Back Waking the Witch Save as PDF
Chapters (46)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Page
  3. Dedication
  4. Acknowledgements
  5. one
  6. two
  7. three
  8. four
  9. five
  10. six
  11. seven
  12. eight
  13. nine
  14. ten
  15. eleven
  16. twelve
  17. thirteen
  18. fourteen
  19. fifteen
  20. sixteen
  21. seventeen
  22. eighteen
  23. nineteen
  24. twenty
  25. twenty-one
  26. twenty-two
  27. twenty-three
  28. twenty-four
  29. twenty-five
  30. twenty-six
  31. twenty-seven
  32. twenty-eight
  33. twenty-nine
  34. thirty
  35. thirty-one
  36. thirty-two
  37. thirty-three
  38. thirty-four
  39. thirty-five
  40. thirty-six
  41. thirty-seven
  42. thirty-eight
  43. thirty-nine
  44. forty
  45. forty-one
  46. forty-two

AS I WALKED, I got another call. “Ship of Fools,” meaning it was someone in my secondary address book—the hidden one for contacts Paige and Lucas wouldn’t want to know about.

“Druid,” Molly announced when I answered.

“What?”

She sighed, and said, more slowly. “Druid. That ritual you sent. A pewter ingot in the hand is part of very ancient druidic sacrificial rituals. My source tells me they fell out of use centuries ago.”

“You said rituals. Multiple ones then?”

“Right. My source can’t narrow it down. You’re looking for a druid, though, one who still practices human sacrifice.”

“Nasty habit.”

She made a noise that could be taken as agreement, but almost certainly wasn’t. Molly had likely sacrificed people in protection rituals for her daughters.

I thanked her, hung up, and started hitting speed dial to call Adam and ask him to renew the search, narrowing it down to druidic rituals—

I stopped. I stood there, finger poised over the screen for at least a minute. Then I pocketed the phone and kept walking.

THE ADDRESS TIFFANY had given me led to the town’s abandoned newspaper building, three blocks from Main Street. It was ugly—shit brown and squat with tiny windows, as if the reporters knew nothing newsworthy would be happening outside and didn’t want to depress themselves by looking.

I tried the front door. Locked. I hit the buzzer, but didn’t hear anything. Disconnected, I guessed. I knocked. No answer.

I walked around the side. A door opened and a slender hand gestured frantically.

“I said to be careful,” Tiffany hissed as she pulled me inside. “That means not using the front door.”

“There’s no one around,” I said. “And even if there was, they just saw me trying to get into an empty building. Typical PI work.”

“Did you tell anyone you were coming here?”

“No.”

“Good.”

The electricity must have been completely disconnected, because the only light filtered in through tiny windows.

“Go left,” she said. “Then we’ll head downstairs to the presses.”

“Who’s going to hear us up here?”

“There’s something down there I want to show you.”

Yeah, right. I only nodded, though, and played along. At the top of the stairs, I paused.

“It’s awfully dark down there,” I said. “Did you bring a flashlight?”

“There’s a lantern down there.”

“Huh.” I peered into the darkness as I teetered on the top of the steps. Behind me, she cast a binding spell under her breath. Exactly what I expected.

“I can barely see—” I began, then wheeled and hit her with a knockback spell. Or I tried. It failed and as I launched another, she finished hers and I froze in place. I mentally struggled to get free, but the spell held and all I could do was stand there as she ran at me, hands out, and gave me a tremendous shove.