hissed word had me turning to see one of my spindly-limbed minions returning from a mission.
“Did you find it?” I asked.
The creature nodded yes and then shook its head no. It dropped a book on the floor, mere inches from its steel-toed boot. I picked up the top one with a black leather-clad hand.
“Spells.” I spat in distaste, tossing it aside. “I have no need of ingredients and chants. I told you to bring me back the leather-bound grimoire with a tree etched on the front.”
“Isss gone.” The creature tried to shrug.
As if it could excuse its failure. A mere wave of my hand was all it took to remove the disappointment. The carcass was hauled away. By morning there would be nothing left. My minions were always hungry.
“Where is it?” I asked quietly, as if the book could answer.
“Where is what?” My captain arrived, still moving slowly, the gunshot wounds taking their time to heal. How she’d even gotten hold of the gun with its pure iron bullets was a mystery.
“The book,” I snapped. “I know it left the house, and yet my trackers can’t find it.”
“You know it protects itself.”
“Don’t irritate me,” I said with a scowl.
“You’re the one who is irritable. Because of her. Why is she still here?”
“Because she proved harder to frighten off than expected.”
“Maybe you should have been trying harder,” was my captain’s sarcastic reply. “I thought she couldn’t be around for the prophecy to work.”
“There are many interpretations, including the one that claims her death is needed to fulfill it. Meaning, for the moment, she lives, and stays.”
“And what if she decides to move on?”
“Then I will convince her to stay. I have a plan.”
“What kind of plan?”
“How does any man convince a woman to do what he wants?” Much as the thought repulsed, I’d have to seduce the witch. Abase myself for the greater good. But I consoled myself with the fact that when her use came to an end, she would die.
Slowly. Painfully.
And once she was gone, the malleable daughter—with the same blood and none of the training or protective marks—would be mine.
Epilogue
Christmas passed too quickly. The morning a chaotic laughter-filled affair of paper and happiness.
For some reason the card and gift card I thought I’d mailed to Geoff ended up under the tree on a box with an old pocket watch inside that Geoff declared the coolest.
Thank you, house.
Winnie got me winter boots while I’d picked for her a membership to learn how to throw an axe.
She’d glanced at it and then me.” Seriously, Mom?”
“Yup. I’m going to do it with you.”
“When am I ever going to need to know how to throw an axe?”
“During the apocalypse,” Geoff declared. “Everyone knows it’s coming.”
Which led to more discussion. And food. So much food.
But all of it low carb, so while I went over a bit for the day, I wouldn’t suffer. It wasn’t until later that I remembered Darryl’s gift to me.
The tiny box opened, and inside nestled a brooch, a delicate metal filigree tree, set with a single jewel in the trunk. I held it up, and it glinted on the ceiling, illuminating for a second the sigils embedded in it.
So pretty, and all I’d given him—after one in the morning, during a slightly drunk voicemail—was a bold invitation to go to the movies. My treat. I am pretty sure I mentioned I’d spring for snacks, too.
As I went to place the pretty brooch back into the box, it gave me an idea. I padded over to my dresser where I’d tucked away the ring. Since Kane’s offer, I worried about leaving it lying around. Why was he so interested?
I brought it back to bed with me, along with the tree book, which, for some reason, I wanted to have close. I sat it on my lap and opened it to the first empty page. I turned on my bedside lamp and blinked at the brightness.
What the heck? A peek showed a gooseneck light with a fluorescent type bulb. Hello, UV light. I held it over the book.
At first, nothing happened, and I felt stupid. Then the tingling started, the air dropped a few degrees, and, as my breath frosted from my mouth and hit the page, writing appeared.
“Well, I’ll be,” I exclaimed.
I quickly flipped through the beginning of the book, noticing the scrawled names and dates that meant nothing to me, but it was the final entry, with my name and those of my kids, that had me exclaiming, “What the fuck!”
The End
Exactly what did Naomi discover? Naomi is on her way to finding out, but not before her life gets even stranger. An accident and a coma has her waking up thinking her cat can talk. Are you ready for Don’t Stop Believing?
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