Marriott was seated in a circle—rounded and carefully designed with chalk. Candles were placed all around it, along with strange inscriptions etched into the floor. He held a spell book in his hand, muttering words under his breath, when he suddenly stopped.

Whispers.

His head snapped toward the door.

“Someone is coming,” he muttered.

He didn’t need to be told his hideout had been discovered. The frantic footsteps outside, the sound of car engines approaching—it was already too late. ...