Spell of Summoning

by Anna Abner

  “You have to find him first,” Cole said. “Then I’d cast some kind of quick and easy incapacitation spell so he doesn’t do the same to me. You’ll have to destroy any of his spell circles or notes or candles you can find. And then kill him.”

  She shuddered. “I can’t do that.”

  Cole frowned. “How are you going to guarantee he won’t do it again? Or do something even worse? I almost had Holden convinced to host the demon and then exorcise it. But,” his eyes swept Holden’s half-dressed form, “I don’t think that’s a good idea anymore.”

  No shit. “I agree. It never was.”

  “I’ll cast a locator spell for you. It’s easy enough.” Cole knelt in the dirt, tweaked a couple of his pink symbols, and reopened his wound. “Bring me a map, will you? Of the area.”

  She rifled through the Jeep, but Holden didn’t carry maps. She checked Cole’s sedan but found nothing. Finally, out of desperation she dug a receipt out of her purse and sketched the main roads of Auburn and then added Richlands, Springfield, and Wilmington around the edges.

  She laid her homemade map in the dirt in front of Cole. He squeezed a drop of blood onto the paper and chanted a spell. She watched, fascinated and a little creeped out, as the drop of dark-red blood rolled across the receipt along the line labeled Highway 17, made a right turn onto Highway 24, and lay still in an area of Richlands she was fairly familiar with.

  Derek had gone home.

  Becca got Holden into the Jeep, climbed in the driver seat, and just sat there for a minute, not knowing exactly what to do. Derek was holed up in his house finishing his spell. But Holden needed time to return to the world of the living. And he was her first priority.

  “I’m dropping you off at the hotel,” she said finally.

  He didn’t respond.

  “Can you hear me, honey?”

  After a moment of uneasy silence, he said to the windshield, “Call him.”

  She dialed Derek’s cell and hit speakerphone. The call rang and rang. She frowned. Not once in their five-year relationship had her assistant ever not answered her call. If she called at two in the morning because the roof caved in at one of her properties, he answered.

  “We know who it is. We know where he is. We’ll fix this.” Rebecca wasn’t so sure about that. It sounded a lot like an empty promise.

  “Do you know where he is?”

  “Of course. I sold it to him.” Her stomach twisted into knots. Should they go to the police? Were there supernatural crime fighters for hire? She turned on the engine and shifted into reverse.

  Holden grabbed her hand. “Pull over at the gas station. There’s something I need to do.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Becca parked under the glaring fluorescents of the nearby gas station and turned off the engine. Holden dug around in the back of the Jeep and then locked himself in the bathroom next to the emergency shutoff switch.

  Rebecca had too much nervous energy. It was like she had pepper sauce slithering through her veins. She walked around the gas pumps twice because she couldn’t sit still.

  Five minutes passed. Then ten.

  She filled the tank and washed the windshield. She was bent over checking the air pressure in the right front tire when Holden emerged from the restroom.

  At first she thought the stains on his white undershirt might be engine oil, but as he crossed the parking lot she recognized it for what it was. Blood. Dark, fresh blood seeped through his white undershirt and ran red rivulets down his arms.

  He climbed into the Jeep, wincing.

  “Holden, what did you do?”

  “Drive.” When Becca refused to move, he added, “We don’t have time to sit here.”

  Bullshit. She’d make time. He’d barely woken from a nightmare spell and now he was bleeding? Maybe all this was too much for him. Maybe an amateur home remodeler with PTSD wasn’t cut out for magic and spells and demons.

  “Look at me. Did you hurt yourself?” Her voice broke. “Tell me what you did.”

  He stared at her with a ferociousness bordering on lunacy, and she shrank inward. “I’m ending this. Tonight. Now, drive.”

  Had Derek somehow compelled him to hurt himself? Perhaps, like a computer virus, there remained a tiny strain of evil inside Holden, guiding him, making decisions, but she was startlingly clueless when it came to magic.

  He’d hurt himself.

  He needed time to heal, time they didn’t have. The next best thing would be to find Derek and prevent him from finishing the summoning spell. If she did that, then all this would be over and their world could return to normal. Her mind made up, Becca started the Jeep and raced down Marine Boulevard toward Richlands.

  She couldn’t believe there hadn’t been more danger signs around Derek Walker. How had she worked so closely with the man for so long and been clueless about his real nature?

  Rebecca felt like a fool. But even more than that, she was furious she’d fallen for his act.

  Weaving in and out of traffic, she passed a gray minivan with a stick-figure family of six on the rear window, and her vision blurred.

  The lights flickered, and she blinked rapidly, but her sight didn’t improve.

  “Holden.” She reached for him. “Something’s wrong.”

  She lifted her foot off the accelerator as the whole world fuzzed over, grayed out, and then went black. Pitch black. Like someone had reached out and turned off the lights.

  She screamed, felt the Jeep swerve to the left and then hard to the right as Holden grabbed the wheel. She kicked wildly for the brakes but too late. The vehicle slammed into something solid, and she was thrown against the steering wheel.

  For a moment everything was quiet and still, as if she lay in a vacuum. Was she dead? Was this her afterlife—a silent abyss?

  Then most of her senses came back online in a rush of sound and pain.

  The spell. The final stages of the spell before she disappeared forever.

  “Holden?”

  “Are you okay?” He took her by the shoulders, pinching hard. “What happened?”

  “Are my eyes open? I can’t see anything.” Oh, God. Panic, heavy and cold, settled over her like a cloak. She couldn’t draw in a decent breath.

  He let her go, and she heard him rustling around. “Don’t worry. We’re gonna fix this. Hop over into the passenger seat.”

  “Holden, I can’t see.” She grabbed his T-shirt and dug her fingers in. He was sticky with blood.

  “Listen to my voice. I’m right here.” She felt him leave the Jeep. “I’m going to fix this. You’re going to be fine.”

  It wouldn’t help either of them to freak out. She had to stay calm. Because Holden wasn’t himself. If she panicked, it would only make him worse. If she didn’t pull herself together, they’d both be as good as dead.

  “What did I hit? Did I hurt anybody?” She tumbled into the passenger seat and fumbled with the seatbelt.

  “It’s a parked car. Don’t worry. I’m putting a note on the windshield. We’ll deal with it later.” The Jeep rocked as he got into the driver’s seat and turned the key. The engine made a dying animal noise.

  “Come on,” he grumbled under his breath. “Don’t do this, old girl.” He tried again, pumping the gas pedal. The engine almost turned, and then on the third try it sputtered to life.

  “Give me Derek’s address.”

  All that worry for him surged to the surface, and she couldn’t keep it to herself any longer. Not blind, not on the edge of the cliff.

  She threw her palm against his chest, and his heart raced beneath the pads of her fingers. “Holden, are you here? Fully here?”

  “His address.”

  “Because I need you. And if your head is screwy, or not under your control, we’re gonna fail.”

  “I will not fail.” His was the voice of a man on a mission.

  She exhaled, wilting back against the seat. He could do this. She trusted him to stop all of this.

  “His address
is in my phone.”

  The vehicle remained parked as he went through her purse, and then there was silence. “Holden?”

  “Becca,” he said, his voice low and choked, “the thought of you was all that kept me sane inside the nightmare. I knew you were real, somewhere, and that you existed. I knew if I could just get back to you, everything would work out.” He paused. “I’m not going to screw up. I will save you. No matter what it takes.”

  “By pulling the demon into yourself?” She swallowed, fear swamping her. She hated that plan.

  “Whatever it takes, you’re going to be fine.”

  “Not if you’re possessed. Or…” Dead. She couldn’t say it for the ache in her chest.

  “Just stay strong, you hear me?” His fingers trailed along her jaw, and shivers zigzagged down her spine. “And I’ll take care of the rest.”

  Holden pulled a U-turn and sped away as a police siren sounded in the distance.

  Soon all she could hear was the wind and the unhealthy rattle of the engine. That and the quiet became too much to take. At the first stoplight, she blurted, “Can you please say something? Because I have a demon on one shoulder, a fairy grandmother on the other, and an evil spell working its way through me. I don’t know what to say anymore, but I can’t sit here in silence, either.” She finally breathed, and the tears threatened. What a rotten mess she was turning into.

  After a beat, Holden said, “Do you want to listen to the radio?”

  “No.” Oh God, there went the tears. Rebecca grabbed him like he was the only safe spot in the middle of a storm.

  “If we don’t find him—” When she used to say things like: This is the worst day of my life, she honestly had no idea whatsoever the kind of day that was possible.

  “The first time I, uh, met you,” he said, clearing his throat, “You were fainting into my arms, and I thought you might be a giant wimp.”

  A surprised laugh bubbled up from her throat.

  He laid his right hand on her thigh, grounding her. “But then you got up onto your six-inch stilettos, dusted off your designer clothes, and proved me wrong. You’re a fighter, Rebecca Powell. You’re a force to be reckoned with. I might have underestimated you, but I’ve got your number now. You can do this. And more.” He tapped her leg. “Do you hear me, Rebecca?”

  She sniffed. “Holden, I love you.”

  There was a moment of swelling silence, and then he kissed her—a quick, hard peck. “You have no idea what that means to me.”

  He accelerated, and the wind roared through the cab. Time seemed to speed up. Way too soon, Holden slowed to a stop. She wasn’t ready.

  “We’re here.”

  He parked the car and came around to help her to her feet and then led her over uneven ground to what must be the front door. He positioned her behind him, and she held her breath as he knocked loudly.

  No answer.

  More knocking and still no answer.

  “Stand back.” He guided her three steps behind him. There was an oomph, a crashing sound, and they were in.

  * * *

  Holden searched the house for signs of life, keeping Becca at his right hand. Just in case this Derek bastard pulled a funhouse horror and popped up behind them to drag Becca away to a secret lair.

  The house was a sprawling ranch-style home with an attached two-car garage. The hiding places were virtually unlimited. Plus five acres of cleared farmland around the house. Derek could be between the walls, in the crawl space under a closet, beneath the back porch—and the garage was a free-for-all.

  Holden needed help because he sure as hell didn’t have the time to go through this place with a fine-tooth comb.

  Helpless rage thundered through him, setting his nerves on fire. He was so close yet still miles away. But losing his temper wouldn’t help the woman clinging to his arm, the woman depending on him to end this.

  Tamping down the anger, he sorted his options. He didn’t dare call Grams off her current assignment. He couldn’t leave Becca undefended for even a second, especially if this guy was completing his spell. Which meant he had to cast his net wider and ask for help again from spirits he didn’t really know or trust.

  But one look at Becca’s blank, bloodshot eyes had him dragging her out into the quiet yard. Too quiet. Derek didn’t even have neighbors, just grassy fields to the north and a forest of sky-high pines to the south.

  “What’s wrong?” Rebecca clung to him, and his heart twisted. She loved him. Despite all his issues, she loved him. He wanted to be worthy of her love.

  The demon over her shoulder laughed mutely, fully formed. Fangs, gray skin, and red eyes stared back. It had to go.

  Holden cleared his throat. “He probably has his place spelled against unknown magic. It’s what I’d do. But maybe he didn’t spell the whole neighborhood. Hopefully he doesn’t have that much power.”

  “Okay. Do it fast. I trust you.”

  Talk about breaking his heart. This undeniably amazing, beautiful, strong, funny, sexy-as-hell lady trusted him? He dug his piece of sidewalk chalk from the Jeep and drew a spell circle on the driveway, casting a call-for-help spell, something to draw positive spirits to him. All he could do was pray another Ned didn’t show up to screw with him.

  Back in the ballroom of the Westin Hotel, when Holden had needed his new spirit companion, Ned had appeared with a wicked gleam in his eyes. “I serve the Dark Caster!” He’d flashed in and out around Holden like a strobe light. “You’re too late! You’re too late, and you don’t even know it!”

  That had been the last time Holden had seen Ned.

  Pop.

  A semicircle of shadows came into focus. Not one spirit but half a dozen. Helpful or curious, it didn’t matter. They’d answered Holden’s call.

  “The necromancer in that house is casting dark magic,” Holden said. “Can you find out where?”

  A glowing pink spirit with a super-happy vibe solidified into a young girl about ten years old with black pigtails and a bright smile. He’d seen her before at the Happy Trails Child Care Center and tonight at the fundraiser.

  Though they’d never officially met, he had a good feeling about her. She wouldn’t take pleasure in messing with him the way Ned had.

  “I want to help. I’m Olive.” Off she ran, right through the front door. Holden stood and pulled Becca against him.

  “It won’t be much longer,” he said.

  She didn’t answer. He put her at arm’s length to see into her face. She didn’t seem to be hearing him.

  “Becca?” He gave her a little shake.

  She stared blankly at a spot over his left shoulder.

  Oh, no. Derek was breaking through the last of her defenses like they were tissue paper. After that there’d be no stopping the demon from possessing her.

  Holden cursed loudly, spewing foul words he was sure Rebecca would not approve of. But the fear and frustration rocketing through him were clouding his good judgment. She’d saved his life tonight when he’d feared he’d be stuck in his underwater nightmare forever, and he would not fail her now when she needed him the most.

  His new best friend Olive returned, smiling brightly.

  “He’s in a walk-in closet in the last bedroom.” Her eyes sparkled. “Good luck!”

  Relief and anger propelled him. He didn’t think about the small spaces he was about to pass through. Nope. Just swept Becca over his shoulder caveman style and marched through the front door.

  He headed for the last bedroom down the hall as if guided by a laser sight. He opened the last door and felt around for a light switch. Yep, there it was. He flipped it, but no lights came on. In the shadowy gloom he could see a folding table, a stack of cardboard boxes, and a closed closet door.

  Holden hesitated like the coward he was, standing with a half-gone Becca over his shoulder and refusing to go in and save her. He closed his eyes.

  Small, dark spaces. Derek couldn’t have chosen a better hideaway.

  Images from the
nightmare spell pounded through Holden’s psyche—blue ice, freezing-cold water, and that crushing confinement. The screeching pain…

  But the nightmare was over. He wasn’t in the water. And Rebecca needed him.

  Holden clenched his hands into fists and plunged ahead.

  His stomach roiled, and his head spun, and he wasn’t sure if it was from the enclosed space or an unseen mystical barrier, but he refused to back down. He got the hot sweats, and his vision blurred. He hadn’t had a panic attack this bad in years. His heart rate spiked, his pulse pounding through his chest and ears and making his fingertips tingle.

  Clear your mind. Focus.

  Maybe he had gone a little mad tonight because it was becoming harder and harder to think straight. Magic swam in the air all around him like charged fog, slowing him down.

  He laid Rebecca gently on the floor out of sight of whatever was in the next room, and then Holden whipped open the closet door. The carpet had been ripped up and any fixtures removed. Spell circles in varying colors covered the floor and walls. Though the place was choked with smoke from at least two dozen candles, it felt icy cold inside.

  Holden’s ghostly entourage surrounded him, crowding the tiny room even further. Their power would—he hoped—overwhelm whatever defenses this bastard had created. And the spells carved into his body would do the rest.

  Ned and another spirit flanked a kneeling Derek.

  “Too late.” Derek cackled like a madman. “Too late.”

  Holden moved fast, anticipating Derek would do the same. He certainly hadn’t hesitated in the parking garage earlier, stepping into a predrawn spell circle and blasting Holden with black and icky nightmare magic.

  “Dormeo,” Holden hissed.

  Derek crumpled onto his side.

  Holden finished, “Dedisco.”

  The temperature in the closet dropped so low his breath puffed white and all the candles blew out. A dark and disturbing presence swept the small room, whispering past Holden’s ear and raising the tiny hairs on the back of his neck.

  Ned, the betrayer, screamed an unholy wail of pain and terror. Derek’s other spirit, a black man in a dark suit, cried out for help. Both their images flickered as if they wanted to vanish, but the darkness in the room trapped them in place.