Page 113 of Sigils & Spells

Still holding the journal, I marched through the living room. I turned the thumb latch and then tried to open the door. It didn’t budge. Disgusted with myself, I flipped the latch back and jerked the door open.

Aidan stood there, fist poised—ready to pound again, scowling like a pissed-off dragon. He opened his mouth. Before he could yell at me, I grabbed hold of his upraised arm and yanked. Hard.

Off-balanced, he pitched forward, knocking me into the door. He took several lunging steps into the living room while I righted myself, dropping the journal in the process.

“I told you to wait in the lobby,” he shouted as I shut the door. “We cannot be in here!”

I engaged the deadbolt. “Stop yelling or the neighbors will call the police.” Even though I’d heard the click, I turned the doorknob and tugged to confirm it had locked.

“I am the police—” He stiffened. Slowly, he turned.

I bent to retrieve the book. Aidan remained stock-still.

“Aidan, what’s wrong?”

“I feel him. Jonah. He’s here.” He raced to the bedroom.

“Here?” Stunned, I ran after him.

Aidan went straight to the closet. He tried to open the door. “The knob won’t work.” He threw his shoulder against the door. “Jonah? Jonah! Can you hear me?”

Why hadn’t I searched this room more thoroughly? Glaring at the charms resting on the dresser, I tossed the journal onto the bed and joined Aidan. I ran my hands over the wood. The magic beneath my fingers stung. I jerked back, bumping into the bed and nearly falling onto it.

A muted thud came from the other side of the door.

We both called out, “Jonah? Jonah!”

Another thud.

Aidan turned to me. “Can you get it opened?” Desperation darkened his eyes.

“My spell is faint, but it’s there. I don’t know what’s layered over it.”

“Black magic augmented the amplification magic on the other door. That’s what your dad said.”

“This feels different. I’m going to try, but I think you better call in your spell breakers.” I’d take all the help I could get.

He shoved the bed over until it hit the nightstand, giving me a little more space to work, then started making calls.

The magic binding the closet door fought with mine. Heat built beneath my hands. The persistent stinging radiated through my palms and up my arms. I didn’t hear Jonah call out, but found his slow, rhythmic blows against the door reassuring.

With all my focus on breaking the amplified spell, I didn’t hear the snick of the deadbolt or the front door opening.

“It isn’t my fault!” Leesa all but shouted.

I wheeled around. Aidan held a finger up to his lips. He drew his gun from its holster.

“I nearly lost control,” a man with a soft German accent said. “You have to make me another potion. I don’t know what we’re going to tell him. He expected results by now.”

I knew that voice. Suitcase man.

“Franz, I told you it’s magic, not science.” Leesa slammed the door shut.

Franz. Cold fear seized me. Suitcase man was a vampire. A gun wouldn’t stop a vampire. Had I told Aidan about the elixir?

Aidan took a step forward. I grabbed his arm, drawing him back. He tried to shake me off.

Frantically, I whispered in his ear, “He’s a vampire and hopped up on some power potion.”

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