driveway. The sun had set and it was dark, but the automatic light on my garage
didn’t
come on. I frowned.
you disconnect the automatic light?”
dress adding to a sudden chill in the air inside the car. “No.”
spell, drawing a few circles in the air. “Lumen.”
Three glowing balls of
reddish light bloomed to life and hovered before me. I kept one over my head
and sent the other two forward, illuminating my path to the front door. I didn’t
open the garage door and pull in, but got out while I was still in the
driveway, already preparing another spell as I climbed out of the driver’s
seat.
the house, probing for any foreign magic.
here,” I told Peasblossom. “If I don’t call for you, go to Mother Hazel and
tell her everything that happened today.”
I won’t have anything to tell her unless I stay to see what happens,”
Peasblossom hissed. “I’m not leaving you.”
might be nothing.” I kept my voice as low as possible. “The bulb may have
burned out. Don’t be silly.”
not silly and I’m not stupid. You think there’s something bad inside. And a
witch never ignores her gut.”
swallow around it. “Please stay out here. I can’t bear the idea of anything
happening to you.”
stay out here, but only as backup. I will never leave you.”
shoulder before straightening my spine. This was my house. My village. Whatever
was here, whatever had violated my home, would be sorry. Power rose in my
throat, feeding the spell I’d readied.
look out!”
spell hurtled through the air, and I had a split second to see a dark figure
separate itself from the maple tree beside my driveway. The spell landed in the
grass, the viscous blue fluid of the entanglement spell pooling in the tree’s
shadow.
attacks will not be necessary.”
masculine, voice heavy with an accent I hadn’t heard in a long time.
never call up another spell fast enough. I raised my hand anyway, needing to
try, to go down fighting. A hand closed around my wrist, tight enough that I
swore I heard my bones creak. I gritted my teeth and stared into the face of my
visitor.
more than my car. Long white-blond hair brushed his shoulders and framed a pale
face with sharp, graceful features. I couldn’t see what color his eyes
were in this light, but it didn’t matter. I remembered his face.
shareholder of the Winters Group, a company that made the Forbes 500 list look
like a gathering of struggling start-ups. There were whispers he had criminal
connections, that he was former KGB. I knew the truth. And it was scarier.
different name.
USA Today bestselling author Jennifer Blackstream is…odd. Putting aside the fact that she writes her own author bio in third person, she also sleeps with a stuffed My Little Pony that her grandmother bought her as a joke for her 23rd birthday, and she enjoys listening to Fraggle Rock soundtracks whether or not her children are in the car.Jennifer doesn’t have spare time, but she makes it a point to spend at least one night a week with her sibling binge-watching whatever show they’re currently plowing through (currently Numbers on Netflix), and she ferociously guards quality time with her son and daughter. She cooks when she has the sanity for it—adding garlic to the recipe whether it calls for it or not—and tries very hard not to let her arachnophobia keep her out of her basement on laundry day.