Spellcasters Read Online Free PDF Page B

rolled her eyes and swallowed. “I said: you know what I mean. ‘Witch-slave’ wasn’t my choice at career day last week. Tell her I’m not interested in what she’s selling.”
    “That’s good, but it might take more than that to change her mind.”
    “But you can handle it, right? You sent her packing before. Do it again.”
    I should have pointed out that I’d “sent her packing” with lots of help, but my ego resisted. If Savannah thought I’d played a significant role in beating Leah last time, there was no need to enlighten her now. She needed to feel secure. So, in the interest of ensuring that security, I returned to my perimeter spells.
    “I’ll go do my bedroom windows,” she said.
    I nodded, knowing I’d redo them when she wasn’t looking. Not that Savannah lacked proficiency in second-level spells. Though I hated to admit it, she’d already surpassed me in all levels of Coven magic. I’d redo her spells because I had to, for peace of mind. Otherwise I’d worry that she’d missed a window or rushed through the incantation or something. It wasn’t just Savannah. I’d do the same with any other witch. I’d feel better knowing I’d done it myself.
    I don’t remember what I made for dinner. By seven Savannah was in her room, which might have worried me except that she disappeared after dinner almost every night—before I could ask for help clearing thetable—and spent the next few hours in her bedroom, ostensibly doing homework, which somehow involved ninety-minute phone calls to school chums. Group homework. What can I say?
    Once Savannah was in her room, I turned my attention back to the letter. It demanded my presence at a ten o’clock meeting the next morning. Until then, I could do little but wait. I hated that. By seven-thirty I resolved to do something, anything.
    I had one lead to pursue. The letter was from a lawyer named Gabriel Sandford, who worked at Jacobs, Sandford and Schwab in Los Angeles. Odd. Very odd, now that I thought about it. Having an L.A. lawyer would make sense for someone living in California, but Leah was from Wisconsin.
    I knew Leah hadn’t moved—I made discreet biweekly inquiries to her station. By “station,” I mean police station. No, Leah wasn’t in jail—though I knew of few people who belonged behind a stronger set of bars. Leah was a deputy sheriff. Would that help her custody case? No sense dwelling on that until I knew more.
    Back to the L.A. lawyer. Could it be a ruse? Maybe this wasn’t a real legal case at all. Maybe Leah had invented this lawyer, placing him in a huge city as far from Massachusetts as possible, and assumed I wouldn’t investigate.
    Though the phone number was on the letterhead, I called 411 to double-check. They provided a matching address and phone number for Jacobs, Sandford and Schwab. I called the office, since it was only four-thirty on the West Coast. When I asked for Gabriel Sandford, his secretary informed me that he was out of town on business.
    Next, I checked out Jacobs, Sandford and Schwab on the web. I found several references on sites listing L.A. law firms. All mentions were discreet, none encouraging new business. It didn’t seem like the kind of firm a Wisconsin cop would see advertised on late-night TV. Very strange, but I’d have to wait until tomorrow to find out more.
    With morning came a fresh dilemma. What to do with Savannah? I wasn’t letting her go to school with Leah in town. And I certainly wasn’t taking her with me. I settled for leaving her with Abigail Alden. Abby was one of the very few Coven witches to whom I’d entrust Savannah, someone who’d protect her without question and without telling the Elders.
    East Falls was only forty miles from Boston. Yet, despite its proximity, people here didn’t work in Boston, didn’t shop in Boston, didn’t even goto concerts or live theater in Boston. People who lived in East Falls liked their small-town ways and fought viciously against any