Witches, Voids, and Other Sanity Suckers

It isn’t until I park my shiny rental pickup in front of the house that Az drags herself out of her mental fog. I’m sure the reports she mechanically filled out for Greer are worthless, but that’s his problem. My problem is going to start when we walk in that house and everyone starts demanding parcels of attention I can’t spare. Or demanding pieces of my void. Which I can’t spare because I’m not even certain she’s aware of anything around her.

“Can you pull up a list of spikes between 68.5 and 104 hectomana per square foot?” she asks, hand on the door handle and seatbelt still buckled.

“How far back do you want to go?”

“Nine weeks. You said Olivet’s surveillance started two months ago, so let’s pad it by a week.” She pushes open the door and leans forward but is held back by the seatbelt. Concerned that she’s on the wrong side of lucid, I cover the latch for her seatbelt.

“Do you need to take a nap?”

Her glare lacks its usual heat. She looks drained and a decade older. “Didn’t we already have this conversation? I’m not three.”

“No, but you’re not right, and you won’t tell me what’s wrong, so I’m stuck guessing here, Princess.”

She offers up a shaky smile. Tears shimmer in her impossibly wide eyes. “I could use a hug.”

She doesn’t have to ask twice. I unlatch her belt haul her across the center console – bucket seats suck, but beggars can’t be choosers – and into my lap. Her arms wind around my neck and her head automatically settles over my heart. She fits so well it’s like she was made for cuddling.

“What happened, Princess? What did Olivet say that shook you up so bad?”

“Maybe nothing. Maybe everything. I thought everything added up, but now the constants are variables and the variables are imaginary numbers.”

She exhales against my neck. A shiver dances down my spine. At least that math adds up the same.

“Can we stay here forever?” she asks, eyelids drifting shut.

There are three Shifters gathered on the porch. Two look ready to rush the truck. Jose’s already Shifted and is pacing the length of the top step. “Not likely, Princess.”

She untangles herself from me and crawls, slowly, across the console back to her side of the truck. Purse slung over her shoulder, she hops to the ground. She doesn’t get a chance to cross the front of the truck. An excited ocelot races off the porch and launches itself at Az.

Oh hell no. I didn’t take a beating from an airbag to protect her so she can be mauled by an ocelot with impulse issues. I pluck Jose out of the air and hold him up by the scruff of his neck. He extends a paw towards Az, but a sharp shake has him retracting the limb.

“Gentle,” I remind with another shake. “Humans are fragile.”

“Hey!” The protest is half-hearted at best. The slap across my arm isn’t quite as unenthusiastic.

Once I’m certain that Jose isn’t going to knock Az to the ground, I set him on his feet. He circles her legs and rubs his massive head against her waist. She buries her hands in the soft fur behind his ears. His purr shakes the ground beneath our feet.

“I’m okay, Jose,” she murmurs against the top of his head. His tail wraps around her waist to keep her from moving away. “Promise. You’re going to have to fix my hair, though. Also, it turns out that Rick’s not a fan of the shirt, so you win this time.”

That seems to reassure him enough. He stays glued to her side on the short walk to the porch. Once she’s within arm’s reach, Quinn hesitates only a heartbeat before yanking Az in to a tight hug. Her laughter is watery, but the hand she strokes down his spine is steady.

“Geez, it was just a little car accident. We didn’t even flip.” She grabs Uriah’s arm and brings him into the embrace. “You guys are worrying over nothing. Do you really think SuperAlpha would let anything happen to me?”

“SuperAlpha,” Uriah snorts, gently extracting himself from the group hug. “Yeah. That one’s gonna stick.”

Az grins and pecks both teens’ cheeks. They do their best tomato impressions, but neither shoves her away. Good boys. “So what’s this I hear about a class project and irritating poor Hank?”

They chatter like grackles and tug her into the house. Greta greets me at the door with a tumbler of Jim Beam Honey and a couple of Tylenol. I kiss her full on the mouth.

She punches my bad shoulder.

Within ten minutes, Az has Uriah and Quinn settled at the kitchen table with half a dozen books. As the project is for Quinn’s bio-zoology class, she manages to conscript Hank into service as an advisor. Jose, back in human form, dances around the kitchen as he whips up a batch of his famous double-chip cookies.

“Az looks better,” Greta says, leaning against the doorframe of the study.

I pull up the hectomana spikes Az requested so that when she’s through with the domestics we can get back to the business of rescuing a kidnapped child. I don’t know why she wants the data, but I want to see if there’s any correlation between the spikes and the locations where dead witches were found.

“She tried to tell me what happened, I think, but it didn’t come out clearly. It’s been a rough morning, and she absorbed a fair amount of magic during the attack.” Which reminds me that I need to talk her into discharging some of the magic before it hurts her.

“Actually, I don’t think I got that much.” Az breezes by Greta to perch on the corner of my desk. “I mostly just countered their spells. Since I couldn’t tell what Olivet was using for mind control, I didn’t want to risk picking up anything nasty.”

“Does knowing what he used for mind control make anything any easier?”

“Not really. It’s a medium-range spell. He stretched himself too thin when Greer showed up. I bet he’s sleeping off a hell of a headache. There’s a backlash if you’re still connected to a mind that suddenly shuts down.”

“I’d better check on the guys in the attic. It’s been quiet for too long,” Greta says as she backs into the hallway. “Holler if you need any help.”

Az and I go over the spikes and the information from Greer. All of the spikes are within two miles of where a torched witch was found. The locations seem random. One is surprisingly close to Olivet’s house. Doesn’t that violate the psycho murderer code? Thou shalt not slay where one shits. So maybe not as random as they’re supposed to look.

“I have a program that finds patterns in sets of coordinates. Give me a few minutes to load these places in.” I hope Az’ll take the hint and go bug someone else for ten minutes or so. Having her so close I can feel her breath on the back of my neck is damn distracting.

She doesn’t take the hint. If anything, she scoots closer. One of her hands flutters over my sore shoulder for a moment before she tugs the collar of my t-shirt enough to bare the bruise. “Should you have an ice pack on this? Hank should look at it, at least.”

I snatch my shirt out of her grasp. “It’s fine, Az.”

“That does not look fine.”

“Picture this bruise across your pretty little face, and maybe you’ll think twice before bitching about a rescue.”

Silence. Beautiful, sweet silence.

Warm lips softly press against my shoulder and then behind my ear. She rakes a hand through my hair, and I’m tempted to purr like Jose. “Thank you, Rick.”

“You’re welcome.”

Just when I get used to having her practically pressed up against me, she moves back onto the desk. Papers flutter to the floor when she pulls her knees to her chest. I can feel her eyes boring into the back of my skull, but it’s not as creepy as it sounds.

“You know,” she starts in that soft, careful voice that I know means we’re in for a painful conversation. “Technically, if a Mage is behind this, he is in violation of the Richmond Peace Treaty. Since the Alpha of the Eastern Seaboard Pack is -.”

“It’s not an option, Princess.”

“You have the right to file a claim with the Council. You are covered by the Treaty.”

“This isn’t up for discussion, Astraea.”

A growl rumbles in the back of my throat. If she keeps on pressing, I’m liable to say something I’ll only have to eat when my temper cools. No one in the pack knows of my connection to the Alpha of the largest Shifter pack in the US. I’d like to keep it that way. We don’t need his protection. I’ve never asked him for anything, and I don’t intend to start now.

“Okay,” she says, running a finger along the nape of my neck. “This is an issue I understand.”

“Good. Do I even want to ask how you figured it out?”

“I’ve known all along. Dad let me read his file on you before we left New Orleans. There were pictures from some of your early challenges. What you did to a guy who beat up your Mom? That was nasty. I think Dad was hoping they would scare me.”

Well, hell. Now I don’t know if I’m offended that my history is supposed to scare young women or if I’m offended that it didn’t scare Az.

It doesn’t matter. None of it – my past and my family – matters. Finding Daniel and putting Olivet and his puppet master are all that matter. The computer chimes, signaling an end to the waiting period.

“Let’s see what we have.” I roll my chair out of the way so that Az can see the screen over my shoulder. “Stop me if you see something familiar.”

I scroll through sketches of flowers, stars, hearts, stick figures, and geometric shapes. Nothing looks significant. Pentagon. Hexagon. Squiggly line. Star. Something that looks like a paint splatter. A snake. A cross.

“There!” Az scrambles off the desk. “The snake. Go back to that.”

I obligingly scroll back to the snake. Az rocks back and forth on her toes, fingers curled into the back of my chair. “You recognize the snake?”

“Can you manipulate the points? Like make it use the snake and then try to make something out of the remaining locations?”

I can do that. The program spits out the image of a snake holding a stick. This? This is what has Az jumping around like her ass is on fire?

“It’s a snake. With a stick. Maybe you absorbed more magic than you thought, Princess.”

“It’s a basilisk holding a branch from the tree of knowledge,” she corrects. “It’s on the Dubois family coat of arms. Can software like this run in reverse to give you a list of locations that’ll fit the design you want?”

“Probably. I’ve never tried it, but I don’t see why not.” I print out the image. “So how does this help us?”

Az plucks the page out of my hand. She holds it so close to her face I don’t know how she doesn’t go cross-eyed. “There’s supposed to be a knot on the branch that symbolizes limitless magical knowledge. If I were a crazy warlock who felt a strong connection to the Dubois family, I would pick the location that corresponds with the knot as my command center.”

While she scours the image for the mystery tree knot, I check in with the ‘dome. No update on the Patriarch. Pernice Sutherland doesn’t like my big fat nada regarding Daniel, but he’s too polite to yell. If our positions were reversed, I’d be frothing at the mouth. No one would be safe from my wrath. Damn zen centaurs.

Before I can protest or hang up, I get transferred to the ‘dome’s main conference room. The heads of every major group in the Paranormal Community have, apparently, been gathered all morning trying to figure out a way to protect themselves. I give them a barebones update. Enough to keep them from panicking, but not enough to encourage any vigilantes to get in the way. I advise banning all witches from the ‘dome and initiating lockdown procedures. They agree with startling swiftness.

“Found it!” Az announces, shaking the picture. “At least I think I found it. There are two knots, which is kinda weird. They’re both in parks.”

“Which one is closer to the Patriarch’s house?” I give her the cross streets when she just blinks at me. Okay, add that to the list of things she needs to learn.

“Homewood Park.”

That is only seven blocks from the Patriarch’s house. How could we have been so close and not seen him? No wonder the witches were quick to intercept us. It would explain the medium-range spell, too.

Az circles both knots with a red pen. “Should we call for backup?”

Greta needs to stay with the house. My Shifters aren’t healed enough to deal with an attack. Then again, if Olivet has all his not-Shifters gathered in one location, then we’re going to need help. “Do you think he has his horde with him?”

“I dunno.” Az shrugs. “Umm… think like a warlock. Think like a warlock.” She screws her eyes shut. “Nah. I’d keep them somewhere else. Keep just a few with me for protection. The spot is special. Not-Shifters are dirty. Tainted. Even though they’re made of magic, they’re still unclean.

“We’ll call Greer when we get closer, and I’ll have Ike and a small team on standby halfway between here and the park.” I stand and eye the picture. “Unless he’s watching the house waiting to see when we leave so he can mount an attack.”

“Olivet won’t kill me,” she says.

“It’s one thing to use you as a shield against a magic attack. I’m not using you as a shield against not-Shifters.” If she thinks that has a shot in hell of happening, she’s lost her damn mind. I’d have to be dead before I let her step in front of me.

She doesn’t immediately agree. That doesn’t sit well. This isn’t something I’m willing to budge on. “Do you understand, Az? If you don’t agree that you aren’t going to play body armor, your ass is staying here with Greta.”

“Okay.” She holds up her hands. “I swear that I won’t step in between you and a rampaging gang of rabid not-Shifters.”

“You’d better not.” The image of Az, ripped apart by not-Shifter claws, flashes through my head. Oh, hell. I drag her in for a hug. Her arms loop around my waist and her chin digs into my chest. She feels like heaven against me. She’s warm and soft. Safe. “You’d better not.”

“I promise.” She wriggles deliciously. Unfortunately, it’s the wriggle of someone who wants to get free and not someone who wants to get closer. “Your shirt smells like burnt rubber.”

Not very romantic. And, unfortunately, true. I force my arms to let her go. “Change. Something practical, okay? Be downstairs in five minutes.”

Time to rescue a kid and kick some warlock ass.