Page 33 of Endless Terrors
It felt like someone had closed their fist around my heart. I’d been here too long, I thought suddenly. Everyone at home was probably wondering where I was. I’d also spotted Bella O’Connell, Ian’s widow, and she was glaring at me as if she knew the part I’d played in her husband’s death. Clearing my throat, I turned away and briskly finished putting the journals back into my bag.
Just as I started to get out of the booth, a champagne flute appeared in front of me. Orange juice gleamed inside the glass.
“Oh. Thanks, Gretchen.” I looked up and gave my friend a polite smile. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that a drink was the last thing I wanted right now.
She smiled back. “Everything is going to be all right. You looked like you needed the reminder.”
“You’re too good for this world, Gretch.”
She dismissed this with a wave of her hand and went back to the other side of the bar. I sat there for a moment, trying to think of a way to get rid of the mimosa without drinking it. There wasn’t anywhere to dump it, and I knew she’d see the glass at some point. Swallowing a sigh, I raised the flute to my mouth.
Someone rushed into the seat Viessa had just vacated and hissed, “Don’t drink that.”
“You again,” I said, lowering my glass. It was Seth of the bloodline Arthion. His horns were gone, because he was wearing a weak glamour, but everything else was the same. The curly hair, a slightly over-pronounced jaw, and kind blue eyes. “What the hell are you doing here? And why can’t I drink this?”
“I saw the bartender put something in it,” he said, his tone insistent.
There was only one person behind the counter, but he couldn’t mean Gretchen. I craned my neck, trying to see if there was someone walking away. But Angela and Ariel were on the other side of the room, and Cyrus never left the kitchen during his shift. “Who?”
A commotion made us both jerk toward the bar. Gretchen had dropped an entire tray of glasses, and I watched one of them roll over the tiles. I realized she must’ve been on her knees picking them up, because there was no sign of her. I waited a beat, expecting to see Gretchen stand up on the other side of the bar. When she didn’t reappear, I frowned and got up, inexplicably uneasy. Someone else had noticed she was down, too. I could hear a voice call out for a doctor.
The morning rush had slowed, and I was the first one to get behind the counter. To my horror, Gretchen was on the floor, her frail body shaking. Black smoke emerged from her mouth. The instant I saw that, I knew—magic. Dark magic. Horror burned through my veins.
No one could witness her like this, and human medicine wouldn’t help her.
Reacting quickly, I rolled Gretchen over, so her face was turned away from the bar. I could sense Seth hovering nearby. “Help me get her into Bea’s office,” I said with quiet urgency.
He nodded. People noticed us, of course, as we hurried past. A man raised his cell phone to his ear.
“No need for an ambulance,” I said with forced calm. “She’s just got low blood sugar. We’re going to take her back to the office for a minute. Ariel, can you hold down the fort?”
The faerie had appeared where the end of the bar connected with the hallway, partially blocking us from view. I tried to communicate the need for discretion with my eyes. Ariel gave me a subtle nod and spun toward the gathering crowd. I was so grateful I could’ve kissed her.
“Nothing to see here,” she announced. “Who needs more coffee? Regina, I know you want some.”
Seth and I got Gretchen into the office. We set her carefully on the floor, and as I straightened, I took my own cell phone out.
“What the fuck is going on here?” Bea’s voice said from the doorway. “Why did you tell someone not to call 9-1-1?”
I heard the hum of Seth’s voice respond. I had no clue how he was going to explain this, but that wasn’t my problem right now. I found the contact I needed and pressed down on the number with my thumb. A name filled the screen. SAVANNAH SIMONSON. As I lifted the phone, I noticed the open door and hurried over to close it. Seth and Bea were kneeling on either side of Gretchen, still going back and forth. Gretchen looked unchanged, her chest rising and falling weakly, but I didn’t know how long that would last. I turned away and fixed my eyes on the wall of lockers, fighting the urge to bounce my leg.
I could count on one hand the number of times I’d prayed in my life. Today made one more. As I stood there and held my phone to my ear, I prayed to the God that had banished us and asked Him to provide a miracle. Answer the phone, Savannah. Answer the damn phone.
The line crackled. “Fortuna? Is everything okay?”
My relief was so overwhelming that I almost sobbed. Tamping the urge down, I held the phone tighter and explained what was happening, my words clipped and urgent.
“Repeat after me,” Savannah said the moment I stopped speaking. I told her I would, and she fed me an Enochian chant. I faced Gretchen again and echoed the words the necromancer had said perfectly, syllable for syllable. After a couple minutes of this, Savannah switched back to English to ask, “Did anything happen?”
I could feel Seth and Bea’s eyes on me, but I kept mine glued on Gretchen. Her white, still face didn’t move or change. I waited another second or two before I said, “No. Is she possessed, Savannah?”
“Not if the incantation didn’t affect her. If you saw her put something in your drink, a control spell would be my guess. Good news is, they’re pretty easy to break. Bad news is, the spell can be fatal for humans near the end. As the magic starts to wear off, they break down. It’s a reaction to the trauma.”
The questions shot out of me like bullets. “What can we do? How long does she have? And can you get here in time?”
Her voice was soft, yet firm. “I can’t do anything, but you can. You command magic, Fortuna. I’ve seen it.”
A hundred arguments rose to my lips … but then I swallowed them. Forced them back down. If I didn’t act, my friend would die. It was either try this crazy, desperate idea, or watch Gretchen slip away.
