The Witch Collector Part II Read Online Free Page B

cold numbing my toes made shoes tempting, but I could run faster in bare feet.
    The garage blocked most of the alley but offered access to it from two points, slim walkways, one on each side. I glanced around, searching for a ladder or something I could use to boost myself up onto the garage roof. Nothing. The wooden fence, unfortunately smooth and at least six feet tall, was my only option. Not much different than a tree, I told myself. Jumping up, I grabbed hold of the top of the fence and pulled myself up, reaching for the aluminum gutter to steady myself. Then I hooked a toe over the corner of the garage and hoisted myself up onto the roof, landing with a thud.
    Streetlights lit both ends of the alley, but since Dobra’s apartment was in the middle of the block, my view was obscured by shadows. The moon, watching from the sky, helped a little. I knew the moon had begun waning, but its fullness reminded me of the magic I felt standing in front of Belladonna’s. I wasn’t powerless. I had to remember that.
    I waited. No cars passed, and the faint sounds of the night lulled me into a hazy state. I was tired, so tired, but I couldn’t let that work against me. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to study the trees and trash cans and the strangely patterned roof tiles lying underneath me—anything to keep me awake.
    Then a sound, so subtly different, so strangely familiar, woke up my senses.
    Boots.
    We all wore them in the country. Brandon’s were thick-soled and heavy, and I knew the sound of his step anywhere.
    He walked down the middle of the alley, his gait sure and purposeful, the stride of a boy with nothing to hide. The light of the moon settled on his hair. He glanced up as if he sensed my presence, his mouth tugging into an easy grin.
    Brandon.
    I didn’t care why he showed up, just that he did. I slid off the roof, landing on the cement breezeway with a thud, and we lunged for each other. I held on to him for a long minute, tears falling down my face. He was my home. I clutched at him, feeling the familiar muscles in his arms, taking in his scent, trying to feel like I did in Oregon. Safe.
    Brandon ran his fingers through my hair, murmuring my name over and over. “I missed you so much,” he whispered. “So, so much.”
    “I missed you, too,” I said. And then I remembered. “Where were you today? Why did it take you so long to get here?” I demanded, feeling a sharp spike of anger. “My parents are missing. Do you know where they are? They’ve been gone two days, Brandon. Two days .”
    “Listen,” he said, stepping back so he could look at me directly. “You’re not safe. I don’t understand everything that’s going on, but I can tell you this—my dad is in Chicago and he’s after you for some reason.”
    To hear this from Brandon sent a shiver of fear up my spine. It was real. “Did Gavin take my parents?”
    “I don’t know what happened to your mom and dad,” Brandon said. “I’m sorry—I wish I did.”
    The news brought fresh tears. I brushed them away before they fell. “I need to find them,” I said. “You need to tell me what’s going on.”
    “I knew something was wrong before Greta died,” Brandon began. “My dad was acting short-tempered and agitated. He often asked me if I’d heard from you since I’d gone to Seaside. I thought it might be a trick—we weren’t supposed to have contact with anyone, so I never told him that you had been calling. I thought I was going to get special training, but he ignored me, singling out Greta instead. She stopped eating with us, or hanging out. We hadn’t seen her for days when we found out she’d died. The morning after her funeral, Dad called a meeting. He didn’t want us worrying we would catch her illness. He wanted us to feel safe. But something definitely wasn’t right. Later, when I found him in his room to press him about what had happened, he was packing.”
    I swallowed. “We’d already left.”
    “He said