Spell-Weaver Read Online Free Page A

help him.
    Careful.
    She sighed again, rolled over, kept her eyes closed and listened. Muffled sounds of cars, pattering of rain, a horn blasted in the distance. The sheet she was lying on smelled like bleach and felt like a low budget motel’s, rough under her fingers.
    â€œI know you’re awake,” Vic said, his voice coming from the other side of the room. “If you want to pretend to sleep that’s fine, but I’m going to talk. There’s things you need to hear.”
    Summer opened her eyes to see him sitting on the second bed, legs folded in front of him, hands loose and upturned, like he’d been meditating or something. She pushed herself up and moved farther back on the bed, distancing herself as much as she could.
    â€œYou shouldn’t be frightened of me. Everything I’ve done has been for you.”
    Summer swallowed the lump in her throat, tried to stifle the shiver that licked her spine. “Where’s Dyami?”
    Vic held her gaze, his eyes intense. “He’s of no concern to you.”
    She scanned the room. Two beds, three doors. One led to a bathroom, one to outside where she could still hear the sound of cars driving by. The third, presumably, to another room. She shifted her gaze back to Vic. “You need to tell me where he is right now.”
    â€œSummer.” His tone held of note of warning.
    She ignored it.
    â€œVictor.” She stood from the bed, feeling better about putting it between her and him. “You stabbed a man in front of me. You kidnapped the two of us. You made some comments about taking care of him. I want to know where he is right now.”
    Vic sighed, hung his head for a moment, then nodded in the direction of the next room. “He’s safe there.”
    For now. He didn’t say it, but she heard it.
    â€œWhat are you going to do to him?”
    â€œSummer, you need to sit down and let me explain things to you. It will all make sense when I do.”
    â€œI’m not sure what kind of sense you’re talking about, Vic. How the fuck are you going to make sense of throwing a knife? Injuring a helpless man? Taking hostages?”
    He frowned. “You’re not a hostage.”
    â€œSo I can leave any time I want?” She glanced over her shoulder, nodded at the door. “I could walk right outside and you wouldn’t stop me?”
    â€œSummer…”
    She moved to the door, watching him closely, waiting for him to lose the appearance of calm. He didn’t flinch. Not even when she dropped her hand on the doorknob.
    â€œYou don’t want to do that.” He sighed.
    She swallowed another lump, accepted his challenge and turned the knob. The door didn’t open as it should have—not completely anyway. It was as if there was something sticky holding it closed, pulling it back. She yanked harder, opened it a little more. “What the fuck?”
    Vic was on his feet now, eyebrows sky high. “Shit! You shouldn’t be able to do that!”
    She yanked again and the door moved more, spurring Vic into action. He jumped the bed in one leap, came at her like a bull after red. She let the door shut, turned, and met him halfway, pulling her knee up hard and fast to hit him squarely in the balls.
    He dropped with a grunt, hitting the floor at her feet. He curled into a ball for mere moments before he was trying to get up again. She jumped over him and headed straight for the adjoining room door, flipped the lock and threw it open. With a quick glance to ensure he was still down, she barreled into the next room, slammed the door shut and then did something she couldn’t explain.
    She traced one of her symbols on the knob. The symbol popped into her head and she did it. No hesitation, as if it made total sense for her to draw it. Something jolted her as she finished, like an electric snap or pulse. It was done. Whatever it was.
    Seconds later, Vic was banging on the other side, the