Page 82 of Spell Ya Later

My knees wobble. I can’t lose Noah.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch as Laura’s hand stretches toward me as if in comfort before retreating.

I’ve lost everyone, haven’t I?

Laura and I walk behind Mom and Grandma through the double doors of the large building. It’s almost entirely bare inside, just some boxes, pipes, andthem.

There’s three of them—daemons, I presume—waiting for us. Same as Botis, they each wear long black cloaks, only this time they have them over their heads. No horns to be seen, but claws still stick out from their sleeves.

My eyes flit past them to a small door on the back wall.

Noah.

“He’s alive,” a human-sounding voice says. A figure steps from the shadows. A tall, imposing man in a black button up-shirt and black jeans. “Although why take my word for it? After introductions, I’ll bring him out myself.”

The hairs on the back of my neck prickle as he approaches, and I resist the urge to hide behind my mother’s back as I did all those years ago.

“Always one for the theatrics, Draven. You know you’ve gone too far this time,” Mom says, stepping forward.

The monster chuckles, moonlight lighting up his face for just a moment. He’s more man than warlock, with a strong, straight nose and Superman-esque chin. His white teeth glint in a smile. “Nice to see you again, Peanut.”

Peanut?Peanut?

My mother has never been called Peanut in her life.

“This is between us,” she continues, as if all three of us aren’t gaping at her. “Release Noah. He’s innocent.”

“Is anyone? Was my brother innocent when you banished him to Hell?”

Grandma scoffs. “All we did was banish him, you act as if we killed him.”

Draven only smiles, black hair shining. With a snap of his fingers, two of the three daemons open the door. It cracksagainst the wall with inhuman force as they haul an unconscious Noah out of the room.

He doesn’t have any scary angles indicating broken bones, but there is a heavy bruise blooming under his eye. Rage boils my blood, making a torrent of wind whip at our backs.

“No.” Grandma’s hand stops me as I instinctively step toward him. “You must wait.”

“But he’s?—”

Her head turns sharply to me and I’m frozen in place by her icy glare. I’m forced to wait as he’s carried to us and placed on the floor.

His breathing is labored. Something’s wrong.

“I haven’t injured him, he’s merely in a coma,” Draven says, waving a bored hand toward Noah. “One quite easy to reverse. Even for a witch.”

What does he want? That’s the piece that’s missing. What is it that has made Draven care so damn much about our family? What started this vendetta? Is it really just the power our line possesses?

Draven chuckles, a low, dangerous growl that ripples down my spine. “Smart questions, Hazel. Why don’t you ask your mother?”

My eyes bug out of my head. He can readthoughts?

“Give us the boy, Draven.” Mom’s back straightens, face hard as if she knew exactly how this was going to go. “You have me here, you have what you want. Let him and my family go.”

“That may have worked before, but you and I both know it’s not enough anymore.”

Laura leans in close. “Do you know what they’re talking about?”

I shake my head; Draven turns to us, a sickeningly sweet smile on his face. He may seem like a man, but that smile is all warlock. An evil twist of a thing.