Free Never Again by Michele Bardsley Page A

still ways to offset it. And not every magical was interested in keeping the balance at all.
    She snorted. Bernard had lost his official position in the House of Ravens, but he still had a hand in it. She’d never been sure exactly what he was doing for his former cohorts, but no doubt it had something to do with overthrowing a small country or controlling drugs or killing kittens.
    Beep! Beep!
    Startled by the honking car roaring up behind her (so much for those well-honed attack instincts), Lucinda spun around, heart hammering. The worn soles of her tennis shoes slipped in the mud, and she caught a look at the braking lights of a yellow VW Bug as she tried to find some purchase. Her arms pinwheeled as she grappled for balance, but she couldn’t compensate for the weight of the bag slung over her shoulder.
    For a couple of seconds, she had the sickening sensation of weightlessness as she toppled backward into the ditch. She landed on her side on top of the duffel. The swirling water was deep enough to douse her completely, but not enough, unfortunately, to drown her.
    Because death would be an upgrade to her luck right now.
    Pain radiated up her hip, and the arm squished between her body and the duffel felt numb. Water swirled up her jeans and under her shirt, and grabbed at the end of her robe. Maybe if she lay here long enough, the earth would open up and swallow her.
    Was that too much to ask?
    Apparently so.
    Aching and tired, Lucinda sat up, dragging her duffel with her. It had been heavy before, but thanks to its thorough dunking, it now felt like someone had tucked an anvil inside it.
    “Oh, my gosh!”
    In all the wind and rain, the words sounded like a whisper. Lucinda looked up and saw the waitress from the café kneeling at the edge of the ditch and offering her hand.
    “What happened to you?” asked Lucinda as she zeroed in on the girl’s black eye and split lip.
    “Me?” The girl’s eyes widened. “What about you?”
    “It’s just water,” said Lucinda. She stood up, irritated. She looked at the muddy liquid swirling around her ankles, gathered her magic, and yelled, “Part!”
    The water moved aside to reveal the soggy, rockstrewn bottom of the ditch. She shoved the duffel up the slope, and the waitress grabbed the handles, hauling it up onto the shoulder.
    As soon as Lucinda got to the top, she released the magic, silently thanking nature for the little borrow of energy.
    “I’m Lucinda.” She held out her not too muddy hand to the waitress, trying not to take offense while the girl considered whether to offer hers in return.
    Finally, she squared her shoulders and shook Lucinda’s hand. “I’m Marcy. Marcy Munch.” She flinched. “I know. Munch is a dumb last name. High school was a real bitch.”
    “So’s life,” said Lucinda. “Who hit you?”
    Marcy’s gaze slid away. “You need a ride? I’m leaving for good. I got enough money to get to the border.”
    “You’re going to Mexico?” Lucinda couldn’t wipe the suspicion from her voice. Her experience had become this: If something good happened, it was just a setup for the really bad thing headed her way. She didn’t like the coincidence of needing a ride and Marcy’s sudden departure from town—to the same desired destination.
    “Let’s get in the car, okay?” asked Marcy. “This weather is crazy.”
    Lucinda watched as the waitress turned and made her way toward the Volkswagen. Her choice was to slog through the rain until someone else took pity on her, or to get into a warm, dry car right now.
    She followed the girl around to the front of the tiny car. Marcy opened the hood and Lucinda threw her duffel into the empty space. Then they got into the car and secured their seat belts. The heat was cranked up—thank the Goddess—because they both were soaked and shivering.
    “You didn’t pack anything?” asked Lucinda as Marcy put the Bug into gear and coasted onto the road. She noted the grease spatters on the