AISLYNThe doorknob snaps off and clatters across the floor.

A boot slams into the door.

The witch lifts her hand and snaps her fingers lazily.

Instantly, every shadow in the room pulls upward like strings being yanked forming a swirling black cyclone above her head.

She doesn’t even look at me.

“They’re coming in,” I say sharply.

“They won’t touch you,” she replies. “Not before I decide.”

Another slam.

This one dents the door inward.

A male voice shouts, “Break it down! ...