“So, you’re just going to stay here and hide while the rest of the town goes to hell, and maybe more if the Aegis can’t stop them. I thought you said you were a cop, or does helping others only work out if you can save your own skin in the process?”
“There’s help and then there’s help,” he says through a growl, but it’s a human’s growl, not a werewolf’s. “These are my people, DeLong. Not the ones in other towns, or other states, or other countries. Just this town, and just these people. This is how I protect them.”
“This isn’t everyone,” I point out. “Not by a long shot. There’s still a lot of Greys out there, and even more of them outside this town. A whole world full of them.”
“You can’t save the world, Ian,” Gault says, and his voice sounds raw. “You can’t even save this town. But I can save these people, these ones right here, the ones who answered when I called them. I’ll take them over the rest of the world any day.”
Voices have started to come up from the crowd as Gault talks, sotto voce cheers and encouragement. He’s got them under his paw, all right. In my peripheral vision I can see Lisa looking nervously around at the crowd. We started out at a disadvantage and it’s getting worse.
“I’m trying to stop it all,” I tell him. “I’m trying to figure out a way to stop them. All of them, but I need someone’s help to do that.”
“Oh? And who’s that?”
“Jericho Garvin.”
“The sniffer? Why?” The idea bounces in his head until it takes root. “Wait a minute. Are you trying to find a kiovore now? Why? What makes you think you can kill it now?”
“I don’t want to kill them,” I say. “I want to cure them.”
He goggles at me, then throws his head back and laughs from the bottom of his claws. The crowd picks up on, hooting and jeering. I can feel my face heat up.
“Ian DeLong,” Gault’s eyes are red and flowing, his words breaking over his breath, “you really are trying to save the world, aren’t you? Christ, man, I think one of them hit you too hard last night. You’re fucking daft.”
“Every one of them, except the original, is a citizen of this town, Gault. They deserve to be looked after just like these people here do.”
Gault’s finally gotten his breath back. “You don’t get it. This is what it’s like, when you’re dealing with predators and prey. Sometimes the herd gets thinned. It’s nature.”
“Then screw nature.” I aim my voice out over the crowd. “Jericho Garvin! I need to talk to you! Please come down!”
“I’m right here, Ian,” a delicate voice comes from the side. “I heard you say my name the first time.”
She must have come up the front of the crowd after we got there. No way someone could overlook her. She’s 20 and extremely fit, with an affinity for tattoos and a tangled mane of hair too red not to be spell based. Like many of the Grey, her limited power presents itself in a single talent. Her talent is finding things. She’s a recent addition to the town, having moved here over the summer with a self-imposed mission to locate lost pirate treasure that she swears keeps moving itself as soon as she pins it down.
“What is it you want?”
“He wants you to go find one of the things that wants to eat you,” Gault supplies. Her eyes go wide in alarm.
“That’s not the whole story, Jerry,” Lisa finally speaks up. I clam up, letting her lead. “There’s a chance we can end this all, today. But we have to find one of them before it wakes up in order to do that.”
There hasn’t been enough time for skepticism to mix down with the shock, so Jerry just looks blankly at us. Before she can speak again, Fate decides I haven’t had it rough enough lately and throws me another curve.
The crowd along the fence behind us parts, distracting me. The Grey scatter, letting another car through. It’s a white limo, long and polished, ludicrously expensive. I’ve seen it before, but not since the summer.
“I was wondering if she’d show up,” Gault says, bemused.
“Who’s that?” Lisa asks.
“It’s Moira,” I tell her. “Moira Durande, leader of the Shellbreak witch coven.”
The limo glides up next to the building almost silently, as if it’s not a vehicle itself but the ghost of one. The tires have barely rocked to a stop when the rear door opens, a long, smooth, feminine leg stepping out. Bare, of course. Moira’s girls, ever close to nature, never did like clothes. Its mate joins it, and she rises, gracefully nude, from the dark interior. My heart coughs a stuttered rhythm as her head clears the door.
It’s not Moira.
I haven’t seen Claire Carlisle in months. She’d always been lean and athletic but now her five-ten frame now seems as tightly carved as a marathon runner, every muscle etched and defined from her corded neck to her eight-pack abs to her striated calves. Her strawberry blonde hair, always worn in a neat pageboy, is now a slick helmet that barely touches her neck. If she’s at all bothered by the chill in the air, she doesn’t deign to show it. For a moment our eyes meet and it all comes back to me.
Claire and I have known each other for a long time. She’d once been a member of Moira’s coven, brainwashed and blindly devoted, until she’d come to me for help. I’d gotten her out, not cleanly but successfully. There’d been tension between us that had come to a head last summer, when fate had thrown us together just before the Battle of the Bay. Well, maybe not thrown, since after some mutual reluctance a different kind of tension had developed and we’d both seemed to find something in each other.
Then she’d betrayed me. Tried to murder me. I understood her reasons, and she’d even saved my life before it was all over. But there are always going to be some things that can never be made up.
After a long, long moment of locked gazes Claire finally steps away from the limo door. As she walks our way more legs emerge. Another woman, tall and curvy with billowing blonde hair, followed by a shorter one with dark skin and tight cornrows, both wearing smiles and nothing else. When they’re out two more bodies pour out of the car, naked and shining. Two men this time, twins most likely, with brown ponytails and identical boxers’ physiques.
Something is going very badly now, I can feel it in the pit of my stomach. Moira, a far older and more experienced witch, had never admitted men into her coven. Men are usually a disruptive element in covens like hers. Claire doesn’t seem inclined to follow the precedent.
“Ian,” she purrs, her voice huskier than I remember, sexier. She’s a siren, channeling magic into her voice, but when it comes to a woman’s voice not every power is magical.
“Claire,” I say carefully. “What have you done?”
“Claire?” Lisa asks with a sharp tone. They’ve never met, but she knows all about my history with the siren. Hollett, back in the Jeep, is darting his eyes between the three of us. He’ll figure it out soon enough, at least the basics.
“Good to see you again,” Claire says.
“You look like you’ve been busy.” I keep my tone even. “Haven’t heard anything about Moira for a while. How’s she doing these days?”
“Couldn’t tell you,” she laughs. When she does everyone around her breaks into a little grin. Even Lisa, who quickly wipes it away with a scowl. Claire’s followers, though, echo her laugh’s length, inflections, and tone precisely, just like they did when they belonged to Moira. Even when she’s not consciously trying, sometimes magic leaks out in her normal voice and affects those around her. If she wanted to, she could become extraordinarily dangerous.
“That’s her car, isn’t it?” I point at the limo.
“It was. It’s mine now.”
“You know, I wondered why she just disappeared. I thought she’d be back eventually. She won’t be, will she?”
“Ian, you should know better than that. People don’t come back.” She levels her gaze at me. “You saw to that yourself.”
“Claire, I don’t have time to play games right now, but don’t worry. We’ll pick this up again soon.”
“Leaving so soon? What’s the rush?”
I throw a nod at Gault, standing rigidly off to the side. “Let him tell you. I don’t have time.”
“And who’s this?” For the first time she looks at Jerry. “She looks scared. Are you sure you should be bringing her out on a night like this? It could be dangerous.”
“The longer you keep us here the more dangerous it’ll be. Come on, Jerry.”
“Hold on now,” she says, blocking Jerry’s path with an outstretched arm. She looks over the young redhead, her own strawberry hair glittering in the sun. “Do you want to go with him, sweetie?”
“Well, no,” Jerry says, her voice hesitant. “But if I don’t…”
“That’s all there is to it,” Claire interrupts. She puts her hands on Jerry’s shoulders and turns her until they’re face to face. Well, not quite, since Claire’s a good six inches taller than the young girl. Clearly uncomfortable staring at Claire’s small breasts Jerry has to turn her face upwards, like a supplicant.
“There’s no point putting anyone else ahead of you,” she tells the young girl. “And it’s no use waiting for anyone to come to your rescue when things go bad. You’re all you can rely on. It’s only your own strength that will save you. Sooner or later they all let you down. They’ll take everything you give them and leave you emptier inside than you ever knew you could be.”
“Claire…” I say.
“Shut up,” Claire barks, and all sound dies as everyone within fifty feet of us suddenly closes their mouths at the same time. She turns back to Jerry. “I learned that lesson the hard way. Get yourself off to a better start than that. If you…”
“Let the girl make her own choice,” Lisa has finally had enough. She storms past me, interjecting herself between Claire and Jerry. “You say she needs to make up her own mind? Fine. Let her.”
Claire looks hard at Lisa. Physically they couldn’t be more opposite. Claire’s all length and wire. Lisa’s got curves for days, even though she only comes up to Claire’s collarbone. Strawberry hair versus curly brown. Stark naked versus sexily practical. But while they’re physically merely inverse their attitudes are clashing so hard they’re about to start throwing sparks.
“Ah,” Claire says with a spiteful grin. “Rebound girl.”
“What did you call me?” Lisa, already standing far too close to Claire for my liking, takes another herd step towards her. She’s staring hard at the siren just like Jerry had been, but unlike the kid she doesn’t care about what Claire’s not wearing. The crowd edges back a few inches; they know who and what Lisa is, and they know what could happen if she were to remove her sunglasses. Their sudden collective flinch makes me realize how many people are actually there and, much more important, what they’re doing.
I’ve had half an eye on the mass of people milling around the base of the building as it uneasily shifts and stretches, but when I was watching Lisa go alpha female on Claire the crowd closed around us so quickly I’ve missed any chance of stopping it. Claire and Lisa are at the middle of the circle, with Gault and Hollett facing each other across its expanse and me somewhere in between. We’re penned in by the mob, and now that I know enough to be worried I’m able to see the expressions on the faces closest to us. They are decidedly not friendly.
“Okay, now,” I hold up my hands in pacification. “Let’s not do anything…”
Lisa’s hand is a blur, flashing up to her face like a striking snake and snatching away her protective sunglasses in less than a heartbeat’s time. As fast as she is, though, Claire is a step ahead of her. She’s already got a lungful of air and it’s coming to life in her throat, spilling out in a sharp, ringing tone that spills out over Lisa even as their gazes meet.
Both of their expressions go blank as they realize their powers haven’t worked – Claire’s not a vividly detailed marble statue and whatever charm she’d worked into her song clearly hasn’t had the least effect on Lisa. They’re so wrapped up in each other that they haven’t even noticed that I’ve grabbed each of them by the hand, the touch of my skin to theirs short-circuiting their magic.
“That’s enough,” I tell them in a no-bullshit tone.
“Yes, it is,” Gault says. His tone is even colder than mine.
“Yeah, I think it’s time for you to go,” Tommy Hunt says. His crowbar beats a soft but steady slapping rhythm against the palm of his left hand.
“Not without Jericho. With her I might be able to stop the killing. Without her there’s no way.”
“I don’t want to go back out there,” Jerry tells her shoes. Her voice is a tremulous whisper, her shoulders drawn in and her back hunched. She’s withdrawing into herself, but she can’t hide the hot red blush creeping up her ears. She’s embarrassed, scared, and embarrassed to be scared.
“I don’t blame you for being scared,” I tell her in a gentle voice. “But you can trust me, I’ll…”
“Trust you,” Claire says with a harsh laugh. “Just like I trusted you?”
“What are you talking about? You betrayed me, remember? You tried to kill me to get the Cleave for Danaher. How did I break your trust?”
“Because you were supposed to help me, goddamnit!” She’s almost crying now, but her voice is apparently dry of magic because nobody around her is reacting to what should have been a tsunami of power. Consciously or not, she’s holding her magic down. “Sooner or later I was going to be Moira’s slave again. He was going to use the Cleave to set me free, forever! Why couldn’t you just let him do that?”
“Claire, I…”
“You rescued me from her in the first place.” She’s visibly deflating, her iron control melting away like the ice she’s been pretending to be. “I told you she was going to get me again, and she would have and you couldn’t have stopped her! Why didn’t you just let him use it? Why?”
I look at the hostile faces watching us. If it weren’t for them I might be able to talk her down, convince her about our need, but there’s no chance of that as long as we’re surrounded by this group. The very group that I’m risking my life to protect, not to mention the life of the woman I love. I’m about to lay into them when I jump at the gentle pressure of a hand on my right arm. It’s Lisa, but she’s not looking at me. She’s looking at the crowd looming around us. “Ian, we need to leave,” she says quietly.
“Yeah, listen to her, Ian,” Tommy Hunt drawls. He’s slapping a soft rhythm against his thigh with his crowbar. More voices follow his.
“Yeah, just go!”
“The fuck are you doing here, anyway?”
“Leave us alone!”
“We never asked for your help!”
“Almost time to shut the doors anyway,” Gault says. “Sundown’s on its way.”
“Fine,” I snap. “We’re going. I’m going to figure this out, with or without your help. Stay here if you think you’re safe. I hope you are, but trust me. You’re not.” I turn back to the Jeep.
Out of the corner of my turning eye I see the bottle arcing out over the crowd but I’m not fast enough to stop it before it catches Lisa in the forehead with a thick clunk. Her head snaps back and she reels, staggering into the side of the car, both hands clasped tight to her forehead. I’m under her before she hits the ground, catching her around the waist and shoulders, her hair tumbling away from her slack and stunned face, her sunglasses hanging from one ear. As I ease her to the ground I see a flare of light behind us and in the periphery of my vision I see Hollett has jumped between us and the crowd, his thorn wand sparkling with green and purple light.
“Lisa?” I cradle her head in my hands, resting her body on the pavement. Her eyes are closed, blood is trickling down her forehead until it breaks like a stream over the bridge of her nose but she’s still conscious, making pained little noises and gently holding her head where the bottle hit. Then I’m standing over her with my gun in my hand and I don’t remember how either of those things happened and the world is spinning around me and I can’t foc
us on much but with the red shells in my Smith & Wesson I don’t need a whole lot of focus especially with the crowd that close but before I can put that tiny squeeze that would have meant so much to me on the trigger Hollett’s right in front of me, blocking my shot with his back while he holds the cowering crowd at bay.
“Put it away, DeLong,” he snaps, and now my rage is focusing on him. I don’t really want to shoot him but I will if there’s no way around it, but he forestalls that impulse by adding, “We need to get her to a doctor.”
My finger twitches on the trigger. I can shoot around him, the benefit of being surrounded. A breath, two breaths, three. It takes a monstrous effort, but I manage to lower the gun and reholster it. Hollett bends down and together we manage to slide Lisa into the back seat. Hollett gets behind the wheel. I’m halfway into the back seat with her when I stop and face the crowd again.
“You know what?” I shout at them. “You don’t deserve me. You don’t deserve what I do. I’m busting my ass trying to save you all. I don’t have to do this. I’m nobody’s Envoy any more, I’m under no obligation to protect anybody. You think I couldn’t just sit back and mix up a Martini while the rest of you fucks are getting eaten? Of every person in this goddamned town I’m literally the last one who has anything to fear from these things but I’m still the one out there fighting. For you! And she’s out there with me, even though she could die for her efforts at any time. There’s not a single one of you who deserves to lick her goddam feet, you pieces of shit!
“Well, I’m done. You don’t want me to fight your battles for you? Fine. Just fucking fine. I hope every one of your worthless asses get eaten tonight, every fucking one of you, and if it’s not these monsters I hope it’s the next ones or the ones after that. And every time, every single time one of you calls on me to help I’m going to tell you the same thing: go fuck yourself. And when you’re all six feet under I’m going to visit each and every one of your graves and piss all over them!” I jump into the seat. The door’s halfway to a slam when a final voice sounds out.
No More Devils: A Visit to Superstition Bay Page 22
