Page 50 of Fat Enemy Mate

"Did she put up a fight?" He asks, and I can hear the smirk in his voice.

"Not much. Got an elbow into Sam on the path, but we put her down hard." The first one laughs, “She’s nothing without that voice.”

"Of course," the boss says, dry. "Madelina, want to see her?"

"Open the back," a woman's voice answers.

The rear doors open, and I lie down quickly before the light hits me full in the face. I keep my eyes closed and try tocontrol my breathing so they’ll think I’m still unconscious, but I know it probably won’t work.

"She's awake," the woman says before anyone else has said anything. "Don't waste my time pretending. Open your eyes."

I open my eyes.

There are five of them now. The two rogues who were guarding the van. A third behind them. And in front of the open doors, the two new ones. An older man, perhaps in his forties, with dark hair pulled back, a heavy coat, and a neutral expression except for the slight glint in his eye, which reminds me of the way people look at livestock they've bought without seeing it first. He's got a talisman around his neck, but there are two or three, not just the one the rogues have.

Beside him is the woman. She's older than she sounded, with grey hair pulled severely back, no rings, in fact, no jewelry at all, which is unusual for a witch. She’s wearing a long dark coat over normal clothes. The only thing about her that suggests she’s a witch is her eyes, which are pale, somehow off, and fixed on me.

"Hello, Lara," she says. I don't reply because I know nothing I say is going to make the slightest bit of difference.

"Sit her up," the man tells the two rogues nearest me.

They lean inside and haul me to the edge of the van and into a sitting position against the side of the door. The dizziness comes back, and I don’t bother trying to fight it; I just let myself adjust and try to focus on what she’s saying so I know exactly how bad this is.

"My name is Madelina," she tells me. "This is Reyhan. Now, I'll keep this simple, because we’ve got to get moving, andyou've already taken longer to find than you should have. You know what the discs around their necks do, don't you?"

"Yeah," I tell her. "I know."

"Good," she replies. "That saves me a conversation. Then you'll also know that your voice won't help you here. You're going to come with us, and you’re not going to even bother trying to escape or cause any trouble. Is that clear? You’re going to help us."

"What if I don't?" I tell her, because keeping my mouth shut is going to look like fear, and I don't want it to.

"Then we kill you, dear," Madelina says without skipping a beat. "But it will be long and slow, and you’ll give in and beg to help us long before you actually die."

"My voice doesn’t even affect all the wolves," I tell her. “Whatever you’re planning won’t even work.”

Madelina pauses and tilts her head a fraction.

"Pardon?" she says. “It didn’t work on the wolves.”

"At least one, I tried it on him twice," I tell her. "It doesn't touch him, and he doesn't wear a talisman. It just doesn't work. So I’d say you might be wasting your time."

She looks at me for a long moment, and then she laughs. It’s not a cruel laugh. It’s a small, almost surprised one; it’s the way someone laughs when you've just told them something genuinely funny.

"Oh, dear," she says between laughs that now sound more like cackles. "Oh, sweetheart."

"What," I say.

"Lara, your gift is based on protection," she tells me. "Do you know what that means?"

"I know what protection means." I snap.

"Then perhaps you also know what it doesn’t protect from," she replies. "A protection spell doesn't simply fail for the strong-willed, the most angry, or the determined. It fails for only one on a very short list. Your blood family, your mate, or a child of your own, if you had one. That’s it, it’s a short list."

I don't say anything.

"This wolf in Silvercreek you are bound to, then," Madelina says with a shrug. "The bond will block the protection magic."

"You're lying," I tell her.