Deadly Magic by Joy Brighton

Author:Joy Brighton [Brighton, Joy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Time Travel, Paranormal, Contemporary, Ghosts, Scarred Hero/Heroine
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Published: 2015-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Josh opened his eyes, and the bright fluorescent bulb over the sink seemed to bore a hole straight through his brain. His ears buzzed, and his head throbbed. He was alone in the camper, breathing stale, stuffy air, and his damp T-shirt stank from sweat.

He stretched his stiff muscles slowly. His joints ached like he’d spent days frozen in one position on the hard floor. And he was so thirsty. He closed his cracked lips and sucked on his tongue, but couldn’t find any spit.

When he reached for the half bottle of water on the counter, his head swam, and his empty stomach convulsed in dry heaves. Groaning, he curled into a ball with his arms clenched around his aching belly and stared at the ceiling until his vision stopped swimming.

He rolled onto his knees and crawled toward the sink. Hanging on to the edge of the table, he pulled himself up and lurched for the water. A couple long gulps emptied the bottle, and his throat felt better.

He switched off the too-bright light and refilled the bottle from the tap. Leaning his elbows on the counter, he peered out the tiny kitchen window while he took another drink. Yeah, they were in that same stupid Casino parking lot.

A shiver rippled through him. Where was Aunt Gina? Had she lied again?

His heart stumbled. He groped under his shirt and pulled out the necklace, fingering the carved cat. At least she hadn’t taken this away. Quiet warmth seeped back into his body. He sank onto the bench, curled up and rested his chin on his knees. His visions of the Magician seemed more like a dream, all jumbled and distorted.

His stomach growled, and the warm water sloshed around his empty insides. When did he eat last? Still queasy, he remembered drinking part of that crummy chocolate shake, but did he actually eat the tacos? He brushed his damp hair out of his eyes. Had that been a few hours ago? Or days? How long had he slept?

He’d already dug through most of the cupboards and eaten the last of the stale crackers. Even the crumbs. He scrambled over one of the boxes blocking the narrow walkway and peered out the back door. No sign of his uncle or of Aunt Gina. He rattled the knob. Still locked from the outside.

He scraped his fingers over his mouth. A crumpled fast food bag stuck out of the trashcan. His heart beat faster. If he hadn’t finished his dinner, there might be leftovers.

With a grimace, he shoved aside the shake cup and pawed through the garbage. He found the squished end of a taco and a couple limp fries. A week ago he wouldn’t have even touched them, but now, who cared? He stuffed the food in his mouth and tried to make even the soggy, wilted lettuce last as long as possible.

He licked the grease off the wax paper and dug deeper. Nothing else but gooey tissues in the bottom. The salt had made him thirsty again so he drank more water.

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