Read Online Saved by the Spell (Anna Wolfe Series, Book #2) by Casey Keen - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Casey Keen
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frantically, searching for the bat beast.
“Looks familiar, doesn’t it love?” A large grin spans Micah’s face at seeing the terror on mine.
I gather my energy and stand to confront him. “I don’t understand?”
“There’s nothing to understand. My Night Witches modified your dreams. I wanted to provide you with a little preview of your future. Pity you didn’t heed my warning,” he finishes, shrugging his broad shoulders.
He reaches for my arm, but this time I retract it. “I’m capable of walking on my own,” I growl.
He ignores my protest of independence and clasps it firmly. “I’m well aware my dear, but I prefer having you close to me. I'm not taking any chances.”
I make a sour face as he tugs me along the pathway. Stealing a glance upward, my vision is limited by the congested canopy of leaves and dangling Spanish moss. Rays of sunlight gently poke through the thick barricade, casting shadows below. We walk onto the porch where a slender front door confirms its long history with warped and splintered wood. Micah walks towards it, covering the handle with his hand and pushing. I remember reaching for that same knob. The feeling of dread collects in my stomach as my memory recalls every terrifying emotion from my previous nightmare. Quickly, he ushers me into the foyer and straight up the grand staircase. We glide like ghosts down the long hallway covered with the same black and white photographs from my dream. What does all of it mean? I doubt Micah intended for the witches to warn me. It was more like gloating. My eyes vigorously search for the photograph of my real father, and I’m disappointed when I can’t find his face.
“ Your real father isn't on this wall like in your dreams,” Micah points out with satisfaction. “That was for show... a little something to get you thinking.”
Jerk ! Fury rises inside of me. It's one thing to torture me, but leave my family out of this! Since Micah has entered my life, all he's done is persecute them. I can't stand people who fight dirty. I don't respond to his provocational comment, and instead, bite back my harsh words. Micah leads me through a bulky threshold, dumping us into a spacious room. I survey the inside in awe. Bookcases line the wall, stretching high up to the ceiling. All of the shelves are overflowing with books and papers like a disorganized filing system. Enormous maps float off to the side, sporadically switching their positions. Giant oak tables straddle the center of the room, filled with scattered papers, over which several men are hunched, their heads hanging low, as they scribble in notebooks.
A moving object at the corner of my eye catches my attention. A dense, chestnut-colored book plucks itself from one of the shelves, float ing over to where a couple of men are sitting. One of the men’s elongated, veiny fingers reaches for it, grasping the book’s spine. He lifts his head, snatching it from mid-air like a hawk on its prey. I follow the trail from his hand to his face, flinching at his appearance. Moody eyes sit partially hidden between the deep folds of skin under his overgrown white eyebrows. A hooked nose droops over his thin lips like a beak. Mounds, the size of softballs, sit on his otherwise bald pate, glistening under the florescent lights overhead. I glance toward the other man, and notice he appears exactly the same.
“ Anna, meet the Seekers.” Micah leans closer to me, his voice just above a whisper. “Not to worry, we won't disturb them. Their entire existence centers on uncovering microscopic morsels of information, putting them together and deciphering messages. You can't break their attention no matter how hard you try.”
“ What are they looking for?” I question.
“ The Scholars, love.”
I c ringe upon hearing his answer. “How long have they been here?”
“ Too long,” he answers coolly.
Micah pulls me to the right, walking me around the perimeter of the room.
“Be careful not
“Looks familiar, doesn’t it love?” A large grin spans Micah’s face at seeing the terror on mine.
I gather my energy and stand to confront him. “I don’t understand?”
“There’s nothing to understand. My Night Witches modified your dreams. I wanted to provide you with a little preview of your future. Pity you didn’t heed my warning,” he finishes, shrugging his broad shoulders.
He reaches for my arm, but this time I retract it. “I’m capable of walking on my own,” I growl.
He ignores my protest of independence and clasps it firmly. “I’m well aware my dear, but I prefer having you close to me. I'm not taking any chances.”
I make a sour face as he tugs me along the pathway. Stealing a glance upward, my vision is limited by the congested canopy of leaves and dangling Spanish moss. Rays of sunlight gently poke through the thick barricade, casting shadows below. We walk onto the porch where a slender front door confirms its long history with warped and splintered wood. Micah walks towards it, covering the handle with his hand and pushing. I remember reaching for that same knob. The feeling of dread collects in my stomach as my memory recalls every terrifying emotion from my previous nightmare. Quickly, he ushers me into the foyer and straight up the grand staircase. We glide like ghosts down the long hallway covered with the same black and white photographs from my dream. What does all of it mean? I doubt Micah intended for the witches to warn me. It was more like gloating. My eyes vigorously search for the photograph of my real father, and I’m disappointed when I can’t find his face.
“ Your real father isn't on this wall like in your dreams,” Micah points out with satisfaction. “That was for show... a little something to get you thinking.”
Jerk ! Fury rises inside of me. It's one thing to torture me, but leave my family out of this! Since Micah has entered my life, all he's done is persecute them. I can't stand people who fight dirty. I don't respond to his provocational comment, and instead, bite back my harsh words. Micah leads me through a bulky threshold, dumping us into a spacious room. I survey the inside in awe. Bookcases line the wall, stretching high up to the ceiling. All of the shelves are overflowing with books and papers like a disorganized filing system. Enormous maps float off to the side, sporadically switching their positions. Giant oak tables straddle the center of the room, filled with scattered papers, over which several men are hunched, their heads hanging low, as they scribble in notebooks.
A moving object at the corner of my eye catches my attention. A dense, chestnut-colored book plucks itself from one of the shelves, float ing over to where a couple of men are sitting. One of the men’s elongated, veiny fingers reaches for it, grasping the book’s spine. He lifts his head, snatching it from mid-air like a hawk on its prey. I follow the trail from his hand to his face, flinching at his appearance. Moody eyes sit partially hidden between the deep folds of skin under his overgrown white eyebrows. A hooked nose droops over his thin lips like a beak. Mounds, the size of softballs, sit on his otherwise bald pate, glistening under the florescent lights overhead. I glance toward the other man, and notice he appears exactly the same.
“ Anna, meet the Seekers.” Micah leans closer to me, his voice just above a whisper. “Not to worry, we won't disturb them. Their entire existence centers on uncovering microscopic morsels of information, putting them together and deciphering messages. You can't break their attention no matter how hard you try.”
“ What are they looking for?” I question.
“ The Scholars, love.”
I c ringe upon hearing his answer. “How long have they been here?”
“ Too long,” he answers coolly.
Micah pulls me to the right, walking me around the perimeter of the room.
“Be careful not
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