Free A Witch In Time by Madelyn Alt Page B

his voice... or, I could have if I didn’t already question the number of germs I would be exposed to on the worn carpet. “Marcus, what’s going on out there?”
    He must have heard the uncertainty in my voice, because his energy shifted and became still, the change discernible even over the airwaves. “What do you mean, out there? What’s wrong?”
    “What’s wrong?” I couldn’t hold back a shaky laugh; it just shuddered out of me. “Well, I thought being stuck in an elevator was bad enough, but I have to admit, the power failure really topped it.”
    “Stuck in a ... Wait, what power failure?”
    Was it my imagination, or were the shadows shifting around me?
    Distracted but hoping for the best, I threw up my shields and contracted them into a tight, tight mesh. “What do you mean, ‘what power failure’?” I answered with an echo of my own, a little low on the patience meter. “Are you telling me you have lights out there?”
    “They haven’t even blinked. Where are you?”
    “In an elevator. Didn’t I just say that?” Steady, girl, No need to panic.
    “Okay, okay. No worries, you hear me?” He paused, and I could hear a note of humor creep into his voice. “I, uh, would say don’t move, but I don’t guess that’s going to be a problem.”
    I laughed in spite of myself, covering my mouth with my hand before the laugh could turn into a gibber of fear. Before I thought to clarify that I was using the rear set of elevators and not the main bank out front, Marcus had clicked off. I redialed his number, but instead of Marcus I received that singularly infuriating canned message that my call could not be completed at this time. Ah, well. There couldn’t be that many elevators malfunctioning. It should be fairly obvious. Just a matter of time.
    Right?
    What I needed was a distraction.
    Marshall, I thought. My handsome big brother was a happy resident of the Big Apple, having moved out there years ago—I suspected it had just as much to do with living his life away from my mother’s watchful eye as it did leaving sleepy Stony Mill for the hustle and bustle of life in the fast lane. As such, Marshall was now an elevator expert in my book.
    I clicked his number in my contact list and waited while the phone rang. Hurray, cell phone reception intact.
    “Hey, sis. What’s up?”
    I could have melted with relief that he’d actually picked up the phone. “Well, me actually. I’m stuck in an elevator.”
    His laughed burst into the phone. “You’re what?”
    “Stuck in an elevator.”
    “In Stony Mill?” He laughed again, even harder. “I mean, what are the odds? Do you know the last time I got stuck in an elevator?”
    “Yeah, yeah, very funny. This is serious, Marshall. What do I do?”
    “Well, hell, I don’t know. Is it a power outage?”
    “Yes. No. I don’t know exactly.”
    “Hm. All right, so I give. Where are you, Mags?”
    “At the hospital, where else?” He should have known that. Was there another elevator in Stony Mill? I didn’t think so. And no, the grain elevator didn’t count.
    There was a pregnant pause on the other end of the airwaves. “The hospital? Are Mom and Dad all right? Grandpa G? What are you doing at the hospital?”
    “Marsh—it’s Mel. She’s having the baby.”
    “Oh. Well, that’s a relief.” A pause. “Again?”
    If that was an example of how far removed he was from our exciting little lives out here in farm country, then I would say it was a pretty good bet that he never intended to come back. “You’re just lucky it’s me calling you,” I told him. “It could be Mom giving you the news. And you know what subject would come up straight after that.”
    “Yeah. ‘And when are you going to get around to finding a nice girl to settle down with?”’ he falsetto’ed in an eerie representation of our mother’s voice. “Thanks for the heads-up. I’ll be sure not to pick up the phone until she gets it out of her system. Again.”
    “Good