Beyond Bewitching Read Online Free PDF Page A

had no idea. They could land ten or almost a hundred years into the future from 1928. Only the shifter they followed knew where—and when —they’d arrive.
    The pressure on John’s arm increased as the whirling vortex slowed, a signal to prepare for an attack. Clearing his mind, he allowed his instincts free rein as the humming grew louder and the ground solidified beneath his feet. A light breeze brushed against his cheek a moment before he spun a quarter turn to the left to scan his surroundings.
    Releasing Tanner’s forearm, John studied the nondescript buildings. A measured stomp preceded a booming call. The sound became an echoed shout. “ Heil !”
    His stomach lurched.
    Hitler’s Germany.
    He had no doubt now about Sarah’s intentions.
    In New Orleans, he couldn’t begin to guess her motive for being there. Her meeting with Capone in Chicago had given him a clue, but coming to this place could mean only one thing. She was on a hunt for a new elder to complete the triangle. A man capable of genocide would have a soul blacker than even Naga. The blood of millions stained his hands.
    John scurried to the nearest building, gesturing for Tanner to follow as he flattened himself against the wall. They had to prevent Sarah from making contact with the Nazi leader.
    A hissed whisper came inside his mind. Do you see her? Or her imprint?
    Making a careful pass of the visible square, he willed his senses to pick up her distinctive trail. The humming had ceased in the roaring of the crowd gathered to pay homage to Adolf Hitler. No flowery scent lingered in the air. His gut told him she couldn’t be far ahead of them, but no bloodred essence hung like a subtle fog around any of the swastika-worshipping fanatics.
    He shook his head and ducked behind the corner. She isn’t out there.
    Where the hell did she go? Tanner’s low grunt made his frustration clear. Damn it! We can’t lose her. It took too long to find her the first time.
    Turning to face his partner, John caught a slight movement less than twenty feet from their location. Sunlight had glinted off something metallic. He forced his eyes to connect with Tanner’s, a quick glance away and back again all the communication necessary to relay the information.
    Someone was hiding behind the stack of delivery crates across the empty street.
    He took a step toward the spot where they’d appeared. Come on. We’ll have to retrace the path. She must’ve doubled back before we got here.
    With a nod, Tanner moved with him, their actions perfectly choreographed from years of working together. He pointed to a spot near the crates. Her signature is gone, but I think we landed about there.
    The closer they got to the stacks, the more a soft hum filtered over the drone of voices from the square. John hadn’t been a hundred percent certain their prey hid across the street from them, but he was now—even if he didn’t understand how the pleasant reverberating note came from an elder of the Black Triad.
    Tanner frowned. No, this isn’t it. Maybe a little closer to the building.
    They took two more steps toward their hidden target. Silence descended on the square, and John strained to catch a quiet inhale or exhale.
    Nothing .
    Had she shifted into another form? They’d have a hell of a challenge capturing—or trailing for that matter—something they couldn’t readily identify as Sarah Pennymead.
    Withdrawing a handful of change from his pocket, John let a coin slip from his fingers to roll along the pavement and behind the lopsided pile. He almost didn’t hear the soft gasp over the sudden guttural rhetoric of Hitler speaking to his followers.
    A lightning-fast grab around the crates yielded what felt like a nylon-covered ankle. Tanner pounced on the other side, upsetting the crates but catching her around the waist. A violent wind whirled around them as lights blinked in John’s vision. The buildings, the crates, and the street vanished, and he held on to his recaptured