Gray witch, p.23
Gray Witch, page 23
“As long as it doesn’t hurt anyone else, you’ll be free to do your own thing in your downtime.”
“Okay.” She rose to her feet. “I’ll show you where I buried the bones.”
We walked together, side by side, and I kept a close eye out for her onryō. I used the time to check the wound in my side. It wasn’t deep, but it leaked goop. It also tingled while the raw edges knit themselves together. Black, white, or gray, spontaneous healing wasn’t in the witch repertoire. I hadn’t done it, which meant it had been done to me. But how? Or worse, by whom?
Was the grimoire responsible? The choker? The pendant, at least, wasn’t capable of magic.
Or it hadn’t been. Until I fed it a grimoire. And it ate a blessed choker.
As the kids say…FML.
“Do you like being an agent?”
The question caught me off guard, but I wouldn’t lie to her. “It has its moments.”
“Will I have to kill anyone?”
She didn’t sound excited by the prospect of a license to kill, merely curious.
“Yeah.” I didn’t want to sugarcoat that either. “In the field, it’s kill or be killed on most cases.”
The conversation orbited the history of Black Hat and the duties of the agents. I answered all her questions to the best of my ability without allowing my relationship with the director to taint the facts. Mostly. Impossible to wipe the slate clean between him and me, even for her benefit.
“There.” She indicated a point between two trees. “Under the poison oak.”
“I’ve got your first assignment.” I jerked my chin toward the spot. “Start digging.”
“Can’t you magic the dirt out of the way?”
“I’m not a magical excavator, no.” That would be a handy talent, though. “But I can heal you after, so don’t worry about a rash.”
“You’re a black witch.” She stared a hole through me. “How can you heal?”
“I’m a gray witch,” I reminded her. “I was a black witch, but I embraced light magic. Except it doesn’t quite work like that after you’ve been tainted. Now I’m stuck in the middle.”
“You can do that?”
“It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but it’s worth it.”
Unlike me, she didn’t have Colby lighting a path back to white magic. But maybe, if she showed signs of a genuine desire to change, I could help guide her onto steadier ground. Right now, she was dizzy with the information I had given her. Probably terrified of what it all meant. She might think she wanted to be good, in light of getting caught. But only time would tell. I could ask Colby to keep tabs on her, but that was the best I could do until Trinity had fully assimilated into Black Hat and proven what type of agent she would become.
Wrinkling her nose, Trinity knelt among the weeds and began scooping the soft dirt with her hands. A few inches into her hole, she produced the first bone, and I inwardly sighed with relief that she had been honest about this much anyway. As the pile grew higher, I rolled my shoulders to dispel a prickling down my spine.
A smudge of blue teased the corner of my eye, and I whirled in time to duck the punch Malcom threw at me. Even less of him was present than the last time, which made me think the more you exploded them, the harder it was for them to come back together.
Good to know.
“You’re not rolling over for her,” he barked at Trinity. “Put those bones back where you got them.”
“I control you.” She dug faster, her breaths coming quicker. “Not the other way around.”
Malcom lunged for her, and she screamed, but he pulled up short, unable to harm his summoner.
“You think she’s going to let you go after what you’ve done?” He growled. “You’re going to burn, witch.”
While he was distracted, I rushed him, jabbing my wand into his wiggly mass. “No, she’s not.”
Magic burst forth, and he melted into a puddle at my feet.
“That’s new.” I put Trinity back to work. “Maybe there’s a limit on how many times they can reform.”
More good news, but my observations wouldn’t help Asa or Clay. They had Markus and Emmett on their hands, and no magic to detonate the onryō. We had to hurry this along, before the guys got hurt. If I could get my hands on both skeletons, I could end this.
“That’s it.” Trinity tossed a skull onto the pile. “The tiny bits are in the plastic container.”
When I realized what I was seeing, I wanted to bang my head against the tree. “This is only Malcom.”
“Advent told us we each had to do it alone and keep the location to ourselves.”
“Okay.” I gestured her aside. “Stand back.”
Drawing on Colby, I spoke the words to reduce the bones to ash then grappled with my kit to locate a small vial. I knelt beside the hole, swept the ashes into it, dumped in the salt, and gave it a stir.
A foul odor wafted up to curl around me, and Trinity’s knees buckled with a violent jerk.
The bond between onryō and summoner had been broken.
Thank the goddess.
Quickly, I filled in the hole, tamped it down hard, and set a simple ward around the area that would dissolve over time with exposure to the elements. Overkill? Maybe. I didn’t have time to dwell on it.
Pushing to my feet, I went to Trinity and checked her pulse. Steady. I patted her down to ensure no nasty surprises waited for me, but all she had on her was a pottery shard turned keychain that throbbed with magic. One I was willing to bet matched the smashed vase from the mausoleum.
Heaving her upright, I propped her back against a tree and used a binding spell to pin her arms behind her. One less thing to worry about.
With her secure, I went in search of the guys. I didn’t have to go far before I heard the daemon bellow. I homed in on his rage and let it guide me. Soon, Clay’s shouts entered the mix, and I knew I was on the right track. As I burst through a clump of wild blueberry bushes, I spotted them.
Clay held Markus in check while the daemon fought Emmett with varying degrees of success.
The daemon was coated in green slime, and it slicked his feet, making him slide when he moved too fast. His fury only grew as the onryō bobbed and weaved out of his grasp, immune to the goo. One wrong step, and the daemon went down on his side.
I took advantage of the opening and rushed Emmett from behind. I clutched his arm, lighting him up with a thought, and he splattered us and the surrounding area. Markus, stunned by the apparent defeat of his champion, quit struggling to glare at me with so much hate, I felt it like a slap in the face.
“Where’s my sister?” He scanned over my shoulder. “What have you done with her?”
Ignoring his demands, I asked Clay, “Have you searched him?”
“Not yet.” He began patting him down. “Looking for anything in particular?”
“A pottery shard.” I held up Trinity’s. “Like this one.”
The sight of her keychain sent Markus into a fit. “What have you done with Trini?”
“She’s safe,” I assured him. “We’ll fetch her when we’re done here.”
“Got it.” Clay held up another keychain. “What is it?”
Since Marita texted, I had my theories, but why not go to the source? “Answer the question.”
“A bunch of weird crap was buried with the Boo Brothers,” Markus clipped out. “It looked like thrift store rejects to me, but Advent claimed they were powerful relics that would help us with our quest.”
Our quest.
Further evidence these kids had too much black magic swirling through them to care they were killers.
“What was special about the vase?”
“He told us to smash it and send everyone in the ring a piece.” His lips pulled back over his teeth. “It conceals the smell of black magic.”
Well, that was one mystery solved. I bet there was another shard in the inn itself to keep out the stink even while the Amhersts weren’t home. Same for the other locations.
“You can’t leave Trini alone.” He jerked against Clay. “Emmett isn’t under her control.”
“Emmett is sludge, so let’s have a chat before he pulls himself back together.”
“I have nothing to say to you until you let me see my sister.”
“Then we’re at an impasse. Guess we’ll just stand here and wait on Emmett to regenerate. Do you think he can sense his brother’s dead? Again? What do you bet he hunts down your sister first thing to confirm it?” I hated playing hardball, but this kid needed a wake-up call. “That would suck, huh? She’s tied up at the moment. I wonder what Emmett—?”
“What do you want?” He connected the dots. “The bones?”
“Got it in one.” I hooked my hands on my hips. “Will you lead us to them?”
Gaze swinging between the globs of ectoplasm and the direction I came from, he stalled. “I…”
“Looks like he’s made his choice.” I jerked my chin at Clay. “I’ll bind him, and we’ll bring him in.”
“No.” He fought against Clay’s immoveable hold. “I’ll show you.” He grew frantic. “Please. Just help her.”
“Bones first.” I didn’t want to give him a chance to flake on us. “We handle that, and she’s safe.”
Fury and guilt and maybe a tinge of relief twisted his features until I couldn’t be sure how he felt. Maybe, after everything, he didn’t know either.
“This way.” He yanked on Clay. “Emmett is buried near the house.”
“Really?” That edged us closer to his sister, and I wasn’t buying it. “You sure about that?”
Frustration twitched the skin beneath his eye, but he held firm to his story. “The bones are in a stump.”
“The stump where you fed them that teen?”
An epiphany struck, and I finally had my answer for the Boos’ uncanny ability to manifest in daylight. The land was the key. Their bones were buried there, yes, but they had been fed there as well. That was how they drew strength to rival the sun. That same tether explained why they didn’t chase me out of town or hunt me down after I left. They couldn’t. They were leashed. Trapped. They could only go so far or poof.
“You saw that?” He pulled up short. “How…?”
“Doesn’t matter.” I knew the stump’s whereabouts, so I led us there, careful to cut a wide swath around Trinity’s location. “I know you’re a killer. Your sister filled in the blanks for me. She confessed to the murders.” Malcom’s kills, at least. “Do you have anything to add?”
“If Trini told you, then you already know.”
A diplomatic answer, which meant any deaths in Raymond she hadn’t confessed to would be added to his and Emmett’s tab.
Only after we reached the stump, and Markus illustrated how to swing open the top, did we discover the bones nestled in a plastic bag filled with grave dirt. There were spells too, fresh off the printer. Supplies for those spells. And a notebook with a kill list that was refined over several pages where he and Trinity had passed it back and forth while arguing the merits of who deserved to die for what they allowed to be done to them. The reasons were sound, from their point of view, and it ended with the name of the boy who had filmed Trinity.
“Samuel Todd,” I read the name. “He was the teen you killed after we checked in.”
Ballsy of them to commit a murder within screaming distance of people who identified as FBI.
“I told Trini we had to act fast.” His scowl cut deeper. “That something was off about you two.”
“I’m going to give you the same choice I gave her.” I slapped the book shut. “But I need to handle your buddy first.” I passed the book and other materials to Clay then dumped the bones into the hidey-hole. “This won’t take but a minute.”
This time, when I reached for Colby’s energy, I sensed the blip that was her exhaustion.
“Last one,” I told her. “Can you handle it?”
From high above us, her tiny voice drifted down to me. “Do you really need to ask?”
“She makes a good point, Rue.” Clay chuckled. “She’s just like you. She would rather die in the process than admit she’s too tired.”
“Who said that?” Markus tensed. “Who else is out there?”
“Another member of our team.” I ignored his mulish glower. “One you won’t be meeting.”
A high-pitched scream rent the night, and Markus twisted so hard, he broke free of Clay and ran.
“Go,” I ordered Clay and the daemon. “I can handle this.”
I made the mistake of watching them go before I refocused on my task, and impact from behind knocked me to one knee. I twisted, expecting to find Emmett, and I was half right. The bottom half. From his belt down, if you want to get technical.
No clue how he saw me or sensed me, but he had brought me down to his level. I wheeled back, but it was too late. His boot made contact with my jaw, and I saw stars.
Rising onto my elbows, I let him get a leg’s length away before I kicked him in the junk hard enough to rattle his teeth. Not that he had any. Just as his brother had clung to habits of the living, so did Emmett. He hit his knees then fell forward, his crotch mashed into the grass while his feet kicked the dirt in agony.
Stretching my arm as far as it would go, I ignited the sack of bones. The haunted legs fell still and then reduced to a puddle. I flipped onto my stomach and rose to my knees over the stump. I stirred salt into the mix of ash and grave dirt then swung the top shut. A quick spell that didn’t require Colby’s assistance let me seal it closed so that Emmett wouldn’t be disturbed again.
About the time I wobbled onto my feet, I heard the daemon crashing through the underbrush.
“Rue okay?” He wasted no time scooping me up and squishing me against him. “Ghost dead?”
“Ghost dead.” I slumped against his shoulder, exhausted from the magic. “Why did Trinity scream?”
“Spider crawl on nose.” He swung me into a bridal carry. “Not even big spider.” He scoffed. “Tiny one.”
With her hands tied, she had been forced to let it do its thing. I could sympathize. After my run-in with the giant spiders guarding my grandmother, I had developed a mild case of arachnophobia myself.
“I called Marty and explained our situation.” Clay looked me over with concern. “His team is coming to scoop up the Amhersts.”
“Tell him to collect the parents’ remains while he’s at it. The kids can tell him where to dig.”
“Will do.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I gave Markus The Talk, and he agreed to join. That nets us two new recruits.” He hesitated. “You’ve never recruited. Anyone. Ever.” He touched my arm. “You sure you’re okay with this?”
Comfortable in the daemon’s arms, a mumbled affirmation was all I could manage.
“Rue sleep.” The daemon petted me. “I carry.”
That sounded good to me, and as soon as Colby lit on my chest, it was lights out.
17
“To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”
Dressed in his Black Hat best, the director lounged in a wingback chair in his office. He appeared healthy, but he was a master of illusion. Had I not called ahead to request a private meeting, a courtesy from one predator to another, this conversation might have occurred in his room, with him in bed as he recovered from the grievous wounds I could smell on him from here.
The idea had been to arrive sporting bruises from the Boo Brothers’ last stand as proof I had been in a fight for my life, but the swelling and discoloration had vanished before I could put them to good use.
“I came to deliver the news about Parish in person.” I stood at parade rest behind the visitor’s chair across from him. “He’s dead.” A slight tilt of the director’s head was the only reaction he gave to this announcement, though he must know by now. “You and I don’t see eye to eye on much, but we—”
“You recruited two young black witches. Siblings, I believe.”
“I did.” I knew it would convince him as few things would, that I was ready. “I thought it was time.”
That snagged his interest, and he leaned forward, wincing before he could smooth his features. “Oh?”
“I want Parish’s job.” I did my best to appear earnest. “I want to fix what’s wrong with the Bureau.”
“You want to dismantle my legacy.” He leaned back to ease the strain on what I suspected were abdominal wounds. “No.” He flicked a dismissive hand. “I have another candidate in mind.”
“Your candidate didn’t kill Parish.”
Silence flooded the room until our hearts, mine steady, his labored, were the only sounds.
“That’s not possible.” He looked me up and down. “I know who killed him.”
“Oh?” I strove for innocence. “Who?”
Even now, when he knew Dad was responsible, he didn’t risk speaking him into existence.
“Witnesses report a great black bird who smelled of carrion attacked the dragon.”
“And?”
“Only one man has ever summoned such wings, and he died long ago without sharing his secrets.”
For a second, I thought an understanding pulsed between us. The old he knew that I knew that he knew that I knew Dad was alive deal. But he wasn’t willing to step up to that line, and I wasn’t willing to cross it either.
“Or perhaps—” I tasted bile admitting this much, “—he wrote it all down.”
“A grimoire?” The director’s attention swung back to me. “His grimoire?”
Again, I waited for him to use his son’s name or allude to my father, but he didn’t.
“Do you want your proof, or don’t you?” I acted bored. “Appoint me deputy director, and I’ll show you my new trick.”
“Done.” His eagerness made me squirm. “The job is yours, if you can produce those wings.”
The words I spent the hour beforehand practicing spilled from my lips as I raised my arms to either side. I smelled the magic before I saw it, ripping through my spine and anchoring itself in my flesh. I flexed the new appendages, blowing the director’s hair back from the might of the gale they produced in such close quarters. Black tendrils curled over my shoulders, but soon the color leached to a silvery gray.
