Kelley Armstrong - Waking the Witch

I peeked out to see Jesse at the end of the aisle. He stared at the box. It jiggled again, then shifted, better blocking the hole. Twenty seconds passed, then he broke into a run, boots slapping the concrete as loud as he could manage as he raced to where I was apparently trapped.

“Savannah!” He stopped. “Shit! Are you okay?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He grabbed the crate, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Fuck! What is in this thing? I’m going to get something to move it, okay? Hang tight. I’ll be right back.”

He ran loudly back down the aisle. Then he stopped, sat on a crate, and leaned back against a table, getting comfortable as he waited for the poison to do its work.

Jesse had set us up.

I’d started suspecting him when I’d thought about that object flying at my head. Then I became more certain when he’d kept leading me with invisible “signs.” But even now, after witnessing proof, I couldn’t believe it. I just didn’t see a motivation.

Had he enticed me on this case to kill me and collect a bounty from the Nasts? I’d love to think they hated me that much—somehow it was better to be feared than to be ignored. But if they’d offered a bounty, I would have heard of it. Lucas always knows when there’s one on him.

Could Jesse be a witch-hunter? With legends, there were always nuggets of truth surrounded by layers of bullshit. Maybe the part about them always being women was part of the bullshit. Jesse entices me onto a case where he thinks witches are involved, gets me to sniff out Tiffany, kills her, then comes after me.

I knew now how Michael had fallen from that balcony. Jesse lured him up there, probably by rattling stuff around, then telekinetically shoved him over the edge. I hadn’t considered him before because he’d been on the phone with me when I got Michael’s text. More important, no Agito could send a guy flying like that.

But if Jesse killed Michael, what better way to throw off suspicion than call me while texting me from Michael’s phone? As for his powers, he had to be a Volo. I wasn’t sure how that was possible. There were only a few in the world, and at his age, he shouldn’t have full control over his powers yet.

I peered out at Jesse again. Too far to launch a deadly spell ... if I could even manage one. I needed to get closer.

I cast the blur three times and failed. On the fourth, it caught and I slid out the other side—away from Jesse. Then the spell broke.

I took a deep breath. Sweat trickled down my forehead. When I wiped it away, I realized my skin was burning. Fever, coming on fast and strong.

Less than ten feet to my left, the aisle branched off. I could run that way and escape. Not fight. Escape.

No, maybe a blur spell would get me far enough to cast—

Far enough to cast, maybe. Far enough to cast until something worked while Jesse threw god-knew-what at me? No.

Escape it was.

I closed my eyes, focused hard, and cast again. It clicked on the first try. I was so intent on escape that I didn’t hear the patter of my own sneakers until it was too late. I dove out of the way, managing to get into that branching aisle just as Jesse leaped up, crate clattering.

I looked around. The spell was still holding, but it was only a blur one, so he could see me if he looked hard enough. I held my breath and ran again, not caring how much noise I made, just getting as far as I could.

I darted into the first hiding spot I found, wedging myself between two pieces of equipment. I resisted the urge to try a cover spell. Unless he shone a flashlight right at me, I was safe.

Great. Sure. Just wait until he decides to leave. Not like you could be poisoned or anything.

No, I couldn’t hide for long, but I could hide long enough for him to get closer.

“Savannah?”

I closed my eyes, tracking his voice.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are.” A chuckle. “Guess it couldn’t be that easy. Luckily for you, I am chock-full of contingency plans. Or, I suppose, that’s not so lucky for you.”

It didn’t sound like Jesse. The voice was his, but the tone, the cadence, even the chuckle ... The singsong sarcasm poked at a deep memory.

No, it’s Jesse. You confirmed the photo. Adam knows him. That’s clearly Jesse. He was just playing a role before, for you and for Adam and probably for Lucas. Worming his way into your confidences. But why?

“I wouldn’t hide too long,” he said. “Or when they finally raze this building, they’re going to find your corpse, kiddo.”

Kiddo. Another memory twitch.

It’s the fever talking. Ignore it and be ready.

Jesse walked past me. I cast an energy bolt. Nothing happened. I closed my eyes and cast again. Nothing. Cast. Nothing.

A squeak of his boots. I opened my eyes. He’d turned back my way.

I looked around wildly and saw a pencil perched on top of a metal table just behind him. I remembered one of the first spells I’d learned. The simplest spell.

I cast. The pencil levitated on the first try. I moved it to the edge of the table and let it go. As it clattered to the floor, Jesse spun. His left hand formed a fist at his side and a rusty hammer rose from under the table. He maneuvered it out, watching and listening for me to make a move. My gaze stayed fixed on that fisted hand still at his side.

Every telekinetic half-demon has a “tell.” A physical tic that precedes an attack. The other day, in activating his powers, Jesse had flexed his right hand, hiding his left ... because it was a tell I’d recognize.

I heard Paige’s voice from eight years ago. She’d make a fist with her left hand. She was good at covering it, but I figured it out about two seconds before she sent a twenty-pound pot sailing at my head.

The day before that I’d found out who my father was. I heard that voice now. Trust me, kiddo, you’re gonna love this one. You’ve hit the genetic jackpot.

Leah O’Donnell.

My elbow bumped the machine beside me, and I realized I was shivering.

No way. No fucking way.

I blinked hard. It was the fever. I was losing it. I was remembering Jesse talking about Leah so I’d hallucinated that fisting left hand. Or maybe all Volos had that tell. And “kiddo” wasn’t exactly a rare endearment.

But as outrageous as it sounded, it made sense, too. Jaime had sounded freaked out when I called. She’d been trying to contact Paige, and she’d been very happy to hear that I wasn’t staying at home alone. Because she knew Leah had escaped her hell dimension? Feared she might come after me and thought I was safe if I wasn’t in Portland?

Crazy, yes, but in my world, the most bizarre explanation is usually the right one.

Now if I could only figure out what possible reason Leah would have to take over Jesse and try to kill me, I’d be set.

That brainpower, though, was better spent sending the bitch on a one-way trip back to hell. I concentrated, pouring everything I had into a lethal spell—

If the killer was really Jesse, I could justify killing him. But if it was Leah in his body?

Oh, shit.

I didn’t have a clue how to exorcise her. I needed to get Jaime.

Sure, just run outside and call her. Hope you don’t die of poison in the meantime. Hope Leah doesn’t kill Adam in the meantime.

For now, just incapacitate Leah, find Adam, and go. And do it without my spells.

Shit.

Jesse was moving down the aisle, hammer hovering in the air as he searched for the source of the noise. When he slowed, I mentally lifted the pencil and dropped it again. I couldn’t get it high enough, though, and the rolling sound was unmistakable.