Free Last Grave (9781101593172) by Debbie Viguié

her at this point. He was too keyed up. Lack of sleep was combining with his normal aggression to create poor judgment. It didn’t help either that he clearly still had a beef with this guy.
    The stairs groaned under her weight, betraying any hope she had of stealth.
You could make yourself silent. You could make yourself invisible. Catch a killer and stay safe.
    The voice that was whispering in her mind sounded so logical, so practical. They were both tired. Mistakes could happen; people could get hurt so easily.
Why not use all the tools at your disposal?
    She bit her lip, torn. Then she swiftly made a decision. She’d used magic on this case more than once already and probably would have to a dozen times more before it was over. And this really was more defensive magic than anything else.
    She pictured Marcos in her mind, running, hiding. For best results, she should have had a candle or some other object she could have used to symbolize him. Without anything she could use, visualization would have to do. She just hoped it would do the job well enough.
    I bind you, Marcos, from seeing me or hearing me until such time I release you.
    She felt the energy sweep out of her. Her left hand was wrapped around the banister of the stairs and she could feel the energy rushing along the metal, moving to all parts of the warehouse. If he was inside, it should reach him at some point. She’d just have to go slow and careful for a few moments.
    When she finally made it to the top of the stairs, she began to breathe easier. She looked down and could see Lance moving toward the back of the warehouse, weapon constantly moving, like the needle of a compass seeking north.
    She looked around at where she was. The catwalk rimmed the building and crossed it twice. Toward the front of the building, it was deeper and there appeared to be an office of some sort. She walked that way, holding her gun at the ready. She had a strong urge to put it away, to use only her magic on him. Marcos had a gun of his own, though, and if she had to kill him, death by bullet was going to be a much easier report than death by head implosion.
    She blinked at how bizarre that sounded, even to her.
I really do need to get some sleep too.
    She continued to walk, bolder now. The binding energy she had sent out should have reached Marcos by now.
    Finally, she was at the office. An old sign on the door read SHIFT SUPERVISOR . She peered in through the window, which had shards of broken glass still in the sill.
    Marcos was crouched down, his hands pressed to his head, rocking back and forth. Guilt, fear? She couldn’t quite tell. The signals he was sending out were a mishmash, almost gibberish.
    Maybe he’s on something.
    If he was, she was doubly glad she’d cast the spell. She turned and looked down at the ground floor. Lance was out of sight. Not good. She didn’t have time to worry about that, though. Now she just had to time things right.
    I’ll take his gun away from him before I release him from the spell.
Of course, even that was going to be tricky with the way he had positioned himself. He might not hear the door open because it was being caused by her, but he would most certainly see it open. If he shot wildly at what he thought was air, he still might hit her.
    Going through the window was out of the question because of the shards of broken glass. Somewhere in the distance she heard a squeaking sound.
    Maybe if I knock the gun out of his hand from here.
    That seemed the safest way to do it. She readied herself. A hand descended on her shoulder, and she jerked, startled, and turned with a shout. Thankfully, Marcos didn’t hear her.
    Lance backpedaled, slamming into the railing of the catwalk. She winced, knowing that Marcos most certainly heard that.
    The door flew open and Marcos charged out. Samantha kicked the gun out of his hand, and it went tumbling to the floor below. He turned with a scream, unable to see