Spellcasters (43 page)

He took another look at me, then straightened and went back to the driver’s seat. As the van pulled onto the road, he readjusted the rearview mirror so he could see me.

“There now, that’s better,” he said. “Couldn’t ask for a better view.”

My fear crystallized to rage, blind rage. The van swerved onto the shoulder. Friesen swore. My head bounced up, then slammed down on the metal floor. Something jabbed into my scalp as Friesen yanked the van back onto the road.

“Damn,” he said glancing in the mirror and chuckling. “More of a distraction than I thought.”

The cut in my scalp throbbed. I twisted to see the corner of a metal strip of edging protruding from the van’s side. I wriggled upward until I’d aligned the jutting metal with my gag. Then I lifted my head, trying to snag the top edge of the cloth. The van hit a washboard of ruts and the metal sliced my cheek.

Friesen’s gaze went back to the mirror. I stopped and waited until he’d looked his fill and returned his attention to driving. I brushed my cheek against the metal strip. This time the gag caught.

I wriggled the cloth down over my top lip. Then the van hit a bump and the snag came loose. I worked my jaw until enough of my mouth was free that I could mumble. Then I cast the suffocation spell. Friesen coughed and I froze.

He glanced in the mirror again and smiled. “Seem to be getting a bit short of breath. Must be those red panties. Let’s see if I can’t find a place to pull over.”

When he looked away, I cast again. Nothing. Quickly I recast. He coughed, then wheezed. The van swerved. Friesen fought to keep it on the road, gasping for what seemed like an eternity. Then the van went off the road, thudding over grass.

The right side dipped. For a moment, the van continued thumping along, slowing, sliding into the ditch. Then the world spun. I flew from
the floor, hit the side, then struck the roof, knocking around in the van until I didn’t know which end was up. Then everything stopped.

When I lifted my head, the seats were over my head. The van had come to rest on its roof. I shifted, trying to flip onto my back. The van groaned and trembled, then settled and went still.

I looked around, searching for something that had broken off sharp. The window nearest to me had broken, but it was safety glass. Useless. I looked overhead. One of the seats had broken, exposing a metal rod that looked suitably sharp. It took about twenty minutes and plenty of cursing, but I finally cut through the bindings on my hands. I undid my legs, then crawled out through the broken window.

Friesen was still in his seat belt, hanging upside down. He had a gash on his head. His eyes were closed. I crept forward and saw that he was unconscious but alive. Though I was tempted to do something more painful to the bastard, I let him be. Unconscious was good enough.

I spent the next few minutes searching Friesen and the van for a cell phone. Of course I couldn’t find one. That would be too easy. Finally I gave up and sealed the doors with the strongest lock spells I had. As I fastened my bra and buttoned my blouse, I looked around. The van had landed in a field. When I got to the road, I paused to get my bearings. I had a decision to make. To return to the house or to go for help? It seems an obvious choice, doesn’t it? I’m not stupid. Surely I should have realized that the wisest course of action would be to get to safety, bring in some muscle, then go back for Savannah. But I couldn’t do that. Right now, I knew where to find her. If I went for help, she might not be there when I returned. Yes, it was insane, but I had to go back.

I headed deeper into the fields, out of sight of the road, then began the long walk back to the house. What would I do when I got there? I didn’t know. If I could rescue Savannah, I would. It seemed unlikely I could do it alone. I admit that. If it wasn’t possible, maybe I could get a message to her, telling her I’d return. At the very least, I could assess the situation, go for help, then hurry back to keep watch over her from a distance.

We must have driven at least three miles. Fortunately, Friesen had turned only once and the roads were spaced far enough apart that I could easily guess where to turn. After about a mile of tramping through the fields, I heard a distant motor and froze.

Though I was too far from the road to be spotted, I crouched and waited for the vehicle to pass. A farm pickup finally drove by, moving well below the speed limit. Once it was out of sight, I straightened and resumed walking.

I’d gone about another mile when the faintest notes of a scream blasted through the silence. I dropped to the ground like a shot. The fields were silent. I waited another minute, but when all remained quiet, I rose and began moving forward, slower now.

I’d gone about another hundred yards when I saw a stretch of trees surrounding what looked like a two-story white house. Yes, there had been huge evergreens along each side, as a windbreak. Before I could break into a run, I picked up the sound of voices. I dove for the ground again and lay flat on my stomach in the long grass.

“I’m not going back in there!” Sandford, his voice shrill.

“If I tell you to, you will.” Nast, cool and calm.

“No, I will not. As of now, I’m no longer a member of your fucking organization. I quit, you got that? Quit!”

“You have a contract.”

“You want me to tell you where you can shove that contract? I am not going in that house. She’s your daughter.
You
get her out.”

A yelp and a thud in quick succession. Then silence. I inched forward until I could see the two men through the trees. They stood in the side yard. Sandford crouched on the ground, nose and mouth streaming blood. Nast stood a few feet away, arms crossed, waiting.

“Please, Kris, be reasonable,” Sandford said, pulling himself to a sitting position, but making no effort to stand. “You’re asking me to risk my life for a witch.”

“I’m asking you to help my
daughter
.”

“How long have we known each other? You asked me to take this assignment as a special favor and I did. Now it’s all gone to hell, but I’m still with you, aren’t I?”

“You’ll be well rewarded for that loyalty, Gabriel. Bring Savannah out of that house and you can expect a six-figure bonus.”

Sandford wiped a bloodied hand across his shirt. Then he looked up at Nast. “A bonus plus a vice presidency. With a twelfth-floor office.”

“A tenth-floor office … and I’ll forget who was supposed to be looking after the witch when she vanished.”

Sandford hauled himself to his feet and nodded. “Done.”

“I want her unharmed. Not a scratch. Understood?”

Sandford nodded again, then headed toward the front door. I waited until he was out of sight, then I scurried to the woods and circled around to the other side of the house.

M
oving behind the trees, I circled the house. The side door stood open. I scampered across the yard and in the open door. When I stepped into the house, the first thing I saw was the necromancer Shaw’s body. She lay crumpled at the foot of a narrow set of stairs. I checked each way before stepping through the door. Overhead I heard one, maybe two, pairs of footsteps. I crept to Shaw’s body. From the angle of her head, I guessed she’d fallen down the stairs and broken her neck.

What had happened here? It hadn’t been more than an hour or so since Friesen had loaded me into the van. Now Shaw was dead, Nast was standing around outside, and Sandford was searching, with great reluctance, for Savannah. From what Sandford said, I gathered Savannah was at the root of all this. But how? Whatever the reason, I needed to find her before anyone else did.

As I moved past Shaw, the look on her face made me stop in my tracks. Her eyes were open so wide the whites showed all around the irises. Her lips were curled back over her teeth. And the expression … stark terror. Perhaps at the moment of her dying, an image flashed through her mind, that of some other necromancer sucking her soul from eternity and plunking it back into her broken corpse. Fitting, really.

I stepped over her and began ascending the stairs. They were enclosed on both sides and the passage was so narrow it was a wonder Shaw had fallen down them at all, and not become wedged in halfway. These must have been back steps, a secondary set probably leading from behind the kitchen.

The stairs exited through an open door on the second floor. When I had climbed high enough to see past the door, I paused for a better look. The door was at the end of the upstairs hallway. At the opposite end were the main stairs, the ones I’d been using when I was here. Of the six bedroom doors, one was wide open, two were partially open, and the other three were closed.

“Savannah?” someone called.

I jumped, then recognized the voice. Sandford.

“Savannah … come on, sweetie. No one’s going to hurt you. You can come on out now. Your dad’s not mad.”

Oh, yeah, like
that
was a big concern. How old did he think Savannah was? Five? Hiding in a corner, cowering in fear of a spanking?

I listened for any return noise, but none came. Except for Sandford’s voice and the creak of his shoes, the house was silent.

As I eased into the hall, something rustled overhead. Sandford’s shoes squeaked as he stopped, as if pausing to listen. Footsteps sounded above me. I closed my eyes to follow them, then shook my head. They were too heavy to be Savannah. I guessed Anton or one of the witches was searching the attic for Savannah.

Sandford’s shadow advanced out an open doorway near the end of the hall. I ducked into the other open room and slid behind the door while he passed. Another door opened, then shut. Footsteps receded.

I glanced around, finding myself in the bedroom I’d seen Greta and Olivia using. The dresser top was bare, the closet open and empty except for a sweater that had fallen on the floor and been forgotten. It looked as if the two witches had left in a hurry. Had they fled when they realized Nast suspected their motives in killing the boy? Or had something else scared them off?

I looked around again, then returned to the hall and pulled the bedroom door half-shut behind me, as it had been when I found it.

Hands grabbed me, one going over my mouth. Then an exclamation of disgust and the hand shoved me aside.

“You don’t give up, do you?” Sandford said. “I’m almost impressed.”

“What happened?” I asked. “What’s Savannah done?”

Sandford only snorted. He turned away and headed for the next closed door.

“Hey,” I said, jogging after him. “Tell me what’s going on. I can help.”

“I don’t need a witch’s help. Just stay out of my way.”

He flicked his fingers, sending me flying into the far wall. As his hand closed on the door handle, I cast a lock spell.

“Either I help you or I hinder you,” I said, getting to my feet. “Now which—”

The door flew open. For a second, I thought he’d broken the lock spell. Then a man walked through, stepping off the bottom riser of the attic stairs.

“Anton,” Sandford said. “You’re okay. Good.”

Anton turned, fixing Sandford with bright green eyes, a brighter green than I remembered.

“Did you call me?” he asked. His voice was nothing short of beautiful, a melodious tenor that reverberated through the hall.

Sandford frowned, as if confused by the voice, and shook his head sharply. “I’m guessing you haven’t found the girl, have you? Come on, then. We’ll head downstairs.”

“I asked you a question, sorcerer,” Anton said, stepping eye-to-eye with Sandford. “Did you call me?”

“No, but I can use you now. We’ll—”

Anton turned to face me. In the dim light, his skin seemed to give off a glow of its own.

“Ignore her,” Sandford said. “We need—”

“Did you call me, witch?”

As Anton stepped toward me, I instinctively backed up, hitting the wall. His hand reached out, as if for my throat, but instead cupped my chin and tilted my face up to his. At the touch of his hand, I jumped. The skin was hot.

“Did you summon me?”

Even if I knew how to answer, his hand held my jaw too tightly to speak. His grip was iron hard, strong but not painful. His eyes searched mine, as if looking for his answer there.

“The girl?” he murmured. “A mistake. Yes, clearly a mistake. A forgivable one, I suppose. This time.”

I knew then, instinctively, what had taken control of Anton’s body. A demon, a high-ranking one, the kind that should never—and usually
could
never—be summoned.

I dropped my gaze. The demon loosened his grip on my chin and stroked my cheek with his forefinger.

“Smart witch,” he murmured. “Don’t worry. It was a mistake.”

Behind us, Sandford’s lips moved in an incantation. Though no sound reached my ears, the demon swung around, letting me go and turning on Sandford.

“What are you doing?” the demon said.

Sandford’s lips kept moving, but he shrunk back as the demon bore down on him.

“What do you think I am?” the demon thundered, bringing his face to Sandford’s. “You dare try to send me back? With a spell to dispel some mewling spirit?”

Sandford’s voice rose, words spilling from his mouth.

“Show some respect, sorcerer!”

The demon grabbed Sandford by the shoulders. Sandford squeezed his eyes tight and kept casting. “Fool! Disrespectful fool!”

With a roar, the demon pulled back his hand and slammed it into Sandford’s chest. Slammed it
into
his chest, fingers disappearing inside Sandford’s torso. The muscles on the demon’s arm tightened, as if squeezing. Sandford’s mouth opened in a silent scream. The demon withdrew his hand, bloodless, and let Sandford’s body fall to the floor. Then he turned to me.

A protective spell flew to my lips, but I swallowed it back and forced myself to stand up straight, meeting his gaze, firm but not defiant.

He strode back to me and his hand cupped my chin again, lifting my face to his. His eyes searched mine. I fought the urge to look away. For a long minute, he just stared at me … into me. Then his lips curved in a smile and he released my chin.