Time Spell Read Online Free PDF Page A

return pile. On those days, when I sat outside of Jack’s office watching Ann, I felt tinged with bits of guilt and sadness for all the writers who took the chance to submit their work, not knowing that ultimately it was up to Ann to sort their mail into either read or return .
    I wondered how many manuscripts had been sent back unopened, never to have Jack’s guidance or direction. He had done so much with my work. He truly understood how I wrote and what I was trying to say. In the end, I guess I owed Ann for not sorting my letter into that black basket.
    I looked at the outside of the envelope and noticed it was addressed to Jack Coleman at 1207 Corinth Avenue and not to the Raven Publishing address. I unfolded the letter, eager to unscramble the riddle I had walked into.
    My shoulders shuddered when I scrolled down to the end of the page. This couldn’t be happening. A wave of nausea surged through my stomach as I jumped from the chair and raced for the door. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. I reached for the handle, but Jack was already between the exit and me.
    His hand slammed into the top of the door, pressing it closed. “No. You’re not leaving until you tell me what’s going on. I’m a part of whatever is happening and you need to fill me in. Tell me.”
    I felt his breath on the back of my neck. It was rapid and hot. He spun me around, gripping my shoulders firmly.
    The door was rough against my back, but Jack seemed determined to hold me in place. We had never been this close before—in each other’s space—inhaling the same heavy breaths. My eyes darted to his, but the only emotion I recognized from the pools of deep brown was confusion. Confusion brimming with fear.
    I thought about using magic to freeze him or extinguish what little lights were left on in the house, but that would be catastrophic. I didn’t have the kind of magic to erase his thoughts or memories. Darn my cousin for getting that gift and not me. I had to face this on my own.
    He towered over me and I could feel the strength in his arms. They were the only thing keeping me standing at this point. My knees were wobbly. “I’ll tell you what I can, but just promise me you’ll listen, and you won’t judge.” I searched his face for a semblance of pity or sympathy, anything but the doubt and irritation staring at me. “I might be able to explain.”
    “Good, because I’m about five minutes away from calling the police.” His eyes shot to the cell phone sticking out of his front pocket, but I could sense his hesitation to use it. He wanted to know what was happening and how I could be a part of it.
    “No, no, don’t do that. Let’s figure this out. Let me tell you what I know about Vegas Star .” My voice cracked and tears welled in my eyes.
    He freed my shoulders and stepped backward. I fought the urge to grab his hands and put them back on my arms just to feel some kind of warmth and connection. I hated the look in his eyes. The new swell of fear growing between us. As if we had hit the reset button on my first entrance, he held out an outstretched arm and waved me to a chair by the fire. I followed him to the living room and sat.
    “Do you want a drink?” He walked over to a wet bar set back in the corner of the room.
    I had missed it when I first walked in because a stack of books blocked the decanters. Each was filled with a different dark liquid. The gesture seemed to say he was willing to give me another chance even though I had done nothing to prove I wasn’t still a flight risk. It was hard not to eye the door. It was my only viable escape from this nightmare.
    “Um, yes, I think that would be good.” I tried to smile.
    Jack picked up one of the decanters and poured the mysterious drink into two crystal glasses. He clanked the classes, and I watched as he wiped up a spill. He was noticeably shaken from our exchange in the hall, but I didn’t know if it was from his anger at me or his reaction to how