Page 80 of Bitter Spirits

She flattened one palm against the steady beat of his heart. Leave him to face Angel on his own? Oh, hell no.

“No, I’m good,” she lied and ushered her roiling anxiety into a box. The damn mental storage room was getting full.

He studied her for a long moment. “You sure?”

She scrounged up a smile. “I’m sure.”

He finally let her go and stepped back. “Okay.” Locke pulled one of the warding stones from his pocket and cupped it in his palm. “This old man, he played four. He played knickknack on my door.”

As Locke recited the childish rhyme, a spark of blue ignited inside the warding stone, setting it aglow. He moved to the rear wheel well, bent, and set the stone inside. When he straightened, he set his palm against the Dodge’s body at the counterpoint of the rear wheel.

An invisible brush of magic swept over Isa, raising goose bumps. She blinked, and her mouth dropped open as she stared down at the older-model sedan now sitting in place of the sleek dark Dodger. “What the —”

Locke brushed off his hands. “A trick Rory shared with me. Cost a pretty penny, but worth it.”

She studied the illusion and shook her head. “Okay, that’s cool.” She went to touch it but stopped short. “Can I?”

He waved her on. She set her hand on the car’s surface and drew it back along the trunk to where she knew a spoiler sat. The surface under her palm didn’t change—no sign that it was anything but a flat, square trunk.

She wiped her hand along her hip. “Definitely impressive.”

“Come on.” Locke held out his hand, and she took it.

Together, they walked down the alley and out to the sidewalk. They passed a home whose screen door was open, with music and murmurs coming from inside. As they passed the next house, the faint yap of a dog started up. She spotted a fluff of white standing on the edge of a chair in a big window as the little Napoleon glared at them. They kept walking as a car drove past, the phone conversation in it loud enough to hear. No one paid any attention to her and Locke.

They were crossing the driveway of a Tudor Revival when a car came barreling down the road. She’d barely processed its approach when Locke stepped in front of her and turned his back to the rapidly approaching vehicle. “Come on.”

He nudged her up the drive half screened by a hedge. He dug into his pocket, pulled out another warding stone, and held it. One of the heavy silver rings flared, engulfing his entire fist in a shimmering blue that quickly spread over him.

He pulled her into his body and put his lips near her ear. “Don’t move.”

Isa stood in his arms as a wash of magic swept over her. She kept her eyes on his chest, worried that if she dared to look beyond him, it would screw up whatever spell he was casting. She heard the engine downshift as the car got close, followed by the crunch as wheels bumped over the paver driveway. Then the engine shut down, leaving behind a vibrating quiet. A door opened and slammed closed, followed by a pause then stalking footsteps.

She felt exposed, and a chill ran down her spine. Next to her ear, she could hear Locke’s steady inhalations and exhalations and found herself matching them. She almost jumped when a fist hit a door, the sound overly loud.

“Steady,” Locke said, his voice barely audible.

A door opened, and a familiar voice snarled, “What are you doing here?”

Angel.

“We need to talk. Now.”

There was another extended pause, then the door slammed shut.

Locke’s hold relaxed, and the skin-ruffling magic eased back. “We need to move.”

“Where?”

His gaze went back the way they’d come. “Back to the alley.” His eyes met hers. “How good are you at fence hopping?”

She licked her dry lips. “Let’s find out.”

He gave her an encouraging smile and let her go. The magic receded.

She rubbed her arms. “What was that?”

“A concealment spell.” He put a hand at the base of her spine as they started back.