Page 63 of Captivating Magic

“So fire me.” He shrugged. Up close, he saw beneath the hood, and she didn’t look thrilled. “Or write me up for insubordination if you must. But I’m telling the truth.”

Suspicion clouded her visage as she studied him. After a long moment, she shrugged. “You’ll be unable to do anything about it anyway. The incident is too far away for you to get there in time.”

His stomach relocated to his big toe, but he stood his ground. “But you can do something about it. You can let her live.Please. In all these years, I’ve never asked you for anything.”

“I don’t make the rules, Laszlo.” She disappeared.

“Who does?” he demanded, spinning to face Isis. “Who makes them? You?”

“Did your familiar find you, beloved?”

“No, but I was so concerned about Ebba, I forgot that part.”

“Hmm. Come with me.” She held up a hand to prevent Alastair and Castor from following. “You two are—what’s the sports term you men like so much?—benchedfor this game.”

Touching Laszlo’s arm, she transported him to the scene.

Death, along with Clutch, were moving toward the crumpled vehicle when the air stilled around them.

“I despise being benched,” Castor said as he stepped from behind the tree trunk and summed up the scene. Circling the vehicle, he ripped open the driver’s door. His curse was savage when he viewed the inhabitants. With a troubled look at Laszlo, he said, “I heard what you said to them, boyo, but I can’t leave her to suffer.”

When Lo would’ve run to him, the Goddess halted his motion. “Wait,” she said in a low voice. “Let him go.”

Castor positioned his arms like he was drawing a bow back for release. The steering column eased out of Ebba’s chest with each inch of space he created in the air.

If he were in physical form, Laszlo would’ve puked up his guts. To see her laid open, ribs piercing her lungs, and heart halfway shredded was brutal. He was so focused on the carnage that he almost missed her appearance beside him. How many times had he urged her to get rid of that stupid ’94 Wrangler, arguing with her that it was dangerous without today’s standard safety measures or even a single fucking airbag? But she loved that old relic from her dad. She’d once said it was the first vehicle she’d learned to drive.

“Wow.” She whistled softly. “That’s a mess.”

“Ebba!”

“I guess I don’t need to ask what’s happening here.” Her expression was sad as she observed Castor lift her body from the driver’s seat and lay her on the ground.

Time rebounded.

“No!” The anguished cry had originated from the slope above them.“No!”

Laszlo’s present self had arrived.

His physical body stumbled as he ran down the hill at breakneck speed.

“Why isn’t my physical self teleporting?” Lo asked Isis.

“Death filed for a temporary restraining order of sorts,” she murmured beside him. “She was determined to gather her souls when she brought the Reaper through time with her.”

“She’s a Traveler, too?”

“Of sorts due to her status, but not born to it like Alexander,” Isis replied. “Wait here.”

As she sauntered toward Castor, her filmy dress caught around her legs from the tropical-storm-force winds building around them.

“Pull it back, Laszlo Thorne,” she called over her shoulder.

He hadn’t realizedhiswas the magic stirring within Death’s dome—or rather his physical self’s. But they weren’t linked, and he couldn’t convey her wishes.

“He can’t hear?—”

“He can,” she replied, and the winds died down with her answer, although his counterpart never took his eyes off Ebba.

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