by Bianca D’Arc
Buford smiled, and it was an evil looking thing. “You don’t think so?” He moved a step farther into the room. “I will have you begging for mercy before you die. Mark my words.”
“Funny,” Jim said, taking up a casual pose, leaning against the crate and thereby shielding the teen within as best he could, “I was just about to say something similar to you. Only, I don’t go in for long goodbyes. When you die at my hands, I promise to make it quick. You’ll have time enough in the next realm to be tormented by what you’ve done here.”
Buford’s eyes narrowed, and his expression grew cold. “Perhaps you are unaware, but you cannot leave the circle. Once you stepped inside my ward, you were trapped here, never to leave.”
“Maybe. Maybe not,” Jim said, as if it didn’t matter to him. “Just tell me one thing, if you wouldn’t mind satisfying my curiosity… Were you Carol’s apprentice or merely her errand boy?”
Carol, the potion witch in West Virginia, had used a very similar kind of ward, and Jim wondered if Buford had learned it from her. If so, maybe he wasn’t as advanced a mage as the woman had been.
“My husband went north to liaise with the potion witch, nothing more.” A female voice sounded from a side door that had opened noiselessly. Jim regarded the woman who stood in the opening with wary eyes.
“That’s not how I heard it,” Jim said, as if this new development didn’t worry him at all. In fact, he was starting to wish he’d called in the cavalry before setting foot over that ward. “From what I understand, old Buford here was in charge of the warehouse freezer section where Carol stored her victims. Pretty gross, if you ask me, putting them on ice like that.”
“It was I who showed Carol the benefits of the blood path,” Buford stated proudly. Jim’s stomach turned. Not only black magic, but blood magic. This couldn’t really get any worse. “My lovely Otalla and I have been practicing the bloody arts for as long as we’ve been together,” Buford went on while his wife frowned. “She set things up here while I checked out Carol’s operation, but in the end, it wasn’t really worth my time, and it got you on my trail.” Buford’s expression spoke of his disgust for that little gem.
“We did learn one thing from Carol, though,” Otalla put in as she stepped into the room and raised her hands. “She really was very good at draining the magic out of her victims.”
Otalla tried something on Jim at that point. He felt it, but it didn’t quite connect. Was she trying to drain his magic from a distance? If so, it wasn’t very effective. Jim reached for one of his new throwing knives and sent it her way. It didn’t hit her—she had some kind of shield around herself—but it thunked into the wall next to her head and made her stop whatever it was she’d been attempting.
“That tickles,” Jim told her, deadpan. Her expression showed deep rage. She was good and pissed and liable to make a mistake. He hoped. “So, what made you pick this place to set up shop?” Jim turned to ask Buford, as if Otalla were no threat. He knew that would only feed her ire.
“A town full of werewolves?” Buford asked rhetorically. “You’ve got to be kidding. This place is ripe and ready for the picking.”
“Maybe. Maybe not,” Jim repeated himself. “How did you find out about this place?” Jim’s question was open enough not to be construed as agreement with Buford’s claim that the town was full of shifters. Jim could mean the old feed mill, or he could mean the town.
“Found it in my travels,” Buford said offhandedly. “I flew through the airport and realized the place was overflowing with shifter magic. Then, I started looking for a way to get closer. This old wreck fit the bill, and it was easy enough to convince the owner to sell.”
Jim wondered what kind of pressure Buford had applied to make the former owner sell. Jim knew for a fact that Joe had made offers on the land over the years, but they’d all been rejected. Why should the owners suddenly turn around and sell to Buford, unless he’d done something to make it happen. Something that had probably been entirely unpleasant for the people who had owned the land before.
Jim made a mental note to have someone check on those poor souls, whoever they were. Joe probably knew. He had that nifty color-coded map and probably a hefty file of information to go along with it. Jim would tell the Alpha, and Joe could check what had happened there—as soon as Jim got himself out of this neat little trap.
*
Helen approached the mill cautiously. She didn’t go through the maze of rusty metal that the kids were using as an obstacle course. If she dallied there, she’d likely get tetanus or something. Instead, she honed in on the area she’d sensed. The building where the boy was being tortured. At least, she assumed it was torture that had caused him to become so very weak.
She’d called Joe, and she knew the cavalry was on the way. He’d said he had some people close—within about ten minutes of her location—but she couldn’t wait. Calum might not have ten minutes to spare.
The first thing she noticed as she got closer to the building was a queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. There was something evil here, and she could only assume this was where the black ward passed. Closing her eyes for a moment, she concentrated. This wasn’t her best skill, but she could sense magic, like most of her siblings. She just had to look a little harder than the others, but she could find it.
Then, she did. A near-invisible line of considerable strength lay across the threshold. A black ward. Hidden. Powerful. Disgusting enough to make her want to puke.
She held her breath and divided the bunch of lavender she had brought with her in half. The purity of the cleansing herb might just be enough to disrupt the line of the ward, bringing down the entire circle. She bent to place half the lavender on the hidden line on the ground, keeping the other half in reserve, in case she ran into something else that needed its cleansing power.
She watched, her magical senses open, as were her eyes. She saw only a faint shimmer when the ward fell, but on the magical plane, she saw a catastrophic failure as evil succumbed to good, the sacred lavender breaking the line and collapsing the field. A moment later, she heard a scream of outrage from inside the building.
She ducked in quickly and found a place of concealment. She wasn’t quite ready to confront anyone just yet. First, she wanted to find Jim and Calum and see what was happening. Only then, could she decide what she could do to help.
*
Otalla screamed as the ward came crashing down. Jim felt it and wondered who had caused it. He had a sneaking suspicion Helen might be involved, which meant she was either in the building already, or about to enter. He’d run out of time to play with these morons. It was time for action.
While Otalla screamed, Jim acted. He sprang at Buford, who was closer, going straight for the man’s throat. The momentary distraction of having the ward fail was just enough opening for Jim to catch the bastard by surprise.
There was no mercy. No offer of repentance. Jim knew it would do no good to hesitate. This pair had shown their true colors in every act he was aware of, including most recently, what they’d done to poor Calum. For that alone, they deserved to die.
Jim killed Buford clean. One slice with his new Bowie knife, and the man was down on the floor, bleeding out. Otalla surprised him, though. Instead of a magical attack, she launched herself at him physically, scratching at his face and clamping onto his back, screaming like a banshee right into his ear.
Then Otalla bit him, breaking this skin, and licked at his blood. At that point, Jim lost track of what was going on. Otalla was doing something… Something magical…
Helen heard the uproar from the next room and knew the time for caution was at an end. Something was going on in there, and she had better go in and see what she could do to help. She entered, taking a quick look around. She saw the wolf in the cage. The door was open, but the wolf was so weak, he was unable to move.
Then, she saw Jim a few yards farther away. A man was lying on the floor, unmoving, blood pooling all around, practically at
Jim’s feet. A woman was clinging to Jim’s back, screaming obscene dark magical words, her mouth wet with blood.
Jim’s blood.
Helen’s stomach turned, but she knew she had to act. She stepped fully into the room and used her loudest, most authoritative tone.
“Stop!” she ordered, holding up the remaining lavender as a shield before her.
Helen walked closer, advancing steadily, showing no fear. Her goal was to get between the woman and the wolf in the crate, so she couldn’t hurt the boy anymore.
“I said stop,” Helen repeated, letting the ancient words flow from her lips. Words she had learned alongside her magical siblings, taught by their mother. Words passed down for generations from the old country, meant to quell and banish the forces of evil.
High German poured from her lips. Words she had never spoken in a real-life situation like this. Words she had practiced and memorized, then tucked neatly away, never to be used. Only, she was using them now, and they seemed to be having quite an effect on the woman whose lips still glistened red with Jim’s blood.
Helen would have to purify Jim’s blood after this, she knew. That woman was evil, and she’d no doubt injected some of her poison into him with her bite. Sickened by the thought, Helen nonetheless pressed on, reciting the ancient formula and repeating the words that weakened the evil woman.
The woman dropped off Jim’s back, unable to cling to him any longer as her power fled from her being and melted into the earth, never to return to her. It seemed to be affecting her hair as she writhed in what looked like pain. The long hair on her head had gone from a lustrous black to dull gray and then to a sickly white. Helen couldn’t see her face, but the skin of her hands also appeared to be wrinkling in a somewhat nauseating way.
Helen repeated the ritual words for a third time, moving closer with each step, though careful to stay out of the weakened woman’s reach, lest she try some sort of physical attack, like she had with Jim. The woman was on the ground now, her head down as she struggled to stay stable on all fours.
There was a moment when she looked up at Helen, her hair draping around a face that was almost unrecognizable from what it had been only moments before. She had…aged. There was no other way to describe it. She’d gone from temptress to crone in almost the blink of an eye. Helen had never seen anything like it.
Jim stood between the evil woman and Helen, just a little off to her right, watching. Ready. He would act if the woman tried anything. Meanwhile, Helen said the final words and watched the remaining energy of the evil sorceress fade into the earth, grounded and banished from her for all eternity. Any power that remained to the woman had to come from some new source. As it was, the woman began to fade, and Helen felt the moment she ceased to exist on this plane.
Helen had killed her? She hadn’t meant to. It went against her healer’s sensibilities to end another life. She stood there, shocked, as the woman faded away.
“What happened?” Helen breathed. “I only meant to drain her magic, not her life force. She should still be alive.”
“She isn’t,” Jim confirmed, going over to examine the woman. “Her name was Otalla, and she was Buford’s wife. I suspect she died because all her energy came from others. Energy she stole from other living beings to support her own life. Look how she’s aged.”
“I’ve heard of this,” Helen breathed. “Mages who extend their own lives with the life force of other people. Blood path…” Helen gasped, appalled. “Sweet Mother of All.” She turned to Jim. “She bit you! Quick, bend down here and let me get a look. She probably infected you with something.”
Helen still held the lavender in one hand as she examined the twin half-circles of the bite mark on Jim’s back, up high, just below his neck. The lavender reacted, meaning Helen was right to worry about contagion.
“Hold still. This might be a bit uncomfortable, but it’s necessary,” she told him. Using her power to cleanse his system, she sent the Lady’s Light through his bloodstream, burning out the evil the woman had planted.
“Feels warm,” Jim commented as she finished the treatment. “Was it bad?”
“Not as bad as it could have gotten. She poisoned you with her evil.” Helen zapped the bite marks with her power, healing them. “It’s gone now. You’ll be okay.”
“Thanks, love,” he told her, tugging her into his arms for a quick squeeze. “Now, did you call for help before storming in to the rescue?”
“I did,” she admitted, giving in for just a moment, to the need to be close to him. “Joe said ten minutes, but I didn’t want to wait once I sensed Calum inside this building. I knew you were probably walking into a trap.”
“You broke the ward, didn’t you?” Jim asked as they walked, arm in arm, over to the crate where Calum lay, watching all.
“I did. The lavender from the B&B’s garden is particularly potent.” She smiled at the young wolf as she crouched down in front of the open door of the crate. “Hi, I’m Helen, and this is Jim. You’re Calum, aren’t you? Your Alpha is on the way, and he’s bringing help, but maybe I can give you a little help before they get here, huh? This way, you can stand on your own feet when they show up. I’m a healer. What do you think?”
The wolf submitted, reaching out of the open crate with his nose and licking her hand. Helen took that as permission and sent a tendril of healing power into the teen. Almost instantly, his eyes looked more alert.
“That felt okay?” she asked, waiting for a little nod from the wolf’s head. She let her power diagnose what might be wrong with the youngster and was relieved to find it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. “I think mostly you’re just underpowered right now. They were draining your magical power and your life force, weren’t they?” she asked. “Well, I can give you enough of a boost to let you walk out of here with your dignity, at least, but time will repair the rest. Time, food, and rest, and you’ll be good as new in a few days.”
“Thanks be to the Mother of All,” Joe said, entering the room on that last declaration. He went immediately to the open crate and reached in to touch Calum, offering the comfort of the Alpha to his Packmate. He kept his hand on Calum’s ruff while he spoke with Helen and Jim. “Thank you for finding him.”
Joe didn’t get choked up, exactly, but Helen could definitely feel the emotion in his words. He spent a moment more just looking into the eyes of the young wolf, offering reassurance that everything would be all right now, then he stood and went over to Jim, getting a full report on the action. Helen ignored them while she did what she could for Calum, knowing that others would be joining them shortly.
Chapter Sixteen
Jim stood with the Alpha while Helen got to work on the boy. He was in awe of her power, and her bravery. His inner wolf had just about howled when she’d walked in, concerned for her safety, but he needn’t have worried. Helen was formidable! He’d had no idea she had that kind of power. She seemed so innocent, so demure, but when push came to shove, she had guts. Real guts. He’d have her at his back in a fight any day, and he was going to be sure to tell her as much, once they were alone.
“You got them both?” Joe asked, bringing Jim back to the matter at hand.
“I got the male. Helen got the woman,” Jim clarified. It was important to him that Helen get credit for her deeds.
Joe glanced over at the white-haired body. “An old woman?”
“She was younger looking than Helen when she attacked me,” Jim said. “Buford said her name was Otalla, but whether that was her real name is anybody’s guess. We figure she was using the life force of others to prolong her life. When Helen let loose with the chanting, Otalla’s power drained away, and she started to age right in front of my eyes. One of the freakiest things I’ve ever witnessed.”
“I thought Helen was a healer?” Joe said, looking over at her, kneeling in front of the crate and running her hands gently over Calum’s furry back.
“She is, but her heritage is very magical, going back many generations.
I think maybe her magical education is more extensive than any of us realized. I suspect her strongest skill is healing, and that’s always taken precedence, but she knows other things too. Such as how to banish evil. She was chanting in ancient German, which makes sense when you realize her ancestry is from that part of the world, and her folks still live alongside the Amish and Mennonite communities of Eastern Pennsylvania.” Jim thought about what he had learned of the Richards family. “Her sister, Kiki, is non-magical, but she knew enough herbal lore to break a dark ward. I bet Helen did the same. She told me she used that lavender she picked this morning from the B&B’s garden to break the dark ward around this place. Their mother is a strong clairvoyant, so maybe she has a bit of that, as well.”
“I don’t claim to know much about mages,” Joe said, holding up both hands, palms outward. “All I can say is that I’m glad she’s here. I’m not sure Calum would have survived another day with these people.”
“Joe,” Jim pitched his voice low, “Buford knew about the town. He deliberately bought this land and set this trap to capture and drain shifters. He and his wife said they were both blood path mages who dabbled in black magic. This was going to be their honey hole, where they could capture nice, juicy, powerful shifters and drain them of their life force, for their own evil ends.” Jim shook his head in disgust. “It really sounded as if Buford had gone to West Virginia to trade knowledge with the potion witch up there. He was showing her blood path nastiness, and she was teaching him black wards, and the like.”
“Now, that’s a partnership made in hell,” Joe observed, his expression hard. “Did he give you any indication if he’d passed on information about the town to anybody?”
“It didn’t sound like it, but I can’t be one hundred percent certain. For what it’s worth, I believe they wanted to keep Big Wolf all to themselves, but you should be wary of travelers. He said he discovered the town when he flew through the airport. It might be wise to hire a few non-magical folk to deal with unknown flights that find their way here. Too many shifters in one place is too attractive a target these days. Just ask the bears in Grizzly Cove how much trouble they’ve attracted by grouping together in that little town of theirs.”
