Page 219 of The Seven Rings
“First, congrats, but I’m not surprised. You, my pal, took Ryder into the future while honoring its past. Second, snow? You Yankees start that way too soon. And last but definitely not least. Jerome?”
“He tipped his cap to me after he put the wheelbarrow away. And after, I assume, bringing in more firewood.”
“I need that coffee, but unless I change my mind after that kicks in, plan on jambalaya tonight, since it snowed for five minutes.”
“I’ll help. With what’s on my plate, I can knock off by four, no problem.”
When Cleo went down, Sonya took a moment to just bask. Then, with both dogs snoozing by the fire, got down to work.
Later, when both dogs came over to sit and stare, she looked down at them.
“Time to go out? No problem.”
She walked them down, let them out. She considered getting a jacket and taking her walk, but she wasn’t quite ready to break. Instead, she got a Coke, set her mental alarm for an hour.
She settled back at her desk to polish up some holiday ads for various accounts.
“One by one,” she murmured.
She didn’t notice when Clover went with Metallica’s “Here Comes Revenge.”
The cold broke through her concentration, and rubbing her arms, she sat back.
As she did, her screen went black, and the TV on the second floor erupted with screams.
“Got my attention,” she murmured, then noticed the fog creeping through the doorway toward her desk.
She rose slowly while slipping a hand into her pocket and closing it over the hag stone.
The library doors slammed shut; the windows went dark. In the hearth the simmering fire spiked to a roar.
As a wind gusted, as the fog crawled, Hester Dobbs glided down the curve of stairs.
“I have given you time. I have given you warnings. You will pay for not heeding those warnings. Your time here is at an end.”
“No, but yours is.”
As Sonya pulled out the stone, Dobbs swept an arm through the turbulent air. It struck like a fist. The shock of pain radiated as the blow lifted Sonya off her feet, and shot her back.
With her face on fire from the impact, she hit the floor hard enough to steal her breath. And the stone flew harmlessly out of her hand.
“Blood. I will bathe you in Poole blood. Generations of it. As you beg for mercy, you’ll drown in it.”
As Sonya started to scramble up, another blow slammed her back against a bookcase. She tasted blood as her vision grayed, as she slid bonelessly to the floor.
Then she was lifted off her feet, higher, higher, until her body rammed into the ceiling. Desperate, dizzy from the pain, she tried to crawl, tried to kick, but her body rotated until she dangled helplessly.
Like a panther toying with its prey, Dobbs circled below.
“How shall I end you, I wonder? Shall I conjure a rope, slip a noose over your head? Shall I simply snap your neck?”
Stunned by pain, frozen in fear, Sonya saw her blood drip, watchedDobbs hold out a hand to catch those drips. Then smiling, lick the blood off her palm.
“Kill me, you break the curse. Break the curse, you lose.”
“Will I? Will I?”
Her eyes darted as she began to pace. “No true Poole,” she muttered. “Imposter, usurper.”
