Demon's Dance (Lizzie Grace 4)
“My psychic senses were always stronger than my magic, remember?” I paused. “What I’d really like to know is what has happened to Alice, given her car is still here.”
“I guess there’s only one way we’re ever going to find that out.”
“Indeed.” I motioned him forward. “You're the official witch, so lead the way, cousin.”
He snorted, but nevertheless cautiously moved further into the house. I followed, every sense alert, the repelling spell swirling lazily around my fingers in readiness.
There were three doorways that led off the small hall and an arch down the far end. We moved forward, switching on lights as we did. The door to our right revealed a living room, the one on our left was a bedroom, and next to that was the bathroom. Each room was empty of both life and death. Which wasn’t really a surprise, as the fading sense of evil was coming from whatever rooms lay beyond the arch.
Monty glanced at me, his face pinched with tension. I didn’t say anything; I simply nodded. After a moment, he moved toward the arch. The repelling spell tingled around my fingers, its soft buzz seeming extraordinarily loud against the thick pall of silence.
Monty stepped through the arch, turned on the light, and again stopped. I did the same. The room ran the width of the house and comprised a kitchen—which was to our left—and a dining area to our right.
In between the two lay a body.
And beside it, the almost inevitable pile of skin.
“Oh fuck,” Monty said. “Another one.”
“But is it Mrs. Dale, or is it Alice?”
“That I can’t tell you.” He moved around the skinless body and squatted at the end of it. “There’re burn marks on the soles of her feet, though, and I doubt that's a coincidence.”
“Meaning it could have something to do with how this spirit is stealing—” I broke off the rest of the sentence at the sound of a car’s engine roaring to life.
That sound was close—at the front of the house close.
I glanced at Monty, then swore and ran for the front door, getting there in time to see a woman in the seat of the Focus.
That woman was Alice.
Or was it?
Something within me suddenly wasn’t so sure.
I leapt off the front porch, yelling her name as I ran for the car. She didn’t look at me; either she couldn’t hear me, or she simply wasn’t acknowledging me. Maybe it was shock. Maybe she’d walked into that house expecting to see her mother, and instead had found a raw body and a pile of skin beside it. It was a sight that would certainly send even the strongest of minds into turmoil—and I doubted Alice would ever have been described as strong.
I lunged for the door handle, but at that very point, she hit the accelerator and reversed out of the driveway. Tires squealed and rubber burned as the car lurched back. The mirror clipped my hand and pain surged; I swore loudly and flung the repelling spell. It was designed for flesh rather than metal, but it nevertheless hit the front of the car and sent it spinning sideways.
Alice didn’t brake, didn’t ease her speed, and the smoke coming from the tires grew thicker as she fought to control the spinning car. I leaped the small brick fence, gathering magic across my fingertips as I ran again for the car. But somehow, Alice had regained control and was now reversing down the street.
“Duck,” Monty yelled, and I immediately did so.
Magic sizzled over my head and hit the front of Alice’s car. It didn’t stop.
“What the fuck?” I spun around, only to see Monty leap the fence and then sprint down the street.
“It’s a tracker,” he said. “So get in the fucking car, Liz, and let’s stop this bitch.”
I ran after him, grabbing my keys and opening the car just as he reached for the passenger door. I jumped in, reversed out as quickly as possible, and accelerated after the Focus. The wagon’s headlights were barely reaching the other car.
“I take it you think it’s not Alice in the Focus?”
“I do.” His voice was grim. “After all, if it was Alice, would she have reacted so violently?”
“If she thought we were the ones who killed her mother, it’s possible.”
“Except that she must have seen you—”