by Cadie Snow
Jaime reached out, but there was just empty space. Only very powerful ghosts could move away from the object or location they were attached to. Yet Dahlia had used what strength she could muster to deliver the warning, possibly fading from existence forever, to protect Jaime—and the children.
Panicked, Jaime turned and ran. Skirting the path and using the cover of the trees, the man would be able to get to the house. But she couldn’t get there fast enough. In the distance, Abigail had just gotten out of the car and waved at the driver.
Just as Abigail began to walk up the driveway, a man appeared at the edge of the trees. He was tall and dressed all in black.
Jaime’s heart thudded in her chest, and time seemed to still.
Abigail must have recognized the man from her dream, because she screamed then grabbed her necklace to hold the black stone in front of her face like a shield. The man hesitated, as if unsure, but he didn’t back off immediately. Instead, he moved a step closer.
Then a bolt of lightning cut through the clear sky and plunged to the earth at the man’s feet. Jaime glanced at the porch to see Andrew standing there, intent on the man in black.
When Jaime screamed, the father who had dropped her off leapt from the car. Spotting the man, he took off running toward the forest to tackle him. The man in black spun around then disappeared into the trees.
Jaime raced to the house and hugged Abigail then reached out for Andrew. She trembled from the adrenaline coursing through her veins. That had been too close. The man had come for Jaime, but, finding Abigail, must have decided that her daughter would be a suitable victim.
The father emerged from the forest and walked briskly back to the house. His daughter stood close to the car, and Abigail said, “Mr. Weston, did you see where he went?”
“No, I couldn’t catch him. I caught a glimpse of his back, but he was running too fast.”
“I’ll call the police,” Jaime said. “Thank you so much. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been here.”
“That was bizarre to see lightning,” Mr. Weston said. “It came out of the blue, not a cloud in the sky.”
“Yes, that was weird,” Jaime said, not daring to look at Andrew.
Once the car had disappeared down the street, Jaime ushered the kids inside. Landon pulled the door open. “What was all that?”
Jaime explained as best she could, but only succeeded in making things worse. Her kids were frightened, and rightfully so. “I’ll call the sheriff and make a report. Maybe they can find the man.” Although Jaime didn’t have confidence that they would.
It wasn’t long before a patrol car rolled up. Two sheriffs handled the interviews and assured Jaime that a report would be filed. One of them called the station, so the department could issue an alert. A tall man dressed in black wasn’t very specific, but it was a start.
Jaime wasn’t about to take chances. As soon as the patrol car left, she called Ava and briefed her on what had transpired. “I refuse to leave the kids alone, not while the killer is out there. I don’t want to take them to school. They’re too vulnerable.”
Ava agreed to protect the children. “Tom is here when I’m not. And several cousins live close. I’ll have a couple of them on alert, and have a guardian posted if I’m not here.”
That would give Jaime peace of mind, as her cousins had abilities of their own. The important thing was that the kids would be away. As long as Jaime was stalked by a killer, she couldn’t risk having the kids nearby.
Jaime hadn’t gotten a clear look at the killer. He’d been too far from her. But the next day, she drove to town intending to tell Ian what had occurred. The report had been filed, but she wanted to be sure that proper attention was given to the incident.
Had it not been for Andrew’s quick reaction time and Mr. Weston, the killer might have overpowered Abigail. She’d had the talisman, which had appeared to work. But Jaime had no interest in putting that to a further test.
Jaime wanted to see Ian, to get his assurance that yesterday’s attacker would be caught. The man in black was human, a murderer. That was what the sheriff was supposed to handle. It wasn’t supernatural territory and clearly fell under the jurisdiction of law enforcement.
That realization made Jaime feel better. Finally, she’d have manpower behind her, and wouldn’t have to deal with this alone. She’d called Olivia and relayed what had happened, then told her that she was headed for the sheriff’s office.
Once inside the station, Jaime asked for Ian, only he was out. She should have called first. That was poor judgment. He had cases to work on, so couldn’t sit at his desk all day waiting for her.
“When will he be back?” Jaime said.
“Not for several hours, at least. Is it urgent?”
Jaime pondered waiting, but there was no way she’d sit there for hours—maybe all day. “I’ll give Ian a call. He wasn’t expecting me.” Yesterday, she should have asked the interviewing officers to be sure Ian got a copy of the report. But she hadn’t been thinking too clearly.
Lost in her thoughts, Jaime headed back toward her car. As she stepped off the curb, a strong arm swept her into the alley, yanking her so hard she dropped her purse. And before she could scream, a firm hand covered her mouth. She struggled, realizing that she was in serious trouble.
But at just over a hundred pounds, Jaime didn’t have the physical strength to best her captor. The man was prepared. He put duct tape over her mouth and tied her wrists together behind her back. She looked into his vacant eyes.
Swiftly, the man stuffed her into the trunk of a car then sped off. Jaime freaked out; she didn’t know where he was taking her. She floundered for ways to escape but came up empty. The car must be driving on a country road—the path was rough and the ride bumpy.
Jaime swore to herself. She’d been careless. She shouldn’t have been alone, not after the recent attack. But second thoughts did her no good. She’d have to come up with something fast. The problem was that her abductor was strong and aggressive.
If Jaime could use her witchcraft, she might be able to gain the upper hand. But she couldn’t very well do that from the trunk of a car. It was dark, cold, and smelly. Fortunately, it didn’t appear that he was driving out of the county.
After about an hour, the car stopped then the trunk opened, so Jaime got a good look at her killer. He was quite average, almost too much so. He had light brown hair, pasty skin, and was tall, with a firm build. He wore dark clothes. It was his eyes that made her shudder. The heartless look forewarned her that begging for mercy was not going to be an option.
The man chuckled. “I was told that you are a witch, just like that other lady I killed. That’s why I had to tape your mouth. I don’t want you doing any chanting or casting spells. I figure with your hands bound and your mouth taped, I’m safe.”
The man hauled her out of the car and into a cabin. Jaime couldn’t talk, but she could see. The place was far into the woods, in a location she wasn’t familiar with. That wasn’t good news, because if she got free of her binding, it would be tricky to know which way to run.
It was a cloudy day, so navigating by the sun’s position wouldn’t cut it. There was the road, but she wouldn’t follow that path as long as her killer was alive. He would find her too easily. Jaime sat in the wooden chair the man offered.
While he lit kindling in the fireplace, Jaime tried to think of a way to escape. If only he would take the tape off, so she could talk. There were a couple of incantations that she could use. But likely he would shut her up before she got through one.
The other alternative was to talk to the man. He was human, she assumed, and she might be able to get through to him—make a plea that what he was doing was wrong. Only he began talking to her, dashing her hopes.
“I’m doing the right thing, you know. You might not think so, but that’s because you don’t know what I do. I’m destined to rid the world of witches. I hear a voice in my head that tells me what to do.
The voice tells me who the witches are.” The man stood over Jaime. “I’ve killed before, and I will again. It’s the only way to save good people from witchcraft. It’s my life’s mission. And it ain’t easy. But I’ve been pretty successful so far.”
Jaime stared at him, wanting to throw up. His monologue had only ramped up her fear. A killer who thought he was doing good wouldn’t be easily thrown off task. And she realized that the man would have to kill her now, because she’d seen his face.
It didn’t seem that her killer needed any more reasons to do what he’d planned. He was committed to his duty but seemed to be taking his time with it. Maybe he enjoyed the task he was charged with and relished committing murder. It boggled the mind, yet Jaime had to deal with what was before her.
The fire crackled and the man warmed his hands, ignoring her for a moment. Jaime wondered how he would do it. If she couldn’t get free, it wouldn’t be difficult to take her life. She was psychic, but that wasn’t the type of weapon she needed right then.
Jaime didn’t want to open her mind to the man’s thoughts, afraid of what she’d find. But it would be smart to tap into his wavelength. She could discover how he intended to kill her and come up with a method of defense.
She was desperate to escape, to keep her family safe. She had no delusions. If the killer was successful this time, then Abigail would be next.
Then a form took shape beside Jaime, not human. The killer didn’t seem to notice. Maybe he was used to the sight and didn’t give it a second thought—or couldn’t perceive it. Yet it was new for Jaime. She was aghast at the ugliness, revolted by the knowledge of what she was looking at.
The form was wearing a ragged, dark cape with a hood. His blood-red eyes gazed at her like she was a morbid treasure. He extended bony fingers, reaching for her throat. It was the first time Jaime had seen a reaper up close. She struggled to repel him.
Unable to scream, Jaime used her psychic ability to send thoughts to the reaper. She told him to go, that he was in the wrong place. But the reaper just grinned, evil glowing in his bloody eyes.
CHAPTER 15
The reaper looked more solid than moments before, yet when Jaime’s captor turned, his body went right through the edge of the black cape. Then Jaime’s psychic ability went into overdrive. Ghosts of other victims hovered, waiting to be taken away.
Sadness and desperation filled the room as the dead hung between worlds. Jaime had the ability to speak to spirits. She wanted to know more, to understand. If she could learn what the murderer was about—find a weakness—she might have a chance.
The red eyes closed, then the black cape faded until the reaper was gone. For a few minutes, Jaime gained a reprieve. Yet she knew it wouldn’t last. Each second would be one of her last, unless she could gain control. The amulet from Harper was in her pocket. She wondered why it hadn’t protected her.
But there was no time for doubts. If there was any protection to be had, Jaime would have to create it. She connected to a ghost floating near the ceiling, getting no response at first. Jaime reached out to communicate that she was safe and would help if she could.
Jaime’s captor stoked the fire; it was likely he would turn to focus on her any moment. It seemed as if she was outside the flow of reality, in a time warp, speaking to the ghosts outside the ticking of the clock.
The ghost drew closer, afraid yet anxious for help. Jaime began to learn more. The murderer was Kenan Sampson, a name that had been in the media. He had murdered before yet hadn’t been caught. He was his own judge and executioner.
If Kenan decided that a woman was a witch, he felt the duty to kill her. He’d “saved the world” from numerous women labeled witch, even if no magic existed. In truth, he was a serial killer with a fancy justification.
The victims were unable to move on, despite the reaper’s willingness to take them. The circumstances of their deaths bound them to life. Until the murderer was caught, each was unable to go. It was their ghostly intent to see him punished for his crimes.
It was heartbreaking. So many women had been harmed. It had to stop. The silent moans of the ghosts filled Jaime’s mind, and she saw images of what had happened to each. It had been brutal and nearly unbearable to witness. Jaime thought she might contact Iris, but she wasn’t one of the ghosts present.
That was good. Jaime would rather that her aunt was at the gravesite. Once this was all taken care of, the ghosts would be freed. All Jaime had to do was to figure out how to achieve that. She was incapacitated, yet only physically.
One thing that Kenan couldn’t trap was her mind. And that gave her an idea. Jaime sensed that her abilities were greater when she was under duress. It was as though the threat to her life boosted her power—which was going to be bad for her attacker.
This was Jaime’s first life-threatening experience. She was learning about herself. Since she could communicate with the dead, possibly she could use her psychic ability with the living. Kenan turned from the fireplace and took a step toward her.
Jaime placed a thought in Kenan’s head that he should remove the duct tape. The image entered his mind, and he rubbed his head. But then he came over and stood by the chair. “I’m going to remove the tape from your mouth. But if you try to cast a spell, I will silence you again, understood?”
Jaime nodded. If she could talk to Kenan, she could maneuver toward escape.
The tape was ripped away, feeling like it took Jaime’s skin with it. She licked her lips and moved her jaw to get the circulation going while she considered what to do next.
“I don’t mind a little talking,” Kenan said, “before it’s all over.”
“How do you do it?” Jaime said. “Kill your victims, I mean.”
“Ha…you want to know what you’re in for, do you?” Kenan looked off, as if recalling.
Jaime saw visions of what he described as he gave her the details. “That sounds like more than a mere mortal could do.”
“Oh, it sure is,” Kenan said. “I work for some sorcerers, real witch haters. I’m important to them. They gave me some ability I didn’t have before.”
“Like what?”
Kenan seemed confident as he spoke, telling her how it all worked. “I used to kill using other methods. But now I can do it nice and clean. I have electrical power.”
Jaime pretended not to understand.
“It’s magic, I suppose,” Kenan said. “But it’s good magic, because it helps me get rid of witches who poison the world. When I’m ready to kill, I just blast a bolt of energy at the victim’s heart and it’s over, real quick like.”
“There must be evidence.”
“No, that’s the best part,” Kenan said. “It looks like a heart attack. There is no trace of the electricity used. And as long as I go along with my sorcerer allies, kill as I’m able, then I have this power.”
“And how do you know who is a witch?”
“I hear voices,” Kenan said. “I’m special. It’s my duty, so I’m told who I should kill.”
“What if you don’t do it?”
“Well, what fun would that be?” Kenan said. “I have this ability, so I might as well use it. If it was taken from me, I’d have to go back to killing the old way—and that’s messy.”
Jaime was disgusted but had to keep him talking. As long as Kenan was bragging and carrying on, he wasn’t killing her. He had revealed that it was about electricity, so that was what she had to deal with. While he talked on about the women that he had murdered, Jaime came up with an idea.
She’d learned how Iris had died, unable to use her magic for protection. It was likely Kenan hadn’t taken the tape off her aunt’s mouth until just before the deed. Then his pride had compelled him to tell Iris that he worked for sorcerers.
Iris knew Nefarious well, so it must have been a shock to hear that they’d resurfaced. And how terrible to be helpless, unable to warn those you love. Jaime would be different; she had to be. The need to protect her family spurred her on. If things
worked as she hoped, she just might make it through this.
Jaime’s precognition told her that Kenan would kill her using his temporarily bestowed electrokinesis ability. Only a powerful sorcerer could have conveyed such an ability upon a human. He would move her to another location, so her body wouldn’t be found in his cabin.
It wrenched Jaime’s heart to think that Iris had been here too. She had to fight back, for herself and for those who had been killed before her. “Why not untie me?”
Kenan shook his head. “You can’t outsmart me. You witches are all the same. You think you are brighter than I am.”
“No, not at all,” Jaime said. “Your power is strong, which is why you’ve been successful. If I fight you, it will only make it worse.”
Kenan appeared to think that over.
“If you untie me, it will be easier to move me,” Jaime said, “Surely, you don’t intend for the authorities to find me here, in your home.”
Jaime didn’t want to assume that Kenan was too gullible, so she put the thought in his head that it was best to untie her. Her ability to instill thought was stronger than she’d experienced before, yet it had limits. She couldn’t give him the thought that he shouldn’t kill, since that urge was too ingrained.
“I’m going to untie you,” Kenan said, “but I can kill you in a split second, so don’t try anything.”
Jaime acted passive, allowing him to untie her hands. When free, she rubbed her wrists but didn’t make any aggressive motions.
Kenan’s ego was inflated over having a magical power, even if it came with strings attached. Yet it had reminded her that Andrew had the same power, only he used it for protection of family. Jaime realized that her son had her blood in his veins, which might be the advantage she sought.
Jaime had not been in a situation where she’d had to put this to the test. She had to hope it would work, because if it didn’t, she’d be in worse shape.