Chapter Fourteen

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The scream made my bones ache, as did the one after it. I didn't even want to imagine what was happening to Bridge, causing her to make such awful sounds. The whole night had passed before I found them and got help. What had she been forced to endure in my absence?

"Hurry up!" I hissed in the ear of the witch running beside me. He frowned, not able to answer in the present company, but sped up as much as he could, vaulting himself over a large root blocking his path.

"This way!" he called to the other officers with him, motioning them in the direction of the sounds.

"We hear it, too, Rogers," one of the cops panted, running as fast as he could as well, his gun clutched tightly in his hands. "We've got him this time."

Rogers was the only one who knew I was there. He was also the only witch-the one person I'd thought could help me. Working with the local police department had been Garrett's idea, integrating us with normal society. It had made it possible for us to help with many cases over the years, quietly using magic and extra force when needed.

I couldn't think of another time that we'd needed more force.

The area in front of us had fallen silent, the absence of Bridge's screams more terrifying than the sound of them. My heart clenched in my chest and I shot forward, the cabin and shed coming into view among the trees.

"I'm going to check it out," I called back to Rogers, who was just barely coming into view behind me. He held up a hand to his fellow officers, drawing his gun carefully and inserting a shiny, silver bullet.

For once, I was thankful that I was a spirit. I could move much faster in this form, as well as move through barriers with ease. Quickly, I slipped into the house, looking over the small, barely furnished space. There was nothing here.

Faster than I could blink, I soared over to the garage, passing through the wall and stopping in my tracks.

Bridge had passed out, I was certain, which explained her silence. That wasn't what gave me pause, though.

She had no legs. Each one had been sawed off above the knee and laid out on the floor. One of her arms, the one that had been bitten before, had also been removed at the elbow and was lying next to her shins. Her head had rolled back, making me think for an instant that it had been removed as well, but no-she was only unconscious.

The wolf, a large man covered in her old blood, was patiently sawing on her other arm, a small smile of satisfaction on his face.

My blood boiled as I used every ounce of strength I had not to pounce on him myself. There was nothing I could physically do here, which made me even more angry. All I wanted was to swoop in and carry her away, to put her back together and make her whole once more.

Quickly, I slipped back outside, eyeing the massive police force that had gathered around the shack.

"She's inside, passed out. They're going to catch him in the act."

Rogers nodded as I whispered to him, raising his gun as he inched toward the door. Motioning to the others around him, they all crept forward, only the sound of the sawing coming from inside. Looking to his partner for assurance, Rogers cleared his throat and shouted as loud as he could.

"New Orleans PD! Come out with your hands up!"

"That's not going to work," I growled, feeling my defenses bristling as I waited for the brute to show himself."

"I know," Rogers hissed. "I have to say it!"

If any of the other officers heard him, they didn't say anything, the entire group frozen as they waited. The sound of the saw continued inside and I made an impatient sound of fear and frustration. What if he lit her on fire? She would be gone forever.

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