A Lying Witch Book Two Read online

  Max reached out and stopped me. Leaning in right by my ear, he hissed, “You agreed to help, and you’re going to help. Have you forgotten the curse?” Despite the fact Max had a truly deep, vibrating, powerful voice, now it was restrained. Quiet, barely a whisper, one that certainly couldn’t carry beyond me and wasn’t designed to.

  Despite the fact it was artificially, creepily soft, my back crawled with nerves. A smart girl would have walked away without another word. Me? I clenched my teeth. “You lured me here, Max. You’d already organized this meeting—”

  “Ignore the curse,” his voice was darker than I’d ever heard it as he whispered in my ear, “and there will be nothing I can do for you. They’ll come for you in the middle of the night, and, Chi McLane, they will tear you apart.”

  I swear the room shook as he said tear you apart. Or at least I did. It shook me like my bones had turned to jelly.

  Max’s shadow loomed larger, too. It was like it momentarily became more real than he did.

  So far, Sarah hadn’t said a word, but now she pushed forward, approaching us warily. “What’s going on? You said the seer wanted to come,” she added, addressing Max. “You said she would help willingly.” The more Sarah spoke, the more desperate her words became. They strung together, turning into a garbled mess.

  “She will help. She’s just forgotten something, that’s all,” Max’s tone dropped again.

  I locked my gaze on him, and if eyes could have killed, they would have. It was damn clear he had zero intention of letting me go. Well, fine, then. I’d just find a way to get out of this when he wasn’t looking.

  Maybe Max thought I hadn’t changed. Maybe he thought I was still the little lying witch I’d been before I inherited the clairvoyant powers of my grandmother. He was wrong – I had changed. Just not in the way he was hoping. He wanted me to blindly follow him, to blindly use my powers however he saw fit. I wasn’t going to do that. Maybe in his mind, I should selflessly investigate this murder. But that was stupid. Because I was in too far over my head. And if Sarah Anne was right, and not even the police could help, what hope did I have? Yes, maybe I could stare at this photo, call on my powers of the future, and try to figure out what would happen next. Or maybe I’d make the wrong move, and in doing so, I’d wind up as the next victim. Max was the kind of guy to run forward without asking questions. Well, that could get you killed.

  Knowing full well that I wouldn’t get out of here until I plucked up the photo, I shot Max one more defiant look before I turned around, knelt down, and picked it up. I had to clench my teeth to stave off that godawful tingling sensation. It drove hard through my fingers, ate into my wrist, and shot up my arm.

  Though I hadn’t put any effort into developing my powers over the past week, it appeared they were growing stronger on their own.

  Great. I grabbed the photo lightly like I was scared it was covered in poison. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  She offered me a muddled smile, obviously still confused at mine and Max’s bizarre interaction. “I will be forever indebted to you, sister.” She said the words sister with a great measure of respect. She also tilted forward, pressed her hand delicately against her knees, and bowed. No one had ever bowed to me in my entire life. They’d cussed at me, insulted me, and shoved me out of the way in a crowd. But bowed?

  I didn’t get the opportunity to grow used to the experience. Max pushed towards me, facing Sarah Anne and smiling that beguiling smile. There was no hint of the mean Max I was so very used to, just the gentleman who very rarely showed his handsome face and charming personality to me.

  Sarah Anne brightened slightly, though she was still cast into a shadow of grief.

  “It will be fine, Sarah Anne. We will find this killer before he strikes again.”

  She pressed her hands together and nodded low. “But we’re running out of time.” Her voice became choked, raspy as if someone had suddenly clutched their hands around her throat. “He’s killed one witch a day for the past week. The police haven’t found all their bodies, but we felt the break in the coven. The last break happened eight hours ago. He appears to be killing at 7:07 pm on the dot every day.” The more she spoke, the harder it became for her to continue. It was honestly like every word wrapped a noose tighter and tighter around her neck.

  Max offered her another one of those truly commiserating, charming smiles. The kind of smile that would lift anyone’s spirits. “Don’t worry. You have help now,” he promised.

  He meant me, didn’t he?

  Was he using me and my powers to win points with Sarah? It certainly seemed so as he turned to me abruptly, smile stiffening as soon as he clapped eyes on me. “Right, now that’s done, do you mind waiting outside for a moment?” Max asked me. Though he said do you mind, it was quite clear it was a cursory statement. Even if I minded, it was obvious he would just shove me in the back and push me out the door.

  What. A. Rude. Prick.

  I didn’t even bother to say a word, just turned and marched out.

  I slammed the door closed then leaned against it.

  My feelings were a hot mess, a big white, blistering lump of confusion, fear, and anger. Just when I thought I could trust this guy, he turned around and did something like this. What was he doing, using me as currency to get closer to Sarah Anne?

  Even as I thought that, I shook my head. I couldn’t forget that there was a real case sitting behind this – six murders.

  Six murders.

  I balled my hands into fists and struck them against the door again. It brought my attention to the crumpled photo in my hand. Half of me wanted to walk over to a wastepaper basket and throw it inside. It wasn’t just to spite Max. It was because this was stupid – suicidal. The last time I looked into a murder, I’d inadvertently climbed into the murderer’s head, alerting him of my investigation. What if I did the same this time? What if I became the next heart on the murderer’s list? Maybe in Max’s head, this was easy, but I was starting to realize I couldn’t keep relying on him. Max clearly had his own agenda. And, as I finally pushed off from the door and shot it a wary look, I realized he had a life, too.

  I didn’t intend to leave Max behind. I honestly didn’t. I just started walking off in a random direction, trying to decide what to do with the crumpled photo in my hand. But all too soon, I arrived at a door. Frowning, I got a sudden urge to open it, to head outside, to get some fresh air. Because who knew how long Max would be?

  Maybe it wasn’t the smart thing to do – okay, it was absolutely not the smart thing to do, but I did it anyway. I opened the door and walked outside. I expected it to exit out onto the laneway. The same weird squashed laneway we’d used to enter the bar. That’s not where I ended up. Instead, I exited into a peaceful courtyard garden.

  A frown plastered over my lips as, hand still on the door handle, I tilted my head back into the hallway. Never letting go of the door, terrified that if I did I would end up god knows where, I took a hesitant step into the courtyard. I tipped my head up and suddenly realized that despite the fact it was mid-morning, out here, it looked as if it were going on dusk. “What the hell?”

  A sudden gust of wind caught the door, threatening to slam it closed. It would have, did I not suddenly drop the photo, catch the door with both hands, and use all my strength to keep it open. But, in doing so, the photo jumped out of my grip. Instantly, the wind caught it, and it blew it upwards in a powerful gust.

  “Crap,” I screamed, trying to keep hold of the door as I reached for it. But the photo was blown far out of my reach. As the gust subsided, the photo came to a stop about two meters away.

  I kept swearing to myself as I fruitlessly tried to reach for it while keeping a hand on the door handle. I wasn’t the world’s tallest woman, and there was absolutely no way I would be able to pluck that photo up unless I let go of the door and walked over to it. As that realization dawned on me, I swore. “Maybe you should just leave it,” I muttered to myself under my breath. Surely Sa
rah would have more photos of the victim.

  Just as I determined that it would be better to turn away rather than let go of the door in the treacherous wind, a pang of guilt sailed through my gut. I had to remember I knew precious little about this world. For all I knew, maybe there was something unique and important about this photo that would help me track the victim’s killer. Maybe it was impregnated with magic, maybe Sarah had tried really hard to track it down. The more I thought about it, the glummer I became. Aside from that sudden and rather dramatic gust of wind, the courtyard now seemed relatively calm. There were several beautiful Japanese maples and a large flowering magnolia up one end, and I saw from the branches and leaves that the weather had calmed. There was barely even a breeze out now – not enough to slam the door closed.

  … I could risk it, right?

  Wrong. As soon as I took a step forward, as soon as I let go of the door handle, the door slammed closed. My suspicious mind told me that the second the door slammed closed, would be the second I would be unable to find my way back into that bar. Sure enough, as I ducked forward, as fear pulsed through my heart, I yanked the door open. And it led… to more of the courtyard. It was as if the door were nothing more than a curious ornament.

  Crap, crap, crap. Max had told me not to go anywhere. So what do I do? Get stuck in a magical courtyard from god knows where.

  Though the gust of wind had been strong enough to slam the door closed, fortunately it did nothing to the photo. So, heart sinking, I plodded over, plucked it up, and clutched it tightly in my hand. Unavoidably, I glanced down at it. Though I’d managed to avoid looking directly at the photo until now, I wasn’t that lucky this time. The wind had turned the photo around, and for the first time, I stared at the front. The woman. Maybe she was in her 40s, maybe she was in her late 30s. She was beautiful, with big black, crinkly hair and a big red, crinkly smile. Even though it was just a photo, it somehow exuded personality, and I got the distinct impression that if I ever met this woman, I’d really like her. But I would never meet her, would I? Because this was the photo of someone who’d been murdered. Brutally. Whose heart had been cut out from their still warm body.

  I started to shake. It wasn’t just the chill dusk air. It was the fear and sorrow that blasted through me. I used to think I had a relatively tough personality. Though I would feel compassion, I’d be able to shift past it with reason. Now, despite the fact I’d never met this woman, despite the fact her death should be little more than a fact to me, I started to cry. Tears raced down my cheeks, dashing against my collar. I would have remained there, a sobbing mess, had I not suddenly heard a clock striking the hour.

  Though I was a newbie to this city, I appreciated that in the center of town there was an old, dignified clock tower – one of those beautiful Georgian affairs that marked the center of town with a measure of old grace.

  Unlike ordinary clock towers, on the hour, its bell rang to the exact count. That was if it was eight o’clock, the bell rang eight times. Now, the bell struck seven times. Which meant I had seven whole minutes until the next victim was killed.

  I had never run so desperately in my life. Nor had I so frantically tried to call on my powers. Because that’s what I did now. Though I still had precious little idea how to summon them, I clenched my teeth and wished with all my might. I begged my clairvoyant ability to show itself. I gritted my teeth and wished for those fireflies to spark through my vision.

  Except, nothing happened. I didn’t suddenly draw to a standstill as I entered the mind of the killer. Instead, I just ran. Ran.

  Fortunately, this courtyard did have an exit. It wasn’t some grand magical trap. Nope, just a well-appointed garden belonging to one of the expensive hotels in town. I surprised quite a number of patrons when I suddenly burst through the door and into the lobby.

  The checking staff looked up from behind the counter, shooting me suspicious looks.

  I didn’t give them the opportunity to check me for stolen shampoo and hotel towels. I powered past, brushing past the doorman as I spilled out onto the street.

  I was no runner – I preferred to get my exercise by arguing with Max. But you couldn’t tell that right now, because I dug deep and scrounged up every last reserve of energy. I ignored my panting breath and drumming heart and just ran.

  All the time, I kept the crumpled photo in one hand, while I concentrated on my watch in the other. I saw the minutes tick down relentlessly. There was no reprieve. No reprieve.

  I had 10 minutes left. Then nine, then eight.

  Why wouldn’t it work? Why couldn’t I call on my power now, when I needed it most? What had I done this time? Yes, I turned away from Max, so was this my punishment?

  I had no idea where I was running to – none. Yet, though I couldn’t appreciate it at that moment, I wasn’t headed in a random direction. Though I wasn’t consciously aware of my ability, it was still guiding me. Or maybe I was guiding it. Because I was determined – soul-crushingly determined not to let anything happen.

  Everything became a blur, a blur of my goddamn ticking watch as my 10 minutes became five, then three, then two.

  I found myself in a car yard.

  Suddenly, I stopped. Before I could stream past and continue my frantic, useless run, for some reason, I hooked a right into the car yard.

  It was deserted – it was after business hours, and all the employees had obviously gone home for the night. So why could I hear voices? High, stressed, terrified?

  Following nothing but instinct, I ran full pelt into an open garage.

  And there I found the owners of the voices.

  A faceless man with a strange gun was facing off against two identical twins. Or at least, at first glance they appeared to be identical twins. At second glance? They were more than identical. It wasn’t that they simply looked alike – it was as if they were perfect mirror images of each other. For as one sneered, brought her hands back, and seemed to activate a magical ring on her index finger, the other did the exact same thing.

  I hardly announced myself as I rushed in, and the garage was so chock full of cars that while I could see the man and women through a gap in two large red SUVs, they could not see me.

  I didn’t have to look at my watch any longer to appreciate how little time I had left. Maybe a minute, maybe half a minute, maybe 10 seconds. I had to do something. I had to do something now.

  I wasn’t thinking. It wasn’t as if I had any magical abilities, save for the rather hit-and-miss ability to sometimes see into the future and to sometimes see into the past. But I didn’t think of myself. All I thought of was the happy woman with the crinkly black hair and the crinkly smile from the photo.

  As I ran past a workstation, I grabbed a crowbar. I also saw an opportunity – one of those dangling electronic levers that raise cars up. The controls were right by my hand. I shoved forward, and a second before I pressed the button, I saw myself doing it. So I jammed my thumb into the big blue button, and the large black sedan in front of me suddenly began to lift with a groan.

  It was just in time – just in time. The faceless man suddenly fired. Except the bullet didn’t simply slam towards one of the witches. Instead, somehow, it split, heading towards both. While I couldn’t protect one of the women, I managed to save the other – the sedan drawing up in front of her and blocking the blow just in time.

  I skidded to a halt by her side, trying to swallow my grief and horror as I expected the other woman to fall down, dead. Except, that’s not what happened. Even though the bullet struck her, it turned to dust, being eaten up by some kind of magical field.

  The woman stared at me, and I spluttered in surprise as I skidded to a halt by her side.

  “You’re in danger. You’re in danger. He’s about to kill you – about to kill you,” I swallowed and stuttered through my words, hearing them rattle through my throat in my desperation to push them out.

  She stared at me for one more single shocked second, before she suddenly shoved into
my shoulder and spat, “Move,” into my ear.

  It was just in time. Another one of those magical bullets suddenly arced through the air, disappearing over my left shoulder, a bare centimeter from my cheek. If they woman hadn’t slammed into me, I would have died.

  I’d come here to save her, but apparently she would have to save me.

  My adrenaline had gotten me this far. It couldn’t get me any further.

  I had no idea whatsoever what I was up against. I didn’t understand the faceless man, and I didn’t understand the witch, either. Yet as time slowed down for a fraction of a second, I could appreciate that the woman could be no ordinary witch. She didn’t have a twin. The other witch followed her every move and was more like a duplicate. A body double.

  With her tight, rigid fingers wrapped around my hand, she didn’t stop pulling me along. Lifting the sedan had bought us a precious few seconds, but abruptly those seconds ran out. There was the sound of thundering footfall, and I felt the faceless man leap, and finally there was a thud, right above us.

  I jerked my head back to see he’d jumped on top of the SUV to our side.

  I rounded my shoulder, shoved it into the woman’s arm, and knocked her out of the way.

  For the first time, I got a good look of the creep.

  Before, I’d thought he’d been wearing a mask. Now I realized it was no mask. He just didn’t have a face. Where there should be a face was just skin, as if his flesh had grown up to cover his eyes, mouth, and nose.

  It was categorically one of the most terrifying things I’d ever seen, and yet, I didn’t have time to truly appreciate it.

  He ticked his head to the left then pounced. As he did, he brought his magical gun forward, waving it like a sword. And as he waved it, it turned into a sword in front of my very eyes.

  Suddenly, time slowed down for me, right down. I saw the woman slam into my shoulder, pushing me out of the way.

  Then I saw the faceless man’s weapon extend, his sword growing into a spear as he thrust towards the woman.

  Time sped up. I had half a second – no, a micro fraction of a second – to process what I’d just seen. Then he leaped.