Something Wicked by Jacqueline Meadows

Author:Jacqueline Meadows [Meadows, Jacqueline]
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Erotic
ISBN: 1-84360-699-2
Publisher: Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2004-01-06T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

I didn’t listen to my mind, I listened to my gut, and it said if I didn’t do something damn quick, I’d watch a young girl’s life be taken and become an accessory to murder in one quick slice.

I screamed “No!” at full lung capacity. It rose over the chanting, the evil permeating the room, the eerie candlelight, and stopped Grand High Poobah’s knife three inches from her heart. He turned toward me as I approached, but oddly, none of his followers moved. Like molded lumps of clay, they stood silent, unaffected by my earsplitting scream or presence.

“Who are you? How did you get in this room?” he demanded.

Three feet separated us. “I’m a VIP. Didn’t you get the memo?”

Up close I saw all the imperfections of his lived-in face—the sags, the wrinkles, the flaws. He had one beak of a nose, too—large and crooked, topped by a lumpy center knot—testimony to a break unset. I pointed at it. “You know, I have a friend of a friend who’s a cosmetic surgeon and he’d fix that little problem of yours in one afternoon. Strictly outpatient.” I cocked my head. “Care for a referral?”

His lips firmed and anger twisted his jolly features hostile.

I shivered. “Um, I’m a Scorpio. What’s your sign?” Pelted with enough inane chatter, would he forget to chop me into itty-bitty pieces the size of confetti? I crossed my fingers.

He pointed at me and I felt a surge of power, his or mine—wasn’t sure whose—before he commanded, “Be gone!”

Like a shining bullet, blue light shot from his fingertip. My hands jerked up in that instinctive arm block you do to shield your face. To cap off that skillful defensive move, I yelped.

He flashed a smirk before the light hit me, and a frown afterward. I stood unhurt. Warmth, a small tingle, that’s all I felt, and lowering my arms, I mirrored his frown.

“Witch!” he hissed.

“Sticks and stones,” I sang. He pointed again and I sighed loudly. “Please, don’t bother. I think you’re just shooting blanks tonight.” A mocking smile failed when my dry lips stuck in spots to my gums; I managed only to eke a sick simile, more grimace than grin, while the Sahara burned inside my mouth.

My best poker face and I nonchalantly sidled alongside his virginal sacrifice. The teen stared at the ceiling and I snapped my fingers. No response. Not even a blink.

My gaze swung to him. “What have you done to her, some kind of trance?”

Poobah’s brow furrowed, puzzlement written on his face as easily read as a book, and he tried circling behind me but I wouldn’t let him. Didn’t fancy a knife buried in my back. “How could you block one of my most powerful attacks and not be able to identify the simplest of binding spells?” His eyes narrowed. “Who are you?”

“Glenda, the good witch from the north, and it’s time for Dorothy to go home.”

He thundered, “Enough!” Obviously no fan of old classics, he looked fit to be tied.

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