Winnie’s scream, so raw, so terrifying, cut off Daphne’s words.
Everyone looked at each other, but Calla was the first to react. Shrugging off her shoes, she shook her head, centering her thoughts inward and shifting until the crunch of her bones had morphed into her wolf form.
Her clothes fell in a pool at her feet. She swiftly scooped them up between her teeth and leaned back on her haunches.
“Calla! Winnie said no matter what, you were to stay out here,” Greta warned, the tremble in her voice very real.
But she wasn’t listening. She took off like a bat out of hell, heading straight for the barn as the sound of thundering footsteps from behind rang in her ear.
Winnie dangled lifelessly above him from the rafters of the barn while Kirby held a shiny blue box in her hand. A box that held Winnie’s magic—an appropriation box.
How the fuck had she gotten her hands on one of those?
It was as though Kirby had known Winnie would show up. The moment Winnie snuck into the barn, soundlessly no less, she’d whipped around and opened that box,
Kirby had clearly given the idea of getting caught some thought if she’d found a box as powerful as the one she held in her hand.
“Where did you get that, Kirby?” He had to keep her talking just a little longer. Just a little longer while he focused on the energy of the spell she’d placed on the restraints. If he could just figure out the last piece of the puzzle…how to break these damn bonds.
Kirby held it up, letting it balance in the palm of her hand, and grinned. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Cowboy? It’s pretty, right?”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of fur at the barn door entrance and fought not to call out to Calla to run.
Fuck. What next?
He decided to play devil’s advocate so Calla knew what was happening. “It is pretty, Kirby. Very pretty. So what’s the plan? Where do we go from here? Winnie’s seen you now. When she wakes up, she’ll be pretty angry that you stole her magic. You can’t hide that you’re the one responsible for this. The Council of Elders won’t like it…”
Way to threaten, Ryder. She’s not afraid to kill you, facing the Council is like kinder-care for her.
She set the box on the bale of hay beside her and put her hands behind her back. “Oh, I know that, dimwit. I just did time, idiot. I know all about the elders and the Council. I also know Winnie’s friends probably aren’t very far behind. But I planned for that, too. Everything in this place is rigged, including our restraints. If someone tries to take them off you, they die. Boom!”
He instantly stopped fiddling with his wrists. Shit, shit, shit.
“None of this would have happened if you’d just gone away. Why did you have to fall in love with Calla? If you had kept your dirty bits where they belong, she would love me. I know she would!”
He worked the last of the magic in his fingertips over the invisible bonds holding him. “But Calla loves me, Kirby. Don’t you think she’ll be angry with you when she finds out you’re the one who killed me and one of her best friends?”
Kirby smiled wide and, no doubt, tinged with insanity. “Oh, she won’t, because after I make all of you go away, I’m going to make her forget, too. Forget everything—all of you. Well, but me. Only me, and then we’ll leave Texas forever.”
Whoa, crackers in the house.
As Calla shifted back, realizing her speed and strength really weren’t a match for Kirby, she pulled on her clothes and listened to the sweet, soft-spoken woman who’d worked for her for almost a year talk to Nash as if she’d lost every marble in her head.
She was Kirby’s target?
Her heart pounded in her chest, crashing against her ribs. Winnie’s magic was in a box and Kirby planned to steal her memory, too?
Oh, these witches made werewolves seem like fuzzy kittens.
Daphne bumped into her from behind. “Plan?”
“Go back!” she hissed.
“Um, yeah. No. Not going to happen. What’s going on?”
“She has Winnie’s magic in a box. Can you put magic in a box?”
Greta gripped her whistle. “Oh, hell. Seven damn hells. She has a box. How did she get her hands on an appropriation box?”
Calla turned to look at them both. “This is bad, yes?”
“The worst,” Gus said.
“Because?”
“Because if we don’t get that box back, Winnie’s magic is gone forever,” Clive whispered.
“Note to self, read the witch’s guide on all things crazy. Are you kidding me?”
“Not a joke,” Flora assured her.
“I thought Winnie was super-duper powerful?”
“Oh, she is, but magic can be stolen. And getting your hands on an appropriation box is huge,” Daphne said. “It’s like the Holy Grail of vessels to steal and contain magic.”
“I thought bloody wands were the Holy Grail?”