A Little Wicked (The Bewitching Hour Book #4)(11)
“Mom, we’re not here to party. We’re here because we’re worried about you and wanted to make sure you’re doing okay.”
For a second, Abigail was unnaturally still and Derek started to wonder whether his mind was playing tricks on him. She then let out a deep sigh and set a hand on her hip. “I’m still getting the hang of this. What gave me away?” She pointed to her hair. “Is it the color? Damn it, I knew I went too platinum.”
Derek’s hand rested on the butt of his gun. “I think it’s time for us to go.”
“You,” Abigail pointed at him, “can do whatever you want. I need a moment alone with her.”
“Not gonna happen.” Sam’s shoulder pressed against his arm as she leaned in closer. At least she had some instincts for self-preservation. But if Abigail made a move at them, would Sam be able to help him fight? This was her mother, after all, and Sam had already lost a family member to this craziness. If it came to fighting her mother, he might not be able to rely on magic.
“I’m not like Claudia.” The name dripped with disdain as it came from Abigail’s mouth. “I’m not here to give you the illusion of choice. I’m here now and things are going to be different. No more hiding. No more sneaking. Things are going to change around here and they’re going to change right now.”
Before he could even start to unravel that, he heard Sam gasp. He twisted around to see Garrett, the big blond head of security who he’d always liked well enough, grab onto Sam’s biceps and pull her back. Sam immediately threw her head back, soundly connecting with his chin, and started to kick at him, but the giant didn’t budge. Judging from the blank look in his eyes, this wasn’t the Garrett he’d met before.
He started to pull out his sidearm, but an invisible wall of energy slammed into him and sent him flying across the hall and into the wall, knocking the portrait next to him down as he fell.
But he couldn’t nurse his wounds, because he heard Sam struggling as Garrett held her in place and Abigail approached slowly. So slowly. It was as though she had no concerns in the world. As if she wasn’t afraid of them at all.
Derek couldn’t let himself be intimidated or scared. He needed to act fast before his entire world disintegrated in front of his face. He pulled out his gun and took the shot as soon as he had it. This time there was no Claudia controlling his trigger finger. He’d aimed right for the back of Abigail’s head, making sure the angle was high enough that any exit trajectory would avoid Sam or the ballroom.
The bullet hit its mark and Abigail came to an abrupt stop. But she didn’t fall. Instead, she pivoted on her heel and looked him right in the eye as the large exit wound at the top right side of her head started to close in on itself.
“Detective Pierce,” she said softly. “The rules have changed. This is my game now.”
Sam stared at her mother in abject horror. It didn’t take long for Abigail to lose interest in him and turn back to her daughter. As she turned, she seemed to transform, but this time the symptoms were recognizable. Her hair turned to an inky black and her nails got longer, dripping the oozing black substance. And when she brought those dripping black nails to Sam, Derek let out a deep, guttural scream as he ran for the group. He didn’t aim for Abigail or Garrett. He took them all down in one fierce tackle. Better than any tackle he’d ever done in his high school football career.
He might not be able to shoot Abigail, but he could distract her, damn it. The four of them fell to the ground in a giant heap. Derek didn’t give Garrett a moment to recover from the shock. He rammed his fist into the man’s face. The blow was hard enough to send vibrations of pain rocketing up his arm, and it did seem to daze Garrett, but it wasn’t enough to stop him.
Not helping matters was Abigail’s bark of laughter from behind him. “You stupid, stupid man. Let it go. You’re not going to be able to win this.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his last resort. “Strategic retreat then.” He aimed the little canister at Abigail and sprayed it at her face.
Her casual laughter quickly deteriorated as she started to scream in pain. He didn’t let go of the little button as the spray kept going. He wanted her to hurt. He wanted her to stay the hell away from Sam. Wanted her to pay....
The crashing behind him finally had him snap out of it. He turned to see Garrett falling to the ground and Sam pulling at his arm, urging him to run.
He pushed up and they ran into the ballroom as Abigail still squealed in pain.
Sam tugged on his jacket as they fell into the ballroom, the music and the heat warring with the adrenaline that pumped through him. She pointed to the door closest to the entryway and they ran for it, pushing past the tipsy and out-of-it witches on the dance floor. No one seemed to notice they were running for their lives. No one seemed to care about anything outside of themselves.
They were just a few feet from the exit when the door slammed shut in front of them. They were running so fast, the momentum carried them right into the solid wood. He and Sam both tried the handle, but it wouldn’t move.
“Magic,” said Sam over the loud music as they turned around to look for Abigail or Garrett. But there was no one behind them. They weren’t being chased. They were trapped, though, which meant something was going to happen.
“We need to get out of here now.” He didn’t know what Abigail had planned, but considering her newfound confidence and apparent immunity to bullets, he wasn’t looking forward to finding out.