Witching for a Miracle (The Witchy Women of Coven Grove Book 7) by Constance Barker

Author:Constance Barker [Barker, Constance]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-02-28T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 25

Rhonda Peeler surged into consciousness with a gasp as the camper bucked, nearly throwing her out of the small cot in the back. Bracing herself on the wall, she waited, frozen, and listened, and felt.

The camper slowed, and she heard the crunch of gravel under the wheels. She rocked forward slightly as the camper and the truck pulling it lurched to a stop.

She was already dressed—they’d been warned to stay that way just in case—so she threw the blanket off of her legs and made her way quickly to the front. Her two daughters, Mary and Simone, were wide eyed at the fold out table, their hands spread out over the playing cards between them that had apparently flown everywhere when they hit whatever it was that had tossed the cabin.

“Mom?” Simone asked warily.

“It’s okay,” Rhonda told them. She pulled a hair band from her pocket and drew her mussed curls into a pony-tail. “Probably just a flat. I’m gonna go check on your dad. Just… stay inside.”

She opened the door and took the long step down to the side of the road. It was early—before dawn—and still black outside other than the glow of the camper’s break lights and the truck’s headlights. She listened, and heard steps on the gravel. “Carl?”

“I’m here, Ron,” Carl’s gruff voice came. “Go back inside.”

“What happened?” She asked. She padded around the camper and found her husband squatting by the tires on the other side. “We get a flat?”

Carl was grunting. After a moment, he jerked something free of the tires, and held it up to shine his flashlight on it.

“What the heck is that?” He muttered.

Rhonda moved closer and leaned in to see.

It was a bent piece of metal, sharp prongs jutting out at different angles.

“Didn’t you charm the wheels?” Carl asked.

“Best as I could,” Rhonda murmured, and took the bit of metal from his fingers. As he shined the light on it, she peered closely to see that there was rust all over the metal, as if it were old.

A weak image flashed in her mind. It was a woman; she was in agony, and covered with small cuts. It was all she saw—nothing like the kinds of supposedly immersive visions her great grandmother used to have—but it was enough to catapult her into a panic.

“They found us,” she whispered harshly, and waved at Carl. “Turn your light off!”

He did so immediately, but there were still the brake- and head-lights making them a target.

“Timothy,” Carl breathed, “and Lilly.…”

“They knew,” Rhona said. “They bought us time. We’re just a few hours away.” She looked out at the darkness, tense against the expectation of a crossbow bolt or sniper bullet about to emerge soundlessly from the tree line. There would be two of them, at least—one to spot them, the other to lay the trap. But they wouldn’t come at them alone—they didn’t know how weak Rhonda’s magic was, or that her daughters were practically untrained.

“I have to change the tire,” Carl said gravely.

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