Free The Genie's Witch (Dirty Djinn) by Lyn Brittan

examining every possible next step. If she let him keep driving, it meant a longer trip back to the highway. She could kill him, but she pushed that away too. Despite him very clearly wanting to do at least that to her, she would save that as a last resort. 
    “They all did that. Got real quiet trying to figure something out.”
    “Did you let any of them go,” she asked, voice steady as a rod of steel.
    “I didn’t peg you as someone illogical. I’m a doctor with a well-earned reputation. These hands have saved countless lives in the ER. Every once in awhile, I need to level the balance.”
    “Gotta tell you, Demetrius, that makes killing you a lot easier.”
    “Funny girl and so calm. That will change. Your arm hurt when you woke up, didn’t it? Does it still hurt now? Speech is the last to go.” He pointed to the dashboard and she blinked against the glare. When her eyes refocused, they landed on a syringe. Demetrius picked it up and tossed it into a crumpled potato chip bag. “Your lids aren’t heavy at all, but when you try to move, everything slows. I can almost hear your little heart thudding inside you. I’ll free it soon.”
    She tried to twist her head, but only succeeded in dropping her chin into her chest. Lifting the car would have been easier. Magic could fix her, but it would take up too much time and energy – commodities in short supply.
    “You’ll hear everything I say. You’ll see me and feel everything I do to you. Your life will abandon you drip by drip, like water through a sieve and you’ll experience every moment of it. I hope you appreciate what a rare treat that is. Most people won’t have that chance.
    She couldn’t answer. Couldn’t speak, couldn’t scream, but he was right about the feeling. She was very much aware that tears beat a path down her cheek. He slowed the car to lick them away.
    She knew then it’d be the last time he ever touched her. She may not be able to free herself, but she could sure as hell stop him. In her mind’s eye, she drew the symbol for power. It blazed gold, and then red, as life returned to her lips. She’d have one shot – one mumbled word – and it had to be enough. “Potestas.”
    Brakes squealed as the car jerked to a stop. Only the seat belt kept her head from hitting the dashboard. Magic didn’t stop the car. He did. “Impossible. Did you just say something?”
    She sure had. The old word for power. Potestas was a tricky thing. It drained her as it pumped her up, magical adrenaline, but it gave her a needed boost for one final word. “ Siste .”
    He gasped once and froze, stiff as a board. If he wouldn’t let her move, then she wouldn’t let him move either. Minor difference...well, big one. His drugs left her self-aware. Her magic was far less gracious.
    Then too, so was gravity. Without Demetrius on the brake, the car skidded backwards, crashing against what must have been a tree. She didn’t have the ability to turn and confirm it. After several false starts, she gave up trying to count the minutes and waited it out.
    The sun was low, but still in the sky when she managed to lift her head. Other faculties came back in fits and spurts. First, a tingle around her knee, then an itch around the presumed injection spot. At least she could see the clock now and watched as another hour went by. She used the time to focus on home, her family, her city and Tig.
    Another thirty minutes passed.
    It took five tries to get her arm up. On the last attempt, she dove straight for the chip bag and the syringe. “ Potestas .”
    Dinah rode the avalanche of power until her hand closed over the needle and brought it down, business end first, into Demetrius’ knee. He gave no acknowledgment of the medicine shooting through his body.
    Slow, dragging, but determined, she unlatched the seatbelt and reached across him to unlock the childproof doors. While pins and needles attacked her awakening body, she hobbled to his side of the car and dragged