Free Spellbound by Kelley Armstrong Page A

show or the pooch was more of a pet, taken inside for the night.
    I wished I had my sensing spell, though. Kept wishing it until I tripped over a stone and started wishing instead that I had my light ball. A flashlight—like the one in Adam’s hand—would work, too.
    We reached one of the side windows. Adam pulled an alarm sensor from his kit.
    â€œIt’s armed,” he said. “You want to handle this?”
    â€œGo ahead.”
    He glanced over his shoulder at me. “You don’t need spells to disarm it.”
    â€œI’m good.”
    His lips compressed and he slapped his tool kit into my hand.
    â€œDisarm the damned window, Savannah.”
    â€œHey!”
    â€œDon’t hey me,” he said, his whisper harsh. “Remember when you broke your foot riding? Laid on the couch for a week, sulking and making everyone run around for you?”
    â€œDon’t talk to me like I’m fifteen, Adam.”
    â€œI’m not. When you were fifteen, I let you lie on the couch until you got bored. But you’re not fifteen anymore, and you’re no more disabled now than you were then.”
    I scowled.
    â€œDon’t scowl at me either,” he said. “You’ve had your sulking time. Either you get back on the damned horse or I take you someplace safe and chase down leads on my own, because if you’re not helping, you’re dead weight.”
    I wanted to smack him with an energy bolt. Or at least scream and stamp my feet. Yes, I wasn’t feeling very mature right now. Wasn’t acting very mature either.
    So I disarmed the window. Then I cut out the pane of glass and checked inside for a motion detector. Nothing. I crawled through. Adam followed.
    We crouched on the floor, looking and listening. When all stayed quiet, Adam whispered, “Head upstairs. You lead. I’ll cover.”
    In the entry hall, I noticed a glimmer of silver. A dog’s leash hung by the front door. I pointed it out to Adam. He cocked his head, listening for a dog, but the house stayed still.
    That’s when I noticed the deadbolt on the front door. Adam did, too, and let out a quiet curse.
    The bolt was unlocked. Beside the door, a security panel flashed. A row of red lights, and one green. Adam shone the flashlight on it.
    â€œFront door’s disarmed,” he whispered.
    Down the hall from us, a door was partly open. I could see papers scattered in the room beyond it.
    I started toward it, moving slowly along the hardwood floor, Adam at my back. As I neared the door, I tucked myself against the wall, then sidled along until I could peer through the doorway. Inside was an office. A man sat at a chair, his back to us as he gazed out the window.
    I motioned to Adam. He took over, creeping into the office, up behind the man, then—
    â€œShit,” he whispered.
    He grasped the man’s shoulder, spinning the chair around, then falling back with a shocked grunt.
    The man was tied hand and foot to the chair. His legs were bent wrong, kneecaps bashed in. His eyes were empty, bloody holes. Dried blood covered his hands and chin. His teeth and fingertips sat in a line on the edge of the desk. Adam looked at those and rubbed his mouth, gaze darting to the doorway, as if wondering where the bathroom was, should he need it. After a couple of deep breaths, he turned his back on the desk.
    He glanced at me. Had it been Paige or Lucas, I’d have feigned a look of horror. With Adam, that wasn’t necessary. He just checked, making sure I was okay, but knowing I would be, and not thinking any less of me for it.
    What did I feel when I looked on this mutilated, tortured body? Disgust. Whoever did this had enjoyed inflicting pain way too much—if you didn’t get what you wanted after half as much effort, then there was nothing to get.
    Why didn’t I feel more? I can’t say it was my upbringing. My mom certainly never let me see anything like this.
    I know