Page 24 of The Witch's Pet

With a subtle gesture, I encourage a barrel sitting in front of a pub to roll across the man’s path. The wooden thump splits the quiet air. He looks up, startled, lowering his device.

I flick my fingers, and with apop, the streetlamps extinguish. We’re plunged into shadow, the only light coming from the full moon overhead.

The man’s silhouette goes rigid. His head swivels.

“Julia,” Hannah hisses behind me, her footsteps racing to catch up.

When the man’s gaze lands on me, I’m already closing the distance.

“Can I help you?” His voice aims for confidence, but there’s a tremor underneath—that first inkling that something’s not right. His free hand forms a fist.

Too late. My power gathers like a storm beneath my skin, ready to feed. I reach out to command the barrel to bring him closer and—

“No!” Hannah’s body crashes into mine from behind, her arms locking around my waist with surprising strength. Her warmth presses against my back as she digs her heels into the ground, using her full weight to drag me backward. “You said you wouldn’t!”

“I made no such promise.” I snarl and twist, trying to shake her off, but her grip is fierce. The man’s survival instincts finally kick in, and he stumbles back, tripping over the barrel before catching himself.

His eyes go wide, reflecting the moonlight. “What’s—”

“Sorry,” Hannah grits out, struggling. “This woman—thinks it’s 1891. She’s escaped from the care home.”

“Oh, um…” The man stammers, looking torn over whether to be afraid.

“Go!” Hannah barks at him.

He pauses for half a second, then spins and walks away at a fast clip, his footsteps fading down the empty street.

Fury boils in my veins as he disappears into the night.

I push Hannah back, and she lets go this time.

“Clever little pest,” I growl.

“Murderous antique,” she shoots back.

“I require more power. That tracking spell—”

She gestures wildly to herself. “So feed on me! Thatwas the deal!”

The hunger claws at my insides, making me want to pin her against the brick wall and drain her dry, binding spell be damned. My fingers twitch with the urge. “You refused. You left me no choice.”

Hannah scoffs. “Your medieval approach to problem-solving is showing.”

“Myapproachkept me alive when other witches were being hunted and killed.”

She studies me up and down, her jaw working. In the darkness, the angles of her face are soft, making her look so innocent. So naive.

I step closer, dropping my voice. “You said earlier that you have no idea how any of this works. And you’re right. So I suggest you quiet down and let me do what needs to be done.”

A snarl curls Hannah’s lips, and her eyes flash furiously. “No. And if you try to hurt anyone else again, you’re going to regret it.”

I laugh. “What are you going to do, exactly?”

She opens her arms. “You need me more than you’d like to admit. You don’t know how to drive, use a phone, or even buy food. You have no idea how anything works in 2009.”

This stings more than it should. I draw myself up taller. “I have survived plagues, fires, and witch hunts. I can manage a few modern inconveniences.”

“Can you?” She tilts her head. “Because from where I’m standing, you can barely cast a spell.”