Free The Witching Craft (The Witches of Redwood Falls 2) by Janelle Daniels
Authors: Janelle Daniels
Tags: Romance, Fantasy, Contemporary, Ghosts, Psychics, Angels, Novella, sweet, enemies, loyalty, magick, Talisman, Estranged Mate, Epic Struggle, Magical Enhancer, Thieves Attack, Vicious Spells, Redwood Falls, Abandoned, Relic, Dark & Light Magick, Freelancing Business, Protect Mate, Dark Magick Wielder, Voltaire's Fortress, True One, Power Jeopardy, Precarious Balance
testing her limbs.
Body intact. Good.
Pieces of the day jumbled through her mind, warping, puzzling together until she remembered Jack.
And being kidnapped.
She jerked off the bed, moaning as her head throbbed.
"I would take it easy if I were you."
Whirling toward a wingback chair, she glared at her assailant. "And I think you should keep your opinions to yourself," she spat. "What did you do to me?"
Jack clucked. "Nothing that won't wear off soon. I couldn't have you fighting me when we arrived. Plus, I don't want you to know exactly where here is."
"Why?"
"Knowledge is power. It'd be that much easier to escape,” he snapped his fingers, “if you knew the location of the fortress, the exits, the guards." He nodded at the talisman. "You have more power right now than I want to tangle with."
If only she could use it. Did Zander leave out that essential tidbit?
Her heart clenched. How could he do this to her? How could he betray her? Was he truly that selfish to put his desire for the talisman above all else? “How long was I asleep?”
“Most of the car ride.” Jack rose from his chair. "Come. Now that you're awake, he'll want to see you."
"Who?"
"Voltaire."
She hissed. "You brought me to Voltaire? Are you insane?"
Circumstances couldn’t be worse. The bracelet’s power was dangerous in anyone’s hands, but in Voltaire's, it'd be catastrophic. He was ruthless, evil, using anything and anyone to further his plans regardless of the consequences. He didn’t care about balance or truth or what was right. Only one thing mattered.
Power.
She shivered.
Jack stretched. "Hey, he's the one with money. I just do what he says."
She wanted to lash out and strike him for his idiocy. No one could be that dense. "So, you work for him? You're one of his lackeys?"
His eyes narrowed.
Maybe poking the nest wasn't such a good idea. Then again, he’d make mistakes if riled. It was worth a shot.
"I don't work for anyone but myself. Like Zander, I freelance."
She pushed herself off the bed, forcing the spell’s lingering effects from her limbs. "You're nothing like Zander."
“Uh huh.” He smiled politely. "Let's go."
Jerking her shirt in place, she forced one foot in front of the other. The exertion regained more feeling in her legs.
In the hallway, she scanned her surroundings, searching for exits, guards, escape routes. The exact things Jack knew she’d note.
Persian rugs, expensive art, and rich colors dominated the mansion. A beautiful shell for the monster who lived within.
"Through there." Zack pointed to opened double doors, motioning for her to enter first.
With a deep breath, she notched her chin up and stepped through the door.
A suave man with slicked back blond hair dabbed the corner of his lips before standing and offering her a chair next to him. "Ah, you're awake. Come. Come and eat."
No way she wanted to sit with the villain, but at her hesitation, darkness filled his eyes. Picking her battles was a priority. This wasn’t the time to take a stand. She needed to eat, to keep strong. He’d have his way... this time.
"Thank you." She accepted his help into the chair.
Jack didn't sit at the table. Instead, he hovered in the shadows of the room, ready, waiting for an order from his client. As much as Zander’s betrayal hurt, he was nothing like Jack. Zander wouldn’t have tossed her to the wolves.
"I hope you like lamb." Voltaire's napkin sailed to his side before settling in his lap. "It's one of Cook's best dishes."
It didn't matter if he served her the finest cuisine in the world. She'd choke on it. "I do."
"Excellent." He signaled a servant waiting along the wall. Moments later, a fragrant, steaming plate settled in front of her.
Unable to wait, she jumped to the point. "What do you want from me, Voltaire? Why am I here?"
She already knew why, of course. It was the same reason why she’d fended off attacks for several weeks. Voltaire wanted what they all wanted.
The
Body intact. Good.
Pieces of the day jumbled through her mind, warping, puzzling together until she remembered Jack.
And being kidnapped.
She jerked off the bed, moaning as her head throbbed.
"I would take it easy if I were you."
Whirling toward a wingback chair, she glared at her assailant. "And I think you should keep your opinions to yourself," she spat. "What did you do to me?"
Jack clucked. "Nothing that won't wear off soon. I couldn't have you fighting me when we arrived. Plus, I don't want you to know exactly where here is."
"Why?"
"Knowledge is power. It'd be that much easier to escape,” he snapped his fingers, “if you knew the location of the fortress, the exits, the guards." He nodded at the talisman. "You have more power right now than I want to tangle with."
If only she could use it. Did Zander leave out that essential tidbit?
Her heart clenched. How could he do this to her? How could he betray her? Was he truly that selfish to put his desire for the talisman above all else? “How long was I asleep?”
“Most of the car ride.” Jack rose from his chair. "Come. Now that you're awake, he'll want to see you."
"Who?"
"Voltaire."
She hissed. "You brought me to Voltaire? Are you insane?"
Circumstances couldn’t be worse. The bracelet’s power was dangerous in anyone’s hands, but in Voltaire's, it'd be catastrophic. He was ruthless, evil, using anything and anyone to further his plans regardless of the consequences. He didn’t care about balance or truth or what was right. Only one thing mattered.
Power.
She shivered.
Jack stretched. "Hey, he's the one with money. I just do what he says."
She wanted to lash out and strike him for his idiocy. No one could be that dense. "So, you work for him? You're one of his lackeys?"
His eyes narrowed.
Maybe poking the nest wasn't such a good idea. Then again, he’d make mistakes if riled. It was worth a shot.
"I don't work for anyone but myself. Like Zander, I freelance."
She pushed herself off the bed, forcing the spell’s lingering effects from her limbs. "You're nothing like Zander."
“Uh huh.” He smiled politely. "Let's go."
Jerking her shirt in place, she forced one foot in front of the other. The exertion regained more feeling in her legs.
In the hallway, she scanned her surroundings, searching for exits, guards, escape routes. The exact things Jack knew she’d note.
Persian rugs, expensive art, and rich colors dominated the mansion. A beautiful shell for the monster who lived within.
"Through there." Zack pointed to opened double doors, motioning for her to enter first.
With a deep breath, she notched her chin up and stepped through the door.
A suave man with slicked back blond hair dabbed the corner of his lips before standing and offering her a chair next to him. "Ah, you're awake. Come. Come and eat."
No way she wanted to sit with the villain, but at her hesitation, darkness filled his eyes. Picking her battles was a priority. This wasn’t the time to take a stand. She needed to eat, to keep strong. He’d have his way... this time.
"Thank you." She accepted his help into the chair.
Jack didn't sit at the table. Instead, he hovered in the shadows of the room, ready, waiting for an order from his client. As much as Zander’s betrayal hurt, he was nothing like Jack. Zander wouldn’t have tossed her to the wolves.
"I hope you like lamb." Voltaire's napkin sailed to his side before settling in his lap. "It's one of Cook's best dishes."
It didn't matter if he served her the finest cuisine in the world. She'd choke on it. "I do."
"Excellent." He signaled a servant waiting along the wall. Moments later, a fragrant, steaming plate settled in front of her.
Unable to wait, she jumped to the point. "What do you want from me, Voltaire? Why am I here?"
She already knew why, of course. It was the same reason why she’d fended off attacks for several weeks. Voltaire wanted what they all wanted.
The