When she finds herself back in Sioux Falls on a job, a twist of fate puts Evelyn Marshall in the path of the Winchesters and Bobby Singer. With nowhere left to run, the dark secrets in her past and the creatures who've hunted her are about to catch...
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There might not have been a receptionist, but the office was functional. I mean, I wasn't going to page Doctor Sexy and have him perform a face transplant or anything, but the computer worked and the speaker system had a mic rigged up to it.
Back in the motel, I hadn't needed to dial the phone. I just picked up the receiver and I could speak to Lee. It followed that I could flip on the power and get audio if I willed it.
"Please please please," I muttered under my breath as I cranked up the volume and waited for the tell-tale crackle of sound to fight its way through the speaker grills.
A high-pitched whine broke through first and, with a little tuning, I found voices. They were faint and distorted. It was like tuning a radio, finding the precise point for the needle to get the best reception. It shouldn't have been. That wasn't how speaker systems worked. Not how announcements worked. Then again, I shouldn't have been able to talk to someone through a television set or get a direct line to my brother's brain on a motel landline so, you know, I didn't think that logic really existed inside the mind.
"What have you done?" Lee's voice roared through.
At first, I thought I'd gone too far. Had found the internal line and not the external. I was about to reply that I hadn't done anything. That I'd done exactly as he'd asked and stayed put, waiting for him to call on me to use my powers.
That is, until a British voice drawled, "Crated you. Like a puppy. And you'll stay in the crate until you're housebroken."
"Housebroken?" Lee asked, his voice echoing through the hospital. "The only thing that'll be broken here, is you."
Okay, that sounded a lot like a man who was gearing up for a fight. If Lee tapped into all the power inside of him then this was over. I wouldn't have the ability to stop him. Worse, he could take all the additional grace that Castiel had given me, and he could break out of the cage.
The widest space was the waiting area. I placed myself in the middle of it and hoped that the spell would reach far enough. I would have to bellow every word, and throw power and meaning into each sentence. Spells were only as strong as the witch casting them. They needed intent. Focus. My mother hadn't taught me a lot about witchcraft, but she'd made that much clear.
"Haec nexus sanguine ficta est."
This connection forged in blood.
"Tuam qua uti virtute oro."
Is what I use to beg your power.
"Da mihi fortitudinem tuam, et vincula tua rumpam."
Lend your strength to me and I will break your bonds.
"Da mihi lucem tuam et eris gratis carcere tuo."
Lend me your light and you will be free of your prison.
