Don't Hex with Texas (Enchanted, Inc. #4)

Don't Hex with Texas (Enchanted, Inc. #4) Page 57

This time, Owen parked behind the library on the other side of the bank, a place that was more sheltered than the Dairy Queen and on a different major road. Sam stood guard in front of the bank.

“No sign of ’im yet, boss,” he reported.

“How are you for energy?” Owen asked.

“They’ve been having church services of some kind or another in this town from shortly after dawn until nearly sunset, and I’ve been basking on rooftops all day, so I’m fully charged.” He looked up at me and added, “Gargoyles get extra power when the church is having a service. All that worship really jolts up the juice. I could get to like it here, plenty of sunshine, lots of churches. Hey, boss, too bad you don’t got something you can plug into to recharge, other than tapping into the little lady here.” And then he gulped audibly and said, “I didn’t mean it that way. Sorry.”

“We’ll be hiding over there at the next building,” Owen said evenly, ignoring Sam’s last comment.

“Signal us when you see something.”

Sam perched on the roof over the bank’s doorway, and Owen and I took refuge in the doorway of the chamber of commerce building next door to the bank. There, we couldn’t help but be close to each other because it was hard to crowd into a doorway recess with another person without touching. I wasn’t sure whether I wanted our rogue wizard to hurry and get there or to take his sweet time. The proximity was practically intoxicating, I was so acutely aware of Owen’s nearness. I was on the verge of suggesting that I wait in another doorway so I wouldn’t be tempted to do anything that might disrupt the fragile balance we had going between us when Sam called out, “I think he’s coming.”

The wizard I’d seen before rounded the corner from the square. He wore the same homemade-looking robes he’d been wearing the day I saw him, and I couldn’t spot anything that might identify him to me. The hood draped so low that his face was hidden in shadows, the sleeves covered his hands, and the robe dragged on the ground, completely covering his shoes. He carried a satchel that didn’t have any distinguishing characteristics—no recognizable marks, no logos, and definitely no monogrammed initials, which would have been really helpful.

The wizard hid in the doorway of the building directly across the street from the bank, took some things out of his satchel and spread them around, then took a small booklet out and flipped through it.

Referring to the book every so often, he arranged the items in front of him. He lit a couple of candles, using matches instead of the wave of a hand the way Owen might have, and then I felt the tingle of magic building.

He repacked his bag, looked both ways up and down the street, darted across the street, and stood in front of the bank doorway. Raising his arms over his head, he chanted some words in hesitant Latin, and now I was sure it was a he because that was definitely a male voice. Then he stepped forward, and just as he was about to hit the wards, I felt another surge of magic from very close by. The wards flared up in bright light, and the wizard bounced off them, falling on his back on the sidewalk. I knew that wards were usually invisible, so Owen must have added the light show for effect. It would have been nice if we could have seen the junior wizard’s face to enjoy his reaction, but the hood hid him completely.

We’d just started to step off the doorstep to confront him when Sam gave another signal, this one silent. Headlights appeared, and a police car came slowly down the street. Owen immediately made the wards quit glowing, but it looked like the unusual light had attracted some attention, for the police car came to a stop in front of the bank. Our wizard crawled through the shadows to the side of the building, then took off running between buildings. I would have chased after him, but Owen gripped my arm.

“I can’t keep us hidden if we move very far,” he whispered.

We both held our breath as the police officer got out, swinging his flashlight back and forth. I couldn’t stop myself from wincing when the beam swept across us, but the cop didn’t seem to notice us. He leaned back into the car and got on the radio. “I thought I saw someone in front of the bank who ran off when I got here. I’m gonna check it out,” he said. The radio squawked, he paused to listen, then said, “Nah, I don’t think I need backup. Probably just some kid, but you never know, could be our mystery burglar.” He put the radio away, put his hand on his gun, and went in between the buildings, following the wizard’s path, but came back a moment later, empty-handed. He checked around the bank doorway, unaffected by the wards, then returned to his car.