Modern Sorcery: A Jonathan Shade Novel by Gary Jonas Read Free Book Online Page B

asked.
     
    Naomi placed a hand on my arm.   “She needs to rest.   Healers give of themselves in order to heal someone.   She’ll probably sleep for a couple of hours after the work she did on me.”
     
    We walked down the block toward the SUV.
     
    “Who’s Cantrell?” I asked.
     
    “A freelance wizard.”
     
    Kelly hit the remote to unlock the truck as we approached.   Naomi opened her door and climbed in.   I did the same.   When Kelly reached for her door handle, her hand hit an invisible shield, and she couldn’t pass through.   She tried again and found her hand stopped an inch away from the door.   She did not look pleased.
     
    “Oops,” Naomi said.   “Sorry.”   She waved her hands.   “Try now.”
     
    Kelly grabbed the handle with no trouble and opened the door easily now that the protection spell was gone.   She glared at Naomi as she climbed into the vehicle.
     
    I knew better than to laugh, but it was hard to keep from smiling.
     

 

     

     

     
    CHAPTER EIGHT
     

     
    Naomi didn’t have Cantrell’s number stored in her phone, so as darkness fell across Denver, Kelly drove us toward Naomi’s house.   Unfortunately there were too many police cars in the neighborhood.   The Escort still sat at the end of the block, surrounded by yellow tape.   Officers and forensics were going over the area.
     
    “Let’s go to my parents’ house,” Naomi said.   “We can get Cantrell’s number from Dad’s address book.”
     
    “Where do they live?” Kelly asked.
     
    “Castle Pines.”
     
    “That’s damn near Castle Rock.”
     
    “Mailing address is Castle Rock, actually.”
     
    Kelly made a face but headed toward I-25.   “Somebody owes me gas money.”
     
    We took I-25 to Castle Pines Parkway and cruised down to a subdivision called King’s Crossing.   Naomi’s parents had a house next to the Ridge at Castle Pines North golf course.   Their backyard bordered one of the fairways, yet no golf balls ever landed in their yard or broke any of their windows.   Now that they were both dead, I suspected that would change.
     
    The Miller house was a tastefully decorated, 5,500-square-foot home.   They had a finished basement with a dedicated theater room complete with a 95-inch screen, high-definition projector, and 7.1 surround sound.   The room held eight theater chairs on risers and had a red velvet curtain that closed over the screen just like at a movie theater.   Framed movie posters for Casablanca, The Godfather, and The Shawshank Redemption adorned the walls.   As nice as the house was when I first visited, that theater room made the biggest impression.   Do I sound jealous?
     
    Kelly pulled into the driveway.   Naomi climbed out of the truck and entered the security code to raise the garage door.   The garage was empty.   I suspected both cars were in the police impound lot since it seemed unlikely they’d still be at the grocery store.
     
    We entered the house through the mud room, and when I opened the door to the living room, I saw the place was a wreck.   Furniture had been slit, and stuffing lay on the floor.   The contents of the credenza had been dumped out or tossed haphazardly.
     
    “What the hell?” Naomi said.
     
    I held her back.   “Kelly and I will check it out,” I said.   “Wait here in case someone is still inside.”
     
    Kelly and I swept through the house.   Every room was a mess.   Dresser drawers lay on the floor, clothing and boxes were strewn everywhere.
     
    I wanted to cry when I went down to the basement and saw they’d destroyed the theater room too.   The pool table lay on its side, balls scattered across the floor.   The poker table looked intact, but the cushions for the chairs were all sliced open.
     
    I met up with Kelly as I climbed the stairs.   “Does this look like the work of your Sekutar brother?”
     
    Kelly rolled her eyes.   “How should I know?”
     
    “If you were going to ransack a