Smoke on the Water (33 page)

“Why did she shift?” I asked.

“No idea,” Franklin answered. “She has people brain and wolf body, but she can't answer that until she shifts back.”

“No telepathy?” Raye asked.

“Not with me.”

“What about you, Mom?”

Pru shook her head and snorted.

“I guess not.” Raye continued to stare at Pru, obviously hearing what the rest of us couldn't. “Elise is communicating with Becca but Mom can't quite get it. She—”

Suddenly the white wolf bounded into the trees. Becca followed. With a huff that was very motherly, Pru sprinted after.

Owen leaped off the porch, took several steps toward the woods and stopped. “They're long gone.”

“They'll be back,” Franklin said.

“Unless someone shoots them,” Owen snapped.

“You need a permit to shoot wolves, don't you?” Bobby asked.

“Only if someone sees you,” Owen replied.

“I don't think that's in the rules.”

“Most people who shoot wolves don't play by the rules. You have met Edward, haven't you?”

“Yeah.” Bobby rubbed between his eyes as if they pained him.

“All three of them are more than wolves,” Franklin said. “They can outsmart any varmint hunter around.”

“It isn't the varmint hunters I'm worried about,” Owen muttered.

“Edward wouldn't shoot his own granddaughter. And Elise wouldn't let him shoot Becca.”

“Hold on,” I said. “Heap big werewolf hunter has a granddaughter who is one?”

The fed slammed the gaping passenger door on his sedan. “Did I not mention that?”

“We knew,” Raye said.

It would have been nice if someone had told me, although I'm not sure what I might have done with the information except been amazed by it.

“Edward's still in New Orleans anyway,” Franklin continued. “Some issue with your partner, Doucet.”

“Sullivan?”

“You have more than one partner?”

“I don't have him anymore. I'm no longer NOPD.”

“Edward and Cass will handle him.”

“Handle him how?” Bobby said warily. “What did he do? What did he see?”

“What he shouldn't.”

Bobby cursed. “He'd better be in the same huge, single Irish piece he was when I left him.”

“He will be.”

From the expression on Bobby's face he wasn't sure if that was comforting or not.

“This has been fun, but I've got places to go, visions to have, lovers to find and wrest from the jaws of creepy people.” I started for the house.

“Huh?” Franklin asked.

“Tell him.” I flapped my hand at the man, including Owen in the gesture since he'd been here with the wolves and not with us. Raye followed me inside. I heard Bobby explaining who I was—just in case Special Agent Franklin was blind—then what had gone down, followed by a few curses from Owen and questions from the agent.

I headed for the kitchen faucet, but my sister snatched my elbow, hanging on when I tried to shrug her off.

“Sit somewhere,” Raye said. “I'll bring you the water.”

“No time.”

“If you fall into the vision and crack your head, Becca isn't here to make it go away.” She shoved me toward the living area. “Couch or table. Take your pick, but if I have to I'll levitate you until you behave.”

Raye had certainly taken to being a bullying big sister with no trouble at all. Considering the only one of us who'd
had
brothers and sisters was Becca, I found this interesting. Not only did having sisters feel right, being the youngest did too.

I sat on the couch and scowled at Raye the entire time she filled a bowl with water and brought it to me.

“You know I'm right.” She set the bowl in my lap. “Quit pouting.”

I didn't bother to answer. As previously stated—no time. I lowered my gaze to the rippling surface of the water. Saw nothing. Squinted. Cursed.

“Get a knife,” I said. Blood magic was dangerous, but it worked.

“Let's try this first.” Raye took my hand, and the earth shifted.

The center of the water began to swirl like an inverted cyclone, or maybe a portal, just as the blood had earlier on the ridge. Everything shimmied. I felt like I was falling down that hole; I even smelled the water all around me. Raye said something I couldn't make out. I closed my eyes for a second, hoping maybe then I'd “see,” and there Sebastian was bound to a chair. His face was bruised and bleeding.

“No,” I whispered. I heard the water begin to bubble and boil. The vision did too.

“Calm down.” Raye tightened her grip on my hand. “Breathe.”

It was hard to breathe when my chest hurt this much, but I tried. After a minute or so, the vision smoothed out.

Sebastian was alone in a huge, abandoned building. The windows were grimy, the floor—concrete—wasn't much better. Empty shelves lined one brick wall.

“Where?” I asked.

A door opened, and light flowed in; from the angle, I thought it was late in the day. The future by a few hours, I hoped. I didn't want this to be another day, another week. I had to find him. Soon.

“Just the man I wanted to see.” Roland McHugh's distinctive Scottish accent made me jerk so hard the water sloshed across my thighs. It was hot enough for me to be glad I wore jeans.

A shadow spread across the floor. For an instant it resembled the hooved and tailed beast we'd seen in the cave of the crones before it solidified into a man.

“I knew some Frasiers once,” McHugh said. “They did not join me.”

“I'm glad to know my ancestors had some sense.”

“I had no need of their help. There were plenty of others. There still are. Now we'll wait right here until the Taggarts come for you.”

“They won't come.”

“Of course they will. Mendolson Road and old County Highway B. The abandoned cheese factory.”

“Do. Not. Come.”

Sebastian was speaking to me. He knew I'd force a vision—that I'd see and hear and come. So did Roland.

“Be here by midnight, lassies.” He rotated his wrist and a switchblade snapped clear. “Or I'll gut him like a deer.”

I stood, dumping the water onto the floor and racing onto the porch. “Roland's at the abandoned cheese factory. Mendolson Road and old County Highway B.”

“That's eighty miles away,” Owen said.

“Then we'd better hurry.” I lifted my gaze to the fading sun. If we left now, we'd get there right on time.

Bobby touched my arm. “You know it's a trap, right?”

“Yes.” I didn't care. Sebastian had stayed with me, risking his career and his life. Even if I hadn't loved him, I could do no less.

“I don't think Roland realizes his trap is going to snap closed right on him.” Raye held the athame in one hand and the wand in the other. The pentacle around her neck seemed to catch the sun and glow like lava.

“Don't you need Becca?” Bobby asked.

“You got her.”

The voice came from the forest—Becca's voice. Owen rushed into the trees. They came out together with Becca wearing his shirt. Pru trailed after.

“Where's Elise?” Franklin asked.

“Waiting for you to bring me a blanket.” Shrubbery at the edge of the yard waggled.

He snatched said blanket from the back seat of his sedan—they'd obviously been down this road before—then disappeared into the foliage, emerging a minute later.

Except for some twigs in her long red hair, Becca looked no worse for her ordeal. Her eyes still appeared greener than before but I decided not to mention it.

“How did you change back?” I asked.

“My mind was a jumble of human thoughts and wolf instincts and senses. I couldn't focus, until Elise showed me how.” Becca reached for Elise's arm, and Franklin made a move to stop her, but too late, her palm curled around the other woman's wrist.

“Happy to help.” Elise covered Becca's hand with her free one. Hand hug.

“Guess she isn't a werewolf,” Franklin said.

“I keep telling you that.” Without a shirt Owen appeared even bigger than before. His Marine-style physique should be on a military romance novel cover.

“Since they can touch without getting a mutual migraine, I believe you.” Franklin shrugged. “When werewolves touch skin to skin…”

“Supreme ice cream headache,” Elise finished. “I don't know what you are, Becca, but it isn't a lycanthrope.”

“According to Cassandra, a fire witch is a djinn with fire in the veins instead of blood.” Becca tugged at the hem of Owen's shirt, which hit her mid-thigh. “There was also something about shape-shifting.”

“Cassandra would know,” Elise said.

“What's a djinn?” Owen asked.

“I think it's a genie.”

“I'm not a genie,” Becca muttered.

“Magic and fire and shape-shifting sounds like a genie to me.” Elise went to the car and pulled out an overnight bag.

“Did you watch
I Dream of Jeannie
?” Becca asked. “No wolves, no fire.”

“No demons or witches either. But she blinked and magic happened. She turned into smoke.” Elise started toward the cabin. “And where there's smoke—”

“There's fire,” Becca finished. “Shit. I'm a genie.”

“That's great.” I shoved her after Elise the way I thought a little sister would. “Put on some clothes. We have a demon to banish.”

*   *   *

Sebastian was furious with himself. He was trussed like a turkey, being offered as the proverbial lamb. A lot of animal imagery. At least it passed the time.

The girls had to know this was a trap. Would that keep them from coming? Probably not. It wouldn't have stopped him.

How could he have let himself be taken? To be fair,
let
wasn't the right word. He'd been drugged—probably with a syringe and meds right from his own facility. He'd figured that out the instant he'd come to and seen Zoe and Deux.

“Which one of you tried to kill Willow?”

The guard, who looked a lot younger and smaller wearing jeans and not his uniform, jerked a thumb at Zoe. “I told her not to. The master wanted to use Willow as bait for the other two.”

“She annoyed me.”

Oddly Zoe appeared older out of uniform—probably all of eighteen.

“Annoyed you how? She was a patient. You're a nurse.”

“Zoe has a thing for you,” Deux said.

Willow had intimated the same, but attempted murder was going a bit far for a crush, wasn't it?

“Is that why you told the police I'd done something I shouldn't?” Sebastian asked.

“You
did
do something you shouldn't. I saw you kiss her. She was a patient,” Zoe mimicked. “You're a doctor. Though you won't be for long.”

As he probably wouldn't be alive for long, Sebastian wasn't going to worry about his career right now.

“I called the police and the TV station,” Deux continued. “I figured someone would see you and report it. They did.”

“The antiques shops,” Sebastian said.

“Rookie move, Doc. You were going right down the line, south to north, junk store to junk store.”

“How'd you get there so fast?” If “someone” had called the cops or the news, wouldn't the cops or the news have arrived before Deux?

“There are
Venatores Mali
everywhere. One of them informed me.”

Sebastian still didn't see how that had worked, but Deux had gotten to him before anyone else had. No denying that.

“What do you care about witches?”

“I don't. Roland does.”

“Why do you care about him?”

“He came back from the dead.”

Sebastian waited, but Deux seemed to think that was an explanation.

“Zoe?” Sebastian asked. “What about you?”

“Same reason.”

Sebastian gave up. “
What
reason?”

“He conquered death. We can too.”

“You think he's going to raise you from the dead?”

“He promised,” Zoe said, a touch of whine in her voice.

“You're twelve. You're really worrying about death?”

“He promised her he'd fix her up—give her a better body, better face, eyes that don't need Coke-bottle glasses.”

“He can do that?”

Deux shrugged. “Guess we'll see.”

“He's a demon,” Sebastian said. “He lies for a living.”

“You think he's a demon?” Deux asked.

“You think he isn't?”

For a minute they appeared uncertain, a little confused. Then the guard laughed and shook his head. “That's crazy.”

“You're a member of a serial-killing witch-hunting society that believes its leader is going to raise you from the dead. Who's crazy now?”

Confusion flickered in the man's eyes.

“Quit listening to him and do what you're supposed to do.” Zoe was obviously the brains of this outfit. Wasn't much of a contest.

“What's he supposed to do?” Sebastian asked.

He didn't see the first fist coming. Pain exploded under his eye, then across his jaw on the backswing. His teeth cut his lip, and he tasted blood.

“Good enough?” Deux asked.

Zoe smirked. “Not even close.”

Hours passed. The two left. Roland came in and issued a threat. He'd gut Sebastian like a deer. More animal imagery. At least they were on the same page.

Sebastian thought the guard might have given him a concussion. He'd had them before, and he'd always felt a little removed from the world—just like this.

Zoe and Deux returned. They stayed in the shadows, both awed and a little cowed by Roland McHugh.

The man didn't look like a demon. He looked like someone who'd spent most of his life in the wind and cold. His face was weathered but very white, as if every element but the sun had battered him. His hair was unruly, straggling to his shoulders—dark and misted with gray. He was tall and thin, gaunt—very Ebenezer Scrooge.