Read Online T*Witches: Don’t Think Twice by Randi Reisfeld, H.B. Gilmour - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Randi Reisfeld, H.B. Gilmour
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“Do you think this is all I have to do?” the imperious witch interrupted. “Keep bailing you out of trouble? I’m in the middle of what may be the most important trial in the history of Coventry Island and you force me to choose between you and seeing justice done!”
Cam tried to explain, but Ileana wanted the answer to only one question: “Where’s your sister?”
CHAPTER TEN
ALEX’S EXCELLENT ADVENTURE
Exactly as it had happened before, a sharp breeze set the candle flames flickering, then swirled around Alex, enclosing her in a funnel of whirling wind. When she opened her eyes, it took her a moment to realize that she was inside an office, surrounded by cubicles, computers, file cabinets. Photos and wacky headlines shared a huge bulletin board with schedules and dates.
Excellent! The Transporter had worked! She was inside
Starstruck
’s headquarters. Even better, she was exactly where she’d wanted to be: in the photo department, which was very quiet. On California time, it was too early for anyone to have arrived at work.
“Dude!” Alex spun around to slap palms with Cam.“We’re in — we did it!” She was about to say, “You the girl,” only Cam wasn’t there. Alex called out, “Camryn! I’m in here, in the photo department! This rocks!”
No answer. She shrugged. Okay, Cam must’ve landed in another part of the building. Sending a telepathic message, Alex figured her sister would find her — meanwhile, there was no time to waste. Edwards wasn’t in yet, but the picture they’d come for probably was.
Where to begin? The photo honcho’s office would be a good place to start. But where was that? Main dude? Biggest office.
The nameplate read ALVIN D. EDWARDS, DIRECTOR OF PHOTOGRAPHY . Alex opened the door. Ole Alvin commanded a spacious suite. But it reeked!
The ventilation hadn’t kicked on yet and the windows in Edwards’s messy workplace were sealed and strictly for the view. The office was seriously cluttered. Filing cabinets banked two walls. On his humongous desk, practically hiding the computer and the multiline phone, were piles of files, photo loops, notes, random supplies, and, big surprise, crumpled coffee cups and cellophane wrappings, complete with morsels of muffins, doughnuts, and cream-filled mystery cakes that even Dylan, the ultimate junk foodie, would reject.
Alex started with the cabinets. Luckily, Edwards alphabetized. She worked her way from A for Aliens to Zfor Zilch. Which is what she came up with: There were no files for Thantos or DuBaer anywhere.
She attacked the litter on Edwards’s desk, stopping every once in a while to listen for Cam or zap her another message. No go.
An hour later, Alex had rifled through hundreds of prints and slides but had not found the one she was looking for.
Nor had Cam arrived.
Dejectedly, Alex plopped into Edwards’s chair. The only place she hadn’t searched was the top drawer of his desk. It might contain a random picture or two. Wrong. It was Edwards’s junk drawer. Among pens, stickies, paper clips, and rubber bands were half-eaten candy bars, enough crumbs to host an ant convention, a shriveled, dripping peach, and a blackened dead banana. Someone get this guy a Dustbuster and a fumigator!
Wrinkling her nose, Alex pushed aside the leftovers and reached into the back of the drawer. She came up with a handful of laminated badges, press passes for employees. She flipped through them. Neither the people in the pictures nor the names rang a bell.
She was about to toss them back in the drawer when a familiar, sickening feeling washed over her like a tsunami. Her senses sharpened as she honed in on something far away. She heard: screeching tires, busted glass,horrified shrieks. “No! No! Elias!” And then, a baby crying.
Alex jumped up and looked out the window. Daylight was dawning, but the street below was peaceful, no cars, no screaming people. The crash hadn’t happened there. Well, where then? Could there
“Do you think this is all I have to do?” the imperious witch interrupted. “Keep bailing you out of trouble? I’m in the middle of what may be the most important trial in the history of Coventry Island and you force me to choose between you and seeing justice done!”
Cam tried to explain, but Ileana wanted the answer to only one question: “Where’s your sister?”
CHAPTER TEN
ALEX’S EXCELLENT ADVENTURE
Exactly as it had happened before, a sharp breeze set the candle flames flickering, then swirled around Alex, enclosing her in a funnel of whirling wind. When she opened her eyes, it took her a moment to realize that she was inside an office, surrounded by cubicles, computers, file cabinets. Photos and wacky headlines shared a huge bulletin board with schedules and dates.
Excellent! The Transporter had worked! She was inside
Starstruck
’s headquarters. Even better, she was exactly where she’d wanted to be: in the photo department, which was very quiet. On California time, it was too early for anyone to have arrived at work.
“Dude!” Alex spun around to slap palms with Cam.“We’re in — we did it!” She was about to say, “You the girl,” only Cam wasn’t there. Alex called out, “Camryn! I’m in here, in the photo department! This rocks!”
No answer. She shrugged. Okay, Cam must’ve landed in another part of the building. Sending a telepathic message, Alex figured her sister would find her — meanwhile, there was no time to waste. Edwards wasn’t in yet, but the picture they’d come for probably was.
Where to begin? The photo honcho’s office would be a good place to start. But where was that? Main dude? Biggest office.
The nameplate read ALVIN D. EDWARDS, DIRECTOR OF PHOTOGRAPHY . Alex opened the door. Ole Alvin commanded a spacious suite. But it reeked!
The ventilation hadn’t kicked on yet and the windows in Edwards’s messy workplace were sealed and strictly for the view. The office was seriously cluttered. Filing cabinets banked two walls. On his humongous desk, practically hiding the computer and the multiline phone, were piles of files, photo loops, notes, random supplies, and, big surprise, crumpled coffee cups and cellophane wrappings, complete with morsels of muffins, doughnuts, and cream-filled mystery cakes that even Dylan, the ultimate junk foodie, would reject.
Alex started with the cabinets. Luckily, Edwards alphabetized. She worked her way from A for Aliens to Zfor Zilch. Which is what she came up with: There were no files for Thantos or DuBaer anywhere.
She attacked the litter on Edwards’s desk, stopping every once in a while to listen for Cam or zap her another message. No go.
An hour later, Alex had rifled through hundreds of prints and slides but had not found the one she was looking for.
Nor had Cam arrived.
Dejectedly, Alex plopped into Edwards’s chair. The only place she hadn’t searched was the top drawer of his desk. It might contain a random picture or two. Wrong. It was Edwards’s junk drawer. Among pens, stickies, paper clips, and rubber bands were half-eaten candy bars, enough crumbs to host an ant convention, a shriveled, dripping peach, and a blackened dead banana. Someone get this guy a Dustbuster and a fumigator!
Wrinkling her nose, Alex pushed aside the leftovers and reached into the back of the drawer. She came up with a handful of laminated badges, press passes for employees. She flipped through them. Neither the people in the pictures nor the names rang a bell.
She was about to toss them back in the drawer when a familiar, sickening feeling washed over her like a tsunami. Her senses sharpened as she honed in on something far away. She heard: screeching tires, busted glass,horrified shrieks. “No! No! Elias!” And then, a baby crying.
Alex jumped up and looked out the window. Daylight was dawning, but the street below was peaceful, no cars, no screaming people. The crash hadn’t happened there. Well, where then? Could there
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