Hell's Bell (Lizzie Grace 2)

She grinned. “I wasn’t. I didn’t need to, given all the—shall we say—body language?”

He rolled his eyes, leaned across, and opened the door. “Go. And make sure you lock all the damn doors.”

We climbed out, but as he disappeared around the corner, magic stirred around us. Wild magic.

And it was filled with an odd sort of warning.

Belle frowned. “Why is it here, in the middle of the town, of all places?”

“I don’t know.” I scanned the street, but couldn’t see the threat the wild magic seemed to be hinting at. “But given the last time it randomly appeared someone shot out my tire, we might want to get inside.”

Belle hastily opened the door, but neither of us immediately went in. While anyone intending us harm wouldn’t have gotten past the spells surrounding this place, caution never hurt. The window blinds were partially closed, allowing little of the moonlight to filter in, leaving the café area a wasteland of shadows and darkness. But even so, the place was obviously empty, and there was no sense of trespass humming along the magical lines. We went in.

The wild magic whipped in after us, swirled around, and then moved back to the door. When we didn’t move, it repeated the process, this time more urgently.

It wanted us to close the door.

I frowned, but did so. No sooner had I done that than something hit it.

Hit it, and went straight through it.

“What the fuck...?” I glanced up and saw the hole.

A bullet hole.

Holy shit... another shooter was out there.

I dove away from the door, hitting my hip against the wall and grunting in pain as I knocked Belle away and down. Then, as one, we scrambled on hands and knees around the corner to safety.

Another bullet ripped through the old wooden door, smashed through a small vase, and sent pottery shards flying everywhere before burying itself in the wall opposite.

“I’m getting a bit pissed off with people shooting up our door and our walls,” Belle said.

“At least this shooter didn’t bring down the shelf holding all our cups. Any idea where he or she is?”

Her gaze narrowed as she telepathically searched the area. “He’s on a rooftop across the street, but three buildings down.”

“Can you get him?”

“He’s just beyond my control range. I can sense him, but that’s it.”

“Is it our dark witch?”

“Why would a witch capable of calling and controlling a soul eater resort to shooting someone?”

“Why would Larissa attempt to kill me just because I was trying to find her? Why the fuck would Molly think killing her rivals would get her back into Maelle’s good graces? It’s pretty obvious we’re dealing with several people who hid behind the door when the smarts were handed out.”

“All very true.” She paused. “He’s a hired gun, I think.”

“I don’t suppose you can ferret out who hired him?”

“That requires going deeper into his mind, and I need to be closer to do that.”

Or he needed to be closer. As in, immobilized and under our control. “Is there anyone else around?”

“No one that means us any harm.”

“Right.” I scrambled up and ran for the rear door. Let me know if he moves.