The Source (Witching Savannah, Book 2) by J.D. Horn Read Free Book Online Page A

seconds ago, this place had been crawling with cops. Now that I could use one, there wasn’t a single officer in sight. I wondered if my visitors had been watching for the police to take off before coming this way.
    I considered using magic to open the door. But they’d still be able to follow me into the bar unless I moved fast enough to slam the door in their faces. They had ambled another few steps closer as I considered this. I’d be able to reach out and touch them in another step or two. Or they could reach out and touch me .
    I considered using my best trick—well, truly my only trick—to slide myself out of there, but I figured it would be best to try something a little less overt. The last thing I needed was to piss the families off further with open displays of witchcraft. I pushed back a wave of anger at how the families stripped me of my ability to adequately defend myself. I had to keep a clear head, and anger at people who were not even present would not help with that. I decided to pull something from my Uncle Oliver’s bag of tricks. Oliver reigned as the king of magic persuasion, half of which he seemed to back up with plain old self-confidence. “Well, on behalf of the Savannah Visitors Bureau, I apologize, but I do think it is time for y’all to move on.” I pulled myself up taller and crossed my arms, trying to look firm but relaxed, like I was the one in charge. Joe and the woman called Birdy took a few steps backward, but Ryder didn’t budge. “Go on now,” I commanded.
    Ryder chuckled and then used the back of his hand to wipe away his smile. “You, little miss, are a right piece of work, ain’t you? You’re a pretty little thing, but you done and picked yourself up some real bad manners. I’ll gladly help you correct ’em.”
    Normally, two out of three isn’t bad, but I had failed to compel this Ryder to take off. I’d have to talk to Oliver about it. Find out where I had gone wrong, but now I had a more pressing matter at hand. I breathed deeply into my diaphragm and envisioned a wall growing between us, not only separating us, but pushing Ryder backward, forcing all three of them to move on. Ryder’s tattooed arm reached out toward me, but then quivered and fell to his side.
    He gave me a dark look and stepped up with his arms held wide open, bumping his chest against the invisible barrier I had built between us. He was not in the least little bit frightened of my magic. Worse, the look in his eyes told me he was thinking of challenging it, but then he turned away and swaggered back toward the river. Joe followed him, tagging a few steps behind like an enamored puppy. Birdy stood her ground the longest. “I don’t like you,” she said, giving me one final, hate-filled glare. The feeling was more than mutual, but I didn’t think it wise to antagonize her, especially since I had won this battle. I held my tongue.
    “Birdy,” Ryder commanded, and she scurried to his side.
    I watched until they were gone, and then turned my attention back to the lock. I slid a smidge of energy into it, envisioning the force molding to the inner workings of the mechanism and then condensing, hardening. My heart was in my throat as I turned it. I was thrilled when I heard the click—for once, my magic had worked as I’d intended.
    I hurried inside, slamming the door behind me and quickly turning the deadbolt. I leaned against the locked door and sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm myself. I nearly jumped on the bar when a bell rang out. The old landline phone, yellow with gray buttons and absolutely no form of caller ID, sounded again. I hesitated, but then answered.
    “Hello, sweet girl,” Colin said, the clunky receiver faithfully relaying the sadness in his voice. “I’m glad you picked up. I couldn’t remember your cell number for the life of me, but this one’s been in my head for thirty years.”
    “Peter isn’t here yet, Mr. Tierney.”
    “Ah, I know that darlin’, he’s