Demon's Dance (Lizzie Grace 4)

You and I might not have a choice.

I didn’t comment and the prophetic part of me remained stubbornly mute.

Monty wound the tracer carefully through the network of the containment spell and then thrust it deep into the soucouyant’s energy. She reacted violently, her energy churning in agitation, but it had no immediate effect on either of his spells. But the heat leaking through the small gap in my magic made me wonder just how much longer that would be the case.

He hurriedly closed off the two spells and withdrew. I quickly resealed my spell and then glanced at him. Sweat beaded his forehead, but his expression was pleased.

“I take it the spell is working?”

He nodded. “I’m currently getting strong feedback. How long it’ll last if she continues to twist like that is another matter entirely. It’s very possible she’ll either dislodge or fry the connection.”

“Then let’s not stand about here,” Aiden said, ever practical.

He picked up the jerry can and led the way back to the truck. I caught one of the strands of wild magic and pushed the sphere along after him. Once Monty was sitting in the front passenger seat, I gave him the soucouyant and then climbed into the rear.

“Is that thing safe?” Aiden said, as he started the truck up.

“For now,” Monty said. “Head out of the farm and then back into Greenhill. I’ll give more directions then.”

Aiden nodded and took off. I did the seat belt up and tried to ignore the unease traipsing across my skin. As long as both sets of magic held up, we really weren’t in danger, no matter what my instincts might be saying.

At Greenhill, Monty said, “Go left at the roundabout.”

“Out of the reservation?” Aiden queried, even as he obeyed.

“Yes.” Monty’s voice was absent. He was concentrating on the signal coming from the tracer.

We continued on, eventually swinging right onto the Western Freeway and then off again once we’d hit the road to Argyle.

Monty’s breathing was becoming harsher, and the sting of his sweat so strong that even I could smell it. I shifted position to look at the sphere; Monty’s spell had frayed a whole lot more and the patches of deadness had grown larger along my thread lines. I caught the end of my spell and hastily wrapped a few more lines of power around the sphere, but I doubted it would hold for long. With the night growing ever closer, the soucouyant was becoming stronger.

We swept into Argyle and then turned left onto the Midland Highway. The heat in the car was increasing; Aiden flicked on the air conditioning and the blast of cool air provided a welcome if likely too brief respite.

“Right here,” Monty said abruptly.

Tires squealed as Aiden obeyed. Dust flew and the truck fishtailed on the gravel road for several seconds before Aiden got it back under control.

“A little more warning next time would be nice,” he muttered.

“Sorry,” Monty said, sounding anything but.

I leaned forward. “How close are we?”

“Close.” He hesitated. “We’ve probably another mile or so.”

We continued on, passing a couple of even smaller side roads before Monty said, “Slow down. I think she’s in the building ahead on our right.”

“That’s a holiday rental house,” Aiden said. “Friends of mine own it.”

“But they don’t live there, do they?” I asked, fearing the worst if they did.

“No, but someone has obviously rented it—there’s a car parked out front.” He glanced at Monty. “How do you want to play this?”

“Shouldn’t the first thing we do be to get those people out of there?” I asked.

“If it isn’t already too late,” Monty said. “The strength of the tracer suggests that if our soucouyant isn’t in the house, she’s damn close to it.”

I briefly studied the house. It was an old double-story red-brick building that had probably been a barn at some point in its life given the height and width of the original fron