Page 60 of Death Wish

My stomach flipped at the thought, but I shook it from my head and snorted a laugh instead. “Nice try.” My smile grew anyway. “I’ll take the bed.”

“If you change your mind…” He gestured toward the bathroom. “You know where I’ll be.”

“Goodnight, Greg.”

Cole laughed. “Goodnight, sweetie.”

In the early morning darkness, we jumped into the Jeep and made our way back to Divine Magic. A thick fog clung to the cobblestone streets, and with the glow of the gas lamps lining the sidewalk, downtown Fairport looked more like a scene from a Jack the Ripper movie than anything else.

Like before, we parked a couple of streets away from the store and walked the rest of the way. Upon first inspection, Marla had locked up for the night, even pulled the curtains closed in every window.

“Are you ready for this?” Cole whispered as we swung around the back of the old brick building. “You remember the plan?”

I nodded. “Keep on my toes. When the trap triggers, if it’s something physical coming at us, let you handle it with your magical bag of tricks and big, bad guns.” I gestured to the backpack in his hand. If it wasn’t for the loaded gun in his other hand, he looked just like a college pretty boy off to visit his parents for the weekend. “Anything spirit-related is my responsibility with my…” I pulled out my handy-dandy, super deadly piece of chalk and waved it at him.

Before we had left the motel, I had tried making a quick spirit door to see if I still had that power in this state, and luckily everything worked. I could make the door open if I needed to, so at least we had that going for us. Everything else, though, was up in the air.

“And if anything surprises us, we’ll have to wing it,” he added. He rummaged through the front pocket of his bag and pulled out a rusty, ancient-looking key. Intrigued, I watched him hold it to the door’s thick padlock.

There was no way a medieval key was going to fit into a modern lock that was three times smaller than it. But somehow, Cole pushed the key in, twisted, and the lock popped open.

I stood there, shocked.

Cole glanced at me, smiling. “Enchanted key. Can open any lock. Even ones locked with magic. A handy tool in my line of work.”

My eyes widened. “How did you manage to get your hands on that?”

“I did some work for a level three sorcerer and accepted it for payment.”

Funny how he said “did some work” like he’d mowed his lawn or tinkered with his car. Not killed someone.

“If you have the ability to open any lock, why do you keep breaking the one on Wyatt’s gate?”

His grin was slow and deliberate. “I like busting his chops.”

Cautiously, Cole pushed open the door all the way, revealing the back room behind the counter, exactly where we needed to be. The space was small, dark, and lined with crowded shelves.

The air shimmered slightly, revealing the magic at play. I was hoping it was just a mirage spell, only meant to take the appearance of something else and distract an onlooker. But if Marla was as devious as Cole said, there had to be a more dangerous trap waiting for us beyond the door.

Cole put the key away, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and held up his gun again before stepping inside. I followed close behind.

The room appeared to be just big enough for the two of us at first, but to the left, the wall of shelves shifted before my eyes, revealing a hidden space behind it, also covered in different jars, dried plants, and sacks full of God knows what. And a small shrouded figure lying in the center of the floor, not moving.

A shiver of foreboding shot down my spine.

“Are you seeing that? There’s someone back there,” I whispered to Cole.

He nodded. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Marla has someone locked up back here.” We approached the hologram wall cautiously. It was difficult for me to imagine Marla, who looked more like a soccer mom than a dangerous witch, would keep prisoners locked in some back room, but I’d helped a lot of people cross over whose personalities didn’t match their appearances.

I mean, look at Cole.

Better yet, look at me.

When we passed through the bewitched wall, magic caressed my skin, making goose bumps rise. Like stepping through a waterfall or spiderweb.

I tried to shake the strange feeling off as we crept closer to the person lying soundlessly on the ground. Cole’s gaze swept the shelves, his hand steady on his weapon just in case another trap tripped. I couldn’t take my eyes off the figure.

When I spotted the mousey brown bob and pink ruffled collar peeking out from underneath the carelessly tossed, blood-soaked blanket, my chest constricted.

It was Marla.

She was dead.

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