Otherworld 11 - Waking the Witch (24 page)

I
drove to the motel. I grabbed my things, stuffed them into my bag, and took off on my bike, leaving the Jeep behind, keys on the bed where Adam could find them.

By the time I was pulling out of the lot, I could see him, coming toward the motel. His arm lifted, hailing me. But he didn’t pick up the pace, knew it wouldn’t do any good.

Get away fast. Get away far.

The last part didn’t work out so well. I’d barely gone twenty miles on the highway before I began shaking again, this time from exhaustion. Then the rain started, a thunderstorm whipping up in the distance.

I stopped at the first motel I found. By the time I left the office with my key, the thunder was crashing, lightning splitting the sky, rain pelting, hard as hail. I trudged along, getting soaked, bone-cold soaked, and not caring.

When the key stuck in the lock, I was too exhausted to make the trek back to the office. I cast an unlock spell. It worked the first time. I went inside. Cast a lock spell on the door. Tested it, not quite trusting that my powers were back. They were—my temper tantrum earlier proved that.

I flicked on the light. It came on, then went off, every light in the parking lot following as the power failed. I cast my light ball.

Thank God for my spells.

I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing back the prickle of tears. I still had my spells, but I’d give them up to fix what I’d done. I couldn’t bring my mother back, or my father, or Michael, but if I could fix even one thing and give Kayla back her grandmother, I’d gladly give up my powers.

I stripped off my wet clothing and crawled into bed, the light ball still blazing on the night table beside me. I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

I slept through the storm. What woke me was a much quieter noise: soft snoring. I opened my eyes. The room was still pitch black, parking lot lights out.

I blinked and lifted my head, following the snoring to a chair beside the bed. In the dim glow of cloudy moonlight, I could make out a familiar figure asleep in the chair.

“You don’t take a hint, do you?” I murmured. I smiled, but tears tickled my eyes, and I blinked them back.

I still felt like shit. Exhausted and achy. But more than that, I felt ashamed of my breakdown. I don’t do pity parties. Never have. Shouldn’t start now. So what if I’d stumbled? I needed to haul myself up by my bootstraps and keep moving. Do what I could for Paula and Kayla, get Lucas’s help.

I had another problem to solve, too: the small matter of a witch-hunter on my tail. I couldn’t let Paige come home to that or she might join me on the hit list.

I sat up and took a deep breath. I should do some work, quietly, letting Adam catch up on his sleep. Now, where had I dumped my laptop?

I cast my light ball, trying to keep the power on low. When nothing happened, I tried again, and didn’t even feel the mental click that told me it worked. I cast again, and again, and again. Then I remembered my last thought before I’d climbed into bed.

If I could fix even one thing, and give Kayla back her grandmother, I’d gladly give up my powers.

Oh, shit.

KELLEY ARMSTRONG is the bestselling author of the Otherworld series, as well as the
New York Times
#I
bestselling young adult trilogy, Darkest Powers. She lives in rural Ontario with her family. Visit her Web site at http://www.kelleyarmstrong.com/. 

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