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I left the Candle and headed to my car. My head was going over the connection between this Beth person and Nichole. If there was a coven involved, could this be a power-struggle kind of thing? Inner fighting among a coven wasn’t exactly a rare occurrence, but it seldom led to murder. Dead bodies attracted too much attention, something the Fringe always tried to avoid.

My heart, on the other hand, was still pounding from the brief contact I’d had with Jack. Part of me wished to the stars we’d never called things off, while another part was thankful for where my career was and where it was headed.

I was a smorgasbord of conflict, which is why I didn’t sense the attack coming until I was halfway across the parking lot. And by then, it was far too late.

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER SIX

 

Something hard and blunt hit me right behind my right ear. Lights flashed in my head and my knees buckled, even as my hand instinctively went to my service weapon. A second blow right above my right elbow landed home, though, sending numb tingles down into my fingers and I knew I’d never be able to clear the holster and fire with any sort of accuracy for at least a few minutes.

A hand wrapped itself in my hair and I instinctively kicked back, feeling a flush of satisfaction as it connected with someone’s midsection and I heard a feminine grunt of pain.

“Get the bitch,” a familiar voice said. It wasn’t hard to place. Trisha had waited around for her revenge. I was an idiot to think I could mouth off to her like I did and not expect some payback. I just didn’t think she’d be so brazen as to do it in the parking lot of the Lit Candle. Granted, there was nothing forbidding violence outside of the establishment, but it was generally a good idea not to be throwing fists or spells within spitting distance of it.

Her faithful cohorts, Thing 1 and Thing 2, stepped up and began kicking and stomping on me. There was nothing I could do except curl up in a ball and protect my head, so that’s what I did. If either of them had a clue as to what they were doing, I would have been in trouble. Fortunately, for me, the only real experience these gals had at fighting was watching Chuck Norris action flicks on the T.V.

Half the time, their blows glanced off my body or missed entirely. When their kicks did land, most of the time they were too weak to do anything other than jostle me around.

Still, the couple that hit home really hurt. About halfway through the beat down, Thing 1’s foot connected solidly with my solar plexus, causing all the air to leave me in a rush and my lungs to actively resist the call to take in more oxygen. A second later, Thing 2’s shoe came down on my spine, sending ribbons of pain coursing down my legs. All in all, I’d had better days.

There was no way I could raise my power. Even the simplest workings required a measure of concentration, and all my energy was focused on not suffering a debilitating brain injury.

After what seemed like hours but couldn’t have been longer than a minute or two, Trisha’s satisfied voice rang out again.

“Get her up. I want her to see this.” Things 1 and 2 complied, gripping me under both my arms and hauling me to my feet to see what fresh hell their leader had in store for me.

Mistake. They thought all the fight was gone out of me, that I was too hurt or too scared to resist. Time to show them the error of their ways.

As soon as my feet were back under me, I hooked one of them behind Thing 1’s leg and threw my weight into her. Caught off balance and with no way to right herself, she crashed to the pavement in an awkward heap.

Thing 2 issued a violent curse and pulled back, probably to punch me. I didn’t give her the chance. I whirled on her, pulling her close and smashing my elbow into her face. There was a loud crunching sound as the cartilage in her nose shattered and she dropped to the ground, shrieking in agony.

“Get her! Get her!” Trisha screamed, right before Thing 1 wrapped herself around my knees and pulled me back down to the rough concrete. But this time, I didn’t have to worry about protecting myself. I could go on the offensive.

Thing 1 started crawling her way up, probably looking to pin my arms to the ground or something since her partner was incapacitated. I squirmed a bit and waited until she was within range, then brought my elbow down on her collar bone with as much force as I could muster. A sharp CRACK sounded off like a gun shot, and Thing 1 rolled off me, wet tears already forming as she cried in agony. It must have hurt like hell but I had very little in the way of sympathy at that moment.

I scrambled to my feet and faced Trisha, ignoring the stabs of pain in my back and chest. My head swam slightly, but I pushed it aside and brought my hands up in a defensive posture, ready to counter any punch or jab she threw my way. But, I realized, her attack had been underway from the beginning. I’d just been too preoccupied with getting my ass kicked to see it

In her left hand, she held a tiny, felt doll; a poppet. With her right, she was wrapping strands of hair around its midsection in a figure 8 pattern while chanting under her breath. To my horror, I realized that it was my hair she was using. She must have plucked it

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