Maps, Artifacts, and Other Arcane Magic (Dowser Series Book 5) by Meghan Ciana Doidge Read Free Book Online Page B

spell. The charged air still danced against my skin as I spun around to scan the bakery.
    Shailaja was gone.
    Stepping through the ruin of my front door, tables, and chairs, I retrieved the depleted necklace. I looped it around my neck three times and instantly felt more grounded.
    Scarlett righted a stool, then helped Gran over to it. Still dowsing for the teen’s magic, I jogged into the kitchen, then out into the back alley.
    The cool of the evening hit my overly warm face, but I didn’t stop to enjoy it or calm down. I needed all the adrenaline I could hold right now.
    I ran back through the kitchen and into the storefront. Scarlett was pressing a glass of water into Gran’s hands.
    I crossed to the front door, ignoring the broken glass and wood as it crunched underneath my feet. I could taste Scarlett’s perimeter cloaking spell, so it was still in place around the bakery. But the kid — Shailaja — had stripped the wards.
    She’d stripped the bakery wards and attacked my family. She’d attacked and damaged my home and family.
    I began to shake — not as the adrenaline drained from my system but as more pumped in. I rode the anger that had been burning in my belly and now flooded my chest, flushing through my neck and face.
    She knew the bakery was vulnerable without wards. I had absolutely no doubt that the freaking brat would come back. She wanted something, so she took it.
    Not again. Not here. Not with my family.
    I laid my jade knife across my left hand, then deliberately and deeply sliced across my palm. I squeezed this hand, heedless of the pain, and allowed drops of my blood to fall at the base of the doorway. Then I pressed the bleeding cut to the sides and top of the doorframe.
    “Jade!” Scarlett gasped behind me, completely aghast.
    Ignoring my mother’s dismay, I stepped from the bakery onto the sidewalk of West Fourth Avenue. As I passed through Scarlett’s spell, the evening was suddenly filled with car engines, tires turning on pavement, and people dashing through the light rain to and from the various restaurants and coffee shops across from and around the bakery. I slowly stepped along the outside windows — my shoulder brushing the glass as I passed — and allowed drops of blood to fall from my cut hand all along the footing of the exterior concrete wall.
    Then I stepped back inside, sliced my hand a second time to reopen the wound, and traced the entire footprint of the bakery in my blood, including the exterior alley wall.
    Scarlett and Gran watched me, utter disbelief etched on their faces.
    I didn’t stop.
    I performed blood magic without giving it more than a second thought. And in front of two members of the Convocation. I was seriously surprised they didn’t slap me in chains and press black magic charges against me on the spot.
    They were obviously in shock at my audacity, at my seething anger. That was fine by me, because it was better for everyone if they didn’t try to stop me until I had the new ward in place.
    Or maybe they just weren’t sure how to stand against me. Maybe they weren’t sure they could stop me if they tried.
    I went upstairs and placed drops of my blood all around the edges of my apartment as well. The wards on the second level were undamaged, but if I was going dark, I might as well go all the way, all at once.
    I had to slice my palm seven times to finish the job.
    I didn’t even feel lightheaded. I didn’t feel anything at all. Perhaps I was in the thrall of the blood magic I was about to perform. Or maybe I was the one in shock, though my actions felt just and my choices crystal clear.
    I could leave my family vulnerable, or I could protect them.
    Two options.
    Either. Or.
    Blood trumped rock, paper, and scissors.
    Okay, maybe I was a bit lightheaded.

CHAPTER THREE

    Gran and Scarlett were waiting for me in the basement of the bakery.
    A witches’ circle was inscribed in the dirt. Gran stood at the north edge with the broom she’d used to