Page 29 of Last Witch Attempt
“That’s all well and good, but she can’t be hurt on my watch. How would that look? My favorite agent’s wife has to go to the hospital?”
A muscle worked in Landon’s jaw. “She’s stronger than the rest of us combined.”
“How do you figure?”
I cleared my throat, drawing Steve’s attention. “I don’t want to interrupt the flexing,” I started.
Spencer snorted, then collected himself when Steve pinned him with a look. “What?” he protested. “She has a point.” Heexhaled heavily when his boss continued to glare. “Landon is right—and I know you don’t want to hear it—she is the most powerful one here.”
Steve worked his jaw. “I’m not being sexist,” he said, “but you’re not an agent.”
“That’s true.” I kept my voice even. “I am, however, a witch.” To prove it, I conjured a ball of magic. “Find the darkness,” I whispered before sending it off into the trees. It squealed as it careened out of sight.
“What was that?” Steve stood straighter.
“A locator spell,” I replied. “Something has been here. Something bad.”
“And you’re trying to find it?” Steve glanced around, as if expecting monsters to attack. “May I ask why?”
“Because they’re monsters, and three men are dead.” I started for the door to the cabin. “The spell will tell me if they’re still around.”
“How do you know if it’s more than one?” Steve looked genuinely curious.
“Just a feeling. There are prints, too.” I glanced at Landon. “Not like anything I’ve seen. I’m not sure what they belong to.”
Landon gave me an almost imperceptible head bob. “Okay, let’s check the cabin while the spell is working.”
Steve gestured toward Spencer. “You’ll probably have to pick the lock.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Chief Terry said, making room for me.
I gave the handle a quick jolt of magic and pushed the door open. I was the first through, and I didn’t like what I found.
“What in the hell?” Steve was flabbergasted as he took in the mess. Things were strewn about, and a thin inky film covered the entire contents of the cabin. Clothes, counters, appliances. All of it was covered in some sort of black oil.
“Don’t touch anything,” Chief Terry said.
I was already reaching out to touch the oil and there was no stopping me. I lifted my fingers to my nose and sniffed, rubbing the substance over my fingers. When I glanced over, I found Chief Terry glowering. “What?” I protested.
“What did you hear when I told you not to touch anything?” he demanded.
I shrugged. “I was already reaching.”
“It’s like when you were a child and you were told not to touch the cookie sheet when your mother was baking.”
“That was Thistle,” I argued. “I never burned my fingers. She was the one who couldn’t stand when someone told her what to do.”
He exhaled heavily, collecting himself. “What is this, Bay?”
“I’m not sure.” I moved to the counter.
“Are those prints?” Landon asked as he moved next to me.
There were marks on the countertop, and if you tilted your head, they did look like prints. “They’re handprints,” I replied.
Landon balked. “Those don’t look like hands, Bay.”
“They’re not human hands,” I said. I looked around the cabin. It was one general living area with bunk beds built into the walls. There was a bathroom off to the side, a toilet, an old shower, and a sink.
