I find Chancellor?” Kalan asked. “Wait for you?”

“Yes. If you find Izzy, call an ambulance stat then contact me. I’ll join you, but don’t wait to take him down if you think Izzy is in further danger.”

“You do the same,” Kalan said.

Being a deputy, Kalan had to act lawfully. Rye did not. Because the man had kidnapped Izzy, there would be hell to pay. Rye hadn’t spent his youth developing his fighting skills for nothing. Knowing he’d be Alpha someday had kept him focused.

He’d already programmed the witch’s address into his GPS, but the signal kept cutting out in the winding mountain roads, forcing him to drive around for a good fifteen minutes before he spotted a gray Toyota parked next to a grey double wide trailer that was in need of repair. When he checked the house number and found it matched the address, he pulled to a stop on the street at the end of the long drive, effectively blocking Chancellor’s escape route. He then contacted his Beta. “
I found him.”