Page 58 of Spell Ya Later

A branch breaks.

My head perks up, turning toward the sound. It’s to my left, off the path. Please tell me these kids aren’t dumb enough to go off the path in a creepy-ass forest.

I turn and tip-toe until...Oh, shit. I duck behind a tree and peek.

In a small clearing is a child—Carter, I believe—and whatisthat?

A hulking creature with long, sharp horns looms over the child. It’s swathed in a thick black cloak that conceals most of its body, but I see the flash of claws in the dim light.

The poor dear has the nerve to stare right back at it. Whateveritis.

I could go get Grandma. Ishouldget Grandma. But my feet are rooted to the spot.

Where are the other children? I flick my gaze over the trees and—there! A pink sneaker pokes out from behind one. They haven’t abandoned their friend.

I have to respect that, despite the fact at least one of them should’ve run back to the market.

Okay, Hazel. How are we handling this? I’m the only adult in the vicinity and despite me probably being less trained than these little kids, I can’t let them get hurt.

With a deep breath, I step out from the tree line. “It’s time to go, Carter.”

Maybe I can convince this daemon I know what the hell I’m doing. I assume it’s a daemon, I have no idea.

That’s not comforting.

A dark, twisted laugh escapes the creature. It turns to me, red eyes burning into my skin. “We’re simply playing, sister. Are you here to join us?”

The thing’s fangs glint in the sliver of sunlight breaking through the canopy above us. Long and bright white.

Cool.

I’m super dead.

I gesture to the child, waving him over to me. If I can get him behind me, maybe he can get away and get help. Real help. Not whatever I am.

Carter makes a break for it and the daemon allows it, a twisted smile on its leathery skin. It’s difficult to see, with the shadows of the trees playing across its face.

“I would much rather play with you, anyway, sister.” It holds a hand up to me, a snake slithering along its palm.

Oh I am royally screwed. Royally. Screwed.

“Go,” I whisper.

The sound of running feet fills the space and I exhale. Probably prematurely. But at least they got away.

“A Pruitt witch approaches and doesn’t have the decency to say hello?” it continues. “No introduction?”

He knows who I am? Why do I feel like I’ve walked right into a trap? It’s not even funny how out of my depth I am.

I channel my inner Laura. False confidence is better than none at all.

“I’m Hazel.” I step fully into the clearing. “And yourself?”

“Botis. I was hoping to run into you.”

Botis. Daemon.

The name that I’ve been obsessing over for a week, and here he is.