Witches, Voids, and Other Sanity Suckers

The sight of the dead witch in front of my house strikes Greer dumb. I would enjoy the silence and capitalize on his deer-in-the-headlights look, but I’d rather be upstairs with Az than with Detective Dumbass. I haven’t had a chance to see her since Greta and Jose whisked her off for a bath. The need to reassure myself that she’s alive makes me itch.

“This is not good.” Greer swipes a hand across his forehead. He looks like he’s about to boot all over the body. “This is some serious shit, Rick.”

“We didn’t kill her!”

Greer’s mouth falls open again. His throat works furiously but all he can do is sputter. I swear he’s going to faint like a sissy.

“Half of her skull is missing,” he says, trembling finger aimed at the gaping hole in the back of the witch’s head.

“Ike shot her after someone fried her brain.” This is the third time I’ve had to explain the timeline to him, but it’s not sinking in. Between Daniel’s kidnapping, the Dowager Matriarch’s murder, and the shootout with the witches, I think Greer’s reached the limit of how much magical shit he can handle. Pansy.

“Why would he shoot her if she was already dead?”

I gesture toward the second corpse. “I have a strict one draugr a month limit.”

“I have to call the Mages’ Council. They’re not going to be pleased that the wife of a Mage was killed in front of a Shifter pack house.”

Fury rolls down my spine. I have to clench my fists to keep from sprouting claws. “I’m not too fucking pleased that the wife of a Mage attacked my pack house.”

“With the witch and the draugr dead, it’ll be your word against the evidence, Rick.”

“She was killed with magic.”

Greer pauses to consider the body again. In that brief moment of quiet, I expect Az to start chattering about how an autopsy will reveal that the witch’s brain was fried with a modified liquefaction spell or the Rite of Telepathically Killing People. Maybe the spell left a residue or turned her innards blue. I turn to my right, but there’s no one there.

Of course not.

Greer seems to realize that something’s missing, too. “Where’s your Reader?”

“Indisposed.”

At least, I hope she’s still just indisposed and not dead. Greta or Jose surely would have said something if her conditioned changed. If they value their lives, they’ll tell me half a heartbeat after something changes.

“She’s sick? She looked fine this morning. Did she get hurt when the witches attacked? She wouldn’t let the paramedics examine her.” Greer glares at me as if it’s my fault Az was non-responsive after the ambush.

There is no way in hell I am telling Greer that Az fell into a magic-induced coma after draining all the power from Olivet while we were rescuing Daniel. “She’s resting. It’s been a long day with a lot of magic.”

I don’t know if it’s my tone or the easily-believable excuse that prompts Greer to nod like a bobble head, but at this point I just don’t care. “What I don’t get,” Greer starts, “is why the wife of the Mage of St. Louis would attack you.”

I shrug. “Witches are crazy bitches.”

Greer continues nodding. “I put in a call to Mage Shica’s house. His assistant says that he’s been at a retreat in Budapest all week. They’re not allowed to use cell phones, but she gave me a number to call to leave a message for him.”

It’s my turn to be stunned. If Shica’s been incommunicado in Budapest, who has Az been calling? She hadn’t said that the voice sounded off or given any indication that she was speaking with an imposter. Is Shica’s assistant lying or has someone managed to impersonate the Mage of St. Louis?

“Call Leo Vardan, the Mage of New Orleans. He and Shica are close.”

Greer eyes me like he wants to ask how I know that, but he calls his office and gets patched through to the Mage of New Orleans. He paces the length of the driveway while he wants for someone to pick up. The conversation he has with a soft-spoken, matronly-sounding woman is surprisingly short.

“Vardan’s at the same retreat,” Greer says as he pockets his phone. “I’ll check with the department to see who I should contact next.”

Surrounded by Mages in Hungary, I doubt that Shica or Vardan have been able to sneak out long enough to pull Olivet’s strings and mastermind the overtaking of my city. Then again, if either of them is in charge, they have a hell of an alibi. I’m starting to understand why Az said the math wasn’t adding up.

“So how’d you find the kid?” Greer asks.

“Az found him.” I don’t have time to satisfy his curiosity. I need to figure out who is doing their damndest to take out my pack. “You’ll have to ask her when she wakes up.”

If she wakes up.

She has to wake up.

She’d better wake up.

The map. She found Daniel using the magical map with the snake and the twig. What had she said about the knot of knowledge? I leave Greer standing in the driveway and race back into the study. If he wanders inside, someone will make sure he stays in the public areas of the house.

The map is still on the desk. The blob over Homewood Park must be one of the two knots Az spotted. I stare at the map trying to find a second blob, but it doesn’t come easy. Just when I think my eyes are about to cross, the dots coalesce into a circle-ish shape.

Bear Creek Park in west Harris County. Right over Bear Creek.

I drop the map and flip through the pages o’crazy Az had tried to translate. Her spidery handwriting is a bitch to try and decipher, but one words stands out: Ursidae. Where the Ursidae meet the river. Bear Creek Park.

At least we won’t have to deal with actual bears.

If Az is right, and that’s a pretty damn big if, Olivet’s command central is in Bear Creek Park. Some of the largest spikes on the map are in that area. Is that where the puppet master will be going? Is he or she already in town? Is that where the not-Shifters are kenneled?

The one person I need to ask is, of course, not taking questions at the moment.

The stairs rattle under my feet as I stomp up to my bedroom. Princess is propped up by every pillow I own. Jose is finishing up the second of Az’s braided pigtails. Complete with big white bows at the end. How very Heidi. I hope Az strangles him with them when she wakes up.

Greta massages Az’s legs while Hank hovers over his IV pole. All in all, there are too many people surrounding my void. I open my mouth intending to tell them to get the hell out, though it’ll likely just be a growl, but then I get a good look at Az’s outfit.

Red plaid pajama bottoms, a white t-shirt with a large gray wolf screen-printed across the front, and a red fleece jacket.

Talk about mixed messages.

“She was getting cold,” Jose says, lower lip puffing out, when I arch an eyebrow at him. He straightens the braid closest to him before pressing his lips to the side of Az’s head.

“And the pajamas?”

“Ike had planned on giving them to her as a gag gift,” Greta says. “You should have seen the ones I had to talk him out of.”

Given Ike’s often-twisted sense of humor, I really, really don’t want to know. “How is she?”

“The same.” Greta abandons Az’s legs so that I can sit beside the unconscious void. “Hank started her on fluids. He’s been monitoring her vitals.”

“There doesn’t appear to be any physical reason for her to remain in this state,” Hank says, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Then again, I don’t know the ins and outs of magic absorption, so I don’t know what’s going on inside her head.”

“Does anyone?” I pull her left foot onto my lap. The skin across the top of her foot is cool and her toes are downright icy. Does this mean that she’s processing what she can of the magic and slowly releasing the rest of it?

Sunlight momentarily blinds me when Greta pulls back the curtains to peer outside. “Greer’s car is still parked in front of the house.” Greta lets the curtains swing shut. “How much trouble is he giving you over the witch?”

“Enough. He’s having difficulty contacting Shica. It seems that most of the Mages are at a retreat in Budapest and have limited access to outside communication.”

Greta’s eyebrows disappear beneath her short, spiky bangs. “Didn’t Az talk to her uncle on the phone?”

“That’s what we thought.” Once Az’s left foot is sufficiently warm, I trade it for the right foot. “There’s a lot of freaky shit going on here.”

Greta rolls her shoulders and flashes a toothy, feral grin. “Got any idea where it’s centered? You and Ike got to have all the fun with the bitch and her pet draugr. Really not fair, Rick.”

“Bear Creek Park.” My fingers dig into Az’s heel. “But we don’t know that the puppet master is there or how many not-Shifters are hanging about.”

“I’m up for a little recon.”

“They’ll have a Shifter’s sense of smell. You go in for a looksie and you’re liable to end up with a fight on your hands.”

“I have no problem with that.”

“I do. I don’t want another skirmish. I don’t want to give them another chance to see what we’re capable of. We have to shut them down.”

“So we go in hard without knowing what we’re facing.” Greta crosses her arms and leans against the wall. “Reminds me of the time that clan of jackals tried to set up shop in Baytown. Friggin’ meth heads.”

Greta and I share bloodthirsty, wistful smiles. Those were the good ol’ days when the pack was tiny, and I didn’t give a damn about the rest of the Paranormal Community. Greta, Ike, and I barely made it out of that fight with all our limbs attached. Ike still gripes about the chunk they took out of his rear flank.

“It’ll be all hands on deck for this one,” I say, battle plans racing through my brain. A few of the younger pack members haven’t been in serious battle, so they’ll have to pair up with the veterans. Greta and Ike fight so well together that it’ll be a shame to have to break them apart. I don’t trust anyone but Greta to watch over Uriah and Quinn.

“Everyone’s healed up,” Hank says, joining Greta by the window. “The downtime really helped. My kit’s stocked, and I can get Willie to sit on the sidelines with the ambulance.”

“Call him.”

Hank nods and steps into the hallway to call his half-incubus partner. Greta’s eyes have glazed over. Knowing my second as well as I do, I know she’s picturing Bear Creek Park and trying to determine the best plan of attack.

“We should all go in Shifted wearing those scent-neutralizing charms we picked up last month.” Her gaze stays fixed to the landscape on my wall. “Break into teams of three, I think. Spread out enough to cause confusion but not enough to be cut off from help. If they’re close to the creek, we can take advantage of ground cover.”

“What about Az?” Jose asks. “We can’t leave her here unprotected.”

No, we can’t. And I can’t spare anyone. As it is we’re taking a risk by going in with so few people.

This isn’t just our fight, though. The not-Shifters have killed Centaurs. If the pack fails, then the entire Paranormal Community will be at risk.

Time for a little of that unity Az was preaching.

I don’t want to rely on anyone else to protect Az. For all I know, whatever we face at Bear Creek will be a distraction so that the puppet master can swoop in and steal my void. Even if the fight is legitimate, how protected is she really going to be if I take the best warriors with me? The pacifists in the Land Faery Association or the ogres too stupid to know which end of a spear goes up? Neither option inspires much confidence.

I am going to make her life a living hell when she wakes up.

If we’re lucky, we can get to the not-Shifters before the puppet master shows up. We take them out, it’ll take a long time to find a new patsy and rebuild the army. That will give us the time we need to take down the puppet master. Hopefully with Az’s help.

Now that the Centaurs know they’re being targeted, they’ll be vigilant and under the pack’s protection. The entire PC will be vigilant and under my protection. Houston is my city, and it’s time I start reminding people of that fact.

“Greta, get everyone downstairs. I’ll be along shortly to explain things.”

She offers up a saucy salute on her way out of my bedroom. Jose stops petting Az’s head when my eyes fall on him. I know he wants to stay with Princess, but I need him on the battlefield.

“Get Az ready for transport. Pack a bag with clothes for when she wakes up. She needs socks and shoes, too. I’ll have Hank take care of the medical stuff.”

Pernice Sutherland picks up after the second ring. I know he’s still at the ‘dome because the Patriarch only recently woke up and that’s where all the centaurs have congregated. The six-centaur squadron that picked up Daniel made it clear that the centaurs are taking this threat seriously. I hope that means I can count on their help.

“Pernice,” I say, cutting off the younger man’s profuse outpouring of gratitude. “Gather everyone in the main conference room. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

“Do you have news, Rick? Has there been another attack?”

“No. We’re going to war.”