Witches, Voids, and Other Sanity Suckers

At least the damage from the latest attack is limited to my property. My neighbors are reasonable, but two attacks in as many days a bit much to have to swallow. Hank, Jose, and Ike are too injured to Shift back to human form. Az tries to set up a triage station, but the magic she’s absorbed has her too wired to be of any use.

“Pass what you have around,” I instruct her. If Shifters are made of magic, as she says, then an influx must do something for the healing process. “To the wounded first and then to the wards if you can.”

She prances around the yard, stops at each Shifter, and lays her hand on a furry head like a queen bestowing an honor. She murmurs to them, but I can’t pick up the words. When she reaches Tommy, she spends twice as long with her hand on his unmoving form. By the time she works her way back to me, some of the frenzied light in her eyes has dimmed and her steps aren’t quite as bouncy.

“You want some?” She pops up on her toes. Warm hands land on my hips when she wobbles. Her grin is just this side of manic. “Plenty more to share.”

Her lips are too close. Too inviting. I know the taste and feel of them. It’s not the time or the place, but I’m not made of stone. One kiss won’t be enough. Selfish bastard that I am, I want more than the simple exchange she’s offering, and I want it to be more than just a convenient manner of transferring energy.

I place a finger across her lips, careful to avoid her busted nose, before she can move any closer. “The next time my lips are on yours, Princess, it’s going to be because it’s something we both want. And it’s damn sure going to mean more than a magic transfer.”

Az blinks, nods. Drops back so that her heels are on the ground. As soon as my hand returns to my side, she launches herself at me. I automatically wrap an arm around her waist to keep her from her from falling on her ass. She curls an arm around my neck and crashes her lips to mine.

Her lips are warmer than I remember. Softer. Beneath the bitter tang of blood, I can taste peppermint lipgloss and a hint of coffee. She makes no move to deepen the kiss, and I don’t push. This is good. Slow. No magic flows between us – at least not the sort that witches use. Her fingers rake through the short hair on the back of my head before brushing across the shell of my ear.

After an eternity, and far too soon, she lifts her head and presses her lips to the tip of my nose. “It means that I am exceedingly fond of you, and I’m very, very glad you’re all right. If you tell me you didn’t want that, then your pants are on fire.”

She’s on her feet and back in the middle of the Shifter huddle before I can respond. Damned kiss-and-run void. It’s just as well. I’m not entirely sure what I would have said.

Mark and Oscar set up guard positions on either side of the driveway. Neither is any position to do any heavy fighting, but they’re all we have at the moment. I follow her to the driveway.

“Who were you on the phone with earlier, Az?”

“Momma Fox. She’s on her way. She’s going to have Steve pick the kids up from school and bring them home. Paul is going to meet Steve at the school. Extra protection and all.”

“Good.” For a moment, I’d feared she’d called Greer. He has to be notified of the incident, but I need to get a handle on the situation before we bring him in.

Jose carries Az’s purse to her side and then sits behind her facing the street. Guarding her even though he has more blood on him than in him. Good man.

“Thought you’d think so,” Az says. She rips a strip off the hem of her skirt and soaks it with water from one of the bottles in her purse. She gently cleans the worst of the blood off Hank’s broken arm. She keeps a hand on the back of his neck. The air shimmers as she transfers more magic to our injured medic. Her priorities are correct. We need him to heal first so he can heal the others.

“As soon as you’re less furry, Hank, you are going to teach me Shifter first aid. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to give you a Tylenol or a dose of catnip,” she says.

I trust my Shifters with her life, but a wounded animal is unpredictable. Who’s to say that one won’t accidentally nip her if she approaches too fast or touches a wound wrong? Triage means being near the front lines of a battle. That’s too close for my peace of mind.

“Oh, stop growling at me, Ricky,” she chides without looking away from Hank’s face. “Much as you like to pretend I’m a princess, you can’t play the evil queen and lock me away from the world. If you want to keep me out of the bloody stuff, then I can understand that. Appreciate it, even. My nose really hurts.”

Damn. It’s probably broken. I need to look at her head, too. Fugly pounded it like a tetherball. “Let me see your nose, Az.”

She bats away my hands. “Pish. I’ll live. And quit distracting me by being sweet. You can’t stop me from being part of the cleanup crew. I’ll help where I can when I can. However I can.”

Fine. At least this way she’ll be protected by Hank and Jose. “How is Tommy?”

She glances down at the wolf near her knees. “Still out. He’s breathing. Slow and steady. The bleeding has stopped. I don’t know what else to do for him.”

Hank paws at the half-full water bottle. Az holds up her blood-stained rag. Hank shakes his head and nudges the bottle again. Az holds the bottle over Tommy’s face. Hank gives her a toothy cat smile.

“It’s on you if he chokes, Hank,” she mutters. She splashes water across Tommy’s face. His eyes don’t open, but he wriggles. Opens his mouth. Az dumps the rest of the water in Tommy’s open maw. He swallows and licks his mouth clean.

“Ricky, could you get Hank’s kit? I think he and I could work out a system until he’s ready to Shift.”

Yeah right. Like I’m leaving her out here with the wounded when the rest of Olivet’s not-Shifters could appear at any moment. I send Mark and Oscar back inside to retrieve supplies. Not only do we need Hank’s kit, but we need rags and water. There’s only so much of her skirt Az can rip up before I start growling for an entirely different reason.

An older luxury SUV races up the street and squeals to a stop near my driveway. Sally, stiff with indignation and face pinched with anger, slams her door and stomps up the sidewalk. Our battered wards merely slow her down. They aren’t really designed to keep measly witches out, either. That’s something we’re going to rectify as soon as possible.

I move to meet her halfway. There’s no way in hell she’s getting close to my wounded pack. Az pops to her feet and stands over Tommy like an avenging angel.

“You! You perfidious bitch!” Sally screeches, bony finger pointed at Az.

Az’s brow furrows. She steps over Tommy to reach my side. Hank hisses at Sally but doesn’t leave Tommy.

“Me? What did I do?”

“Two of my witches are dead! Killed by Shifters!”

Say what? That’s not an accusation against Az. That’s an accusation against me. I stop directly in Sally’s path. “My people haven’t laid a finger on your witches, Sally.”

“They’re missing. Witnesses said something big and hairy carried them away.” Sally plants her hands on her hips. She glares daggers at Az but makes no attempt to get any closer.

“My people can be accounted for at all times, Sally,” I assure her. “If you continue to slander the pack, I’ll have to take action.”

“Hold on here,” Az interrupts. “What does any of this have to do with me?”

“You’re the Mage’s precious daughter. I didn’t think anything about it during that horrible business with Claire, but this! This is just terrible! I should have seen it coming!”

Az shrugs her shoulders and turns to me. I don’t have any answers for her. I can’t follow Sally’s logic, and I don’t have the patience to even try. I shrug back.

“The point, Sally?” I ask.

“The Mage of New Orleans sent her here to buddy up with you, and get you to take out my coven. We’re the most powerful in the area. Once we’re out of the way, he can send his people in to take over. It’s not enough that we’ve been loyal to him for decades. He wants the power!”

“That’s insane,” Az laughs. Classic pot and kettle accusation.

“It is not!” Sally protests, voice rising with her hysteria. “You just watch, Rick. As soon as the Mage gets what he wants, he’ll turn his back on you. Your new little pet will stab you right between your furry shoulders. She’s the daughter of a Mage, after all.”

Az holds up a hand. Her face is scrunched up, and her nose has started bleeding again. There is more lucidity in her eyes than there has been since her time as a hostage. “Wait a minute. You seriously think that my father sent me here to cozy up to the pack so that they could destroy your coven. And then once my father has set up a coven he controls up in place of yours, I’m going to kill a pack of Shifters. By myself.”

“Yes!’ Sally gestures at the decimated yard behind us. “Look at what you’ve already done! It’s started.”

Az sighs. She swipes at her nose with the back of her hand. “And you’ve come to this conclusion because I’m the daughter of the Mage of New Orleans.”

“Yes!”

Sally’s going to be a problem. I don’t know how many people she’s told about Az. If she starts running her mouth around Greer or to anyone else with a beef against the pack, we’re in for a boatload of trouble. She’s not the most reliable source of information, but there are always fools who believe anything they hear.

I could kill her. She’s stepped onto pack property shortly after an attack. For all I know, she’s working with Olivet. I could sell Greer on it. No one would investigate her murder. Or… I arch an eyebrow at Az.

“No. I am not draining her,” Az states, crossing her arms resolutely. “I’d rather take on another not-Shifter than a bitchy hag.”

Okay. Looks like we’re back to plan A. I won’t even have to Shift to do the deed. Sally’s eyes grow wide when I take a step toward her. She stretches her curled fingers toward Az. “Hiding behind your pet mongrel? Let me see what the daughter of the great Mage can do!” she taunts.

Az shrugs again. “If that’s what you want.” Before I can grab her to keep her out of Sally’s grasp, Az slams her fist into Sally’s bony face. Sally sways but remains on her feet.

“Ow! Oh, sweet mother of a two-horned...,” Az cries, cradling her hand against her chest.

“Let me see that.” I reach for her hand. She curls around the injury. Fortunately, familiar footsteps approach us from the rear.

“You can’t fold your fingers over your thumb, Az,” Greta advises. She holds up Az’s hand and examines the swollen, red digits. “We’ll practice when the hand heals.”

Greta sets Az’s hand onto my waiting palm. She sizes up Sally and pulls back her right arm. Greta’s punch drops Sally to the ground. Lights out for the witch. “See how mine was different?”

Az makes a fist with her left hand and holds it up for inspection. Greta makes a few corrections before nodding in approval. Az studies her hand as if memorizing the finger positions. “Thanks, Greta.”

Greta brushes the hair out of Az’s eyes. Momma Fox at work. Who knew she was hiding a gooey, maternal center beneath all that bluster and leather? “Anytime, kiddo.” She tilts Az’s head back to look over her nose. “We’ll have to straighten that out soon. Can’t believe it hasn’t been done already.” Over Az’s shoulder, she shoots me a mild, chastising glare.

“We’ve been a little busy here, Greta,” I remind my beta.

“And we’re not done, yet,” Az says. “Can one of you scoop up everything that was in the boxes Rick dropped and bring it here? It’s all still by the car.”

Greta strides off to fetch the box. The fingers on my palm twitch. I gently bring them up to eye-level. They look painful, but they aren’t broken. It’s nothing an ice pack won’t fix.

“What’re you going to do, Az?”

“She can’t remember that I’m the Mage’s daughter. She’s going to tell the wrong person and it’ll be a nightmare.”

“I can kill her.”

“Sure you can. ‘Course you can. Never said you couldn’t.” She rolls her eyes at me. “That’s a complication we don’t need. Besides, Olivet has commandeered three of her witches. That’s as good a lead as any we’ve gotten. It could be an important part of the pattern.”

“So, back to my question, then. What are you going to do?”

Az lifts her hand out of my grasp. She gingerly kneels next to Sally’s prone body. “Actually, I can’t do anything. I need you to do it.”

“Do what?” I’m really tired of having to ask that question. If I have to ask it again, Az will not like my method of inquisition.

“Erase her memory.” Her hands flutter at her side. “Of me. Just of me. Not of everything. It’ll be similar to what Olivet did to Greer. Without the loop, of course. That’s an unnecessary step. The loop’s only a backup, and only someone with… confidence… issues needs a backup.” She blinks at me. “You don’t have those kinds of issues, do you Rick?”

“I’ve never wiped someone’s memory before.” And I’m not entirely sure that’s a step I want to take. Then again, how is it much different than killing Sally in cold blood? Either option runs the risk of biting me in the ass. This is just the more reversible option.

“I’ll talk you through it.” She smiles at Greta when the other woman carefully sets both boxes between Az and me.

“Do you need me?” Greta’s face is turned towards me but her eyes dart over to Az.

“No. Check on the others. See if Tommy is awake,” I instruct.

Az shuffles away from the box. Under her guidance, I mix together three different herbs and rub them into Sally’s forehead. With a soft-leaded silver pencil from the box I write Astraea Vardan onto the saggy skin below Sally’s collarbone. The words disappear into her skin.

“The name directs the spell. Sally will only forget anything that has to do with Astraea Vardan. Names have power,” Az explains. “Olivet likely had you touch something that had his name on it when he attempted to wipe your memory.”

“He passed around a fake plastic ID card.” And now I understand why he allowed me to touch it when he was so obviously Shifter-phobic.

“Bingo.” Az frowns and twines the fingers of her left hand with the fingers of Sally’s right hand. “I would like to state that I am, for the record, doing this under protest.”

“Noted.”

“I just need to drain her enough so that she can’t read me again when she wakes up. Take the edge off the power.” Az’s lips thin. Her eyelids flutter shut. The blood drains from her cheeks. “Oh, please tell me Sally isn’t a seer.”

“Not that I’m aware of, but then I thought all witches were a little clairvoyant.”

Az’s eyes open long enough for her to scowl at me. “That’s like saying that all Shifters are a little homicidal. Oh, wait, they are.” Her scowl softens into a smile. “Never mind.”

“Pay attention, Princess.”

A giggle slips out from between her lips. “Light the blue incense cone. Make sure she gets a good dose. Then blow out the cone and trace the letters of my name with the cone.” Another giggle. “World’s on fire. A witch’s funeral pyre,” she sings.

It’s a creepy, familiar song. “You’ve said that before. On the night we met.”

She drops Sally’s hand as if were made of hot coals. “Seer,” she curses, wiping her hand on her dirty dress. “Hurry. Finish the ritual. I need distance. Space. Space to breathe and think and there are too many swirls in my head. Such a pretty rainbow, but tie-dye was never my thing.”

Once the ritual is complete, I dump the supplies back in the box. Sally starts to stir, but I ignore her. I clamp my hands on Az’s shoulders. The blue eyes that stare at me are glazed with madness.

“Keep it together, Princess. I need you.”

“Such a sweet wolf,” she coos.

“You said Claire was a seer.”

She presses a hand against her temple. “Black magic in that one. Dark and hateful. Twisted. Misguided. But there was more than a spark of the future in her. Olivet snuffed it out. Good on him.”

“After you drained her, you wrote four pages of notes for me. Do you think there is anything useful in those notes?”

Az pats my cheek. “Everything is useful, silly Ricky. You just have to know how to look at it.”

Perfect. “So we’ll look at the notes later and figure out what you picked up from Claire.”

“Of course. Whatever you say, Ricky.” She nods emphatically. “But I hope you can read my handwriting because right now everything is super swirly.”

Yeah. Perfect.