by Faith Hunter
“Has anyone thought about putting Rick on a plane for the Vatican?” I asked.
“Several times. It’s still in discussion.”
“Last question. What if the vampires with Jason don’t know what we do about the demon and its summoning? Godfrey is an old vampire who probably knows a lot about magic, but this is brand new curse-working. What if Jason is using them for more than we think?”
I felt FireWind’s attention narrow onto me. “I’m listening.”
“What if the curse part of the spell isn’t just for Rick, but also is directed at the other group that hurt him? What if the curse is directed at all the vampires in Knoxville? Or even all the vampires in the state? Or think bigger. What if the curse is directed at the life force, or un-life-force, of every vampire in the world all at once? Just causes them to bleed to death like the cattle did at the stockyard.”
FireWind went quiet and the silence stretched out. “What you’re suggesting is, or should be, impossible. But … A vampire kidnapped him and killed his grandmother in front of his eyes. Yet he’s working with a vampire now.”
“If Jason starts the curse after moonset and before sunset,” I said, “in the last ninety minutes of day, before the vampires rise, he’ll have sleeping vampires available to bleed into his curse, the way he bled the cattle at the livestock center. He wouldn’t even have to cut them. That narrows our timeline even more.”
FireWind muttered something that might have been cussing in another language. “He gets revenge on Rick, kills him, is healed by vampire blood or the were-taint, kills large numbers of vampires, and has a demon at his disposal for as long as their agreement lasts. The little sorcerer is brilliant.” There was reluctant admiration in FireWind’s voice.
“If we miss our window,” I said, “Jason will have the demon to grant him power for as long as he lives, which might be a long time as a werecat or a vampire.”
FireWind agreed thoughtfully. “Logistics will be a nightmare and we don’t have much time to prepare.”
“And that narrow window,” I said.
“The unit is exhausted. New-moon set is less than an hour and a half before sunset. This will be tricky. Get a nap. Be at HQ by four p.m. And, Nell, see that Mud is elsewhere. This will not be the safest place on earth.”
The connection ended. The safest place on earth. As far as I was concerned, that was Soulwood. I wondered if I could get the vampire tree to babysit. I needed sleep, but my family was more important. I needed … I needed to claim the church land. I needed a sacrifice.
I shook my entire body like a dog shakes its fur. No. I was not killing someone to claim the land. At my feet a tendril pushed through the soil, and a single thick, green leaf uncoiled, resting against my ankle.
In the yard, Mud screamed with laughter and rolled on the ground with Cherry. Overhead, a bird sang, long and sweet. I smelled wisteria and the grape Kool-Aid smell of kudzu in bloom. The vampire tree tendril coiled up my ankle and wrapped around it. Not trapping me. Just … making me aware. Reminding me, as if it had access to my mind. And maybe, on some level, it did.
Larry Aden had been wounded by the vampire tree. The tree had his blood. The tree could … sacrifice Larry, and I could claim church land through it.
And that would be murder. Not self-defense to protect myself. But premeditated, cold-blooded murder. An icy thrill rushed through me like a broken dam of glacial water. My body clenched. Goose bumps flew across my skin, pebbling my arms and legs and up my chest.
I looked out over Soulwood, over land that was almost holy. “I’ll find another way,” I whispered, staring at the sprig of the vampire tree on my ankle. It now had three leaves and was about six inches long. I bent down and plucked the sprig. I carried the vampire twig to the back porch and tucked it into an unused pot of soil.
Today was the total dark of the moon, and though the moon was up now, and would actually be above the horizon all day, it wouldn’t be visible at all. The darkness of the night sky would be brightened only by stars. And whatever curse and demon-summoning Jason had planned.
Inside the house, I showered and crawled into bed. I fell fast asleep. I still didn’t know what I’d do with Mud when I went back to work, but my brain needed sleep and I could problem-solve after some rest.
• • •
I dropped Mud off at Esther’s, though I didn’t get to see my older sister. Esther didn’t come to the door when Mud and I knocked. Jed opened the door, a man at home in the daylight, when by church codes he should be working.
“Jed,” I said.
Jed looked tired and angry and had a three-day beard. He didn’t meet my eyes. “Nell.”
I remembered Esther’s fingers at her hairline, so much like mine when my leaves were trying to grow. If being plant-women ran in the family, as I believed, Esther was likely to grow leaves too. But she hadn’t talked to me.
He pushed open the door, but I caught Mud’s shoulder. “If Esther needs my help keeping things trimmed back, you let me know.”
Mud laughed and skipped inside. Jed’s eyes flashed fire and he closed the door in my face.
“Hospitality and peace to you too,” I shouted through the door. I probably shouldn’t have stirred that pot. But if my sister was growing leaves …
I got back in my truck and took off for HQ.
• • •
It was just past four, and T. Laine was talking as Tandy put the last pencil traces on the sketch of the smoky fist of the devil trapped in the earth. “The New Orleans coven and I agree. The spell Ethier is likely using to summon his demon is a shared power spell. It can be called totality. It’s a bargain type of spell, one where a witch and a demon share witch and demonic strength and power at different times and for different purposes. For instance, the demon might use the witch’s strength and youth to power itself to the surface, in which case, the demon steals years, the witch ages, the demon gets free. Then the bargain reverses as the demon extracts more power from the deeps along his pathway, which he then gifts to the witch. The witch ages, but he ends up with one major power/working/curse/whatever. That’s the way it’s supposed to work.”
“Except that Jason isn’t aging. Rick is.”
“Jason added levels in a working so complex I may never understand it.”
“Jason sacrifices Rick—maybe from a distance, since Rick’s blood is now mixed with his own—and maybe sacrifices all the vampires in the house with him too. With such a big sacrifice, he survives handling and channeling the evil of a Major Power through his body and his circle. The demon possesses Jason, enacts the curse, and—if Ingram is right—destroys all the vampires everywhere. After that, unaged, healed from the leukemia, healed from vamp-blood-addiction, Jason will have whatever years are left to him, riding a demon—to use Ingram’s term. Perfect spell. And scary as hell.”
Tandy stepped back from his drawing, studying it.
T. Laine took a deep breath, her eyes on Rick. “The last DNA test results came back from the lab. One vial of liquid was your blood. I’m betting Jason has even more, which is how he’s draining you. It’s how he can reach you even inside the null room or a silver cage. Maybe the blood was drawn by Loriann during the inking. Maybe stolen from a hospital lab or something, prior to you being infected with were-taint. Security in hospitals is set up against humans, not witches. But how he got it doesn’t matter. Now he has fresh blood inside of him. I’m hypothesizing that with the blood, Jason added an extra layer to the curse. He has Rick’s human DNA. He’s been using Rick’s blood and life force to power the spells. Rick is aging fast. The demon, however, doesn’t know what’s happening. It’s a bait and switch with Rick’s life in the balance, made worse because Jason likely infected himself with Rick’s were-taint. Jason kills Rick and curses the vampires who hurt him in one fell swoop. If he loses his bargain with the demon, then the were-taint might heal his cancer anyway.”
Rick looked out the window at the western horizon. His silvered hair seemed awf
ully bright, the black strands fewer now, in spite of the were-taint, which was supposed to give him a much longer life span. Now it made sense. Rick was dying. The pencil drawing of Rick being tattooed was on the table. I spun the paper, studying the depiction. There was something—
T. Laine interrupted my thoughts. “Only after the curse is done will the demon realize that Jason hasn’t aged, isn’t old, and he’s been cheated. Then they live in powerful disharmony until Jason dies.”
Rick murmured, “Jason must really hate me.” He was rubbing his shoulder, the one with the mangled tattoos, tats that he’d accepted, a spelling that he’d suffered, to save Jason, the child. A good deed, horribly punished, proving the old adage that no good deed goes unpunished.
I couldn’t stand watching my boss’s face. I leaned to Tandy and pointed to his drawing. “The arms of the X were more squished. And there was a little hook right there.” I pointed. “Claws. I forgot the claws. The demon’s claws were hooked, like a cat’s.” Rick and Occam looked up at that. “Retractile.” The hand and the ring were coming to life on the paper, drawn by Tandy’s pencil. It was scary.
Rick asked, “What happens if we miss our deadline and we have to kill Jason after he’s possessed?”
“The last time that happened was December sixteenth, 1811, in New Madrid, Missouri,” T. Laine said. “It resulted in the largest earthquake in the history of the United States. It had an estimated magnitude of eight point six on the Richter scale. The earthquake raised and lowered parts of the Mississippi Valley and changed the course of the Mississippi River. A thirty-thousand-square-mile area was affected, and tremors were felt on the eastern coastline of the United States. Additional earthquakes went on for months. If that happens here? An earthquake that big? The entire river valley will likely suffer a substantial upheaval,” T. Laine said. “The U.S. witch council estimated an eight point five or higher. Every power plant and dam in the valley will be damaged. Some will suffer catastrophic failure. There will be flooding like we’ve never seen. Nell’s house might be safe as long as the hilly ridges don’t fall over. The rest of us will drown.”
“Power plant,” Rick said softly. “The nuclear plant?”
“Is not secure to an eight-point-five earthquake,” T. Laine said.
“So the spell of totality is tied to LaFleur’s tattoos,” FireWind said softly.
“Yes,” T. Laine said, just as softly. “I think so.”
“If I’m dead will the spell be broken?” Rick asked.
My head snapped up. Was Rick talking about suicide to save the city?
T. Laine made a sound that might have been laughter if laughter was mostly grief. “Gebo in opposition means a lot of things, boss. Greed, privation, obligation, dependence. In your case, because of who you are, because of your natural protective instincts, it also means oversacrifice unto death. You die and the demon will just take the vampires targeted by the summoning/curse spell. You can’t stop it by dying. Jason prepared for that possibility.”
Rick looked old, the lines in his face deeply engraved, his skin sallow and tired. He turned away, spinning in his chair, his back to us, staring out over the city.
T. Laine said, “We knew the local witches were scared. We knew there was a Circle of the Moon cursing, a blood sacrifice, the Angels and Demons tarot spread, and a summoning. We knew something bad was coming.”
“But not a major prince of darkness,” FireWind said, sounding wry. “Not a curse to bring all the vampires to true-death.”
“What about the Vatican?” T. Laine asked. “Are they sending an emissary or a cardinal or whatever?”
FireWind was leaning against the doorjamb, arms crossed, watching us. He said, “I’ve been in touch with them, through a PsyLED emissary. They are assembling an entire team of exorcists, but they can’t be here by nightfall. And they aren’t willing to sacrifice a few local priests to assist us and keep the vampires alive.” He shrugged. “Undead. Their plan is to deal with the demon if the rest of us are dead and the demon is free.”
Rick shook his head. Rick was Catholic. I had no idea how he felt about FireWind’s statement. “We should have called them sooner,” he said.
“Yes. But we didn’t know, didn’t guess what Jason was really doing, until we saw the hand rise from the circle.”
“We have clues, but we still don’t know everything,” T. Laine said. “We weren’t clueless or too stupid to see the writing on the wall. It was just too big a curse to focus on. And no one expected a Major Power or Principality.”
“I’ve had encounters with demons,” Rick said.
“There is only the one in your records—” FireWind stopped. “Ahhh. The one at Spook School, when you were present for a demon who was taken into a containment vessel, and the one involving my—Jane Yellowrock.” He had almost said “my sister.”
Rick glanced at his supervisor. “The one Jane killed on national TV was summoned by the Asheville coven leader. It was called the Raven Mocker. And though I’m sure someone has left messages with her voice mail … ?” He glanced at JoJo, who nodded. “… We’re still not clear how Jane contained it or destroyed it.”
“I didn’t know you were there,” FireWind said.
JoJo, already pulling up footage of the demon’s death, said, “You can’t kill a demon.”
“Close enough,” Rick said.
The footage appeared on the screen overhead. We watched as a demon killed some humans. Then Jane, now the Dark Queen of the vampires, Ayatas’ sister, killed the demon. And the redheaded woman who had summoned it.
“Yowzers,” T. Laine said. “I had forgotten the sequence of events here.”
“Jane’s rough on her friends,” Rick said. Unspoken were the words “and her boyfriends.” “According to Jane, there was an angel present and only with that angel’s help was she able to stop it.” Rick looked as if he might say more but stopped.
“Was that demon a Major Principality?” T. Laine asked.
“No.”
“Anyone have an angel on speed dial?” Occam asked in dark humor. “Anyone try prayer?”
“Yes,” Rick said softly. “Jane’s angel hasn’t answered.”
Replaying the YouTube footage, T. Laine said, “I agree that this demon isn’t as powerful as the one Jason Ethier is calling. He’s killed two vampires and a buttload of animals in sacrifice and the demon’s still not free. If B.K.L. gets loose, we are screwed six ways to Sunday.”
I said, “The death of one wereleopard won’t be enough. How many vampires will he sacrifice tonight?”
“He’s in the lair with Godfrey and all his humans and scions,” Rick said.
“Jason would have seen the witch amulets on the prisoners they took from Ming’s. He would have known what they were. My money says Jason arranged for the local vamps to find out the address, bringing more vampires to them like lambs to the slaughter,” Occam said. Which was very twisty but made sense. “If so, then Jason plans to drain every one of Knoxville’s fangheads as sacrifice, including at least three master vampires, Godefroi de Bouillon, Ming Zhane, and Lincoln Shaddock.”
“Where’s Loriann?” Rick asked. “She was being treated at the hospital after Jason’s attack.”
FireWind said, “You are tattooed to be protective of her and her brother, so I have to ask. Why do you want to know?”
“She might be the only one in the world who could stop Jason. Or at least slow him down until the team gets to him. She and Kent could set up protections for us. Maybe something that could slow down the ascension of the demon to this plane of existence. If Kent is willing to work with Loriann.”
“I will not authorize Loriann Ethier to work with our people,” FireWind said, “though I will allow her to be on-site in case we have need for hostage negotiation. The wound in her chest was bloody, but the round just nicked a small artery, in and out. She’s patched up and is currently in the null room, repenting of her ways.” He raised his brows slightly and asked T. Laine, “Do you have
the restraints ready?”
“Yeah. The level-five null cuffs are painful enough to fall under the Eighth Amendment’s ‘cruel and unusual punishment’ clause, but since the U.S. witch council approved of them, no one seems to give a rat’s ass. They’ll hurt like hell, but they’ll keep her power docile.”
“Level five?” I asked.
“Brand-new,” T. Laine said, her face grim. “They work by sliding minuscule silver needles under the skin and directly into the nervous system. I happen to have two pair. Lucky me.”
FireWind’s cell chimed and he lifted it to see the screen. A look of satisfaction crossed his face. “If they get here in time, we’ll have additional reinforcements in the form of the National Guard and a big brass observer from the DOD.”
Relief pulsed through the room, but FireWind doused it with the words, “If. Moonset and sunset are awfully close today, about ninety minutes apart. If we are right about the timing of the curse, Jason will have to drop his hedge of thorns just after seven, and he’ll begin his blood sacrifices. We’ll need to take him before he’s finished. Gear up.” He added softly, “Every weapon at your disposal even if they grate against your morality. We will be joined by SWAT led by Gonzales, Special Agent Margot Racer leading a small FBI team, a team from the Tennessee Highway Patrol, and TBI.” TBI was the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation. “I assume Ming’s and Shaddock’s former-military humans will show up prior to sunset and her former-military Mithrans just after dark. I’d like this operation in the bag when they show. Jones, you will handle communications from here. Dyson, you will be with me throughout the op. LaFleur—” He stopped. “Where is Soul? With the null room so easy to break out of, Soul is the only one strong enough to contain LaFleur.” I said, “She disappeared when Jane Yellowrock never called us back about the mercy blade to try and cure Margot.”
FireWind cursed and studied Rick before shifting his yellow eyes to me. “Ingram, are you willing to drive your truck?”
I nodded.
“Is the truck bed empty?”
“Yes,” I said, confused.
