snatched my hand in his and transported us across the water. We stood in front of a gleaming silver pick-up. I put my palm against the hood, feeling the warmth of the engine.
I looked up at Robin and nodded once.
He seemed content to stand back. Or maybe he was just trying to worm his way back into my good graces. “How are you going to play this?”
I huffed out a breath. “Epically. Like the pissed-off faery godmother I am.”
I marched up the stairs and prepared to kick the door open when I heard the first scream.
Chapter 13
“Hit ’em it counts. Right in the wallet.”
-Notable quotable from Grammy B
What was Billy doing to me in there? The scream emanated from a place of primal terror and the chord in it formed ice floes in my veins. I was going to put his nuts in a vice for frightening me that way.
Just as soon as I got in there.
For the record, kicking in a locked door is a lot harder than it looks on tv. Even with extra weight, I was still agile enough to plant my right foot on the wooden door while maintaining my balance on the left. Unfortunately, I had underestimated the amount of sheer force and power it would take to make the lock give way and the wood bow in. My borrowed boots didn’t provide enough cushion and splintering pain reverberated along my calf from ankle to knee.
“Son of a motherless goat!” I yelped, hopping on one foot. My hands gripped the porch railing so I didn’t topple onto my face.
“May I?” Robin asked.
I jerked my chin to the door and muttered, “Be my guest.”
Robin didn’t kick the door down. Instead, he reached for the handle and turned the knob. The door swung inward just as a second scream pierced the quiet fall afternoon.
I limped past him and into the darkened interior of the cabin. It was really more of a bunkhouse, much like the others with one long open room. Except instead of rows of bunk beds, there was one big bed, a couch draped in a sheet, and a fireplace filled with cobwebs. Probably the camp director’s digs. The windows held no glass but had instead been covered with some sort of fabric that sent a diffused sort of light into the space, barely enough to illuminate the scene before us.
My echo self was on the bed, standing with a sheet covering her naked body. She was hopping up and down in a way that no one in their right mind would mistake for sexual. Especially when Billy stood on the floor, wielding what looked like a Bowie knife.
“What the hell are you doing?” I stormed toward him with all the fury of a woman scorned even as young Joey screeched, “Don’t step on it!”
“Huh?” I looked down.
And shrieked at the sight of the copperhead snake curled beside the couch. It hissed and I scrambled back, nearly trampling Billy in my hurry to get away from the venomous reptile.
“Do something!” Joey shifted her weight, causing the bed to creak.
“Like what, ask him to stay for tea?” I snapped.
“Use your magic wand,” she insisted. “Magic it away.”
“What?” Bill looked between us like we had both lost our minds.
“I, uh, left it at your house.” Besides it wasn’t really a magic wand, just a prop. My gaze slid to Robin, who shook his head back and forth. So there wasn’t anything he could—or would—do to help.
My shoulders went up and down in a helpless shrug. “I must have forgotten it.”
“You are the worst faery godmother ever,” young Joey bitched.
“Maybe you should take it up with management.” Gaze trained on the snake, I reached for Bill’s hand. “Give me the knife.”
The snake stared at us through its evil little eyes as though it knew what I intended. I looked at Robin again but his eyes were closed, his lips moving with silent words.
“Who the hell are you anyway?” Bill yanked his hand, still holding the knife out of my reach.
I glared at him. “I’m the woman who had your Camaro impounded.”
His jaw dropped. “You bitch.”
“Oh, that stung.” I rolled my eyes and then snagged the knife from his hand before the idiot cut his junk off by accident. Not that there would be much to miss.
Not liking our exchange, the snake hissed a warning. I tensed, sure it was about to strike when a gray blur streaked through the still-open door. A mackerel tabby swiped out, claws extended,