Page 129 of Castings & Curses

Santa stood there. Fury stamped on his reddened face.

“You!” He charged forward, knocking into a stack of newspapers and sending them sprawling.

With a yelp, Priya sprinted for the window. Miles struggled to free himself.

No magic.

No intimidating vampire to save her.

She needed a weapon.

Behind her came the screech of wood against the concrete floor. She didn’t look back to see what her pursuer had crashed into, all her attention was fixed on the cardboard box holding the toolbox.

She skidded to a stop and flung the toolbox lid open. A red-handled hammer lay like a brilliant ruby atop a heap of pirate’s gold. Priya reached for it.

Strong hands clamped down on her shoulders, squeezing brutally tight.

Priya cried out in pain.

As she was jerked around to face Levi’s abductor she heard Miles roar, then the shattering of glass. Priya jammed the heel of her hand up, smashing into the white-haired man’s nose. She kicked out and felt her boot connect with his shin. Snarling, the fake Santa wrapped his hands around her throat. She clawed at his face. He squeezed, choking off her air. She tried to gouge his eyes.

A primal roar shook the room. Priya stumbled forward as Santa was yanked off her. The old man flew through the air and struck a tall bookcase standing against the wall. His head made a sickening thunk as it met a walnut shelf. His skull took another hard knock when he fell to the floor. Books and boxes from the case rained down on him.

Sucking in air, Priya watched for any sign of movement, sure he’d rise up like a horror show villain and attack them once more. He remained crumpled on the concrete floor.

Miles was eerily silent beside her. Slowly, she turned her head. Utterly focused on his prey, Miles somehow looked larger. His down-jacket was in tatters, presumably shredded by shards of glass. His pupils were black as tar, making the gold rim shine like the sun. His lips were peeled back, fangs out and on full display.

Any sane person would back away. Priya reached out and laid a hand on his arm, feeling the tight muscles there, coiled and ready to spring into action. She croaked out, “Is he dead?”

His hot gaze landed on her. Priya didn’t flinch away.

The tension in the air dissipated. Miles rolled his shoulders. His rigid posture eased.

“No. More’s the pity.” He patted his back pocket, then pulled out his phone.

“What are you doing?”

“Calling the police.”

“We’ll get arrested.” Voice rough, she coughed, then massaged her throat. “Breaking and entering. Plus he’s unconscious.” Another cough. “They’ll say we attacked him.”

He blinked at her. The darkness faded from his eyes, returning to warm cognac brown.

“He’s a murderer.”

“No …” She cleared her throat. “Proof.”

The ghost appeared beside the inert body. She pointed at him.

Frowning, Priya asked, “What?”

“What?” Miles echoed.

Priya held up her hand. “My ghost. She’s pointing at … his neck? Is it broken?” She glanced up at Miles.

He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

The girl waved her arms and then pointed again. Stabbing her fingers emphatically.

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