Whisper by Ellen Mint

Author:Ellen Mint [Mint, Ellen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Contemporary Romance Fiction
Publisher: Totally Entwined Group
Published: 2021-07-21T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

Where are you?

The text taunted me with every panicked step up and down the sidewalk. I was vaguely aware I dashed my way to the crumbling section that felt like Main Street long swallowed up by urban sprawl. Cars parked not only herringbone beside the sidewalk but in the middle of the street. It created a vehicular manslaughter labyrinth I navigated like a blind frog because I couldn’t stop staring at my texts.

Where was Cal?

The werewolf council had found him. Was there a werewolf council? Had to be. They probably all got together during solstices, stripped naked, and howled at the moon.

Or there were those hunters that had caught us in Oklahoma. They’d seemed to only want a nymph and a witch for their collection, but Cal said they’d hunt werewolves for sport. What if they found him out in the woods? What if he was somewhere bleeding and nearly unconscious, freezing naked while running through streams to avoid their traps?

Answer the goddamn phone!

I’m a witch. I stopped dead in my tracks and hauled out my spell book. The leather binding popped open to a random page about disemboweling. Was my own book fucking with me too? Closing my eyes, I asked it, “How do I get someone to answer me?”

I knew how to track a person and even eavesdrop on them, but I’d need Cal’s DNA. Unless some dried sperm in a Kleenex counted, it wasn’t happening. The pages stopped on a spell that’d encourage a subject to do whatever I wanted. That could work. If I cast a spell to make him call me, and he wasn’t able, then that’d mean he was in trouble.

Scanning through the jumble of words written at an angle, I checked the ingredients. No DNA needed.

So far so good, no toad’s eyes or dragon warts, but I’d need…a hangnail from a hung man. Where the fuck do I even—?

A horn blared, causing me to leap back. My leg slammed into the bumper of a truck, slicing the skin. Clutching my spell book to my chest, I stared up at the eyes of a man glaring death at me. I didn’t even realize I’d stopped in the middle of the street.

His warning stare of bodily harm didn’t leave me until his truck had passed by. Even then, I was certain he kept watching me from his rearview mirror. Take a deep breath, stop panicking. Focus. Cal could be fine and you’re freaking out for no good reason.

What if he wasn’t?

I’d slit the hamstrings of whoever hurt him and leave them in the forest. If the bugs and blood loss didn’t finish them off, the miles it’d take to limp to civilization would.

Another car blew past, a white flag rattling on the driver’s side window, then two more rolled after. I risked looking down the road and spotted an entire caravan of cars bearing white flags. Who had died? It was probably very bad luck to cross a funeral procession, so I turned back to the sidewalk and read through the spell.

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