Bewitched (Betwixt & Between #2) - Darynda Jones Page 0,75

He leaned closer. “Told you I tried to do this the easy way.”

“Well, I’ve never been easy. What do you want?” I asked, even though I knew exactly what he wanted. Not because of him, but because of Minerva.

Her desire gave me access to everything. Everything he’d done. Everything she’d been through. Everything Annette had suffered since he’d grabbed her outside of the donut shop a few hours ago.

Minerva had been there. She’d tried to warn Nette, but he was keeping too close an eye on her. He forced her to text me instead of doing it himself, which was why the texts didn’t sound like they’d come from a middle-aged male. Unfortunately, she hadn’t seen where he’d put Annette—only that he’d said they’d never find her, and she’d be dead by ten that morning.

What time was it now? Minerva’s fear fed my own, and I fought to stay focused.

“Need your help with a little problem is all. Nothing to get huffy about.” He glanced around. “Now, you’re gonna put money down for the food you ordered, and then we’re gonna get up and walk out of here. You understand?”

I nodded and reached for my purse.

“Slowly,” he whispered through his teeth when I lifted my purse onto the table. “And hand me that phone of yours while you’re at it. Wouldn’t want that pretty boy showing up to our party uninvited.”

No. We wouldn’t want that.

After we left the restaurant, Vogel shoved me into his car and put a bag over my head that smelled like onions. We drove a little while, then he yanked me out, ripped off the bag—thank God, because I was beginning to think I’d never be able to look another onion ring in the eye—and pushed me into his garage.

When he closed it, the door scraped loudly against the rails. Because I didn’t know the city well yet, I had no clue where we were. All I did know was that ten kept flashing in my mind. I had until ten a.m. to find Nette. I racked my brain. Why ten? What happened at ten? It was just a number, and not a particularly scary one.

I blinked the room into focus.

Boxes stacked floor-to-ceiling filled the area with a small corner cleared out. It contained shelves and a deep freeze. Minerva stood in that corner watching us.

Vogel opened the lid to the deep freeze, grabbed my hair, and jerked me closer. Nothing good ever lived in a deep freeze. And I wasn’t wrong.

His wife lay inside, her body frozen, her eyes open and unseeing. Frost crystals had formed on her lashes, around her blue mouth, and over the huge gash in her temple.

“Bring her back,” he demanded, like all I had to do was stand over her and say the word.

Even Gandalf couldn’t bring back this kind of dead. “Mr. Vogel, I can’t just—”

“Uh-uh-uh.” He waved the gun at me. “I already know you’ve done it at least once. Minerva here might not be the brightest, but she’s seen her. That grandmother of yours. Alive and kicking, like they hadn’t just shoveled six feet of dirt on top of her.”

I drew in a deep breath, trying not to throw up. “There are certain things I need.”

“No, ma’am. Not you.” He pointed at me. “You’re different. When my niece couldn’t bring my wife back, she told me all about you, missy.” He hauled Minerva to his side, her face soiled with tears and dirt. “I didn’t believe her at first. Thought she really was simple.” He made the crazy sign at his ear with the barrel of the gun. “Funny thing is, she’s more scared of you than she is of me. But since you seem to care so much about other people . . .” He pointed the gun at Minerva’s head. “Even the stupid ones.”

The sad part was that Minerva really was scared to death of me. I couldn’t see why, exactly. On the other hand, she believed I could save us. Truth was, no one was making it out of this alive, including Annette, if I couldn’t use my powers. I couldn’t read minds, per se, but I could always read people’s intentions. And James Vogel’s were evil. “Where’s Annette?”

“Safe, but not for long. You’ll never find her in time.”

In time. How much time? How close was it to ten? “I can’t do this with the irons on.”

Minerva’s eyes held a hint of encouragement. She really didn’t think the irons would work. Neither did I,