Page 82 of Fresh Old Bounties

I could really use Fluffy right now.

“Being alone is a choice, not a curse,” I murmured, feeling the pinpricks of my magic expand down my arms. “Only you can find the greatness hidden within.”

Trotting along the house, I tried to peer through the windows. The night was dark, the moon hidden behind heavy clouds, and I could barely see where I was going.

One of the windows slammed open on the other end of the house, and I jumped a foot into the air.

A dark shadow jumped out and began running down the slope. The robber. Another one leaped nimbly over the windowsill and began giving chase—Ian.

Aware that Ian was gaining ground on him, the robber swerved toward the cemetery side. Between the lack of ambient light, the trees peppering the graveyard, and the few statues and small mausoleums among the graves, he had a good chance at getting lost and would never be found.

I jogged down, trying to make as little noise as possible, and reached the first row of graves. It was an old cemetery, and many of the headstones stood at odd angles. I bent into a semi-crouch and kept advancing, keeping my eyes and ears open.

A shadow darted between two trees ahead. I halted. Hurried squelching noises going to my right reached my ears. Ian or the robber? I moved that way until a twig snapping made me turn around and check behind me. Nothing but looming shadows.

Boy, could I really use Fluffy right now.

No more sounds rose in the air, so I zigzagged among the graves until I reached a small mausoleum, crossing my fingers I wasn’t stepping on anyone’s ancestor.

“Sorry,” I whispered. “Sorry!”

The mausoleum offered me some protection, so I dared a peek around its corner. It stood by one of the wider paths, marked by the lack of tilting headstones. Farther back, someone crossed from behind a tree to behind a statue. Again, Ian or the robber?

It had to be the robber.

Farther back, another shadow advanced forward. I recognized the cadence of his movements—sleek and predatory. Ian. He was herding the robber my way.

Think, Hope. Think.

Suddenly, I knew what to do.

Calling on my magic, I bent low and darted across the path, tracing a line through the muddy grass to form the quickest, dirtiest, least elegant ward to ever come into existence.

I dropped to my knees behind a gravestone on the other side, never losing contact with the ground, and waited.

And waited.

Should I send Ian a text? But the light coming from the phone might give away my location. Not to mention Ian’s phone was currently in my other back pocket.

Something squelched nearby. I tensed. Was that a step? Yes! And another. They sounded cautious, tentative. Like the steps of someone trying to sneak by a large wolf intent on eating them alive.

A shadow crossed my line of vision.

I planted my hand on the grass.

Halt.

My ward flashed into being, siphoning my magic like a greedy ten-year-old with a bowl of Halloween candies.

The man’s feet stuck to the ground as he passed by the ward, and he went down with a loud yelp.

“Ian!” I shouted, and forced my noodle legs to push forward.

By some miracle of nature, they obeyed, and gave me enough of a burst to tackle the man down as he was trying to get back on his feet.

“Get off me!” He tried to shake me off, but I held on.

Until he planted an elbow in my ribs.

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