Spells Trouble by Kristin Cast (mystery books to read .txt) 📕

Xena’s hiss was followed by a low, deep yowl that lifted the hair on the back of Mercy’s neck.

“Xena! What’s happening?” she shouted into the phone.

“Oh! That must be your Egyptian friend,” Xena said. “I can see him beyond the gate. Oh, my. He does have the face of—”

“Xena, is the gate open or closed?” Mercy interrupted.

“Closed, but not well. It—it was once golden.” The cat person panted. “But now it flakes like cheap jewelry and the smell is truly vile.”

“All three of you—focus on your ley line! Make it shine as bright as possible from your forehead directly onto the spot where your blood dripped on your tree. The ley line power mixed with your blood will close the gate—believe it, know it, make it happen now! And then repeat after me: By blood and offering—”

“By blood and offering—” they repeated.

Mercy continued as she channeled her ley line into the tree. “Through the power of olde—”

“Through the power of olde—”

Mercy’s voice rose, amplified by the energy passing through her and the generations of Goode witches that filled her DNA with magic. “Bind this spell with our intent, set well and block this hell, block this hell—BLOCK THIS HELL!”

The three followed her, shouting the conclusion of the spell. The power sizzled, sputtered, and finally faded as Mercy’s black gate disappeared. “Now, lift your candle, ground yourselves again, thank your tree, and blow out the candle as you say, ‘So I have spoken; so mote it be.’”

Mercy completed the spell with the others.

“So mote it be!” chorused through the phone.

“Mag! The smell is gone!” Emily’s voice trilled through the phone.

“Mine doesn’t stink anymore, either!” said Jax.

“The vile odor is gone from my tree as well,” said Xena. “Oh, kitten, it must have worked!”

Emily and Jax cheered and Xena’s musical laughter lifted with the wind.

Mercy didn’t feel triumphant. Not yet. She needed to reach Hunter. She closed her eyes and, wearily, found her ley line so that she could connect with her sister. She focused on her sister, seeking … seeking …

But found nothing.

Mercy tried again.

Nothing. No sapphire orb—no swirling stars and moons—not even the strange, psychic tickle she had always been able to feel, always been able to find.

“Emily!” she shouted into the phone. “Pick up Xena and get back here for me! Jax, meet us at the olive tree.” Her voice faltered. “Hunter’s gone!”

Thirty-one

Hunter’s hands shook. She balled them into fists and stuffed them into her lap. She had a plan, had worked it out on the way to Emily’s and finalized it in the stiff and bloated silence that now filled the inside of Sheriff Dearborn’s car. All she had to do was ground and protect herself, forsake her god, and get Polyphemus before he got her. No biggie.

She blew out a puff of air. First things first. She planted her feet in the car’s footwell. Grounding herself while on the move wasn’t difficult. Hunter wasn’t one for holding still. Unless she was writing, too much stillness meant too much thought, too much opportunity for her demons to catch up with her, and she preferred to keep them chasing.

Hunter closed her eyes and reached up, up, up, until she was nowhere. Until she was nothing. Just black and cold and stardust. Grounding didn’t always mean reaching down into the soul of the earth. For Hunter, it meant grasping the heart of the cosmos.

“Can’t fall asleep on me now, Hunter,” he said. “I need those bright eyes of yours to lead me to this … what did you say it was again?”

Hunter flinched and her eyelids fluttered open. “By the olive tree. There’s, uh…” She blinked through the haze clouding her vision. She’d let him pull her back too soon. She wasn’t yet grounded or protected. She floated somewhere between the earth and the heavens, sinking through quicksand to get back to her body. “Burn mark. Of a person. Weird stuff. You have to see it to believe it.”

He turned down the unpaved road that led to the tree and the gate and Hunter’s future. He adjusted the sheriff’s sunglasses and said, “I’ve seen some pretty weird things.” His meaty paw clamped onto her thigh. “Maybe I’ll tell you about them before the night is over.” Moist heat seeped from his fingers and drowned every pore of her bare thigh.

“It—it’s just up ahead.” Hunter cursed her voice for trembling.

“I know.” Polyphemus released her leg and Hunter fought the urge to wipe the ghost of his grip from her skin. His knuckles popped on the steering wheel as he guided Dearborn’s cruiser onto the shoulder.

She unbuckled the seat belt and threw open her door before he’d put the car in park. “It’s off the road, here,” she said, tapping her phone to activate the flashlight.

His hand was back on her thigh. “Leave your phone in the car.” He squeezed her flesh and a wave of nausea rippled through her stomach. “Wouldn’t want to drain your battery.” He let go and pulled a Maglite from his belt. “Plus, I’ve got this covered.” He clicked it on, then off, then on again.

Hunter’s throat went dry as she placed her phone on the dashboard and stepped out of the cruiser. Gravel crunched beneath her shoes as she backed away from the car, from him.

Polyphemus shined the cone of light across Hunter. “Where exactly is the weirdness you’ve been going on about?”

Hunter blinked the spots of light from her eyes and pointed at the stake the sheriff’s department had left behind. He cast the light onto the field and stopped when the beam flashed on the stake and the strip of yellow caution tape fluttering in the breeze.

“You wanted to show me that they left behind some trash?”

Hunter charged into the tall grass. Polyphemus was right behind her. The flashlight’s glow spilled across her left side and a half shadow stretched along the grass. Hunter looked at the sky and the sliver of moon that peeked out from