Page 65 of A Witchy Spell Ride
“Not ghost,” Briar said cheerfully. “We already have one of those.”
I didn’t smile. Reaper almost did.
Cross flipped a page. “He’s got a second vehicle. Not registered to him, registered to a cousin in Metairie. Work van. Ladders. Magnets for a made-up company. He used it twice near the shop, early mornings. Parked over the drain so the camera’s lower angle was a bad teacher.”
Reaper’s fingers tapped once, the only tell he had when he was pleased and furious at the same time. “We box him at the party.”
“He won’t come through the front,” I said. “Not with our guys at the door. He’ll try the side, or the roof, or he’ll use an invite. Daisy’s handing those out like candy.”
“Daisy’s invites are coded now,” Briar said. “I stamped them with sigils. If a counterfeiter tries, the ink smears like sin.”
Selene’s mouth curved despite itself. “Church girl magic.”
“Church girl with a switchblade,” Briar said, preening.
Reaper cut us all back to the point. “Layout.”
I took a grease pencil to the laminated floor plan Cross had printed. “Selene stays center main room, never more than ten feet from me. Vex runs the door with Ash. Bones floats. Bray and Thorne anchor the back hallway and courtyards. Cross in the office with eyes on all feeds. Briar acts normal.”
“Impossible,” Vex muttered from the doorway.
“And keeps selkie energy,” I finished.
“Selkie?” Briar perked up.
“Shiny and slippery,” I said.
Selene hooked a knuckle against my elbow, just once, a quiet I’m here. I felt it everywhere.
Reaper pointed at the roof access. “He likes elevation.”
“Already chained,” Vex said. “Welded today. I kissed the padlock for luck.”
“Gross,” Briar said.
Cross slid me a small black box with a loop. “Ear. Discreet. Encrypted. Tap twice to open mic, once to close. If you go hands-on, leave it open.”
“Rules of engagement,” Reaper said.
“Simple,” I answered. “If he steps inside, we extract him alive. If he goes for her, he loses a hand.”
No one laughed. Good.
Selene finally spoke, voice low but not small. “What do you want me to do?”
I faced her. “Breathe. Walk like you own the room because you do. If you see him, you do not approach. You mark him with your eyes, and you let me move.”
She held my stare a beat, then nodded. “Okay.”
Briar nudged her hip to hip. “And look hot.”
“Professional requirement,” Cross said dryly.
Reaper’s phone buzzed. He glanced at it, jaw easing a degree. “Our eyes on Gretna say he left the house an hour ago. Back road, toward the bridge. He’s in play.”
Good. I wanted him where I could read him.
The hour before a fight stretches thin. Every minute rings.
