Page 86 of Bewitching the Wolf

Now is not the time to fight.

Now is the time to get the fuck out of here.

Mom pulls me toward her. “Sumi, taranda.” She speaks strongly, with authority.

The cape responds, surrounding us in billowing fabric. It seems to have suddenly doubled in size, the material easily enfolding us both.

And then the door bursts open.

There is a brief moment in time, the split second before we disappear, when a group of shocked humans in white coats stand staring at us, suspended like flies in ointment, eyes bulging, faces flushed from running, chests heaving.

But one pair of eyes stands out, full of impotent rage and malevolence. And in this split second, Marsha’s glamor slips, and a snarl transforms her into something demonic. Something dreadful and dark, with sharp pointed fangs and a jagged scaly jaw, two black horns jutting out of the thin wisps of hair atop her skull.

A howl escapes her lips, spine-chilling, blood-curdling.

Utterly evil.

And then we’re tumbling and twisting through a tunnel of rainbow colors and flashing lights.

The sound of that howl gets fainter, until it’s finally gone, snuffed out like a candle flame, as the portal cape carries us away from the fake glitter of Sparkle City and the evil at its core.

Back to the Labyrinth. A place of darkness that is full of light.

Back to my people.

And one of them the most beautiful of all.

My mate.

CHAPTER 25

TIPPY

I’m still trying to digest Traggar’s words when the computer screen goes dark.

Like it’s completely died.

“What the fuck?” Otis scoots his chair back to the desk, thick green digits pressing keys frantically.

“What’s happened?” I ask, my voice tight.

“I don’t know… We must have lost connection. It’s probably nothing to worry about,” he tells me. But by the way he taps at the keys, then gets down on the ground to fiddle with the wires under his desk, I know he’s worried. Very worried.

The bottom drops out of my stomach.

“Does this mean something’s happened to Jax?”

“No… Not necessarily…”

Traggar and my aunt watch silently. I glance at them, and I’m slightly reassured to see that they don’t look as panicked as Otis.

They trust the magic, obviously. I wish I could.

Otis crawls out from under the desk and picks up the phone. “I’ll call Silas. Find out what the books of runes are doing.”

Suddenly the screen bursts into life again, a cacophony of sounds and flashing lights erupting from the monitor.

“Fuck,” Otis growls, stabbing at one of the keys again.