Page 103 of Real Fake Hauntings

“Call them or wait for me for backup,” Ian said sternly.

He made a good point. What did I expect to do if I found the dark witch on my own? The disparity between our power levels was laughable.

“Okay. I’ll go back in a sec. Lemme check something first.”

“You’re not at the entrance?” Ian sounded alarmed now.

“No, I went to check Crane’s grave again.” I reached the mausoleum. Wasn’t this one of the spots supposed to be highlighted during the tour? The light must be down again.

“Hope, get back to the entrance.”

Peeking around the mausoleum on the hidden side, I noticed a large bundle lying against the side, darker than the surrounding vegetation in the dim light. Part of it had come undone, and an arm was sticking out, two fingers missing.

“Ian! I?—”

Someone shoved me hard from behind.

THIRTY-ONE

I hit the mausoleum’s wall, then bounced to the ground with a grunt, barely missing Crane’s feet. My phone went flying, but nothing I could do about it—it wasn’t going to help me now.

Rolling, I felt a boot graze my side as someone attempted to give me a kick. With no time to lose, I jumped to my feet, digging in my pocket for the freezing potion and my emergency weapon.

The witch rushed forward, and I stepped sideways. A glamour potion had rendered them unrecognizable, their features not matching up in my brain, making my insides roll with the need to look away. The dim ambient light didn’t help, either.

This glamour was powerful magic. A much stronger potion than the thief for hire who’d tried to steal Grandma’s spellbook had used.

If they’d done it themselves, I had no chance against this witch. But maybe I could keep them here long enough for Ian to come over—I had no doubt he was contacting everyone he could to come help.

First of all though, figure out who this was, in case they ran away when cornered.

Ducking to the side to miss another grab—aside from potions, witches needed direct contact to perform their magic—I took out the freezing potion vial and lobbed it at the witch’s chest.

The thin glass broke easily, splattering potion everywhere. The witch froze, and I planted a hand on their face.

Let this glamour come to an end.

Magic burst up my arm, making contact with the glamour spell. With no moon water to aid my magic, it took considerable power to get the thing dispelled.

Which meant my legs began wobbling immediately.

Think positive, Hope. Wobbly legs do not a loser make?—

My mouth fell open as the witch’s face sharpened into recognizable features.

“Hannah?”

Nice, friendly, helpful Hannah? Who had visited my shop almost every day, taken amazing photographs for the website, and had been my first regular customer?

She didn’t look friendly or helpful right now. Her expression was contorted with rage, her eyes glinting with malice.

The freezing potion wore off as my legs buckled, and I fell to the ground. Caught mid-lunge, Hannah missed me and went flying over my shoulder. I used the opportunity to reach for her hand.

Remain down.

My magic made a weak attempt at realizing my intention, but not only did it do little to nothing, but it made me even weaker. I considered creating a ward around me like I had against the shifter hitman who’d run me off the road weeks ago, but even as my brain was wondering what to use to draw my own blood, Hannah slapped my hand away and got to her feet.

I scrambled up unsteadily.

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