Read Online No Rest for the Witches by Karina Cooper - Free Book Online Page A

flower bower; wrenched the door closed on everything but the mission.
    She wasn’t a missionary anymore, no matter how ingrained that response was. But she could still pull her weight.
    Even without guns.

 
    Chapter Eight
    T he rain woke her.
    Jessie drifted back into consciousness, every muscle throbbing as if she’d just made it through one of Naomi’s bone-rattling mat exercises. Even before she opened her eyes, she could place the sounds—the gentle patter of the rain, the sound of movement in the kitchen. Through her eyelids, lantern light flickered.
    They were all so normal. So at odds with the nagging insistence that something was decidedly wrong. Uncertainty tightened in her chest with every breath.
    Silas. Where was his voice?
    Jessie opened her eyes, struggling to sit up. Her muscles spasmed with the effort.
    â€œEasy.” An arm curved around her back. “It’s all right, everything’s okay.” Phin smiled down at her, his features jarringly unfamiliar outside of the posh interior of his resort.
    It was surreal, having him down here in her territory.
    She frowned. “Phin? Were you watching over me?”
    â€œMatilda and I have been taking shifts,” he admitted, but his smile kicked into a slanted grimace of pain. “Can you either sit up or lie back down? My arm isn’t completely better yet.”
    â€œSorry.” Jessie allowed him to help her back down, more out of guilt than because she felt the need to stay lying down. Still, her muscles practically sighed in relief as she settled back into the pillows. Phin pulled the sheet back to her chin, smoothing it down with more finesse than she would have given him credit for.
    Then she remembered that he’d owned the fanciest hotel she’d ever seen, and gave up worrying about it. Phin was more than capable of making himself at home.
    â€œHow do you feel?” He sat back into the armchair Silas liked.
    Jessie looked away before her cheeks turned red. They’d done things in that chair that might make the very proper Mr. Clarke burst into flame from mortification if he knew. “Fine,” she managed, loudly clearing her throat. “Just fine. A little bruised around the soul.”
    And that gnawing worry in her gut wasn’t easing.
    He cradled his injured arm, one hand curved over the sling. “Matilda says a witch attacked you while you were in your vision.”
    â€œThat . . .” She thought about it. “That makes a lot of sense. Who?”
    â€œI don’t know. Silas and Naomi have gone after him.”
    She sat up so fast, hands braced on the mattress, that sparklers flared across her vision. “What?”
    â€œWhoa, easy.” Phin stood again, bent over her as she swayed. “Take a deep breath.”
    She tried to wave him away, but ended up hanging onto his sleeve when vertigo kicked her in the side of the head. The room tilted, and she sucked in an obedient breath.
    â€œMatilda said you might be out of it.” Carefully, he sat next to her, supporting her with his good arm.
    Between the rolling, rocking motion of the world around her, she couldn’t help but smile. Even if it twisted. “How’d you . . . get the short stick?”
    â€œYou mean stay here?” Phin kept his voice low, soothing. The man was good. “Still injured. Naomi’s gift doesn’t work very fast. Faster than it would be naturally, of course, but it still has to go through the normal physiological steps.”
    Jessie had noticed that. She concentrated on breathing, eyes closed, until her stomach stopped sloshing around inside the fragile cage of her own body. Cautiously, she slit open one eye.
    Her head throbbed, but nothing she couldn’t live with.
    Phin’s handsome features swam into focus. His dark eyes met hers, crinkled at the corners.
    A little corner of Jessie’s heart melted. No wonder Naomi liked him. “Thank you.