Page 4 of Love Summoned

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Dagger. Gold rope. Attack. Moonlight. Hemlock Public Library.

Sweat coats my brow as I wake with a gasp.

“The library.” I throw the covers back, my bare feet slapping against the floorboards as I race through the darkness to Sloane’s room.

I don’t bother knocking. My sister never locks her doors, whether we’re at home or away. She invites anyone who tries to take her out with a welcome smile.

“Sloane.” Her long, dark hair looks like spilled ink over the white linen.

I shake her arm, the one clutched around her pillow, when she doesn’t rouse from my voice. “I had a vision. A real one.”

She groans, squinting through one eye as she looks past me. “It’s three in the morning.”

I ignore her and run back to my room to grab my phone, typing Hemlock Public Library into the search bar. It’s only a few minutes’ drive away.

Searching through my bag, I grab my belt and load the holsters with the potions and daggers we’d prepared before we left Salem. Celeste and I always keep a ready supply of potions made, while Sloane’s in charge of weaponry. When I don’t hear any movement from Sloane’s room I rush across the hall, light on my feet so I don’t disturb any other guests that might be on the floor. The blanket has been pulled over her head, and one foot peeks out at the end.

“Sloane.” I tickle her foot, then rip the blanket off her and run, narrowly missing the little force field missile she throws my way.

Changing into jeans and a tank top, I’m lacing up my boots when Sloane strolls in, hair tied in a loose braid over her shoulder, and her helmet tucked under one arm. Her pajamas have been traded for fitted, black cargo pants and the same dark blue flannel shirt she had on earlier.

“Are you sure we need to go right now?” Her voice is still thick with sleep as she watches me grab my riding jacket and room key off the dresser.

“Yes,” I whisper as we moved through the hallway. “It was night in my vision.”

Sloane sighs, following me down the stairs. “Fate is a cruel bitch.”

A deep, rumbling snore to the left halts our descent.

A large man has his boot-clad feet crossed at the ankles on the check-in desk, arms folded over his chest. Quietly, we continue making our way down the stairs. The bar is now empty, lights out save for a single lantern hanging over the counter closest to the entrance, and the chairs have all been turned over onto the tables.

Easing the door open, I look over my shoulder, making sure I don’t disturb the sleeping guard.

“It’s not a prison,” Sloane says, straight-faced as she nudges me out of the way to pull the door the rest of the way open. “We’re guests. We can come and go as we please.”

Oh, yeah.

Still, I gently pull the door closed before running after Sloane and zipping up my jacket to ward off the chilly night air. She’s already throwing a leg over her neon pink motorcycle by the time I reach her.

“Is your car locked?” she asks.

“Oh, shit. My helmet’s in the trunk.”

“Don’t worry. You can use mine. I’ve got my force field if I need it.”

I tighten the strap of her helmet under my chin as Sloane looks up the address for the library on her phone, then brings her Kawasaki roaring to life.

My heart thumps in my chest. I may finally have answers. Why do I keep seeing that dagger? Why Hemlock, a place so far from home? Is the message for me, or someone we’re meant to help?

I hug myself tight to Sloane’s back, and we take off, winding through the quiet, shadowed streets.

The closer we get to the library, the more my thoughts are drowned out by the rush of my nerves. What if it’s another dead-end clue?

A flash of electric blue strikes the brick wall of the building beside us.

“Shit!” Sloane yells. “Demons?”