Spellbound Read Online Free

girl—Amy—but she’d already moved out. While I was certain Amy was a fake name, there’s often some truth in a false identity. It makes the lies easier to pull off. So I wanted to see Amy’s application. Yet I knew better than to waltz up to the door and ask. Yesterday, Alastair had run me off. Megan could be a little more reasonable, if it was in her best interests, but I wasn’t taking the chance.
    Considering it was ten in the morning, a break-in required finesse. Or a distraction. I used Adam again. If you want to distract a household of young women, nothing quite does the trick like a hot guy.
    â€œForgetting something?” He handed me a set of lock picks as I climbed out along the roadside. “You’re going to need these.”
    â€œRight.”
    â€œDo you remember how to use them?”
    He got a pfttt and an eye roll for that.
    â€œIn other words, no, you don’t. You weren’t paying attention when Lucas taught you, because you have your unlock spell.” He turned off the engine. “Let’s switch. You can distract the girls while I—”
    â€œI’m the one who’s had the grand tour, including Alastair’s office. And I might be out of practice, but I do remember how to pick a lock.”
    Adam hesitated. He’d hate to suggest that I was less than competent without my spells. So I set out for the house before he could stop me.
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    I honestly thought I remembered how to use the picks. But Adam knows me well. As with the self-defense lessons, I’d barely listened to Lucas’s tutorials because I figured I didn’t need them. After five minutes of fussing with the side door lock, I jangled the handle in frustration . . . and discovered it had been left open.
    â€œYou lost your spells, Savannah,” I muttered to myself. “Not your brains.”
    I slipped inside. I was at the far end of the house, away from the kitchen and front rooms, where I could hear girls giggling as Adam held court. I crept to the closed office door, then stopped and listened. Inside, it was silent.
    My kingdom for a sensing spell.
    Scratch that. From now on, I needed to be really careful what I wished for and what I offered in return.
    I wondered how someone without a sensing spell ensured a room was empty. I had no idea. I’d never foreseen a time when I’d need to do it any other way.
    I rapped at the office door, strained to hear any sound, ready to sprint if I did. Yes, I felt ridiculous, like a five-year-old playing Nicky Nine Doors—knocking on a door and running away. It worked, though. When no one answered I turned the knob only to discover that I did need the picks here. Damn.
    Luckily, it was just your standard home door lock, easily thwarted by anyone with a paper clip. Once inside, I locked the door behind me.
    My goal was in plain sight. The filing cabinet. Now, I just had to hope they kept paper copies of their admission forms.
    They didn’t. Or so it seemed as I leafed through sparse files of packaging mock-ups and media pieces. Then I spotted a second, smaller filing cabinet. One with an electronic lock.
    Admission forms hardly seemed to require such security. But Alastair was also a therapist and a place like this attracted girls with problems. Whatever Alastair’s faults, he seemed to take that aspect of his role seriously, so I wouldn’t be surprised if application forms were locked away, along with counseling notes.
    The problem was the lock. It was a combination, and I didn’t have a hope in hell of figuring it out in the next few minutes. I tugged on the door, just in case it wasn’t latched. No such luck.
    As I fiddled with it, footsteps sounded in the hall. I backed against the bookshelf. Someone tried the door and I congratulated myself for having the foresight to lock it behind me. Then, after a test jangle, a key turned in the lock. I quickly cast a cover spell. Only as the last