Page 34 of Captivating Magic

The idea of hurting Ebba in any way made Lo surly. “Got it.”

“Wrap the doll in a black cloth and bind it. The spell will hold until you can hand Spencer off to Death.”

He didn’t want to, but he had to ask. Meeting her solemn chocolate eyes, he swallowed hard. “And how am I to deliver Ebba?”

The question felt more introspective than inquiring. Did he have the strength to let her go?

“I’ve got the feeling Ebba won’t need to be forced to return here again.” The gravity of the situation wasn’t lost on Clutch. “It’ll be easier for you if she comes alone, Lo.”

“I don’t give a shit about easy. We’ll be there unless I can devise another plan in the meantime.”

“Death will find her. You, of all people, know that. Don’t piss her off. Be here either way, okay?”

“I’ll think about it.” Disconnecting, Laszlo tossed the phone on the counter and stalked to the bedroom. Ebba’s physical self was awake and glaring hatred in his direction.

“Time to give up the ghost, Pig-fucker.”

13

It’s that time again. Or should I say, “that chapter again”? Chapter thirteen has been omitted as per the Thorne Witch tradition. Although I hope you’re as invested in Laszlo and Ebba’s story as I was in writing it, you should probably take a break. Hydrate and stretch, my friend. Then, dive back in to find out what happens to our feisty Ebba.

14

Wanting nothing more than to fade away into the ether to regenerate, Ebba sighed. No rest for the weary, it seemed. She chased after Laszlo, followed closely by Liz and Rafe.

“I swear she was just sleeping,” Rafe said, apology heavy in his tone.

“It’s okay, babe.” Liz rubbed his arm. “You couldn’t know when she’d wake.”

Oddly enough, Ebba could and did know. Knowledge was coming at her fast and furious the closer she got to Death’s deadline.

“He was pretending,” she said. “He woke about five minutes after we left.”

Spencer’s fierce expression superimposed over her physical body’s features was disconcerting. Initially, he’d been glaring at Lo, but the instant she spoke, he directed his ire her way.

“What the hell is going on, Lo?” he asked in her normal voice. Anyone who wasn’t already aware of his game would believe it was Ebba speaking. Thankfully, those in the room were steps ahead of the lowlife, scum-sucking toad.

She hadn’t realized she’d spoken the insult aloud until Laszlo snorted.

“Nailed it in one,” he murmured beside her.

“Is the spell to remove him relatively easy?” she asked in a low voice for his ears only.

“It is, but we need a few supplies you might not have available. First things first.” Lo held out his hand. The merest hint of blue flashed, followed by a whirlwind of twinkling lights, rising and rotating like a four-inch tornado in the center of his palm. In the blink of an eye, the mini twister flew straight at Ebba’s physical form, wrapping around her wrists and securing her to the iron bedposts. Lo repeated the process for her legs.

Snarling and spitting, Spencer did his damndest to break his bonds, but the smirk on Laszlo’s face assured him escape wasn’t possible. Next, Lo ripped open her shirt with a flick of his finger, tearing it in a way to expose her skin but protect her modesty. The inherent kindness he displayed only added to her love for him. His was the type of thoughtful character easy to fall for.

And she had. Irrevocably.

Sorrow welled within, and the melancholy was too much. In her ghostly state, her will to fight was strong, but the pervading sense of peace became stronger with every passing moment. Welcoming the inevitable would be the final step in her transition. Before that happened, she needed to ensure Laszlo would be all right. Liz had Rafe to ease the loss. Lo was alone. Like Wilder.

His feelings for her were growing with each moment they spent together. Their forming bond resembled threads in varying shades of purple. Emitting from each of them, those threads drifted across the space, attempting to connect. If those strands fused, his grief would be that of a lover or spouse losing their mate, becoming unbearable for him.

This universal knowledge of the metaphysical had grown exponentially since meeting Isis. It seemed being in the Goddess’s presence had flipped a switch in Ebba’s mind, revealing all the possibilities of the beyond.

Should she tell Lo? Did he already know through his previous work with the supernatural? He was a ghost hunter, after all.

Frowning, she observed the sly way Spencer twisted to expose her breasts in a tempting manner, the easy way Laszlo avoided touching her physical self while placing the clay doll on her chest, and the frustration her unwanted parasite experienced at his inability to get his exorcist to engage.

---