Gray witch, p.15
Gray Witch, page 15
“The pendant, or the grimoire, absorbed the choker.” Asa smoothed his thumb over the striking result. “I can still sense Grandmother’s magic within it.”
“I feel it.” I stared down at the oddly beautiful combination. “Her magic, I mean. Her intent?” I wasn’t sure of the proper term. “It’s soothing, like a cold shower on a hot day. The grimoire isn’t pressing down on me. I don’t feel it, or the pendant. Their presence is just…gone.”
“Perhaps the chain interpreted Grandmother’s wishes in an unexpected way.”
“Hmm.” I mulled over that. “I wonder if calling the grimoire out would separate them.”
“Would it hurt you to try?” Asa considered me. “Is it worth freeing the grimoire, even for a moment?”
“I’m not sure.” I examined the pendant, which hadn’t changed. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”
Before he could talk me out of it, I murmured the incantation. The grimoire popped out, and I caught it on my lap. I swear it almost hummed as if it were pleased to be free of its constraints.
With the book in my hands, I tried again. This time, I focused on the chain. I could sense it on the edge of my awareness, pulsing with light, with warmth, with love infused by its creator. But it refused to budge. It was well and truly stuck.
“Well, it was worth a shot.” I returned the grimoire, which fought me every step. “So, your mom.”
“Your introduction didn’t go how I imagined, but she takes extreme measures where my father is concerned.” He took my hand. “She’s entitled to that, but it was hard to hear her test you on your ability to love both halves of me. As if it was the worst obstacle we’ve faced.”
“Her heart was in the right place.” I made myself believe it. “She’s aware of her faults, and she wants better for you than what she could give. I can respect that. She might not have gone about it the best way, but it shows she cares.” I leaned into his touch. “For both of you.”
Asa was all about seizing the moments given to us between cases, and I was ready to grab one now.
Sadly, not the one in his pants.
“There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.” I shrugged off my unease, given the nature of his mother’s test, but I was asking for the right reasons. “Can you keep a secret from the daemon?”
“Yes,” he said without reservation, and his trust sparked warmth in my chest.
A little afraid of his reaction, I asked, “How do you feel about skimming some baby name sites with me?”
11
Callula had regained her calm by the time we returned to our room, and she had dredged up smiles that could pass as authentic for both of us. Her ability to mask her emotions was impressive, since I was certain she hadn’t magically become okay with what happened to her mother’s choker.
As much as I wished Asa could reassure her, he couldn’t explain the reason behind its disappearance without exposing the grimoire. And whatever abomination I created when the choker fused with the pendant concealing it.
“I’ve done what I came to do.” She embraced Asa and kissed his cheek. “I should return home.”
“Safe travels.” I stiffened when she hugged me too. “It was nice to meet you.”
“I’ll be on my best behavior next time.” She bussed my cheek. “I can’t wait to see what beautiful children you two make.” She hesitated at the door. “I hope the choker will lend you some protection, wherever it’s gone.”
“I hope so too.” I touched the fused chain. “Thank your mother for me.”
“She’s eager to make your acquaintance.” Callula exited the room. “Until next time, dears.”
After the door shut behind her, I slumped into the vacant task chair. “What is it with your family?”
“You’ll have to be more specific, I’m afraid.”
“Babies.” I stared up at him. “Can I meet someone who doesn’t want to see me knocked up?”
Too late, I realized I was digging at the same wound that Meg had chided me for, but Asa was grinning.
“Clay has always wanted to be an uncle to a passel of nieces and nephews.”
Ha. Ha.
No.
“Now you’re just being mean.” I hesitated. “How many is a passel anyway?”
A buzz in my pocket drew my attention to my phone, which flashed an unfamiliar number. “Hollis.”
“Meg passed along your intel,” a deep voice rumbled. “I’d like to offer you my services, free of charge.”
“We appreciate that, Mr.…?”
“You can call me Derry.”
“Okay, Derry.” I should have guessed he would be Meg’s choice of champion. “When can we meet?”
“Now.” He came off grim. “I was already on my way when Meg’s intermediary touched base with me.” A beeping noise filled his end of the line. “The local pack thought they had a rogue on their hands, but one of their elders recognized Old Man Fang and reached out to me.”
With their pack in regular contact with Meg, who provided legal services to anyone who could afford her advice, I could see why other wargs might think Derry would know how to handle a vengeful spirit.
Not that I would ever tell Meg I had just mentally lumped her in with those.
Oops.
“Tell us where you are, and we’ll meet you there in ten.” He rattled off an address I memorized then ended the call. “Derry is the current alpha of Meg’s pack.” I thumped the phone against my thigh. “He’s crossing state lines to help. That’s a big deal.”
Shifters, more than any other faction, carried the stigma of being mindless beasts when they turned and for being animalistic while in their human forms. For the most part, that wasn’t true. Four-legged predators were far less likely to be frivolous killers than the two-legged varieties. But people did enjoy their classic monsters.
Word of a feral warg killing humans, even a dead one raised for that purpose, could be a PR nightmare.
As we left our room, I noticed a light on in the maintenance office. I hesitated a step but walked on to the SUV. No one in their right mind kept an alpha waiting when he was willing to extend a hand—or a nose—to aid in an ongoing investigation. Particularly since he stood a better chance in a fight with Old Man Fang than we did, if we found him.
The GPS led us to a cemetery on the outskirts of town where a fit man in his midforties leaned against a truck parked off the shoulder of the road. His eyes gleamed gold in the shine of the headlights, confirming this was our alpha warg. His hair was cut short, red-gold, and his scruffy beard was styled with care.
Alphas were all about appearance. They had to be. Otherwise, the pack they so lovingly tended would rise up, rip out their throat, and crown a stronger king, or queen, to rule them.
“Rue Hollis,” he greeted me with a half-smile. “Our most frequent customer.”
“Meg’s worth it.” I walked up to shake his hand. “She’s a dear friend.”
“She says the same about you.” He flicked Asa a glance. “You, she just calls the Jawbreaker.”
“The Jawbreaker?” I got a bad feeling about this, but I asked him anyway. “Why would she do that?”
“What do you do with hard candy?”
“You put it in your mouth.”
“And?”
“You suck on it.”
Derry allowed a small laugh to escape before he strode to Asa and shook his hand. “Good to meet you.”
Right then, I decided I liked Derry. Anyone who treated Asa with respect earned the same from me.
“You as well.” Asa dipped his chin. “We appreciate your help, and the heads-up on the nickname.”
“Don’t let Meg get to you. She had everyone calling me Dirty Santa for six years after an unfortunate Christmas incident involving a Santa suit, the stripper playlist for my mate’s pole dancing classes, and a bottle of hot sauce.”
A genuine smile broke across Asa’s face, and I wanted to clutch my hands to my black heart.
Then I felt mildly creepy for the maternal aww moment at him making a potential friend.
“This is where Old Man Fang was buried?” I attempted to play it cool and not hover. “Any idea where?”
“Can you smell it?” Derry asked Asa. “It’s giving me hives from here.”
“Silver,” he agreed. “I have the same reaction to the ironwork.”
“I didn’t realize smelling it bothered you.” I pressed a hand into his chest. “It won’t hurt you, will it?”
“Not unless he licks the rust off the ornaments.” Derry snickered at my scowl then set off beside Asa. “My mate’s the same way. She acts like I’m going to step out the front door on the way to work, trip, and fall on a piece of antique silverware that stabs me through the heart.”
Asa strangled his chuckle when he caught me switching my glare to him, but I was secretly delighted.
“To be fair, Rue has picked iron bullets out of me.” Asa kept pace with Derry. “She saved my life.”
“I respect the ferocity of alpha females.” Derry raised his hands. “Mine scented colloidal silver mixed in with my wine.” He paused. “That I only drink with my mate so she doesn’t have to drink alone.” He cleared his throat. “She tried to become my official food and drink taster, as if I would consent to that.”
Hanging back, I texted Clay while Asa and Derry bonded over their mates smothering them.
>We’re at a cemetery with backup, hunting Old Man Fang’s burial site.
>>You’re braver than me. I wouldn’t step foot in one with the way things have been going.
>You got anything?
>>The motel owner is too cheap to pay for Wi-Fi for his guests, so it’s a safe bet he’s not our guy.
>Who does that leave?
>>There’s one long-term renter Colby found through means she says you’re better off not knowing.
>You’ve got his room number?
>>Do we look like amateurs to you?
“Rue.” Asa dragged me from my phone. “The glow.”
>I’ll touch base when we finish up here.
“Clay says he’s got a lead for us when we can juggle it.”
“Probably best we don’t talk from this point in,” Derry told me. “Just in case.”
The advice was sound, so I put away my phone and tuned in our surroundings. I didn’t expect to bump into trouble out here. Old Man Fang’s remains had been removed in order to place him under the spellcaster’s control, but I was happy to turn this operation over to Derry.
Ahead, a dark mound of earth beneath a blackened headstone marked our destination. No name graced the raw hunk of marble, and no mementoes had been left to honor the dead. Under the dirt, however, a brutal reminder of the grave’s occupant rested within the shadowy depths.
A tarnished cage of pure silver, just as the story had claimed.
Derry crouched and drew air into his lungs, careful not to get too close. It made me wonder if silver residue leaching into the soil was a concern, which flipped into worry over potential rust particles.
“We’re alone,” he announced. “No ghosts, summoners, or anything else I can sense.”
Asa held up a finger then let flames take him as he grew into the daemon.
“Damn,” Derry breathed. “Meg was right. You are a big fella.”
“Eat lots of cookies,” the daemon told him solemnly. “Smell grave?”
“Knock yourself out.” Derry shot to his feet when the daemon leapt into the grave. “Careful in there.”
A twinge made me brace for him to imply the daemon was clumsy or careless, but Derry was in awe.
“I’d give you a hand up,” he told the daemon, “but I can’t get that close. There’s silver dust mixed in with the dirt.”
Well, that explained that. They really didn’t want this guy to rise. Pity someone ignored those wishes.
“Can get out.” The daemon climbed up without a hitch. “Got scent.”
“You’re a tracker too?” Derry’s eyes brightened. “You ever consider hunting with a pack?”
The offer froze both the daemon and me in place, but he recovered first.
“Rue pack.” He wiggled his fingers at me. “Hunt with her for bad people.”
“Nah.” Derry yanked off his shirt. “I mean a real hunt. For deer, mostly.” He kicked off his shoes. “We get calls to put down problem animals too. Cougars and the like that have developed a taste for people. You should come.” He shoved down his pants. “The way I hear it, Rue’s mom used to run with our pack back in the day. I doubt anyone would care if you gave it a go.”
“Rue come too?”
“That’s up to her.” He pivoted toward me. “You want to run with the wolves?”
Right now, I wanted to ignore the fact he was butt naked and giving me a full frontal.
“I’ll take it under consideration.” I kept my eyes averted. “I’m not much for hunting.”
The blood, the death, the heart offered up to the one who made the killing bite…
“It’s not the same as a pack run,” he agreed. “Those are about family time and playing, building pack bonds.” He stepped behind a bush. “I’ll need about fifteen minutes.”
For what almost popped out of my mouth before it hit me.
He was shifting.
Right there.
With us to overhear his grunts and pants as his body snapped and reformed into a new shape.
Mom had been considered pack. Meg had loved her like a sister. I understood that gave me leeway with their pack, but it was access I never cashed in on. I was content maintaining my ties to Meg and financially supporting her pack in exchange for her help in legal matters. I never stopped to consider the pack might view me as adopted kin, but Meg was their matriarch. It should have occurred to me before.
The daemon loped over to me, grinning wide. “Go on hunt with Derry?”
“I want you to go.” I patted his arm. “He seems nice, and a hunt like that would be amazing.”
I would miss Asa something fierce if they went too far for too long, but it would be the experience of a lifetime for the daemon.
“You pet.” He thrust his hair into my hand. “I show Rue best hunting pose.”
The pose was not a pose, but a variation on the Mystic Mambo. I really had to warn Derry what he had gotten himself into with the daemon. If he busted out moves like these while they were on a hunt, prey would hear them coming a hundred miles away.
A cold nose bumped the back of my hand, and I jerked when a lean gray wolf lolled his tongue at me.
“Ready?” The daemon walked up to Derry. “Race me?”
The wolf gave an eager yip, his tail wagging, and it made me wonder if Derry was behind the wheel or if he was more of a copilot in this form. Maybe four legs simply made him happier and more playful. The daemon was certainly both those things.
“You can race to the end of the cemetery road, but that’s it.” I set my hands on my hips. “Any farther, and you might be seen.” Pack magic might blur the lines until folks saw a dog instead of a wolf, but a crimson-skinned daemon with ebony horns and muscles for days was hard to miss. “Are you sure…?”
They didn’t let me get out the rest of my question before they took off like a shot.
“I’m glad we had this talk,” I told a cloud of dust then muttered, “I hope they track as fast as they run.”
Ten minutes later, I caught up to them and tried hard not to notice the daemon playing fetch with the wolf. An alpha wolf. With a stick as long as my forearm.
And if I happened to snap a few pictures, maybe a short video, then I was documenting the damage. Yeah. Property damage. That was it. Not creating a blackmail folder. Because that would be wrong.
“Oh crap.” I jogged up to them. “That’s not a stick.”
The door to a nearby mausoleum hung at an odd angle, and the daemon looked way too innocent for his own good. Up close, I could tell the stick wasn’t just as long as my forearm, it was an ulna.
“Go put that back where you found it.” I ignored the daemon’s sulk. “We have a case to solve.”
The grumble in Derry’s throat turned into a huff and a humanlike head bob as he pitched in.
Once they set things to rights, I gestured for Derry to lead the way. This time, I walked behind him and left the daemon to follow me. Neither seemed happy about the arrangement, but I could schedule them a playdate later.
After we rounded up our summoning ring and banished all the vengeful spirits.
A transformation overcame Derry when he crossed the property line leaving the cemetery. Not as dramatic as the whole man-to-wolf thing he had going on, but it was impressive, nonetheless. Here was the predator I had anticipated, nose to the ground, ears perked for any sounds.
We walked three miles, according to my watch’s fitness app, and I set a pin when the guys stalled out.
The daemon circled around me, picking up on whatever Derry had located, and the pair stared at one another in silent understanding. Then the daemon pivoted toward me, plucked me up like a feather, and hauled me into a nearby tree. As I found my voice to yell at him for overreacting, a blue onryō shot straight at Derry, slamming into him with a deafening crunch.
The wolf was twice his size and three times as vicious as they bit and clawed and snarled at one another.
“I’m useless up here.” I climbed out of the daemon’s arms onto a limb. “I need contact for my magic to work.”
“Derry-wolf want test theory,” the daemon explained. “Told him bad idea.”
“We’ll give them sixty seconds, and then we’re going down there.”
“Deal.” The daemon grinned. “Rue have best ideas.”
“I have terrible ideas that get us into trouble.” I tapped him on the chin. “You just like trouble.”
“Best…” he parted his hair, ready to pass me a section, “…ideas.”
“Time,” I called without having glanced at my watch. “We need to break this up before it goes too far.”
The thing about ghosts was they were already dead. Theories were well and good, and I was all for testing them, but there were limits. Derry had a mate and a pack depending on him. I didn’t doubt he was capable in a fight, but I put myself into his mate’s shoes too easily. For her sake, I couldn’t stand by.
