Authors: Juliet Blackwell

Hexes and Hemlines (33 page)

BOOK: Hexes and Hemlines

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A black cat meandered by the nearby rooftop crest. Was that
Beowulf
? All I could see was the black silhouette against the sky. When the breeze blew over the feline and toward me, I sneezed.

“Gesundheit,” came a whisper.

I froze. That was Oscar’s gravelly voice.

Frantic, but trying to appear nonchalant, I cast my gaze around the gargoyles. Until I finally spotted a small one I hadn’t seen before. Big, batlike ears. Clawed feet. Funny grimace on his face.
Oscar
. I closed my eyes in gratitude. Never had I been so happy to see a gargoyle.

Speaking of gargoyles, the big hulking one nearest me shifted. I was sure of it this time. Then another, the funny smiling one from halfway down the main roof. And the one atop the spire I was hugging.

They moved slowly, so slowly it was almost imperceptible. But with Tracy’s time spell, even normal conversation seemed warped and laborious. If the gargoyles’ movement was barely perceptible before, now with the slowing of time it was nearly impossible to detect.

The gargoyle seemed to hold its arm out. I sensed more than saw it move. But one thing was sure: There used to be no place to go, but now there was.

I grabbed the arm. It was cold and hard, stonelike, under my palm. Just like one would expect from a gargoyle. The only odd part is that it had moved—unusual behavior in a stone object.

I inched my way over, pulling myself onto its shoulder. Just putting more distance between me and Doura felt comforting, allowed me to breathe more deeply and channel my energies.

“C’mon now,” said Doura. “Don’t be difficult. Thanks to you I still have to find out who killed Malachi in order to calm the Prince down. Or maybe I’ll just tell him you did it, and we got revenge for him. Poor guy, I feel kind of bad for him.”

“I can tell you who killed Malachi,” I said.

“How do
you
know?”

“I cast a spell. To determine who might have done it.”

“Liar. You’re saying you saw someone while scrying?”

“No. I brewed. And then I cast from afar.”

She looked at me silently for a long moment. When she spoke her voice was skeptical, but intrigued. “You can do that?”

Atticus quite literally threw himself at Doura, falling to his knees in front of her.

“I’ll do anything you ask
. Just make it stop!”

“Get up, for the love of—
Tracy!
Take care of this!”

Tracy looked miffed, but she did as she was told, coming to grab Atticus from behind. She hooked her hands under his arms and drew him up and toward her with remarkable strength.

The slowdown ended.

“And just where is Nichol?” demanded Doura of Tracy. “Does she have to be late to every damned thing? Wasn’t she with Atticus? We need the three of us to complete this.”

The gargoyles shifted again. I didn’t know what they were capable of, for better or for worse, but I was certain that Oscar would intervene. I didn’t know how much he could do, and I didn’t want him to get hurt, but it was heartening just to know that I wasn’t all alone. I could feel their elemental stone energy; it helped center me, calm me.

I looked over just as a snake slithered through the open stairwell door. It came toward me, still unnoticed by any but Oscar and me.

As it passed Doura, I met its flat reptilian eyes. Concentrated.

It paused. It coiled. It struck.

Chapter 28

Doura cried out.

Tracy ran to her side.

“It bit me! It bit my leg!” Doura cried, falling to the tar-and-gravel rooftop. The snake was still attached by its fangs, still pumping its venom into her leg.

Tracy grabbed the snake with her bare hands and ripped its head off. Blood spewed on her. The energy of death tingled along my extremities when I cast out my senses.

Doura fell over, crying and holding her leg.

Tracy was gearing up for something big; I could feel her rage.

“I can save her!” I yelled at Tracy. “I have the Serpentarius talisman to heal poisonous bites. I can save her.”

Tracy’s freckles showed red against her pale skin. She looked around, clearly at a loss. She was powerful, this much was clear, but I had the sense that, like me, she had not had the best upbringing or education. She had latched on to Doura as her friend and ally, and would go to great lengths to protect her. Doura was the brains of the operation. Now, on her own, Tracy was at a loss.

“Doura!
Talk to Tracy, tell her to let Claudia go, and I’ll help you. Do it now, or it might be too late.”

Still sprawled in the gravel of the rooftop, holding her leg and gasping, Doura met my eyes. Her blue ones showed pain, but I barely twinged. She had hexed Bronwyn. Lord knows what she had planned for me, and for Claudia. No, I spared no love for Doura.

Still, I don’t hold with taking human life, no matter the crime. It was in my power to save her, and I intended to do so. Just as soon as I got what I wanted.

“Do it, Tracy, let Claudia go,” Doura said.
“Now!”

Tracy mumbled an incantation, and Claudia awoke, looking around her, fearful and confused.

“Claudia, run back to your place and call 911,” I said. “And tell them there’s been a rattlesnake bite. They’ll need to have serum on hand. Now!”

I climbed off the spire, my arms shaking from the fear and effort of holding on. Using one of the old beer cans, I dunked it in the rain barrel and rinsed it out as well I could. Then I began to wash the Serpentarius stone in the barrel, invoking while I did so, scraping the stone with my fingernail, mumbling and chanting.

I scooped water into the beer can and brought it to Doura.

“Drink.”

“That’s disgusting,” she said, pushing it away. I could hear a hitch in her breathing, as though it was becoming labored. Her lower leg was swelling, the area around the bite showing bruising even in the dim light. “That can’s dirty.”

“I rinsed it out,” I said with a shrug. “Anyway, it’s your funeral. I won’t be losing any sleep over it.”

She glared at me, but grudgingly accepted the can and held it to her lips. Grimacing, she took a ladylike sip.

“Drink all of it,” I said, knowing full well that it wasn’t necessary for her to drink the entire can. I was being mean. I would do my best to save her life, but I was nowhere near in a forgiving mood.

I knelt by her side and brought the talisman to the site of the wound, and held the cool wet stone to the fang marks. Doura jumped and tensed when I touched her, crying out again.

This time my heart did go out to her. Humans were so fragile, so fallible. I had no idea what her story was, but once upon a time Doura had been an innocent. Like all of us.

Holding the stone against the ugly wound, I started to chant again. Doura either relaxed or fainted.

“Tracy, come and hold her upper body in a sitting position. Don’t let her lay down.”

Tracy seemed relieved to be told what to do. She knelt behind Doura and held her from behind.

“Keep her heart above the wounded area,” I said. I was worried that Doura wasn’t responding more quickly to the Serpentarius talisman. I had never used one before, it was true, but the magic felt right to me, I could feel its hum, as though its magic were slipping through the portals as it should.

“Tracy, let’s carry her downstairs to the apartment so I can see what I’m doing.”

Once we were down in the apartment, I flung open the windows to let some of the stifling heat escape. A sparrow came flittering in. Death was in the air. I tried to ignore it as I held the Serpentarius charm to Doura’s leg and chanted some more.

Atticus sat in the corner, whimpering and twitching.

Nichol walked in, her beautiful eyes flickering about the room as she took in the scene.

“Atticus! Why did you run away from me? What’s wrong with you?” Nichol looked down at Doura and grimaced. “What’s wrong with
her
?”

“ ’Bout time you arrived,” Tracy muttered. “Doura got snakebit.”

“I’m trying to save her,” I said.

“Save
him
,” Nichol said, shoving Atticus in my direction. “What’s wrong with him? Did you do something?”

“He’ll be all right,” I said softly. “It will wear off.”

“You did this, didn’t you? Yes, okay, all right already, he killed Malachi. But it wasn’t his fault. I saw the whole thing. It was an accident.”

“Make it stop!”
Atticus cried out. “What’s happening to me?”

Atticus. The big brother who was so protective of his sister, his baby brother. The one who intervened on their behalf, who supported their father’s career and wanted him to thrive. The one who tried to cover up Oliver’s drug problem and Nichol’s shoplifting past.

“It was an
accident
,” Nichol repeated. “I just wanted Malachi to stop with the curses and the crazy talk, the photos and the publicity. He wouldn’t leave me alone. And then Oliver was beginning to think he was truly cursed.”

“But the curses weren’t Malachi’s doing, they were . . .” I glanced down at the witchy woman sprawled on the couch before me. “They were someone else’s.”

I heard far-off sirens, growing louder. I was hoping the paramedics would get here quickly. Though the Serpentarius stone had helped, the rattler had given Doura quite a dose of venom.

“Come on.” Nichol was trying to get Atticus to stand. “Let’s get out of here before the cops come. Come
on
.”

“He’s a lost cause until the spell wears off, Nichol,” I said, not mentioning the antidote I had up on the roof with my supplies.

She glared at me. “I’ll pay you back for this, so help me.”

And with that she abandoned her tortured brother and ran.

Tracy, Doura, and I all sat in silence for a few minutes, the fluttering of the sparrow and Atticus’s sniffling and moaning the only sounds within the apartment. But outside, the sirens grew deafening before petering out as they pulled up to the building.

“What do you want?” Tracy asked me.

“What do you mean, what do I want?”

“In exchange for saving Doura’s life?”

“I want y’all to stop making animal sacrifices and conducting evil spells. Stay away from Mike Perkins and any of his research. If I find he’s advancing on his projects due to magical intervention I’ll come after you. And
stay away
from my friends, and me.”

She nodded, looking down at her companion, who had now passed out.

“And I want the bird,” I said, watching as the sparrow finally flittered out of the open window.

“What bird?”

“In the black abode, y’all have a poor little sparrow caged up right next to the snakes. It’s cruel. It must feel in danger all the time. Besides, a sparrow in a house is a sign of death, y’all should know that.”

“Okay,” Tracy said with a sigh. “I guess you can have the stupid bird.”

I gave a statement to Carlos Romero, gathered my spellcasting items, and then gave Atticus—who was more than anxious to confess to the SFPD—the antidote to my terrible spell.

On the way back home, Oscar transformed into his natural state, but remained mute. He held the cat in his lap, stroking its velvet-soft coat.

“Oscar, I’m going to ask you a question, and I want you to answer me. What relationship do you have to gargoyles?”

“Relationship?” He looked at me, eyes huge.

“Don’t you trust me? You can tell me.”

“You won’t make fun?”

“Of course not.”

“I was looking for my mother.”

I waited a beat. “Your mother’s a gargoyle?”

He shrugged a skinny shoulder and looked out the window.

“I don’t understand: Are you a gargoyle come to life? Can stone do that?”

“They’re not stone, at least not all of them. That’s where it gets confusing.”

“I can imagine.”

“Some of them are descendants of forest folk who are under a curse, and they turned to stone. They only come out of it under very particular circumstances.”

“So you’re not actually a goblin at all?”

“Halfsies.”

“You’re half a goblin?”

“When my mother was in her walking time, she laid an egg. My father found it, and took it to the faery circle and hatched me.”

“Gargoyles are born from eggs?”

“Duh
. Where else—ooooh.
Yuck
. I’ve heard of that. Cowans grow them on the inside, like a tumor. That kind of weirds me out.”

So says the half gargoyle born of an egg in the faery circle, presumably fertilized by a goblin. I didn’t want to think too hard about the mechanics of that one, either.

“Just FYI, it’s not only cowans who have babies like that. All of us humans do. Even witchy folk.”

“Yuck. Anyway, so’s I’m like a whattayacall, a halfbreed. The other forest creature kids used to call me a gobgoyle.”

I smiled.

BOOK: Hexes and Hemlines

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