Girls' Night Out

Chapter Six

The window shattered, sending a spray of glass everywhere. I turned my face away and closed my eyes, but most of the glass shards went out instead of in.

Humming to gather the magic, I dropped the paint can and hurried back to where Al was sitting. I heard muffled cursing from downstairs, and then the pounding of footsteps on the stairs as I crouched beside Al and waited.

“Don’t cast until they’re at the door,” I warned her. “Save your strength.”

Sweat shone on her brow, and her eyes were too wide, but she nodded her agreement. Our captors reached the head of the stairs, and one of them tried the door, expecting it to open easily. He said something foul, and I recognized Tom’s voice. Luckily, he was making such a racket there was no way he could hear my nearly silent humming. I would keep gathering magic as long as there was enough noise to cover me, and then I’d have to hope the magic didn’t lose interest too soon. Tom pounded on the door with what sounded like his shoulder—he’d get more power with a kick, which I suspected he’d figure out soon enough.

Beside me, I saw Al go invisible right as the door burst open. I had to trust that she’d covered me with her spell, too, because I could still see myself.

The overhead light flipped on, and Tom looked frantically around the attic.

He was brandishing a wicked-looking knife, and I doubted he had any qualms about using it. He took in the discarded zip ties and duct tape, then hurried to the broken window and craned his head out. Gary entered the room and started poking around in the corners, though there wasn’t any nook big enough for the two of us to hide in.

“D’ya see ’em?” Gary called, and Tom withdrew his head.

“They ain’t splattered on the pavement,” Tom growled, his composure

shattered, his eyes wild-looking. “Come on!”

He headed for the door at a sprint, and Gary followed. Beside me, Al shuddered and dropped her spell.

Step one of our plan had succeeded, but we had plenty more steps to get through before we were safe. “Let’s go,” I said, putting my arm around Al’s waist and helping her to her feet. She staggered even with my support, and her dress was drenched with sweat.

“I can walk!” she insisted when I gave her a worried look. It takes a lot of strength to cast magic, and Al hadn’t had a whole lot of strength when we got started. I hoped like hell she wouldn’t run out anytime soon.

I supported her all the way to the stairs, but they were too narrow for us to go down side by side. I let her go first, steadying her as best I could with a hand on her arm. She clung to the banister like a lifeline. I wanted to run, but a walk was all Al could manage.

“Hurry,” I urged her. I had no idea how much time our diversion had gained us. How long would Tom and Gary run around the neighborhood looking for us before realizing that they had to have been duped somehow?

Al tried to speed up and almost took a header down the stairs, but we eventually made it down to the second floor and rounded the landing to the first.

And that’s when things started to go wrong.

Gary suddenly appeared at the base of the stairs, scowling up at us. “No fair using magic, Althea,” he said reprovingly.

“Gary, please,” she whimpered, clinging to the banister for support, but I had a better idea than pleading, seeing as Al was ambulatory and Tom and his knife weren’t in sight.

I squeezed past her on the stairs as Gary started climbing toward us.

“Be good girls and get back in the attic,” he said. “No one has to get hurt.”

I disagreed.

If it had been Tom climbing the stairs toward us, I might have had to rethink my strategy. Tom had the look of a hardened criminal to him, and although I was certain he would underestimate me as much as Gary did, he might be more prepared to deal with any threat. Gary, on the other hand, didn’t even realize a threat existed.

I put myself between Gary and Al, holding on to the banister for extra stability. Then, when the stairs put Gary’s head at just the right height, I lashed out with my foot.

If he’d been prepared for the possibility of an attack, or maybe even if his reflexes hadn’t been slowed by whatever he was on, it probably wouldn’t have worked. A good kick takes a bit of time to develop, and an experienced fighter can usually avoid them. But Gary wasn’t an experienced fighter.

My kick connected with his face, snapping his head back sharply. Behind me, Al gave a muffled cry as Gary crumpled and slid down the stairs. We didn’t have time for her sentimentality or squeamishness, so I reached back and grabbed her arm, pulling her along with me as I descended and keeping a careful eye on Gary.

He wasn’t moving, and he appeared to be unconscious—or even dead—but I wasn’t taking any chances. Al obediently tottered behind me, still unsteady on her feet.

We had to step over Gary to get to the front door. I pulled Al’s arm over my shoulders, trying to steady her as her strength waned and her knees shook.

The door burst open, and I thought sure the jig was up, that Tom had figured out we were still in the house and had come back to kill us. Instead, a pair of policemen charged through, pointing guns. Al’s knees chose that moment to give up entirely, taking us both down to the floor, which I figured was just as well when there were police pointing guns at us.