Demon Accords 10: Rogues (19 page)

“That means…” she asked.

“Find, in Gaelic,” he answered as they both watched the hairs creep around the map. 

“I don’t get it.  The bodies with all the fur are in the truck and the girl is in the room… shouldn’t we get a reading for just that?” she asked. 

“Great point.  I didn’t explain that very well at all,” he said.  “I should have said that the hairs will seek out other hairs and since I’ve cast the spell to ignore the bodies and the girl in the building, they’ll go to the next biggest source.  Kind of like when you find the tare weight of the dish on the scale and subtract it when you’re weighing powders or liquids.”

“Which would be their lair?  What about their homes… their old homes?”

He pointed at the tablet.  All four samples headed north on the map, sliding eerily toward Fetter.  The map scale changed on its own and she didn’t know if that was Declan or Omega doing it.  The immediate area around Fetter grew larger, and additional detail appeared on the screen.  The hair and fur particles formed into tight little bundles around the map, but in one spot, they all commingled and circled up.

“That’s a big area of town.  Doesn’t it focus any tighter?” she asked, pointing at the circle.  The individual clumps were probably the individual weres’ old homes, she thought.

He was frowning.  “I think there’s a ward blocking the location,” he said.  “She would put one up to block this sort of thing, but it still narrows it down.  Between Omega’s research and the sheriff’s guys, we can probably figure it out.”

Stacia was looking closely at the map on the tablet, her eyes following the little river that flowed through the town while she remembered what she had seen of the village. The river crossed the center of the circle of hair right in the middle of town.

“Actually, I think I know where they are,” she said.

“The Fetter paper mill?” Sheriff Grable asked.

“It’s abandoned and closed down, right?” Stacia asked back at him.

“Yes, it’s been mothballed for about a year, but there is at least one caretaker who checks on it,” the sheriff said.

“Chances are he hasn’t been as thorough as you might think.  And probably doesn’t even know it,” Declan said, not looking up from the pile of little wooden chips he was etching and drilling.  They were standing around the desk he was working at, situated at the back of the room.  Curious deputies were blatantly watching from every angle.

“That obfuscation thingy?” the sheriff asked before noticing all the eyes watching.  “Hey,
don’t you all have things you should be doing?”

“These things will help us with that, right?” Deputy Devany asked, ignoring the sheriff.

“Yeah, I might have bent the truth a bit with Alder.  These should be at least a little better than one shots.  Especially because this wood all came from that little oak out back.  The tree is part of your official space, so that connection will lend strength to the runes of protection I’m using,” Declan said, starting to run cord through the little holes he had drilled in the oval chips.  One of the deputies did a lot of carpentry on the side and had some eighteen-volt rechargeable tools in his pickup truck.  Declan had borrowed a cordless drill and saw.

“Sheriff, we can hand these out now,” Declan said.  Before the sheriff could answer or call his troops, the entire staff in the station stopped whatever they were pretending to be doing and circled around.

“Okay, keep these under your shirts.  We want the surprise on our side.  Plus, if the witch sees them, she’ll know they aren’t heavy duty,” Declan explained.

“But hers is heavy duty?” Devany asked, pointing at Stacia.

“I harvested the stone from under a hundred-year-old Rowan tree at the peak of a full moon, then spent three days crafting the copper wire into perfect runes.  It’s the strongest ward I’ve ever made,” Declan said, eyeing the deputy as if figuring his angle.

“Just wondered if she would be protected if she’s in—you know?  Fur form,” Devany said.

“Somebody rates pretty high,” Hutch murmured from his spot next to Stacia where he was watching.  Shorty, Carl, and Hutch were all about to catch a ride back north to Fetter and the lodge with Stacia and Declan. 

She elbowed him lightly.  “Of
course
I do,” she said with a fake haughty flip of her hair, then winked at him.

“What about Alder and his people?” Grable asked.

“Yeah, what about my people?” Alder asked from the back door of the station.

“Here are your wards, agent.  Don’t advertise them,” Declan said, handing a bunch to him.

“Hey, how did you carve these?  This looks like it was done on a machine?” the deputy who had loaned the tools asked.  The runes on the warded disc of wood looked professionally engraved.

“Proprietary process, Dan.  Can’t tell you my trade secrets,” Declan said, grinning.  “Hey, I gotta run out to my car for a minute. Be right back,” he said.  Stacia noticed his Crafting bag, which looked like a beat-up messenger bag, was lumpy and seemed awfully heavy.  It even clinked and clanked a bit.  She followed him outside. The government tractor trailer was still there, idling, as was the Blackhawk, whose rotor was spinning as it warmed up.

At the back of the Land Cruiser, he again uncovered the painted circle.  Then he pulled the heavy-duty silver handcuffs she had worn from his bag.  She’d known he’d been up to something.

He put the cuffs into the circle, then touched the circle’s edge to close it.  Stacia felt the small hairs on her forearms and neck stand up with static.  Magic. Declan glanced at the Kenworth tractor, then at the Sikorsky helicopter.  Both engines revved suddenly, several times, and she realized he was siphoning power from them.  The helicopter crew chief looked at the pilot, who held up his hands to show it wasn’t him.

The restraints suddenly lifted three inches into the air and took on a glow that rapidly built to a bright cherry red.  The cuffs pulled away from the chain, stretching like taffy until they broke apart, leaving three roughly equal amounts of silvered steel.  Then each piece started to spin on its own, picking up speed until the red glow eclipsed the individual shape of each.

“Hey, who turned down the refrigeration back here?” a voice yelled in anger.  Stacia glanced at the back of the tractor trailer, where an agent was rubbing his hands together, obviously cold, the refrigerated trailer door open. He checked the trailer’s controls before looking around for a culprit.

Declan was still focused on the spinning metal and Stacia could now see that the individual cuffs and chain had become three balls of glowing red metal.  He nodded to himself, said, “That should do it,” and made a pulling gesture with his left hand. All three orbs stopped spinning and instantly frosted over.

A thump sounded from the pavement under a squad car, the vehicle bouncing slightly on its springs.  A ridge of asphalt jutted up under the rear right tire. Declan muttered “Oops” before shrugging.  “Must have turned some water in the soil to steam.”

Stacia didn’t look his way this time, instead staying focused on the three balls that lowered themselves to the metal floor.  Dull steel gray in color with asymmetrical lines of silver racing through them like a spider’s web on crack, they were each the size of a pool cue ball.

Declan picked one up, looked it over, wrapped it in a t-shirt that was in the back, and handed it to her.  Then he picked up the other two, inspected them briefly, and stored them in his messenger bag.  Stacia threw the ball up and caught it, a little awkwardly because of the cotton shirt. 

“Okay, silver and steel balls.  Weapons of some kind,” she guessed.

“Yup.  Remember the wooden blocks in that old factory where you and the others all beat me up?” he asked.

“Trained.  Where we trained you, Declan.  Yeah, the spinning circle of wooden… oh.  I get it.  Spinning balls of silvered steel… nice.”

“Yeah, little two-inch-diameter cannon balls that either fly around me or just blast holes in whatever I point them at.  I’m going to throw some runes on them too,” he said.

“Well, looks like you got them done just in time.  Here come the others,” Stacia said, nodding to Carl, Shorty, and Hutch, who were heading toward them.  Shorty carried Stacia’s little DP-12 shotgun that he must have rescued from DOAA’s clutches.

“Here, thought you’d want this little baby back,” the little guide said upon arrival. “Sheriff says to go ahead and take us back to Fetter while you two recon the mill.  His group is going to come up tomorrow before first light in a convoy.  I
think
your federal friends are too, but who knows.”  He handed the gun to Stacia.

“Thanks, I like this one a lot.  Gift from a friend,” she said, with a head toss in Declan’s direction. He was putting his messenger bag between the front seats.  She stowed the shotgun in back, on top of the now re-covered cargo area.  A green duffle bag shifted suddenly on its own when the shotgun’s barrel touched it and she took a quick step back.  Looking up, she found Declan smiling at her.  “I didn’t come alone,” he said.  “Aunt Ash insisted I bring him.  The big one stayed home.”

Realization dawned on her and she gently closed the back tailgate, careful not to jostle the back again.

“He won’t bother
you
,” Declan said as he read her caution.

“And I won’t bother him.  Be tough on car thieves though, huh?” she asked, thinking about how that might go down.

The other three were watching the two of them in confusion.  “My car is old, but I’ve made a lot of non-standard changes to him. Anti-theft stuff. Stacia gets shotgun, no pun intended, and I’m afraid the three of you will have to squeeze in the back,” Declan said.

They all packed in and Declan started Beast’s engine, shifted into gear, and rolled out.  The helicopter crew and the truck driver were all still looking over their vehicles in some obvious confusion.

“What’s up with them?” Shorty asked.

“Engines running too hot or something,” Stacia said with a little smile.

It was a little over fifty miles to Fetter up Route 6, but it took a full hour and ten minutes to get there because of the twisty, two-lane road and the slow local traffic, plus stopping at a late-night McDonald’s for some greasy food.

As they entered the tiny town, all four of Beast’s windows rolled themselves down four inches. 

“What the hell?” Carl jumped when the hand crank next to him suddenly spun and the window dropped.

“Sorry. Sorry. Should have warned you,” Declan said.  “I want Stacia to have a chance to scent the air as we drive by the mill building.  In fact, why don’t you drive, Stacia so I can concentrate on sensing the witch and hiding us.”  He pulled over and put the transmission in neutral.

“I’ll drive,” Shorty offered from his spot crammed between Carl and Hutch.

“Ah thanks, but it has to be Stacia.  You haven’t been fully introduced to my car yet and he’s particular about who drives him,” Declan said.

“You’re joking?” Hutch asked.

“No, he’s not.  Beast won’t run properly if you aren’t one of a handful of people that Declan has cleared.  His aunt and step-aunt, his roommate and roommate’s sister, and a few friends from high school are about it,” Stacia said, climbing out of the car.

They resettled into position and Stacia put the Cruiser in gear and gingerly let out the clutch.  Beast responded smoothly and they continued slowly through a dark and quiet downtown Fetter.

The massive structure of the mill, which loomed behind the stores, houses, and buildings of Main Street, was pitch black and seemingly empty.  From his position in the backseat, Hutch glanced over at the young witch who had somehow redirected the investigations of both a sheriff’s office and a federal task force.  He looked like he was sleeping, head down, slumped in his seat.  He didn’t move for the whole thirty-eight seconds it took them to slowly drive past the mill.

“Should we move over to the street the mill is actually on?” Stacia asked. 

Declan, without changing his posture or opening his eyes, answered instantly.  “No!  Sorry, but I can feel her wards from here and if we go closer, we’ll wake them up,” he said with a shudder.  “I take back what I said before… she meant to kill that guard slowly.  All of her magic seems to involve death and dead things.  This is one twisted girl.”

“Which explains why all I smell is dead, rotten smells,” Stacia said, continuing on through town. 

“Dead things?” Shorty asked.

“There is power in death just as there is power in life.  Most witches use life for energy, but some use the dark stuff.  Generally, it’s a pretty good indication of who they are as people.  She’s not someone to take home to Momma,” Declan said, sitting up and looking at the three in back.

“Can you fight it?  And can we go back to the lodge now?” Carl asked.

Stacia glanced at Declan, who nodded.  “That’s a good idea and yes, I can fight it.  I have a bunch of… book knowledge about death magic, but I could use some advice.  Mr. Kane, does your lodge happen to have an Internet connection?”

“It’s Shorty, and yeah, we’ve got Wi-fi,” the guide said.

“Good. I need to make a Skype call,” Declan said.