“Dammit!”

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Another flame fizzled out. Why wasn’t even the initial portion of the spell working?

“Maybe it’s me.” She considered the thought with a rare expression of timidity. “I might need to rest up some more before it works again.”

Musings aside, the window of opportunity to deliver the promised goods was closing fast. Depleted or not, she had to figure out a way to make this happen, or else.

The or else was too horrid to entertain. Plus, she’d never considered that as her fate. She was a winner, always succeeding at anything she put her mind to accomplish. Here she was well into the midday with nothing to show for all her preparation and work.

She’d cast too many failed attempts at the complex spell to open a portal through Zia for today’s failures to be a fluke. Everything felt off, out of alignment even.

She’d stared out the picturesque floor to ceiling window all morning as the early morning hues of sunlight slowly overtook the azure blues, purples and salmon pinks of the night. Just like the constant factor of change to remind her that time marched onward, always producing a brand new day.

It wasn’t until the fog of sleep had finally released its hold on her hours later that she’d attempted to try the spells again. The sun sat high in the sky accusing and threatening impending doom as attempt after attempt returned no victory.

What was she missing today that hadn’t been a part of the equation last night? Resistance pushed back as she sought to probe the depths of the conscious collective. The more she dare delve into the pool of the psychic realm the farther away her target seemed to move.

Was there someone helping that slutty idiot? That was no matter. No one or nothing could save that twat from her coming judgment.

She was tired, having gotten snatches of fitful sleep. Her mind had looped over and over again of her coming so close only to have the victory slip away. She’d chased the elusive hope of success over and over in her sleep. Now, this. Nothing worked as it should.

Taking a moment to think through the careful and precise process, her mind, brilliant and lightning fast, focused on isolating possible culprits.

She batted down frustration as it crept in to erode her confidence that the spell would work. Long ago, she’d practiced the art of emotional detachment save the most powerful ones to help her succeed in her singular quest. She wouldn’t be denied.

Her intel was correct, the ingredients were of the purest quality, and the spell had progressed to the last stage without incident the other night. Nothing had changed, or had it?

“Something has changed with the subject.”

The finality of her words confirmed that what she spoke was correct.

Not only hadn’t Zia turned up on any of her scrying spells or digital trackers, but the mutt’s DNA no longer responded as it should. Damn, that meant she’d need more samples collected and to readjust the spell to lock onto the target.

Why was anything to do with Zia Carter always so messy? Never a straight shot. No, not with that whore. Her thoughts fixated on how squirrelly Zia had become.

What could be so powerful to change this woman that much over the course of a day? Not only wasn’t the spell working, but she was also down to her last dregs of ingredients.

The Group expected results. Results she’d assured them she could deliver. There was no way on the hidden grave of all she loved would she fail again. Time was evaporating into the past with each second.

“Think, you’ve got to think this through. There’s always a perfectly logical reason and answer.”

Another mental rundown of each step and action revealed nothing new. Her only recourse was to strengthen the power of the spell, but how?

The answer slithered to the forefront of her mind with a smooth grace that bolstered the confidence she’d relied on to do everything that had gotten her to this point.

Victory was close enough for her to reach out and touch it. That had to be the missing ingredient—physical presence.

She needed to get Zia to come to her. Ideas began to surge of which options she could choose to set the perfect mousetrap or even better, cage.

A glance over at the current burner phone and special one used for this project made her nose itch with an odd mix of anger and glee.

On the one hand, she hated having to put an asset in play when they weren’t thoroughly shaped and trained to carry out her will. This one still thought there was a chance.

On the other, she had many cards up her sleeves that could be activated and put into the game.

“Ha!”

The audible laugh at the absurdity of entertaining defeat for the barest of moments pumped a bit of elation through her veins. With that bump of energy, her thoughts returned to the managed stream of conscious she’d worked on by force of will over the years.

“There are always options that like to hide and make you work for them.”

Instead of dreading the tasks she’d enact, her body worked to push out the toxins from fear and dread that didn’t serve her cause. It was a good thing to right the wrongs of this world. Plus, no rule said she had to do it with a heavy heart.

So what if she had to answer to The Group? Once they fulfilled their part of the deal, she’d work to overthrow their tyrannical reign as well. Yes, her plan was destined to work, for the good it would bring.

She had to remember to have as much fun as possible with every aspect of her scheme. The ultimate orgasmic payoff would come soon enough. For now, she had some professional tasks and training to attend to.

This time when she eyed the phones, it was with delight. Her smile grew as she took a moment to enjoy the thrill of excitement that crested over her like a great tide.

Yes, she’d savor every part of this amendment to the project. Her being almost glided over to where the phones lay on the counter.

Her heart thudded hard against her chest as the first call with the special phone routed through the digital wireless invisibility of technology to reach the intended recipient. There wasn’t an answer. No worries. She left a message.

The call after that was easy and quite enjoyable. People were so predictable, and their motivations easier to manipulate with her talents and skills. Once she’d enabled the app to morph her voice to the one used with this source, she fed the receiver her instructions, sent the paltry payment required, and ended the call in less than seven minutes.

Technology and science were beautiful elements to have at her disposal.

That call placed, she turned her attention to the part of her plan that showed the most probability of success. It was time to stroke her pet. She made her final call.

The programmed button performed its job, and soon the voice that would help her set a trap picked up, voice showing signs of what she liked to hear—obedience—resounded and ready to do as she commanded.

It was time for her bidding to be carried out.

She gave short, simple instructions and hung up. Satisfied with the new segments of her grand plan and the bit of insurance she’d paid for plan B, it was time to get a bit of rest.

In short order, things would be hopping at the beat of her drum. Before rest, she’d do the final preparations for her guests.

Looking around the room, the order of things had slipped out of their places. Allowing her compulsion for order to take over, she tidied up and put everything into the large bedroom suite where her grand finale would take place.

“Soon. I vow with every ounce of my being that you’re going to be at my mercy.” She almost cooed the next words, as if weaving a lullaby. “Every bit of anguish, hurt, pain, and despair to be had will visit you at my bidding. That is a promise I make to you,” she said looking down at another photocopy of the social media picture of Zia Carter.