about? What deed had been done?
God, if they were discussing what she thought they were discussing she would be eternally mortified.
After waiting a few more seconds, she heard nothing else of interest, only silence. Tory contemplated sneaking back downstairs. That was when a weird sensation hit her, slamming into her chest and sucking the air from her lungs. In a panic, she tripped, bumping into the wall, her nails scraping at the surface as she tried to catch her balance.
The moment passed as quickly as it had occurred, leaving her breathless and disoriented. Stumbling down the stairs, her only intent to reach Michael, Tory found the living room empty, all trace of Michael gone.
Sweet Jesus, what had just happened?
Then she felt him, like a phantom caress in her chest, Michael surrounding her, stilling her fear. Faint whispers in her mind reassured her all was well, she was loved, protected. It was the strangest feeling sensing him in the deepest recesses of her psyche when he wasn’t really there. But it also quenched the uncertainty and terror.
Tory took the stairs two at a time, the murmurs in her head egging her on, reminding her of her promise. By the time she reached the attic she was trembling from the rush of adrenaline.
Damn Michael. He had her in a mild state of panic when there was absolutely no need. Asmodeus had last been spotted in Chicago. He was still a long way from Boston. And anyway, there was no reason to assume he was any closer to finding her than he had been twenty-four hours ago.
After stepping into the middle of the pentagram, Tory went through the ritual of quickly reconnecting the white line she’d broken to release Michael. She recited the spell, enclosing herself within the safety of the circle.
As the minutes ticked by, Tory began to wish she’d brought a book, something, anything to pass the time. Food would have been good too, since she was getting hungry. And she had to pee.
A quick glance at her watch showed only fifteen minutes had gone by, damn it. She was never going to make it. If Michael didn’t return soon, she was going to lose her freaking mind.
Another ten minutes and Tory couldn’t wait any longer. It was her own fault for thinking about it. Now she couldn’t concentrate on anything else. If she didn’t go to the bathroom soon she was going to pee her pants.
And she was still hungry.
It would serve Michael right if she ended up dead. How long did it take to ask some chick a couple of questions? It wasn’t exactly like he had to factor in travel time or anything.
Sucking in a deep breath, Tory knew she wasn’t being fair. Recanting the spell, she reminded herself the poor woman had been attacked, could still be hanging on death’s door right now and certainly deserved a little bit of Michael’s time.
Though she would seriously prefer the witch find her own angel.
That consideration stopped Tory in her tracks. The thoughts swirling around in her mind were really uncharacteristically nasty, especially the ones involving Michael anywhere near the witch in Chicago. She wasn’t normally the jealous type, or at least she didn’t think she was. Truthfully, she’d never had anything to be jealous about before Michael but still…
Tory shrugged as she descended the staircase, heading toward the bathroom. Maybe she was the jealous type. So shoot her.
After hitting the bathroom, Tory grabbed a spoon and bowl, a box of Captain Crunch and half a gallon of milk before heading slowly back up the stairs. She didn’t want to get back into the circle but she knew if she wasn’t there when Michael returned he would be plenty mad. He’d be sure to go all ballistic on her and Tory would find herself a virtual prisoner in her own home.
That would suck.
With her hands full, Tory tried juggling the door and her goodies before finally discovering she had to back her way into the attic to get through the doorway. When she swung back face forward, she found standing
God, if they were discussing what she thought they were discussing she would be eternally mortified.
After waiting a few more seconds, she heard nothing else of interest, only silence. Tory contemplated sneaking back downstairs. That was when a weird sensation hit her, slamming into her chest and sucking the air from her lungs. In a panic, she tripped, bumping into the wall, her nails scraping at the surface as she tried to catch her balance.
The moment passed as quickly as it had occurred, leaving her breathless and disoriented. Stumbling down the stairs, her only intent to reach Michael, Tory found the living room empty, all trace of Michael gone.
Sweet Jesus, what had just happened?
Then she felt him, like a phantom caress in her chest, Michael surrounding her, stilling her fear. Faint whispers in her mind reassured her all was well, she was loved, protected. It was the strangest feeling sensing him in the deepest recesses of her psyche when he wasn’t really there. But it also quenched the uncertainty and terror.
Tory took the stairs two at a time, the murmurs in her head egging her on, reminding her of her promise. By the time she reached the attic she was trembling from the rush of adrenaline.
Damn Michael. He had her in a mild state of panic when there was absolutely no need. Asmodeus had last been spotted in Chicago. He was still a long way from Boston. And anyway, there was no reason to assume he was any closer to finding her than he had been twenty-four hours ago.
After stepping into the middle of the pentagram, Tory went through the ritual of quickly reconnecting the white line she’d broken to release Michael. She recited the spell, enclosing herself within the safety of the circle.
As the minutes ticked by, Tory began to wish she’d brought a book, something, anything to pass the time. Food would have been good too, since she was getting hungry. And she had to pee.
A quick glance at her watch showed only fifteen minutes had gone by, damn it. She was never going to make it. If Michael didn’t return soon, she was going to lose her freaking mind.
Another ten minutes and Tory couldn’t wait any longer. It was her own fault for thinking about it. Now she couldn’t concentrate on anything else. If she didn’t go to the bathroom soon she was going to pee her pants.
And she was still hungry.
It would serve Michael right if she ended up dead. How long did it take to ask some chick a couple of questions? It wasn’t exactly like he had to factor in travel time or anything.
Sucking in a deep breath, Tory knew she wasn’t being fair. Recanting the spell, she reminded herself the poor woman had been attacked, could still be hanging on death’s door right now and certainly deserved a little bit of Michael’s time.
Though she would seriously prefer the witch find her own angel.
That consideration stopped Tory in her tracks. The thoughts swirling around in her mind were really uncharacteristically nasty, especially the ones involving Michael anywhere near the witch in Chicago. She wasn’t normally the jealous type, or at least she didn’t think she was. Truthfully, she’d never had anything to be jealous about before Michael but still…
Tory shrugged as she descended the staircase, heading toward the bathroom. Maybe she was the jealous type. So shoot her.
After hitting the bathroom, Tory grabbed a spoon and bowl, a box of Captain Crunch and half a gallon of milk before heading slowly back up the stairs. She didn’t want to get back into the circle but she knew if she wasn’t there when Michael returned he would be plenty mad. He’d be sure to go all ballistic on her and Tory would find herself a virtual prisoner in her own home.
That would suck.
With her hands full, Tory tried juggling the door and her goodies before finally discovering she had to back her way into the attic to get through the doorway. When she swung back face forward, she found standing
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