“How did you get past my gargoyle?” an old man rasped as he stared at us from the other side of the doorway.
The lines on his face dug deep into his skin. His eyes were glassy, reminding me of an old dog who once belonged to my mother. That meant he was almost blind.
“For some reason, he didn’t attack me,” I said, grabbing Dave’s hand when he went to step in front of me.
Something compelled me to tell the man what had happened. If the gargoyle was somehow spelled not to attack me, there was a reason. Maybe the man remembered his bet, and so he wanted to keep me protected for his son. Not that I knew where I had got that information from, it was just a hunch.
Staring at me, the old man went still. He held a walking stick in one hand, the other clasped the door to help his balance. The old grey suit he wore was threadbare, almost hanging off of his small frame.
“You. I take it that you’re the witch Gemma Abbott?” Releasing the door, Xvair Harvey waved his hand across his eyes.
His pupils cleared and the irises turned brown. Blinking, he peered closer at me, his scowl evident when he had studied every inch of me.
“I take it that you’re the evil witch who forced my father to use me as a stake in a bet.”
The quirk of his lips made me clench my teeth. The callous man had no idea what his stupid bet had cost my family.
Dave stayed quiet, allowing me to take the lead. That’s what I loved about my desk friend, he knew when to step back, and he knew when to step forward. I would never forget his support in my greatest time of need.
“You have no idea,” the man rasped, waving his hand again.
My feet suddenly started moving without me ordering them to. Dave squirmed beside me as he was also pulled into the house. The man chuckled as he backed up, his legs suddenly strong as he pulled an invisible line that was attached to us, forcing us into the hallway. I tried to wrench away from his spell, but the muscles in my legs screamed as I was unable to prevent them from moving.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Dave shouted, trying to reach for him.
The chuckle that left the man’s chest grew in sound as our feet tripped through an archway and into a room. A gasp was ripped from me as we were stopped in the middle of a library. The wooden bookcases filled the walls, built into the brickwork. Hardback books lined every single wall on all four sides. Comfy sofas were in one corner and a wooden desk in the other.
“Great,” Dave whispered. “You’re about to have an orgasm over this bloody place, aren’t you?”
“Don’t speak, let me do the talking.”
A smile escaped, even though the old man was hobbling over to his desk. The power of the man was unprecedented. I’d allowed him to drag us inside so we could talk. Or, that’s what I told myself, anyway. If I was honest, I’d tried to fight, but it had been useless.
“Where’s your son?” I asked, ignoring the enticement of the books around us.
If I allowed myself to get distracted, anything could happen. We had to get away from the mad old witch, and the only thing that would free us, would be the ability to outsmart him.
Slumping in his seat, the old man looked at us. We stood before him, unable to move. He’d trapped our feet to the ground, forcing us to face him as his shaking hands took a cigarette out of an old silver box.
“I made that bet a long time ago. Your father was a greedy fool. He only wanted one thing... access to the ley line.”
Huh? My father was an Essex witch, he should’ve had access to the ley line when he married my mother. Although, my mother had kept very quiet about the lead-up to my father’s death. What exactly had made my father promise me in marriage to a stranger? And to forgo my first born child too?
“You’re looking a little dumbfounded, girl. Seems you’ve been kept in the dark.” Lighting his cigarette, he coughed when the smoke went into his lungs.
Tempted to use the ley line to choke him even more, I clenched my hands into fists to prevent me from trying to harm him. He probably had a stupid protection spell on himself. He wouldn’t have lived to such an age if he didn’t have an extreme amount of magic.
“Where’s your son?” I asked again, not bothering to speak about my father.
“Has your mother really not kept you informed? Surely, a top ranking Paranormal MI5 agent would want to protect her child?”
“If you don’t tell her where your son is, she’ll end your sorry life,” Dave pushed through his teeth.
Aw, it was nice that my partner was threatening him on my behalf, but a tiny clench of my stomach had alerted me to my own misgivings about my mother. How much exactly had she kept from me?
“Tell me, then,” I blurted as Xvair got into the rhythm of smoking his cigarette.
His eyes clouded over again as he blinked several times. Whatever spell was keeping him alive was obviously wearing away. How long could a mortal cling to life by magic? Jeez, great question to ask when I was in the same boat.
Glancing at me, Dave coughed as the smoke danced towards us. “Gemma, we-”
“I’m letting you stay out of courtesy.” Xvair slammed his gnarled hand against the wooden surface of his desk as he glared at Dave. “Stay silent while I talk to the real witch.”
Dave’s lips pulled up, baring his teeth. The blaze of fury
