For her part, Clarissa was either oblivious to or ignoring Logan’s penetrating stare. She sprang from her seat and crossed to the bookcases. “Fantastic. That means I can concentrate my energy on finding the spell that’ll help Jemma defeat Antoinette.”
A hot wash of anxiety churned in the pit of Griffin’s stomach. “You better know what the fuck you’re doing.”
Clarissa tugged another book from the shelf and pivoted. He knew from her expression that he’d overstepped his bounds. Too damn bad. When it came to Jemma, he had no problem getting in Clarissa’s face.
Her lips pinching into a hard line, she returned to her chair. “I’ll let that slide only because of the amount of stress we’ve all endured today.”
He watched her rifle through the index of what appeared to be an ancient grimoire. Shit, she was really going old school. The majority of spells in that text probably predated the dark ages.
Her finger scrolled down the page before tapping to a stop. “Ah-hah. Here’s something that sounds promising.” She twitched her nose in that way that always reminded him of Samantha from Bewitched. “I wonder how difficult it is to find a wishbone from a pterodactyl wing these days?”
Logan grunted. “Check eBay.”
Sighing, Clarissa slammed the book shut and returned to the bank of shelves. Griffin’s attention fell on the large leather tome still sitting on the desk. He’d been too preoccupied before to notice the symbols sketched across the top of the sepia-toned pages. A chill skipped down his spine as he took in the coiled serpents. He shot to his feet, his gaze darting between the book and Clarissa. “You want Jemma to dabble in Nettie’s voodoo? Are you out of your goddamn mind?”
Clarissa swiveled, her frown evident until she glanced toward the book resting on her desk. The color washed from her cheeks and she rushed forward. Griffin was faster. Swiping the book, he held it out of reach, fury bubbling inside him. “I won’t let you do this.”
“Don’t be an idiot. I have no intention of having Jemma perform voodoo of any kind.”
He shook the book in her face. “Then what the fuck is this for?”
“Research.” A spastic twitch danced at the corner of her eye.
“You’re lying.”
“Damn it, Griffin. I demand you hand that over. Now.”
Resisting her command resulted in a searing burn inside his innards—an unpleasant side effect to disobeying his witch. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he focused on the page Clarissa had been perusing. What he saw left him baffled. “Why the hell would you need to break an enchantment spell?”
Rather than answer, Clarissa snapped her fingers, her expression mulish. “Logan, fetch me that book.”
Logan stretched to his feet, his mouth curving in a slow grin. No doubt the son of a bitch was in seventh heaven over the prospect of kicking ass and scoring brownie points with Clarissa. “Sorry, Catman, but the boss’s wish is my command.” Not looking the least apologetic, he charged at Griffin with a gleeful howl.
“Awaken, precious girl.”
An icy finger traveled the slope of Jemma’s shoulder, making her shiver. She tried to roll away from the offensive sensation but found herself rising to her knees instead. The room was dark except for a shimmering dust mote that hovered several feet above the bed. Fascinated, she stretched her arm toward the phosphorescent swirl. It danced out of reach, the sparkles glowing brighter, twirling in a hypnotic pattern. She stared at the flickering lights, her heart beating in cadence with their strobing display.
Follow…
The urge to obey the lights consuming her, she swung her legs over the side of the mattress. Her toes sank into the plush carpet.
Follow…
“Yes.” She staggered forward and the door yawned open, allowing the string of lights to dart into the hallway unhindered. As if guided by an invisible magnet, she hurried after the departing beacon. On silent feet, she glided down the stairway. Outside, the humid night clung to her bare skin. Cicadas filled the air with a buzzing symphony, but it was the low, hypnotic beat of drums that lured her deeper into the shadows shrouding the side of the mansion. Each rhythmic pulse echoed within the deepest reaches of her soul.
Bruumm…bruumm…
Up ahead, the twinkling lights skipped between the marble obelisks marking the entrance to one of the enclosed garden rooms. Refusing to be left behind, she stumbled after the glowing dots. She entered the garden and the tribal drumming swelled to a crescendo. Candlelight flickered from the sconces in the stone walls, illuminating the assortment of skull rattles and glass vials adorning the built-in benches. The strange compulsion that drew her to the mysterious lights now tugged her toward the odd paraphernalia. She battled against the desire to uncap the nearest bottle and taste its sweet amber essence. The fact that she even knew what the vial contained sent fear tripping through her veins.
Run. This time the inner voice was hers, but her feet refused the order.
Something hissed to the right of her, the stench of sulfur and death strong. “You cannot run from your destiny.”
Cold fingers clutched Jemma’s chin. No amount of ignoring a nightmare would make it go away, particularly when that nightmare refused to slink back into the evil abyss it climbed from. The ghostly grip on her demanded obedience, and she turned toward the presence beside her. If she’d possessed control over her body, she would have recoiled at the soulless grey eyes peering back at her. As it was she didn’t even flinch when the oily black snake coiled around Nettie’s torso snapped open its jaws, revealing needle-sharp fangs. Antoinette stroked the asp’s head and spoke to it in some strange, foreign tongue. Whatever she said must have soothed the snake because the serpent immediately shut its mouth and relaxed its striking pose.
“The juju fascinates you.” Nettie directed Jemma’s attention once more to the vials and skulls. “I sensed your potential from the first moment I saw you. Let me teach you its way.”
She stared into the sparkling depths of the amber bottle. Its contents seemed almost alive, bursting with vitality and something infinitely evil. Locked within the prison of her body, she shuddered. It isn’t my way.
“But it could be. You and I could have everything—the entire world could be ours.” Her voice a seductive whisper, Nettie picked up the vial and twirled it between her translucent fingertips. “I offer you a choice. Take one sip and rule at my side for eternity.”
Or?
“Die. Either way, I will win.”
The vial beckoned, but giving in would be wrong. She couldn’t be party to a zombie uprising.
“You foolish child.” Nettie spat the words, drawing another angry hiss from the snake. “I offer you everything that those other witches will not. You think they will protect you? Provide you loving sanctuary within their house of lies? I am the only family you can trust.”