Touch of Evil - Cecy Robson Page 0,27
us to walk through side by side. It’s a tight squeeze, but we manage well enough. A few yards in, now it’s just tight, dark and dank, with that smell. Salty, yeah, bitter, too, and something else that I find familiar.
It’s like we’re going in circles, one bend leading down to another, the sand growing more wet with each push ahead. I’m not sure how far we are from the surface. My guess, about twenty feet.
I’m holding strong to Emme’s hand, not wanting to lose her. It’s what superheroes and kick-ass, manly-males do.
It’s what I tell myself, and what my wolf nudges me to do. Except I think he’s morphing us into some kind of pussy. Nah, we’re too alpha for that crap. He’s just watching out for her. For sure it’s the latter. Besides, even if it wasn’t, I can’t do anything about it now. Or that kiss.
I steal a quick look at Emme. But at some point, I’ll have to.
“Do you think something is hiding in here?” Emme whispers. “Or perhaps there’s clues that will help us determine what’s happening?”
“For sure,” I say. “Whatever is in here, or was in here, has remnants of that salty smell I picked up earlier. There’s also a lot of something else, magic. Some strong, some pathetically weak and almost laughable.”
“Are you suggesting Lesser magic?” Emme asks.
A light bulb goes off. “Yeah,” I say. “Like seriously weak loser Lesser magic.”
Emme sweeps her hair behind her ears. Man, she has to stop doing all that sexy-cute stuff in front of me.
“Don’t be mean, Bren,” she says quietly. “The Lesser witches can’t help the magic they’re born with, and some, no matter how hard they try, will never hone their skills. They walk away from witch school in shame, never achieving their goals and never securing a coven.”
Emme has a thing about her, she never wants anyone’s feelings hurt, even if that someone isn’t around to hear it. It’s endearing and attractive, maybe a little too much for a wolf like me.
Her eyes light up when I reach for her face. I reach closer, carefully, but instead of stroking her gently, like my beast and I think we’re ready to, I flick a large centipede from her hair.
She jumps when she sees just how many legs the little bastard has. I snatch her close to keep her from hitting the cave and mash a few more insects that…damn. There’re some serious amount of legs in here.
“Oh, gosh. Oh, no. Oh, gosh. Oh, no.”
Emme is jumping up and down and flicking bugs off her arms and shoulders. I catch one she flicks in the air by the tail and take a sniff. I take another, ignoring the pinchers the pissed-off little bugger snaps by my nose.
Emme freezes. “Are you hungry or something?”
“No.” I point to the bug. “What? You think I’m trying to eat him?”
“It’s really close to your face,” she points out.
“I have standards, Em.” I toss the bug when it pinches my bottom lip, pausing when I catch a really good whiff close to my nose. I pass my tongue over my lip, the taste mixed with the smell giving me a glimpse of what might be happening and further validating Emme’s suspicions that I’m a bug-eating freak.
She fumbles through her purse and drops a shoe that’s sticking out. “I think I have some peanut butter crackers in here.”
I take the stupid crackers, but only ’cause I don’t want to offend her or anything. I pop one in my mouth and look around.
Emme shines a light up at the ceiling. She doesn’t take what she finds very well and muffles a scream.
The ceiling is alive with bugs, creepy crawly bugs, shoving each other aside as they search the sand for food. That’s right, sand.
Emme looks from the ceiling to me a few times before she settles on my face. “We’re under the lake?”
“Yup,” I say. “When we went in, we must have crossed through some kind of magical air bubble.”
“Should you howl for the weres?” she asks.
I shake my head. “No. We can’t risk popping the bubble, and my call will definitely do it.”
She eases closer to me. “Bren, a Lesser witch can’t cast a spell like this.”
“No,” I agree. “But a large group might be able to.” I look at her, not wanting to admit what happened. “Especially if they sacrificed enough blood and bodies.”
“You mean enough of their own blood and bodies,” she clarifies. “To conjure magic when you’re not strong