Read The Magician's Mistake (The Fay Morgan Chronicles Book 1) for Free Online Page B

my head. “Women. I think.”
    We walked to them swiftly, keeping to the shadows as we neared.
    They moved together in twos and threes. Arm in arm. Smiling and laughing. Some of them were middle-aged, wearing gray braids and flowing skirts. Others wore all black, with steel-toed boots and pentagrams silk-screened onto their hoodies. A woman passed by with a pointed hat. All of them headed toward the Center House.
    “Interesting,” I murmured.
    “What?” Kestrel asked.
    “The Center House. It’s a large food court, but it’s also a crossroad. It used to be the city’s Armory during World War II, and all forms of military gathered there. Before that, the land was a meeting place for local tribes. I’ve always sensed the old powers of a crossroad there. In brighter days.”
    “A good spot for sorcery,” Kestrel said.
    I nodded and sighed as more women streamed by the spot where Kestrel and I crouched behind some laurel bushes.
    “I can’t wait to see this full-moon ritual,” one woman said.
    “So much fun. I’m going to ask for a prosperity blessing,” said another.
    I flexed my fingers, feeling the spells in each finger. Where was the witch who meant these women harm? Where was the witch who had my friend and my amulet?
    “I’ll slip in around the back,” Kestrel whispered. “I have a feeling these man-haters will not let me in the front door.”
    I stood up straighter and narrowed me eyes. “They aren’t—”
    He winked at me. “I know, love. Just wanted to get your Irish up. Look sharp in there. I’ll see you on the inside.”
    Before I could inform him I was no one’s love, he was gone.
    I stood, straightened my cloak, and then stepped into the stream of women, just behind four who wore long coats and spiky heels. I walked close enough to them that I would appear to be part of their clique, if anyone was watching. The best place to hide is often in plain sight. As we neared the open doors of the Center House, I saw a veil of magic that lay draped across the doors. It undulated purple and gray. When I passed through it to the inside, I felt a one-way barrier. These women could enter easily. Leaving would be a different matter.
    It was crowded inside, with hundreds of women milling about, making concentric circles around the middle of the room where I glimpsed something metal. The lights were low. A sound system piped in Enya-esque music. Women swayed to it. Around the room, beside every exit, stood the Greenlake moms. They had bags that pulsed with magic. If the magical barrier did not keep these women here, then the witch’s henchwomen would, I assumed.
    I stood watching the scene for a long moment, taking in the wide room, the darkened food stalls, and the tall, dark ceiling that led up to the open second floor. I then began to make my way to the center of the room. I needed to understand what lay there, before I acted. It felt like wading through water against the tide. Around me women hugged each other and chatted about their hopes and blessings for the full moon. I heard, over and over, how excited they were to be here, and how lucky Seattle was to have Jennifer in town.
    “Jennifer,” I whispered. The name tasted as bitter as poison on my tongue. I pushed through the women slowly, toward the metal … cage? Yes a cage, at the center of the room. There were so many women surrounding it that I couldn’t see it well, even though I was much closer now.
    The music beat louder, and a chanting whisper grew up around us. I looked around the room, and saw the henchwomen chanting. Women across the room took it up and began chanting, too. A simple verse.
    The full moon rises,
    And with it our power,
    United, we are sisters. United.
    I bit back the urge to scream at all of them to shut up. The inane chant opened them and made it much, much easier for this Jennifer to use my amulet to take their power. Even though none of them were true witches, and none of them had much magic, they were all alive. And