Free Quit Your Witchin' by Dakota Cassidy

seethed, her hair plastered to the side of her face, her cheeks bright red.
    My pulse began to race, my breathing growing ragged from the incessant heat. “I’m trying to figure that out, Bianca. Win, listen to me. Are you still on your plane?”
    “No. Nothing is familiar anymore, Stevie. Nothing. I don’t know where I am, but there’s despair here—so much despair I can almost taste it!”
    I heard Win’s attempt to keep a tight rein on his anxiety, but even he wasn’t that good. He wasn’t dealing with a terrorist or a jewel thief. His tuck-and-roll, swing-from-the-chandelier escapes wouldn’t work in the afterlife. This was a very angry spirit, one who clearly had power, because she was turning the store into the seventh level of hell with this heat.
    Panic began to stir deep in my gut. If Win was somewhere dark, he had to find the nearest light and get to it. Forgetting the Bustamantes, I thought only of keeping Win safe. “Then get out! Get out now! Find the light, any light, and go, Win!”
    “Okay, enough of this crap, crazy lady! You’re no more talking to the dead than I’m Shakira!” Bianca barked, her voice hoarse and cracked, making her mother cry out.
    “Bianca, quiet!” Mateo warned tersely, his face streaked with rivulets of perspiration.
    But I couldn’t focus on her right now. Sweat beaded on my forehead, the oppressive air almost unbearable, as though it were a living entity, swarming my skin like a rush of tiny pinpricks.
    Then the table hummed with life, rocking and lifting off its legs, making everyone shudder a gasp, fear in their sharp intakes of breath
    “Win! Where are you?” I forced my voice to remain calm even though I was anything but. “Are you hearing me? Find a light. You must find the light, Win, and go!”
    If Win was experiencing the kind of despair he could taste, he had to get out or it would own him, steal his soul, his hope, his everything. Not even my spy was strong enough to withstand that kind of evil.
    When he didn’t answer, I think I stopped breathing, stopped thinking. As much as I’d die a little on the inside if I didn’t have him with me anymore, I’d rather Win leave me forever, his soul still intact, than suffer that fate. I’d mourn his exit later.
    “Win, answer me!”
    Not a peep, nothing but the heaving, belching movement of the table, rumbling beneath our hands, rocking against the floor.
    Letting go of Maggie and Juan Felipe’s hands, I jumped up from the table, slamming my fists on the surface before stepping into the center of the room. “Who are you? Reveal yourself! Don’t hide behind the veil. Tell me who you are! ” I demanded, frustrated by this spirit’s hide-and-seek.
    A spirit can almost always be redirected, distracted, ordered about—if you’re not afraid of the consequences. And I can tell you, I’m not afraid of most of the consequences. Most spirits are all sorts of bark but no bite. I’d only encountered a rare few that were truly evil, and besides, I could dish as well as I could take.
    Unfortunately, what I’d forgotten was this: I no longer had the ability to dish some of my own consequences.
    “Stevie, Belfry! Look out!” Win yelled so loud, my eardrums rattled.
    As relieved as I was to hear his voice, I wasn’t so excited about what happened next. The shelf behind Séance Command Central, where I housed my collection of Christmas snow globes, shivered just before the globes began flying off the surface—straight at me.
    So I did as suggested, but not before I bellowed, “Everyone, get down under the table!”
    “Mama!” Bianca screeched a warning as glass exploded mid-air, spewing water and confetti-like snowflakes.
    As each of my over-fifty-in-total snow globes flew through the air, hovering then zeroing in on me, I launched myself over the tabletop and lunged for Maggie, who, instead of diving for the floor, had risen from her chair, looking confused.
    “Tuck and roll with her, Stevie! Cover her