Page 7 of The Devil You Know
Evan’s nose twitched at the combination of mold and dust that hung heavy in the musty air. The lobby’s fancy terrazzo floor, once barely recognizable beneath the dirt and plaster dust, celebrated the signs of the zodiac. Some explorer before them had cleaned away the grime to reveal the magnificent pattern beneath.
While the brick and stone exterior endured the elements largely unscathed except for a shroud of ivy and the damage to the fragile dome, the inside had not fared as well. Peeling paint and disintegrating plaster marred the walls. Water damage brought down portions of the ceiling. Despite being boarded up, the wreckage of the seats in the theater was ample proof that animals had invaded.
“Such a waste,” Evan murmured.
“I agree.” Seth sounded distracted. “Help me find the sundial on the floor. It looks like a fancy manhole cover. It’s copper turned that funny shade of green. Travis and Teag both agreed it was the most likely place to hide the amulet.”
Light filtered in through filthy windows as they moved carefully through ruined hallways. Bits of plaster crunched beneath their boots, and roaches skittered when their flashlights illuminated the shadows.
The farther into the old observatory they went, the more Evan’s intuition told him to get the hell out. “Do you feel that?” he asked Seth.
Seth nodded. “I think it’s an aversion spell. There’s less vandalism and tagging in this area—did you notice? Maybe the warding to keep the anchor safe makes people not want to go near it. I think the hex bags help us be able to keep going.”
Evan’s hand went reflexively to the pocket of his coat where he had protective bags, as well as salt, aconite, and iron filings.At least there aren’t stories about the observatory being haunted. A dark witch is bad enough.
“In here.” Seth gestured to the amphitheater where students and the general public once beheld planetarium shows. He pointed at a copper embossed seal inset into the floor of the theater’s lobby, green with verdigris and darkened with grime.
Despite the defense of the hex bags and their protective medallions, Evan’s skin crawled. “How do we break it open?”
Seth took several photos of the seal with his phone. “I’ll send these to our friends and see if anyone can read the markings. I’m sure Osborn didn’t leave it here without serious wards.”
“Let’s go,” Evan urged, fidgeting. “We got what we came for.”
Seth nodded, looking just as uneasy. “Yeah, I think you’re right.”
They headed back the way they came.
Two strangers blocked the doorway. “That’s far enough,” the taller man said.
With one twitch of his fingers, the shorter man sent Seth flying backward to crash into a pile of rubble. Before Evan could react, he was also airborne, landing hard on the filthy floor.
They hadn’t brought guns, and their hidden knives were no help against witches. Evan tasted blood in his mouth from a split lip and felt a warm trickle start from his hairline. A glance assured him that Seth was moving, but neither of them would last long if their attackers dished out more of the same.
Seth’s right hand shot forward, and a streak of fire streamed from his open palm, igniting the trash around the feet of the two witches. The strangers had to break off their attack to stamp out the flames or risk catching their clothing on fire.
Evan saw his opening, and tossed a handful of pebbled plaster into the air, then spoke a word of intention and accelerated the pieces toward their attackers to hit much harder than he could have thrown them, like a spray of buckshot.
The witches yelped, and this time, Evan sent the torrent of fire, aiming between the two witches to catch both their down jackets. Seth sent a volley of plaster chunks from the floor—larger this time, pelting their attackers as the two men were forced to stop, drop, and roll.
Evan knew their limited abilities were no match for true witches, but their unconventional use of small magics might throw attackers off their game enough to provide an advantage.
“Run,” Seth murmured. The air in the lobby smelled of burned feathers and melted nylon from the witches’ down jackets.
They bolted outside, leaving the door ajar behind them, and ran to the truck. Both of them were covered in dust and dirt from the filthy observatory floor.
Evan shook his head like a dog, trying to dislodge chunks of plaster and strands of cobwebs from his hair. He jumped into the passenger side and buckled up just as a police car came around the corner with its lights and siren on.
This can’t be good.
“Fuck,” Seth muttered, as he slid behind the wheel.
Evan knew that trying to get away would just make them fugitives before their quest in Cleveland had even begun. Seth gripped the steering wheel tightly while Evan tried to recall all the compromising items stored in the bed toolbox.
The patrol car pulled up behind them, lights flashing. Both men sat still, hands visible in their laps, as the cop sauntered up to the driver’s side window. “License and registration,” he snapped, warily eyeing Seth and Evan. His name tag readD. Nelson.
“Hello, officer. Can we help you?” Seth sounded cool and collected. Evan’s heart was in his throat, and he hoped he didn’t need to answer the cop.
“Got a report someone broke into the observatory. Right after we had a tip that two guys in a black truck with out-of-state plates were trouble,” the cop told them. “Give me your license and registration—or we can handle this down at the station.”
