Distracted, he dabbed at his face, then looked down at his clothes and wondered what else he might have missed. Was his zipper down, too? James got back behind the wheel and slammed the door shut, the hinges squeaking a protest. Dust fanned out behind the tires as they pulled back on the highway towards the nearest town. “What happened to your arm?” he asked, doing a brief inspection of her body for clues while ostensibly watching the road. “I know every spell in that book and none of them call for a witch’s blood.”