“Like dumping a truckload of cement into the holes at each site at the same time?” I asked.
Evan looked surprised. “That might work, actually. If they have a remotedeactivationworking in place, they still would have to initiate them, one by one, to stop the transport and with all of them transporting at one time, they could be overwhelmed. And concrete is unlikely to kill people if it went somewhere unexpected.”
“Okay,” I said. “We’ll get out at the house and guardswill escort you where you need to go to test the circles. Alex, get small teams ready and to the other sites. We’ll need a witch at each site if possible.”
Molly asked her husband, “Could it be the Tabitha?”
“She’s a myth,” he said, his tone doubtful, as though he didn’t quite believe his own words. To me he added, “Tabitha is a witch myth. A double-gened witch prodigy, with the power and the math ability to make most any working or curse fly.”
“But Tabitha?” I asked. “Like the TV show witch?” Like Endora, whose name I had pulled out of a TV witch hat. Sorta.
“Tabitha was only a rumor. A falsehood. Like the misrepresentation of witches on TV,” Evan said.
Except his own daughter had the raw power to, maybe, force a working as intricate and far-flung as the five- or six-pointed star, pentagram, circle transport working. His anxiety ratcheted up. I could smell it in his sweat.
“Alex. Get someone to check on Angie and the other kids at HQ,” I said.
“She has eyes on her. The kids are all asleep and well-guarded. Oh, and if you’re worried about their safety, there are two vamps and Deon in the suite with them, and Deon’s armed with a filleting knife and a cast iron frying pan.”
Molly laughed softly and closed her eyes. “That’s an image I can appreciate.” Evan put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him.
We stopped at the Queen’s Personal Residence in New Orleans and Koun, Quint, and I got out. Guards took our places. The Truebloods pulled out back toward the prison. Back and forth. Back and forth. They needed a witch transport circle...
Could that be part of the reason for them to go back to the prison? To research? Stupid question. Of course it was. If I was a betting person, I’d bet the Everharts would have a transport circle of their own soon.
“Problem,” Alex said into my comms. “Angie’s awake and screaming for Aunt Jane.”
“Have Deon call me,” I said, “and give her the cell.”
My cell buzzed, and on the screen was Angie’s pic. “Angie? It’s Aunt Jane.”
“Ant Jane! Help!” We were on FaceTime and Angie was crying, terrified.
Every childhood horror film I had ever watched rushed back to the surface and my body clenched. “I’m here,” I said.
“The vampire lady who owned the cross is in trouble.”
The vampire lady who owned the cross was supposedly dead, burned at the estate house. Except that there hadn’t even been a scorched piece of jewelry left at the burn sites. So the burned places could have been a distraction and a ruse for taking the old women and making us think they were dead instead. “Do you know where she is?”
“No. They took her. They hurt her.” She was crying, huge broken sobs.
“How do you know—” A horrifying thought occurred to me. “Angie Baby? Were you inside the vampire’s head when she was taken?”
“Yes. Yes.” Angie broke down.
I turned to Koun. “Double the guards on the kids. Get us a new vehicle. I’m getting my doodads and then we’re heading back to the prison house too.”
“Doodads?”
I raced inside and yelled back, “My magical crap!” The door opened beneath my hand and I bumped hard into Bruiser. Threw my arms around him and kissed him soundly on the lips, holding him too tight, as fear I hadn’t acknowledged dissipated. “You’re home! They wouldn’t let me visit you in the hospital because of stupid security rules. You okay?”
“I am now, my darling love.” He kissed me back, softer.
When the kiss broke, I said, “We have trouble, sweet-cheeks.”
“When do we not?”
“Grab your armor and guns. You can change on the ride over.”
