Demon's Dance (Lizzie Grace 4)

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??It’s great, Monty. And thanks for trying.”

He grimaced. “I still think it’s a fool’s errand but you’re right—we have to at least try.”

He pushed to his feet and dug his keys out of his pocket. “Drive her gently, and don’t crunch the gears.”

“I’ll try not to—but I drive automatics for a reason, I’m afraid.”

He winced but didn’t say anything else. We both grabbed our backpacks and headed out. Once I’d locked the door, he said, “It's down the street on the right.”

I looked across the road. “The old red Mustang?”

“It’s a classic 1967 V8 Mustang, thank you very much.” His voice held a hint of censure. “You’re obviously a heathen when it comes to cars.”

“Undoubtedly, because as long as they get me from point A to point B, I’m really not fussed.”

He shook his head. “Driving should never just be about getting from one point to another. It should be about the experience, the power, and the feel.”

I glanced at him, eyebrow raised. “Seriously?”

He grinned. “Tell me you don’t understand after you’ve driven her.”

I snorted but nevertheless walked over to it. “How’d you get it down here so fast?”

“I arranged for it to be transported down the minute it was confirmed I had the position. It arrived yesterday.”

“What is it with you men and your cars?”

He grinned. “They don’t take as much time and effort as women. And they don’t talk back.” He paused. “Not that often, anyway.”

I smiled and shook my head. Once we were both in his car, I started her up. I had to admit, the heavy rumble of the big engine was a rather awesome sound. I took off gently, getting used to the car and the gears, but growing more confident as we began a circuit first around the main section of town and then around the outskirts.

Monty’s spell remained stubbornly mute.

I pulled to a halt at an intersection and looked right and left. “Where next? Up towards Hank’s Mill or down to Rayburn Springs?”

He hesitated, his gaze narrowed as he studied the orb sitting in his hand. “Left.”

I put on the blinker and went that way. As the streetlights faded and the stars grew brighter, energy began to flicker across the orb’s surface. But it was faint. Very faint.

We continued on. The pulsing through the orb didn’t alter, which really didn’t make a whole lot of sense. Unless the soucouyant was somehow aware of our movements and tracking from a distance, of course, but I doubted that was the case. If she’d been close enough to see us leave the café, she’d have been close enough to kill us.

The signal didn’t alter as we entered the outskirts of Argyle and then drove through the center of town.

“This isn’t working.” Monty’s voice was weary. “The spell is detecting something, but I’m not convinced it's the soucouyant.”

Which was more than a little frustrating. “Shall we go back a different way, just in case?”

He shrugged. “We’ve got nothing to lose.”

I swung left at the roundabout and headed out of Argyle. As we left the lights behind us, the orb began to glow again, but it remained faint. As we neared Castle Rock again, the orb—and its magic—began to disintegrate.

“Sorry,” Monty said. “But it would have taken too much energy to create a spell to last much longer than a couple of hours.”

“At least we tried.” Which didn’t ease the niggling feeling that the soucouyant was waiting to pounce the minute we had our backs turned.

As I pulled up in front of the café, Monty said, “Leave the engine running. I think I’ll head home.”