Page 3 of Hooked on a Witch
Chapter Two
Shannon moaned and tried to rub her forehead, which throbbed like the morning after a late night tequila binge. Her hands were locked behind her.
Handcuffs? What the hell?
She seesawed her wrists. They’d bruise from the abuse, but she needed her hands free. The handcuffs didn’t loosen. Courage abandoned her. Her throat worked, closing tight. She felt herself flying apart, felt her control shredding.
Deep breaths. Don’t freak. Look around.
This wasn’t the bar. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with assorted items. Three tables littered with antiques sat to her right. The smell of musty air mixed with cleanser reminded her of an old public building.
“If your wrists are bound, you can’t dimension hop to escape, but you can still use magic to protect yourself.”Her mother’s instruction from long ago blasted through her brain. The concept of jumping from this reality to another, where the people and time was similar and yet not, was mind-blowing and not something she’d attempted.
The only exit from the windowless room was a closed door fifteen feet away, perhaps locked.
Get up. Test the door. Leave before whoever brought you here comes back.
Her neck tingled as if someone watched her.
More Mom words drifted through her mind. “If captured, don’t show the enemy your fear, honey, and don’t come unglued.”
She schooled her expression to reflect blankness. Her best option to defend herself was magic. She wasn’t sure how to use the mysterious ability to manipulate elements, which she’d inherited mere weeks ago. Yesterday’s experimental attempt to control wind whipped up a tornado that almost killed her. She wished she’d paid a bit more attention when her mother discussed how to control the powers. Too bad the magic couldn’t break the handcuffs.
A man stood with his back against the wall in the dark corner nearest the exit. He was taller and broader than Harnish.
She pushed her witchy senses to read his aura, but it didn’t work.
No, no, no.Come on. Work!
Pain throbbed behind her eyes as she swung her legs over the edge of the slatted wooden bench. She struggled upright.
“Good nap, Miss Shannon?” her watcher drawled in a rich Southern accent. His leg dropped off the wall to the floor.
Energy buzzed through her head and resonated deep in her chest.Uh-oh. Even if she couldn’t see the colors of his aura and gauge his intent, the energy coming off him signified some sort of magical power. He might be another warlock or sorcerer after that which she didn’t have.
“Who’re you?” Her heartthump-thumpedpiercingly between her ears.
“Does your head hurt?” His deep, rugged voice resonated with concern. His arrogant stance seemed familiar.
“Do we know each other?” She blinked past her head pain to see details. The set of his lips communicated a clear my-way-or-else attitude, but she couldn’t make out his face above his mouth. She needed to see his eyes.
“Everyone knows you’ve come down from New York. The big-city girl visiting the family estate.” His tone wasn’t taunting or threatening. Only factual.
“Why’d you bring me here?” She jiggled the cuffs, waiting for him to remove them.
He didn’t.
This might come down to her need to use magic. Crap.
An HVAC system kicked on. Cold air blew from an overhead vent. She asked the air to pin her captor to the wall. She would exchange his freedom for hers.
Nothing happened. She tried again. Not even so much as a gust stirred the air. Since she got the power, she’d been able to whip up at least a modest breeze.
Whatever drug knocked her out had also stolen her abilities.Do not panic.She needed some kind of weapon, anything, no matter how primitive, with which she could protect herself. A piece of broken glass sat on one of the tables. It didn’t get much more primitive than that. Next, she had to get him to take off the handcuffs.
“I thought you recognized me in the bar, darlin’?” With a push away from the wall he moved closer. Light filled in all the previously hidden details. She sucked in a startled breath. His face, so familiar, had been created with great care to sharp detail, but injury had wreaked havoc. Linear scars marred his right cheek, the one she hadn’t seen in the bar.
“Jason?” Her breath stuck in her chest. “Jason Merck?”
