Smoke on the Water (29 page)

“Okay. We chant, then we bleed, then the fire.”

My heart was beating so loudly her words seemed faint, or maybe her voice was. She looked as pale as I felt.

“We didn't bring a match or a candle,” I said.

“Don't need one.” Becca traced her finger through the air and flame followed.

That also explained why Raye was using the athame when it was the magical instrument of a fire witch; Becca had to bring the fire.

“Right. Sorry.”

“I'm not used to it yet either,” she said.

“I'll do the chant first.” Raye glanced at me and Becca in turn. “Then you repeat.”

“They called their master,” I pointed out.

“I am not calling anyone ‘master,'” Becca snapped.

“I've summoned a spirit before.”

“Henry,” Becca said.

“Yes. Names have power. We'll use his. Summon Roland McHugh. Everyone ready?”

She was getting impatient. Couldn't blame her. The sooner this was over, the sooner we … I had no idea. But I still wanted it over.

“Come to us. We summon thee, Roland McHugh.”

On the second round, Becca and I joined in. The wind stirred. I swore it whispered along with us.

Raye snapped her fingers. Becca offered her arm. I did too. We continued to chant as she cut Becca, then me, then herself. It didn't even hurt, or maybe I was just too distracted by what happened when our blood merged together in the bowl.

It swirled on its own. No one was touching it, and the wind wasn't strong enough to cause that much movement. In the center, I saw McHugh. He'd changed from his Pilgrim outfit into jeans and a black button-down. Expensive athletic shoes had replaced his ancient, handmade footwear. He stood in front of a group of people. From the expressions on their faces—rapt, worshipful—they were minions. He lifted his arms. They fell to their knees, bowed their heads.

We continued to chant. This time when we said his name, he stiffened, glanced over his shoulder. His eyes widened. He seemed to see us. I heard the crackle of flames an instant before Becca zapped the bowl of blood with fire. We said “Roland McHugh” a final time.

The flames shot up, dancing and crackling. When they died, Roland was close enough to touch. The three of us scrambled to our feet.

“I killed you.” He glared at Becca.

“Not good enough.”

His coat fit funny. It wasn't until he pulled out the concealed weapon that I understood why.

“I'll get it right this time.” He pointed the gun at her.

Becca growled and burst into flames.

The gunshot made me cry out. But Roland jerked and turned toward the trees. A second shot made him jerk again. I waited for him to fall, but he didn't.

The flames around, in, through Becca died. A wolf the shade of cinnamon, with Becca's eyes—more green than hazel now—had taken her place.

Roland shot her, and she staggered, fell. An instant later he flew through the air and landed several feet away with a good, solid thud; the gun skidded over the cliff.

Raye and I fell to the ground at Becca's side. She was still breathing. Thank God. How were we going to heal her when she was the one with the power of healing?

“What was that?” I asked.

“Which
what
are you talking about?” Raye returned. “The one where the demon asshole didn't die? Or the what where our sister became fire and then a wolf?”

“Yes,” I said.

She laid her hand on that wolf and motioned for me to do the same. The instant I did, the bullet that had gone into Becca popped out. She sprang up as if she'd never fallen down, then loped after Roland, who must have gotten up while we were occupied with Becca. Not surprising that being slam-dunked by a ghost hadn't hurt him any more than being shot twice.

Pru joined her and the three of them went over the ridge. Raye and I stood so we could see them racing across the open expanse of flat land all around us.

Then Roland disappeared. One second his tennies were being nipped at by our mother, and the next he was nowhere to be seen.

*   *   *

“Holy shit.” Bobby dropped out of the tree and started to run.

“This is not good.” Owen landed and sprinted after him.

“Do you think we should have used silver bullets?” Bobby asked.

“Those were silver bullets,” Owen answered.

Sebastian followed without comment. What could he say? Disappearing demons. Silver bullets. A woman who burst into flame, then turned into a wolf. He was pretty much out of words at the moment.

They reached the two remaining women, who were bleeding more than Sebastian liked. He snatched the bloody athame and used it to slice the bottom third of his shirt into strips for bandages.

“A first-aid kit would have been useful.” He tied the strips around their wrists.

“Becca was supposed to heal us.” Willow sounded as dazed as she looked.

“Then she ran off on four paws before that happened.” Raye sounded a bit better. She'd been doing this longer than Willow had.

“Did you know she could shape-shift?” Willow asked.

Raye shook her head. “It's one of the powers of a fire witch, but she insisted she didn't have it.”

“She does now,” Sebastian said.

“Problem is…” Raye frowned as the wolves returned and stood between Bobby and Owen. “Does she have the power to turn back?”

Becca whined, twitched, pawed the ground. She did not become a woman again.

“Can you hear Becca like you hear Pru?” Owen asked.

Raye shook her head. Owen cursed.

“Pru,” Raye said, “help her.”

Pru huffed.

“Dammit.” Raye kicked the grass.

“What?” Owen sounded a little panicked.

Sebastian didn't blame him. It was going to be difficult to have a life with a wolf, though Henry had managed it. Then again, he didn't have a life with her, he was having his death with her.

“Pru's not a werewolf.” Raye lifted one shoulder. “So she can't help.”

“Becca's not a werewolf,” Owen snapped.

“Edward would beg to differ,” Raye said. “She was shot and she didn't die.”

Bobby picked up the bullet that still lay on the ground. “Not silver.”

“Not helping.” Owen snatched it from Bobby's hand. “Becca can heal. That's a witch trait, not a wolf one.”

“Having people eyes in the face of a wolf is very werewolfy,” Raye said.

“Pru has the same.”

“Pru didn't change from a woman to a wolf.”

“Yeah, she did,” Owen muttered.

Technically Pru had died and been reborn a wolf, but Sebastian decided not to point that out. Owen was upset enough.

“Who's Edward?” he asked.

“Someone who can't see her like this.” Owen went to his knees and put his arms around Becca's neck. She whined and licked his cheek. “He'll kill her.”

“What?” Sebastian blurted. “Why?”

“Edward Mandenauer is the leader of the
Jäger-Suchers,
and the greatest werewolf hunter of all time,” Bobby said. “He shoots first, finds out if he should have later.”

“He shot Pru,” Raye said.

“And he's still breathing?” Sebastian asked.

Raye's lips twitched. “Barely. In his defense, she does look like a werewolf, and he's seen a million—give or take. He knows better now.”

“About Pru,” Owen said. “Not Becca.”

Bobby pulled out his phone. “I'll call Franklin. Tell him the skinny. See what he can do.”

“No Edward,” Owen said.

“No Edward,” Bobby agreed.

 

Chapter 21

I felt dazed—whether from the aftereffects of the spell, the blood loss, the shift in Becca—ha-ha—or the realization that our plan was toast, I didn't know. Whatever it was, when Sebastian put his arm around my shoulders, I leaned in not only because I wanted to, but because I had to.

Bobby ended his call with Special Agent Franklin. “He's on his way.”

“Alone?” Owen asked.

“He's bringing his wife. She's some kind of werewolf expert.”

Owen threw up his hands. “Becca is
not
a werewolf. What did he say about Edward?”

“Not coming. At least not yet. He's with Cassandra.”

“Where?”

Bobby frowned. “New Orleans.”

“Is that a problem?” I asked.

“I hope not.”

I glanced at Raye, who shrugged, then shook her head. I didn't have to read her mind to know what she meant. We had enough problems of our own without bringing in new ones. If there was an issue in New Orleans, the folks in New Orleans would have to handle it. Bobby was no longer NOPD.

“Let's get back to the cabin where I can clean those wounds,” Sebastian said.

No one argued. I think we all wanted to get out of the open.

In the Suburban I almost stopped Bobby from driving off. One of the seats was empty. Who were we missing?

Then I remembered Becca wasn't using a seat anymore. She was in the back, staring out the window with Pru. As I watched, the black wolf turned her head and nuzzled the red one. Envy spiked, so sharp it was painful. Raye took my hand. She was watching them too.

“How did Roland disappear?” Sebastian asked.

“Magic,” Raye said. “Had to be. His followers were chanting, so was he. One or the other or both of them together did something funky.”

Bobby's fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “Hypocritical asshole.”

“Redundant.” Raye tilted her head and gazed at the empty seat that should have been Becca's. “Henry says a demon isn't human.”

“Ya think?” Owen murmured.

“Roland now has supernatural powers,” Raye continued.

“Like not dying by bullets?” Bobby asked.

Owen smacked his fist against his knee. “Would have been handy to know that before we shot him.”

“Ya think?” Raye echoed. “None of us have dealt with a demon before. We're kind of making this up as we go along. We need a new plan.”

“Is there a spell to contain a demon?” I asked.

“Contain how?”

“If we evoke him again, we're going to need to hold him in place or he'll just disappear—be it by his own demonic power, or with a little minion black magic. I'd love to nail his feet to the ground, but only if it works.”

Owen stared out the window. “I'd like to do it just for fun.”

“We need more information.” Raye's face was stark, paler than I'd ever seen it. I had no doubt mine was the same. “While we're researching containment, we should find out how to kill a demon. You'd think a silver bullet would at least slow him down, but noooo.”

“How to kill a demon might be something the
Jäger-Suchers
know.” Bobby turned onto the main road.

“Nothing's ever that easy,” Raye said.

Silence settled over the car for the remainder of the drive. It seemed to take longer to get back than it had taken to get there. Wasn't that always the way?

We reached the cabin; everyone piled out. Owen opened the rear hatch for the wolves. Not having opposable thumbs must really be an ass pain, though having fangs and claws might make up for it. Especially when Roland was around. I wished he hadn't gone poof before Becca and Pru had caught up with him. We wouldn't be in this mess. Then again, if a bullet—make that two—hadn't killed him, would wolves have been able to?

Raye and I sat at the table. Bobby and Owen went into the kitchen and started pulling out bread, cheese, cold cuts. We'd missed lunch. Soon night would fall. The idea of darkness all around and Roland out there in it, looking for us, maybe using black magic to find us, made me want to be anywhere but here. However, I wouldn't leave my sisters. I couldn't.

Sebastian went searching for first-aid supplies. We removed the now bloody strips of shirt. My cut began to well again. Raye's did too. Becca's paw appeared good as new—probably because it
was
new.

“Do you think you could have sliced a little less deeply?” Sebastian sat between us. “These might need stitches.”

“A bowl of blood doesn't come about by drip-drops,” Raye said.

Becca appeared at my side. She tugged on my shirtsleeve with her teeth, pulling my arm to the edge of the table. Before I could figure out what she planned, she licked my wound. I gasped as a sharp pain shot through me. I peered at my wrist.

“It's gone.”

Sebastian, who'd been digging out antiseptic cream, glanced up. “What's gone?”

“The wound. All better.”

He reached for my hand. I put mine in it. His eyes widened. “Hold on.”

Becca, who had already moved around my chair toward Raye, lifted her lip in a silent snarl.

“Calm down. I just want to watch.”

She licked Raye's wound, and the slice seemed to evaporate between one second and the next.

“At least she still has healing powers in this form,” I said.

“Why wouldn't she?” Raye asked.

“I don't know,” I said. “I just got here.”

“Henry is a telekinetic ghost.” Raye continued to stare at her miraculously healed wrist. I was having a hard time keeping my eyes off my own.

“Can Pru still heal others?” I asked.

“No. Not all their powers remain. Henry hasn't been able to affect the weather. Pru can still call in the wolves.”

“Not much of a ‘power' for a wolf,” I pointed out.

“It must have been nice when she was human.”

Pru yipped. Apparently it had been.

“She can communicate telepathically with Henry and Becca—and now me. She can understand us. She's not a normal wolf.”

“Never said she was. What about her visions?”

Pru shook her head.

“That bites.”

Pru huffed.

“You should eat.” Bobby set a hand on Raye's shoulder. “Both of you. You're too pale.”