Hell's Bell (Lizzie Grace 2)
“That still lingers. I just happen to trust you.” He paused. “I’m gathering the stone offers protection against the soul eater or whatever other kind of evil spirit we might be dealing with?”
“Yes.” I slipped the second charm over my head and let it rest beside the minor warding charm I wore every day. “Though how much protection it’ll provide, I can’t say, because it’s a general charm rather than one aimed at a specific spirit.”
“And therefore not as strong?” When I nodded, he added, “Then I’d best get my gun.”
I smiled. “A gun won’t kill a spirit.”
“But it will kill the flesh it’s wearing, right?”
“In this case, we need to restrain the spirit within the body before we do anything like that, and then find a way to completely banish or destroy it.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I doubt you’ll be given time to construct a pentagram.”
“No, and they’re not something I can make on the fly anyway.”
“Then how are you going to deal with it?”
“I shouldn’t have to be dealing with it,” I bit back somewhat testily, and then took a deep breath to calm the tension. “I’ve pinned a restraint spell to a silver knife. The combination should work.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“Then pray like fuck the charms work.”
“Right.” He hesitated, his gaze sweeping me. “Ready?”
Not really, I wanted to say, even as I climbed out of the truck. I slung the pack over my shoulder and then caught the door with my fingertips to ease it close. Aiden grabbed a gun and a flashlight from the locked box in the back of his truck, and handed the latter to me. I didn’t bother turning it on. The fog was a wall of white, and it was unlikely the flashlight’s beam would do much more than reveal our presence to whatever waited ahead.
We walked back down the road, keeping to the bitumen rather than the road’s stony shoulders in an effort to cut down our noise—or rather, my noise. He was as silent as a ghost. But given how little we knew about soul eaters, it was totally possible that it would sense our approach in much the same manner as vampires could, only via our life forces or souls rather than the pulse of our blood.
The old building began to loom out of the fog. It was small and rectangular, with a wooden door facing the road and two single-sash windows on either side of this. The roof was tin, and some sort of creeper climbed over the gable end closest to us. A chimney rose from the other end, but despite the chill of the night, no smoke rose
The closer we got to the building, the greater the pulse of evil became, until its force was so strong my skin crawled.
Then I felt it—the specter of death, approaching fast. It wasn’t coming for Aiden or me, but rather whoever was inside the building.
I fought the desire to run and instead silently began a repelling incantation, letting it gather around my fingers in readiness. I had no idea what might wait inside that building, but I’d yet to come across an entity that could not be forced away by such a spell.
And I hoped, even as the thought crossed my mind, that it wouldn’t change tonight.
Aiden slowed as we approached the end of the building. He motioned me to the far side of the door, but I shook my head, stepped closer, and whispered, “Magic before gun.”
He hesitated and then nodded. “On three, then.”
>
We crept forward in single file, ducked under the first small window, and stopped either side of the door.
He reached for the handle and tested it. It turned. His gaze rose to mine and he silently began the countdown.
He didn’t get to one. He barely got to two.
From inside the cottage came a bloodcurdling scream that abruptly cut off.
Death had just claimed her prize.
Chapter Seven
Aiden immediately thrust the door open. I threw the spell into the cottage, spread it as wide as I could, and then directed to our right, as far away from the door and us as possible. Something heavy hit the chimney end of the cottage and then screamed. This time, it was a sound of anger, not agony, and male rather than female.