Chapter 15
Iblink and stare at her. She’s older, of course, but there’s no mistaking her features. Clear blue eyes, red hair, and high cheekbones. It’s Rachel. The missing girl who ran away when she was seventeen.
What the hell is she doing on my porch?
“Rachel,” I start, and hold out my hands, showing her I have no weapons. “That’s your name, isn’t it? You’re Rachel Warren.”
The hardness of her expression softens for a moment and she lowers her hand. Her eyes meet mine, and I recognize the loneliness, the desperation.
“It’s okay,” I tell her, and edge forward.
The driver’s side door to the SUV opens and an older man steps out. “It’s time to get back into the car,” he tells Rachel.
“No,” I say, and whirl around to look at him.
Nick rushes over, still not sure what’s going on, and puts himself between me and the man who’d introduced himself as Charles a few days ago.
“What is she doing with you?” I turn back toward the woman.
“Rachel, it’s okay,” I tell her again. “My name is Ace and I’m like you. ”
She drops her hand and her lips part. “Like me?”
“Rachel, now,” Charles says sternly.
“Don’t boss her around,” I spit, mind whirling. Did I get my theory all wrong? Or…no…it doesn’t make sense. It can’t make sense. “You don’t have to go anywhere with him,” I tell Rachel. “I’m like you, but I’m also a cop. I can help you. We know you’ve been missing for a year.”
“I’m not missing,” she says softly. “I’m right here.” She looks so confused, almost as if she’s not sure what’s actually going on. She wiggles her fingers and blue electricity starts to spark around her hand. I swallow hard.
“I know you’re here.” I take another slow step forward.
The demon killed her parents, I’m sure of it.
The crime scene was almost identical to my parents’.
Fake break-in with nothing missing. Bodies roughed up just enough to make it look like that’s how they died, but in reality, all wounds were inflicted after their hearts had been frozen.
The demon wanted the children…so why is she with Charles, who works for Mr. Trent? My stomach tightens. I knew that fucker was hiding something big.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, and Rachel looks at Mr. Trent. It’s a subconscious move we often see with abused women. They look at their abuser for permission to speak, even when they’re asked a direct and even personal question.
“We were looking for you,” Charles answers for her. “And now you’re here.”
“Yeah, no shit. So what the fuck do you want?” I bark, getting pissed because I’m certain Rachel is here against her will. That Mr. Trent is controlling the demon or feeding him names or something…and he’s come to collect.
Not just the runes. But me as well.
Charles narrows his eyes, looks at Rachel, and gives her a curt nod. She holds up both her hands, closes her eyes, and starts chanting. The blue energy around her fingers starts to spark, and suddenly, both Nick and I are being forced to the ground by invisible hands.
The weight is too much, and if I resist it, it’s going to break every bone in my body. I fall to my knees, fighting to hold my head up. Rachel’s body is rigid, eyes still closed as she chants the same thing over and over. She’s speaking in Latin, and I have no idea what she’s saying.
“Ace!” Nick yells, struggling to keep from collapsing. “What’s happening?”
“She’s casting a spell,” I say, each breath harder and harder to take. “Rachel,” I pant. “Stop!”
But she doesn’t, and soon my knees buckle and I fall to the ground, gravel biting into the flesh on my arms. The invisible weight pushes down harder, and out of the corner of my eye I see Charles walking over.
He pulls something out of his pocket, and I know exactly what he’s holding without having to see it.
The sound of handcuffs is familiar to me.
He steps over me, and I force myself forward, only able to pathetically slither on the ground. My face hits the driveway, and gravel cuts my cheek.
“Hey, bitch!” Gemma shouts, breaking Rachel’s concentration. The spell wavers, and I spring to my feet. Gemma throws a bowl full of salt and herbs at Rachel, putting a temporary block on her ability to do magic. I reach down and pull Nick to his feet.
“Hurry!” Gemma yells, stepping back into the house. She’s holding my book in one hand and extends the other. Turning back to the book, she starts chanting, fumbling over the pronunciation of the Latin words.
Not letting go of Nick’s hand, I race forward, going around Rachel, and get into the house. I skid to a stop next to Gemma and look down at the book. “Strigae invoco ante. Servare huic domui. Malum transiens,” I say along with her and extend my hand.
“Go after them!” Charles demands. Rachel stands, brushing the enchanted salt off her shirt, and charges up the stairs.
“Shut the door!” Nick yells, but the door won’t stop her.
“Strigae invoco ante. Servare huic domui. Malum transiens,” Gemma and I say again as Rachel bounds up the porch steps.
A wall of magical energy stops her, and she smacks into it, bouncing back and falling to the ground.
My stomach clenches. I don’t want to hurt the girl but don’t see another choice.
“The fuck?” Nick mumbles.
Rachel staggers to her feet, shakes her head, and takes off running. Charles opens the back door to the SUV for her and they take off, peeling out of the driveway so fast gravel flies up behind them.
I let my hand drop and turn to Gemma. “Are you okay?”
“Me? Yeah, I’m fine. You’re bleeding.”
“It’s just a scratch from gravel in the driveway.”
“Let me clean it up. The last thing you need is an infection on your pretty face.”
Gemma closes the book, nostrils flared, and hurries into the kitchen to grab the first aid kit. I take another lingering look out at the yard and then close the door, shooting the deadbolt into place.
“Nick,” I start, and take a step into the foyer.
He quickly steps back, eyes wide. “W-what the h-hell was that?” he stammers. He looks at me and then blinks rapidly, shaking his head. “I’m dreaming. This isn’t real. That wasn’t…how the fuck did she force us to the ground? And you…you and that other…this isn’t real.”
“I thought the same thing when I saw magic for the first time,” I say gently. Mentally, I’m cursing up a storm that would put a foul-mouthed sailor to shame. Nick wasn’t supposed to know about my reasons for wanting the files, let alone see me do magic.
“Magic?”
“We’re witches,” Gemma says, coming into the foyer again. She offers Nick an apologetic shrug. “And that girl on the porch was a witch too.”
Nick holds out his hand, looking a little pale. “No. Magic isn’t real. Ace…you…no. You prove magic isn’t real. Fuck, have you been lying and covering up the whole time?”
I motion to the couch in the front sitting room. “Take a seat. This is a lot to process.”
“Shit. You have been lying.” He brings his hand to his forehead.
“No, not the whole time.”
Nick walks into the sitting room but doesn’t take a seat on the couch. “And you.” He looks at Gemma. “You’re that girl Ace saved from the serial killer.”
“Yeah. The one who went after witches.” I sit on the couch, hoping he’ll do the same. Gemma puts the first aid kit on the coffee table and pulls out an alcohol wipe.
“He was after witches. Real witches.”
“Not all were real in this sense,” I say, holding still as Gemma wipes my forehead. It stings more than I thought.
“What does that even mean?”
Fuck. I wish memory-wiping spells were something I was well versed in. “Some people practice witchcraft as more or less a religion. And some people are born with powers that have nothing to do with religion. You can’t help it any more than you can help being born with brown or blonde hair.”
“And you…you were born with powers?”
Gemma puts a bandage on my forehead, which I’ll be taking off in just a few minutes. I look at Nick, eyebrows pinching together. “Yes.”
“Shit,” he mumbles, and finally sinks onto the couch. “Shit.”
“Yeah…it’s a lot to take in. Want some water or something?” I ask, noting that he’s paling even more now.
“No…I’m…I’m…I have no idea.”
“It’s a lot to take in,” Gemma says softly. “I was stunned too when I met Ace, and I grew up believing in magic.”
Nick squeezes his eyes shut, rubs his forehead again, and then springs up. “Those people. They…they attacked us! We have to call this in, Ace.”
“We can’t,” I press. “You saw what happened. If we send anyone else after them, we’ll put them at risk. Rachel is powerful. Whatever spell she was casting was strong.” I take a breath, trying to recall what she was saying. “Dammit, I can’t remember what she was saying.”
“I made sure the cameras were recording audio,” Gemma said. “Jac will know what she’s saying, right?”
“Assuming it’s Latin, yeah.”
“How the hell are you two so calm?” Nick gets to his feet and starts pacing around the room.
“We’ve done this before,” I offer. “Well, not exactly this, but it’s not my, uh, first rodeo.” I cringe at the cliché. “I’m sorry, Nick. I didn’t want you or anyone involved. I shouldn’t have asked you to get those files.”
“The files,” he breathes, blinking rapidly again. “That girl. Rachel. She was the one you asked me to look into. Ace…you need to explain everything to me.”
“Wait,” Gemma says, snapping the first aid kit closed. “That girl was one of the missing children?”
“Yeah,” I tell her, and then turn back to Nick. “I’ll explain everything, but I need a minute to talk to Gemma alone, okay?”
He sinks back onto the couch and nods. I take Gemma’s arm and go into the library.
“What’s going on?” Gemma asks, eyes wide. “Things went from bad to worse, didn’t they?”
“Mr. Trent said he didn’t personally send the golem but he had a colleague who has the power to do so. He made it seem like an even deal, like they both were in on it, but now I’m thinking he’s controlling Rachel,” I spit out rather quickly, mind whirling.
Gemma gives me a blank stare. “What?”