Charmed (The Witch Hunter #2)

The guy in the hat pokes his head inside the open passenger window.

“Need some help with your catches?” He glances back at me, his eyes roving over my body. I become acutely aware of my layered tank tops and jean cutoffs that show a lot more tanned skin than is strictly necessary in a jail setting.

“I think I can handle a few humans,” Cruz answers.

Humans? If Los Demonios is a prison for the paranormal, then why would he think I’m a human?

I open my mouth to tell him as much, but no sound comes out. I kick the back of his seat in frustration.

“Do I need to tie you up too?” Cruz asks, putting the van in drive. He peels out of the alley. “I would have thought you’d relax a bit since I helped you and all.”

A vein the size of a highway pops out in my forehead. Help me? I mouth. You’re freaking kidnapping me!

He chuckles at my silent rage. “Relax, mamacita.”

That blows me over the edge. I struggle to my feet and stagger to the driver’s seat.

“What are you doing?” he asks, glancing away from the road to look over his shoulder at me. I lunge for his neck. The van swerves, throwing me off-balance. I slam against the door hard and slump to the floor. Pain splits my arm. The other two kids watch me with a mixture of fear and shock.

Cruz sags into his seat as he gets the van back under control. “Serves you right,” he mumbles before turning up the music.

I could attack him again, but the simple truth of the matter is I’m no match for him. Panic and desperation overwhelm me, and I feel a sob build in my chest that I work hard to choke down. I need to think. I need to be smart.

Small fires flash by in the growing dark, but before long the view changes to the silhouette of a mountain range. Where is he taking us? If I had an idea, that could inform my decision. I almost laugh. My decision. Like I have a plan. Like I’m not being kidnapped.

The same song restarts for the third time, but Cruz taps his hands on the steering wheel as though it’s the first time. It makes me want to scratch my eyes out.

“Can we hear something else already?” I scream.

I touch my throat, surprised to find I actually said the words out loud.

“I love this song,” he says.

“So did I,” I retort. “The first five hundred times.”

“Any requests?” he says.

I huff, which only makes him chuckle.

“Do you find this funny?” I ask.

“What?”

“Kidnapping girls. That’s funny to you?”

“There’s a boy in here too.”

I exhale.

“And to answer your question, no, I don’t find it funny. But it’s a job, and I have to do it.”

“Who makes you do it?” I ask.

“You’ll meet him soon.”

I can’t hide the shiver that passes through me. “Why do you do it, then? If you don’t like it, why don’t you just quit? Tell your shitty boss to find someone else to do his ’nappings.”

The girl gives me a kick in the thigh.

“That’s not the way it works,” he answers.

“Why not?”

“Because…that’s just not the way it works. You got here, what? An hour ago? You don’t know squat.”

“Maybe I’ve been here a year,” I say defiantly.

“You haven’t.”

“Okay, how about this?” I say. “Maybe you do this because you’re a spineless asshole.”

“Shut up,” the boy in the back warns me.

“You’re going to get us killed,” the girl hisses.

Cruz’s jaw tenses in the rearview mirror.

“Is it because you’re scared to speak up?” I continue. “Or do you secretly enjoy taking young kids against their will?”

When he doesn’t answer, I know I’ve hit a nerve.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” I laugh.

He slams on the brakes. Tires squeal against the pavement as we rocket forward into the seats. He jerks the parking brake on and rounds the front of the van before I can even rearrange myself.

“Now look what you did,” the girl says.

Cruz whips the door open, then flourishes an arm toward the road. I look out, past his shirtless chest. We’ve stopped in the middle of a residential street. Massive Gothic mansions rise up against the dark sky like the jagged fangs of some predatory animal. Wind whistles, and a coyote howls nearby.

“Go on!” he barks. “Don’t be shy, girl. Get out.”

I inch forward, then hop out of the van.

“Any of you want to get out too?” he asks, poking his head inside the van. The girl and boy blink back at him, stunned. He slams the door closed.

My heart bangs a steady beat.

He locks eyes with me and pauses in mock shock. “What? This is what you wanted, right?”

“It is. Thank you,” I spit. But I can’t help the edge of fear that enters my voice. I wish I could turn back time four seconds just so I wouldn’t have to see the satisfied smile on his face.

I bite my lip to keep it from trembling. Cruz’s eyes fall to my mouth.

“Mierda,” he mutters, wiping his chin with his thumb.

“What?” I ask.

He sighs. “Listen. I’m going to give you some advice because I think you sorely need it, though I’m not sure how much it’s going to help. The only people that matter here are the Chief and Zeke. The Valley, East L.A., downtown, and Hollywood are the Chief’s turf—sorcerer turf—and trust me, the Chief is not someone you want to run into. Beverly Hills, the west side, and the beaches down to Redondo Beach are where Zeke’s people hang out. You don’t want to run into them either.”

I nod, committing his words to memory. “So where is safe?”

His face cracks into the barest of mocking smiles, and I get my answer.

“Okay, one last question,” I say. “I’m looking for a friend. Her name is Paige Abernathy. She’s got shoulder-length brown hair and bangs, and she’d probably be wearing leopard-print glasses. Any thoughts on where I might find her?”

He stares at me, but this time like he feels sorry for me. “Look, I don’t know anything about this Paige, but I do know this: you don’t have any friends. The minute you stepped into this place, you were on your own.”

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