The Darkest Midnight. R. A. Finley

      Thia put her on speaker.

      “What should we do?” Abby asked. “Try to make them pass, or—”

      “That might be what they want.”

      “Mm. I wondered about that.” Abby accelerated out of a horseshoe curve. “So, what—”

      “I can’t get a read into it at all,” Kendra spoke over her. “It’s warded. Typical Brigantium stuff, but that doesn’t tell us much anymore.” Cassie and a fair number of Idris’s followers had been members. Much of what they’d have or do would read the same.

      Thia hadn’t considered using her Sight. Something like that should have been instinctive.

      Her instincts were crap.

      She used it now, saw the faint sheen of protective magic around the car. How Kendra could associate any particular qualities Thia had no idea. She could no more differentiate one soap bubble surface from another.

      “We should continue on, right?” Abby was asking. “They probably already know where I live, so that’s no matter. And we can better defend ourselves.”

      “That’s my take as well,” Kendra said. “But we should push it. They’re gaining.”

      Abby stepped on the gas and they whipped around a turn. Thia quickly faced forward, felt her eyes go wide as Abby immediately cranked the wheel the other way. They zoomed past one of those squiggly-arrow road signs.

      As the Mini continued to zig-zag, Thia took hold of the handle overhead. This was Abby’s daily commute. She must be familiar with every bit. Maybe this was her normal speed when she didn’t have passenger anxiety to consider.

      Yet Thia couldn’t help the noise she made when a sharp curve taken too fast bumped her into the door’s hard plastic paneling despite her braced hold.

      “Almost home,” Abby said, her gaze locked on the road ahead. Her knuckles stood out from gripping hard. “Nothing to it.”

      Right, Thia thought, but kept it to herself.

      Kendra’s headlights moved in and out of view in the side mirror. She’d dropped back a little, likely not as comfortable with the speed. The other car had fallen back considerably.

      “What the hell?” Abby’s shocked question yanked Thia’s attention ahead. A string of single headlights wove toward them in the oncoming lane. The rumble of engines became audible, then quickly increased to a roar as motorcycle after motorcycle zoomed past.

      “Good grief.” Thia shielded her eyes against the strobing glare. There had to be at least thirty. “Are these the same guys from town?”

      They had to be, right? But she hadn’t realized the gang was that big.

      “Assholes,” Abby grumbled when several flashed their brights. When several more attempted to crowd the Mini against the guard rail, her language worsened.

      And then they were gone, the red of their rear lights snaking on down the road.

      Thia blew out a breath, relieved despite the car that continued to follow. “That was crazy,” she said, then noticed the road sign ahead. Her hand reclaimed its overhead hold.

      “Here we go,” Abby said, and then began murmuring under her breath. Amidst the slide and pinging crunch of dirt and gravel, she forced a tight turn onto her property’s unpaved drive.

      Momentum and the confusing whirl of tree trunks and road reflectors proved to be too much. Thia shut her eyes, waited until the car straightened before opening them again.

      Complete darkness.

      She jerked upright, the seatbelt digging painfully. She couldn’t see anything. How could Abby?

      “Where are the headlights?” she asked, panicked. Why didn’t Abby stop?

      “I did a night vision spell.”

      That explanation could have come earlier, Thia thought, and then noticed the absence of light behind. “Kendra too?”

      “I assume so,” Abby said. “She’s back there...and clear of the gate.” She pressed a remote that had been affixed to the dash.

      Thia looked back and again used her Sight. The faint flicker of the wards reassured, and against them she could just make out the silhouettes of Kendra’s car and Abby’s steel gate. She faced forward again, tried to trust that her friend really could see where she was driving.

      Of course, with the right skills or even just the right tools, any wards could be broken. Nothing was guaranteed, she was coming to learn. In magic, especially.

      It was why, she supposed, those with the most power often sought to gain more, and why Idris Cathmor had never been—nor would he ever have been—satisfied. And why his twin son and daughter had joined his terrible scheme.

      What of his other son, though? Was Cormac driven by that same need? He’d gained a great deal, thanks to Thia, when he’d siphoned some of the power that had been forcing its way into her.

      She had sensed at the time that she couldn’t handle all of it, that it would tear her apart, and had instinctively felt that Cormac had saved her by doing what he did. Yet by her own admission only moments ago, her instincts might well be crap. Had she been mistaken about his motives? Had he acted out of self-interest after all?

      In that case—and assuming first that he was in Granite Springs—was it because he sought to take the rest of the Cailleach’s powers from her?

      Abby pulled onto a narrow, sloping track that wove through a stand of native fir. Her single-story ranch house and extensive gardens lay ahead, while the other drive led to the ramshackle barn used for her various craft projects.

      Craft, not as in needlepoint or macrame but as in witch.

      If Thia could be assured that she would survive, should she consider letting Cormac take all her powers?

      Mine.

      Something fierce and possessive shivered through her bones, momentarily robbing her of breath.

      She had felt it come over her before, when she had first taken up the Stone, thinking it a gift from Lettie. Nearly a week before she had inadvertently misdirected Idris’s ritual.

      Had the powers claimed her even then?

      Abby stopped the car, set the parking brake. “I think we lost them back on the main road, but we should hurry just in case.” She was out of the car and on her way to the front porch before Thia had recovered wits enough to undo her seat-belt.

      CHAPTER 5

      Landmark Hotel, Granite Springs

      Later

      His honeyed tea had long since gone cold in its mug, but Cormac continued to hold on. He sat at the hotel window, his room dark behind him, and stared out at the festive town below. The lights, the groups of revelers...Midwinter in Granite Springs was anything but bleak. Yet that was exactly what he felt. Tiny flakes too small and far apart to be considered snow, in his opinion, drifted lazily downward.

      His gaze shifted to a particular house, partially visible between trees and other, taller homes. The small colored lights fixed to its eaves shone brightly; the windows did not. Thia had gone with her friends.

      Would she stay the night? He wondered where, exactly. If he looked over at the hills to the right, would one of the lighted windows belong to the room she was in? Or perhaps he should look to the valley, nearer to where the creek joined the river.

      Was she with one of the two friends from dinner, or had she met up with someone else? Someone who was more than a friend. That was a possibility, he had to admit, and one to which he had no right to object.

      And yet he