Page 67 of Of Flame and Fury

The Liberianweresshadow the guards at the door. They open it, and several witches pile in. “We found more food,” an older witch says, her European accent light with excitement. “Little treats for children but better than nothing.”

“And beat the jingle balls out of some creepy Santa,” another witch says. “It wasn’t as hard this time. I think Fate is getting weaker.”

Cheers follow their entrance. Another couple of weres and witches march in. Emme starts to close a door when I see a box of cheesy crackers on the floor.

“I’ll get it,” Emme says.

I barely snag the skirt of her dress when she falls forward, and we slam dunk into another part of the house.

“Son of a bitch,” I say.

I wrench my head up toward the ceiling, wondering if we just fell several floors or if it just feels that way.

“Oh, crud,” Emme says. She uses the wall to help her stand and rubs her ass. “Did you get the crackers?”

“No, I didn’t get the crackers. I’m not even sure if the fucking crackers were really there or if they were placed there by that prickles bastard.”

Emme sighs and helps me to my feet. “I understand your frustration. It’s not a good idea to be on our own.”

Emme should have been a therapist. She interprets “Taran speak” well.

“Do you know where we are?” she asks.

“Yeah. First floor.”

Emme makes a face. “No. Not again.”

“Tell me about it,” I say. I shake out my hand. “C’mon, Sparky. Time to get us out of here, girlfriend.”

With a jerk, Sparky drags me forward, leading the way. “Oh, she seems to know where she’s going,” Emme says.

“Yeah, she does.” I reach out and hold Emme’s hand. No way am I losing her this time. God knows I can’t fight the little bitch and his pesky minions alone. “We’re getting out of here, damn it.”

It’s what I think, except every time I think we’re heading in the right direction, Sparky guides us somewhere new.

We stop short in front of what looks like a meeting room.

“This isn’t anywhere close to Genevieve’s quarters,” Emme points out.

“No kidding,” I say. I examine the ornate door and the frame. Protection runes are etched into the door and what I make out as protection spells. “Shit.”

“What’s wrong?” Emme asks.

I point upward. “These runes and spells are designed to bind things within the space.”

Emme pauses. “Like ghosts?”

I curse again. “And phantoms and demons and anything else the witches conjure. If I’m right, it’s a classroom. Similar to Anti-Possession Class but not quite.”

“Um. Pardon?”

I grimace, remembering. “Anti-Possession class is usually held in the basement where brass protection circles can be secured to the stone floor, and shackles can be fixed to the stone walls.”

Emme’s hand goes limp. “Shackles?”

I huff. “Oh, yeah. You want something in place in case you fail the practicum and are actually possessed.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” Emme agrees, slowly. “Um. So, are we going in?”