The wet streets were slippery and reflected light from halogen lamps, so she drove as aggressively as she dared. A van up ahead was moving too slowly. Stomping on the gas, she drove around it.

Where could she go? She needed to buy some time to try to remove the spell. Failing that, she would need to get ready for a confrontation, and she didn’t want to have one near a neighborhood where people lived.

Grabbing her phone, she thumbed to Sarah’s number and punched it. Sarah answered on the second ring.

Molly said, “I’m in trouble.”

Sarah’s voice was calm and crisp. “What’s happened?”

“I saw an old friend. There was a spell buried in the lotion she’d used, and she touched me. She had no idea. She doesn’t have any magic. Someone used her to set me up.”

“How close are they?”

“Maybe twelve, fifteen minutes.” She swerved sharply to avoid a twisted piece of scrap metal. Her mind was in hyperdrive, the edges of her vision delineated. “I’m not sure. I’ve never sensed anything like this before. The spell’s in my bloodstream. How can I counteract it? Can I make it stop working?”

“Yes, but it would take time and materials you don’t have. Depending on the strength and complexity, you would need to soak in Epsom salts and a cleansing spell for a good hour. If the magic is strong enough, sometimes it can take multiple cleansing baths over a few days to dislodge it completely.”

Molly could hear the stress in her own voice as she said, “You’re right, that’s not doable.”

“We’ve prepared for this, so don’t panic. I’ll wake the others and get them ready. In the meantime, pick your battleground and let me know where it is as soon as you can. I need a focal point, and Lauren, Delphine, and Sylvie need to know where to find you.”

“Okay.” She paused. “If this doesn’t work, I want you to know how grateful I am—”

“Shut up and drive fast. Try to gain as much time as you can.” Sarah hung up.

She shut up and sped through the city streets as she sifted through various ideas for where to go.

The best place she could think of was an old airstrip northeast of the city. One of the charities where she had once volunteered had stored local historical documents, photos, and maps of the area.

Atlanta had several old, abandoned airfields that had gradually disappeared from the public eye. Molly had spent an enjoyable summer driving to each airfield and taking modern snapshots of each one to place in their files. Some had been repurposed into new housing developments or used for strip malls, expressway interchanges, or roads, but a few areas still lay fallow and unused.