Reaching through the bars, Claire laid one hand on her shoulder. “I am so sorry, Lea.”
She swallowed. “Thanks. Anyway—I went to the meeting, thinking it was another town vote. And I nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw Jane, shining out of Bertram like a dark light. I know it sounds odd, but’s it’s the only way I can describe it. Are you hungry? I still have some of my lunch here.”
Claire’s stomach rumbled, answering for her. “That would be a yes.”
Smiling, Lea limped back to her cot, gathered some food on a napkin. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to sit.” She handed the napkin to Claire, then used the bars to ease herself to the floor.
“What happened, Lea?”
With a sigh, Lea leaned against the bars. “Bertram called us all his angels, announced that things were going to change, that we’d let evil run free for too long. Just for background—there’s a history of witches in Huntsville, goes back further than the Gold Rush.” She stared down at her lap, her voice so quiet Claire had to lean forward to hear. “I sat there, still stunned by what I was seeing, and that he—she—was hypnotizing everyone in that meeting.” She lifted her head, pain in her soft hazel eyes. “You saw the darkness, felt the cold, around Heather?”
Claire nodded. “Scared me senseless. But I was too worn out to do anything but let her bring me here.”
“That darkness just—attached itself to most of the people there. And the air changed—got so cold so fast I could see my breath. Some people seemed to resist her, constantly shaking their head, or rubbing at their face like they had a headache. I got out of there before she could spot me—I was young when she left, but my mom owned the local New Age shop, so she would have recognized me sooner or later. It’s mine now that my mom is gone, and one of the reasons I didn’t run that night. I should have, but I was in shock. I waited too long, and they caught me on the edge of town yesterday. Bertram—Jane has armed patrols everywhere.”
Her pain, her grief tore at Claire. Her courage gave Claire a sense of purpose she didn’t have when Heather led her into the station.
“Did the chief sentence you, Lea?” Claire asked it gently, already fearing she knew the answer.
“I’ve been condemned as a witch.” She looked up at Claire, tears sliding down her cheeks. Grief and terror tightened her face. “They’re going to punish me tomorrow morning,” she whispered. “By burning me at the stake.”
SIX
Marcus parked his rental in the gravel lot next to the single story police station and stepped out of the silver sedan. He wanted to drive something normal, and did his best to look as unthreatening as possible. By removing his earring, pulling his hair back into a sleek ponytail, and wearing the standard tourist uniform of jeans, button down shirt and jacket, he could blend in, if necessary.
The sun hid behind a stand of pine trees, lower than he expected. Glancing at his watch, he was startled by the time. Past seven, and he had yet to talk his way past local law enforcement. He did not want to spend the night here, where even in his subdued state he would be marked as an outsider. The simple solution was to do what needed doing and leave as quickly as possible.
Pulling out just a hint of charm, he pushed open the glass door and stepped inside.
The big room was deserted, save for a woman with long, honey blonde hair. She looked up—then jumped to her feet, smoothing her uniform as she walked toward him. Marcus faltered for a moment; when she smiled, he felt evil brush against him. New, raw evil.
Looking as harmless as he possibly could, he waited for her.
“Can I help you?” Her voice purred over the request.
“I received a call earlier today. A friend is here, and I’ve come to take her home.”
Panic flared across the woman’s face. “Sorry?”
Marcus brushed his fingers over her shoulder—and used every bit of control not to jerk his hand back. It felt as if he had been scorched. Smiling, he let a tendril of calm wrap around her. This time he didn’t merely get scorched. Pain seared straight into the center of his power.
He pulled himself in, put up the barrier he used to block the random emotions that bombarded him on a regular basis. “You did bring someone in today? A woman—”
“How—Simon.” She cursed, vividly. Marcus raised one eyebrow, knowing it tended to intimidate. Her voice faded, and she took a step back. “She’s not—wait, you can’t—”
Marcus ignored her and kept moving across the station, toward the door at the back. He suspected it led to the cells, where they would keep anyone suspicious, until they were satisfied the suspicious person would cause no harm. Unfortunately, he knew from firsthand experience.