Witches, Voids, and Other Sanity Suckers

Uriah and Quinn don’t want to go to school. I’m not particularly keen on letting them out of my sight for over eight hours, but they already have enough problems with their grades. Besides, I have a feeling that as soon as this is over we’re due for an extended vacation at the ranch.

Az and I have appointment with Greer at the Olivet residence. When Greer, full of righteous fury, attempted to apprehend Olivet the previous afternoon, the memory-wiping warlock hadn’t been home. Surprise, surprise. As of the last report from Greer, Olivet hasn’t returned – likely discouraged by the uniformed officers posted in front of his house. Greer wants Az to go through the house to see if there’s anything of magical significance. It seems that the boy’s developing a healthy wariness of witches.

We’re in the loaner Ike got for his SUV. Now that Uriah and Quinn aren’t around to talk to, she’s taken to playing with the touch screen in the dash. I hope Ike doesn’t mind having all the music presets changed to alt rock and French-Canadian pop stations. Just another reason I like the old-school dash in my truck. Two of the knobs are broken off so the presets can’t be changed.

“We’re being tracked,” she announces, slowly removing her hands from the screen and tucking them in her lap. “Have been for a few blocks. Maybe since the house. Between the wards and yesterday’s hullabaloo, I’m a little off-kilter.”

I don’t know which is more alarming: that we’re being followed or that my magic sensor is off-kilter. I glance in the rearview mirror, but there aren’t vehicles back there that have been around long. Even with the distraction of having Az in the front seat, I’ve been paying attention to my surroundings. I know when I’m being tailed.

“No cars behind us, Az.”

“Magical tracker. Like when you were running. It’s making me itch.” She even squirms in her seat.

“Can you stop it?”

“Of course. It’s magic. But that’s likely unnecessary. They have a physical presence and can be damaged.” Az unbuckles her seatbelt and turns so that she’s on her knees peering out the out the rear window. “I just wish I could see it. That’d make it easier to catch.”

I pull over into the parking lot of a strip mall. It’s early enough that few of the stores are open and the lot is virtually empty. I exit the car. Az skips around the front of the SUV to stand next to me.

“What’s it look like?”

“How am I supposed to know?” Az screws up her face and shields her eyes with the flat of her hand. “I’ve never actually seen one before. I’d think it’d be small. It can’t be far. Proximity is key for these things.”

The SUV itself is likely the best place for the tracker to be hidden. It sat outside the school for a while, which would be a good place to place a tracker. It’s common knowledge that two of my pack members attend that particular school. Then again, it could have been on since Ike picked it up at the rental agency. Since we’d needed multiple vehicles we had called in advance and headed out as a pack.

Az and I split the SUV up and go over it from exhaust pipe to headlights. It isn’t until I go through the side mirrors for a third time that I find something out of place. The device is black, thinner than a dime, and the size of a postage stamp. Had I not been looking for a tracker, I never would have spotted it between the mirror and the frame.

Az waves her hand over it and then grins. She rubs the back of her neck with her other hand. “Glad that feeling’s gone. It was starting to drive me batty.”

I resist the urge to crush the device like a mosquito. I want to know more about it. This isn’t like any of the trackers I’ve seen before, but then again I like my bugs to be more technology-based. I trust technology more than I trust magic.

“Can it be remotely restarted?”

“Not if you let me hold on to it.” Az plucks the device out of my hand and, before I can turn away, tucks it into the front of her dress. Lucky tracker. “No magic can get to it as long as I touch it. The creeper can send as many signals as he’d like, but it’ll be as if you smashed it.”

There’s no telling how many of the pack vehicles have trackers on them. Az calls Jose while I search the car again. Jose will inspect and clean all the vehicles currently onsite and then do the same for the ones that come in. I don’t see the point in pressing the panic button for those at work. Odds are our douchebag already knows where my people work. Az uses my phone to send Jose a picture of our tracker. He’s to destroy the ones that look similar and quarantine the ones that don’t.

My pack is being followed. My pack has been attacked. The most vulnerable member of my pack doesn’t stand a chance against the not-Shifters. The idea of her in the clutches of those mindless beasts puts me on the verge of Shifting. She hasn’t been around long, but I can’t imagine the pack – or my life – without her. She’s important to all of us. Essential, it seems, to me.

She watches with wide, clear blue eyes as I drop down to a crouch and remove the Kahr P380 from my ankle holster. It’s a small gun with a laser sight and little recoil. It’s my backup weapon, but it should be perfect for her smaller hands.

“Have you ever shot a gun, Az?”

“Yes. I spent two summers with Uncle Evan. One summer was after an… incident… at the place I’d been staying.” She licks her lips and shifts her weight. Her eyes are still glued to the gun in my hands. “He taught me how to shoot a shotgun and a revolver. He was going to give me a gun for my birthday, but Aunt Evelyn found out. I got a new purse and Uncle Evan spent a few nights on the couch.”

“This is a last-resort weapon only, got it?” I don’t place the gun into her hands until she nods. “I don’t care if you’re the reincarnation of Annie Oakley, when there are Shifters involved in a fight it’s damned impossible to get a clear shot. This is just in case Jose can’t protect you. Or you fall out of a damn tree.”

I go over all the Kahr’s specs with Princess twice. She likes the laser sight, but I advise her to only use it when absolutely necessary. It’ll help her trace her target, but it’ll help her target trace her. When we get home, I’ll have her fire a few practice rounds. I have a spare holster and clip at the house, but for now she carefully tucks the gun in her purse.

She reaches for my arm before I can pull open her door. Her lips are pressed together in a solemn line. “I hope I never have to use it. Not because I’m a bleeding heart or anything,” she quickly assures me, “but because I couldn’t live with myself if I accidentally hit you or any of my family.”

When she says “family” she means “pack” and another layer of my defenses crumble like a sandcastle at high tide. Which makes it all the more vital that she protect herself.

“If someone is threatening you, you bet your sweet ass you’re going to use that gun.” I rake a hand through my hair. “This isn’t a pretty thing to say - and if it hurts your feelings then I’m sorry, but it’s the truth – you are the weakest member of the pack.”

“I know,” she says calmly, though there is a trace of something wounded in her eyes.

“And if something happens to you, Az, I don’t know how well I’ll be able to control myself. I have to think about the rest of the pack. They don’t need me to go off half-crazed because you got stupid or you hesitated.”

I expect her to laugh. I expect her to needle me about the moment of vulnerability. I expect her to take her advantage and run with it. I don’t expect her to cock her head like an inquisitive bird and purse her lips.

“So what you’re saying is that your biggest weakness is the weakest member of the pack. What does that make you?”

Oh, Princess, that’s an easy one. I flash a smile that’s all fangs and malice. “Dangerous.”

She accepts my answer with a soft chuckle. For the rest of the ride to Olivet’s house, she keeps her hands to herself and her mouth shut. The silence doesn’t grate on my nerves. It actually gives me a chance to relax and prepare for the meeting with Greer.

I keep a hand on the small of Az’s back as we march up the winding path to the open front door. I suppose Greer figures that since it’s not his electric bill he doesn’t care about the a/c running constantly. I don’t disagree. It’s the very least Olivet deserves.

“Good morning, Detective,” Az greets kindly. She gives his hand a quick shake. “I am happy to say that you are still free of any memory or mind altering spells.”

“Thank you, Az.” Greer rubs his hands together and turns to me. He looks nervous. Not something I want to see in a detective so early in the morning.

I don’t give him a chance to weasel out of anything. “What’s wrong?”

“My guys have done a preliminary search. We found some things – notebooks and files – that you’re not going to like, Rick. The subject matter is disturbing,” Greer admits. He holds up his hands to stop me from storming past him. “Look, Rick, this raises a few questions. You never mentioned that this was personal.”

Shit. Just what did they find? I don’t think I’ll be able to keep Greer out of the loop for much longer. “Let me see what you have, Greer, and I’ll tell you all you need to know.”

Greer momentarily finds his balls. “You mean you’ll tell me everything.”

I don’t growl. I don’t snarl or flash a fang. I don’t even glare. I merely raise an eyebrow and keep my voice even. “I’ll tell you all you need to know.”

A bark of shaky laughter passes through Greer’s lips. “Okay, Rick. Fair enough. I’ll hold you to that.”

He guides Az and me to a spacious study. The walls are lined with built-in cherry bookcases. I’m no book expert, but the books on the walls look like first editions. They’re old, at least. The desk on the other side of the room is larger than my bed. The room smells of money and magic.

Az flits to the desk. She spins Olivet’s fancy ergonomic chair three times before using her knees to stop the rotation. She bypasses the top two desk drawers and yanks open the third drawer on the left side. Talismans, rune stones, and bags of herbs fly out of the drawer and onto the leather blotter.

“This is boring,” she mutters once the drawer is empty. She frowns up at Greer. “Where’s the really naughty stuff?”

Greer plops a cardboard box onto the bare space of the desk. The scent of his fear competes with the stale odor of magic coating every inch of the room. Without waiting for words of warning or explanation from Greer, Az sticks her hand in the box.

She pulls out a hefty black three-ring binder. It’s easier to hover over her shoulder than to try to rip the thing out of her grasp. Clear plastic sleeves make up the pages of the binder. She cracks open the binder and gasps.

“Great picture of you, Ricky.” She traces the pad of her finger across the face in the photograph. It’s a candid shot of me outside the sporting goods store I use for most of my equipment. The picture is two months old. I don’t remember that exact day, but I lost that shirt after an altercation with a goo-spitting Lynax seven weeks ago.

Beneath the picture is an index card filled with information on me. They are just my vital statistics and a few facts about my business. Nothing earth-shattering. Besides, of course, the knowledge that someone is gathering info on me.

Az flips the page. Greta’s face – stern and all business – stares up at us. The picture was taken outside the bar she works at. The card below Greta’s picture has her birth date, wedding date, the names of her parents, and the address for the bar. Ike’s picture and info card follow Greta’s.

Each page in the binder is on a member of my pack. Each page ratchets up my anger. Someone has been watching us long enough to know the name of Tommy’s ex-girlfriend and which carwash Mark prefers. There is information on which animal each pack member has inside. No wonder Olivet felt secure enough to attack us.

Princess is, of course, the subject of the last page in the binder. The photo is from the day we pulled the wolfsbane out of Sally’s yard. The card on her is mostly blank, but it does contain her real name. It’s what’s below “Astraea Stanton” that brings a smile to my face: WITCH

Az has a matching grin. She lowers her voice to a whisper. “He doesn’t know who I am. And you-know-who can’t be behind this. He would never tell anyone I was a witch. He wouldn’t dare sully the term by lumping me in that category.”

Greer’s phone rings. He excuses himself to the corner of the study. I can hear every word he says, but I’m more interested in what is in the rest of the box. There are composition books filled with details on pack members’ schedules. He knows what time Uriah and Quinn get out of school and what time Greta goes to work. He has notes on how long Ike spends at his weekly happy hour with his coworkers.

“Someone wants the pack out of the way,” Az murmurs, piling up the notebooks.

“So they can take over. Looks like you were right, Princess.” I shove my hands in my pockets to keep from making fists. There’s no one in the room to bash. Well, Greer is always an option, but that won’t do anything but make me feel a little better.

Az’s head jerks up. “Once they are done with you, though, there’s the rest of the PC to deal with.”

I know where she’s going with this. It is nice to have someone who can keep up. I never realized I wanted a partner until recently. “Something big going down doesn’t go unnoticed.”

She smothers a laugh with her hand. “Witches are the bottom of the totem pole. Like rats on a sinking ship.”

She and I confer for a moment. Our mental lists match. She may have the magical knowledge, but I’ve been doing this for a long time. We work well together. I like her quick mind and sharp tongue.

As soon as Greer ends his call, I pounce. “We need a list of stores that have sold large amounts of Orrta oil, yuea root, and qax in the past week.”

“What’s this about, Rick?”

At my feral smile, Greer pales. The sweet aroma of fear makes my mouth water. My answer makes him break out in a cold sweat.

“A declaration of war.”