Witching Bones: A Wild Hunt Novel, Book 8

by Yasmine Galenorn

  He stared at the TV for a moment. “Raj no like fighting.”

  “Raven understands. But Raj needs to know that it’s okay to fight back if someone is hurting him. It’s not okay for anybody to try to hurt Raj.”

  “Or Raven,” he said softly.

  I nodded. “Or Raven. Raven fights back when people try to hurt her.”

  The conversation was clearly making him uncomfortable, so I found a TV show he liked. There was one cooking show in particular that fascinated him, though for the life of me I couldn’t figure out why. Raj had never cooked a thing in his life, but he liked the hustle and bustle of Chefs Away—a cooking competition set on a cruise ship—so I DVR’d it for him.

  I set one of the episodes to playing and, when Raj was immersed in the action, I pulled out my e-reader and returned to the mystery I was reading. I read mostly mysteries, romance, and science fiction, along with esoteric books on magic, legends, and ancient civilizations.

  An hour and two episodes later, it was almost lunch time. Raj tapped me on the knee and I jumped, I’d been so engrossed in the book.

  “Raj hungry. Is Raven hungry?” he asked, a hopeful note in his voice.

  I set my e-reader on the coffee table and stood, stretching. “I do believe I could use a spot of lunch, Raj. What do you think about sandwiches and soup?”

  He nodded, perking up. “Turkey?” Raj loved turkey sandwiches.

  “Turkey it is—” I paused as a noise from the ferret’s room alerted me. “Hold on, while I check on the ferrets.” I thought I’d locked their cage when I’d changed their litter and fed them, but it sounded like at least one of them had gotten out and was causing havoc.

  I headed down the hall, frowning. With all the new wards, nothing should have gone awry. But as I opened the door, sure enough, I saw that I had forgotten to lock the cage. Not only that, I was confronted with a pile of litter and bedding scattered all over the floor. Elise looked up, a frantic light in her eyes, as she shoved more litter out of the open cage.

  “What the hell? What’s going on?” I scooped her up and walked over to the table, sitting down with her on my lap. “What are you doing, Elise?” A glance over my shoulder showed Templeton and Gordon taking her place, frantically scattering their litter everywhere.

  Dirty. Dirty litter. Have to clean up. Can’t have dirty litter in the cage!

  “Huh? I cleaned it this morning.”

  Gordon peed. Can’t have dirty litter in the cage! She sounded disgusted.

  I frowned. What could have brought this on? They had been perfectly content this morning. “What’s going on, Elise? Calm down and talk to me.”

  Messy, messy. Can’t stand mess. Bring us clean litter?

  She sounded ready to cry, if ferrets could cry.

  “All right, but Elise, the litter is barely touched. Gordon couldn’t have soaked all of it with one whiz unless he held it back for days.” I set her down and examined the litter. Most of it was clean. Frowning, I retrieved the broom, dustpan, and a garbage bag, and cleaned up the mess on the floor. Thank gods I’d taken the carpeting out and had a durable laminate put in before I moved in. I knew the ferrets could destroy wood, so I’d found something easy to clean for their room. I replaced their litter, shook out their bedding, and replaced it in their cage, then tucked them back inside.

  “There, it’s clean. Don’t do that again, okay? I change your litter every day.” I spent a few minutes playing with them, but they all seemed distracted. In fact, Elise kept bringing me tiny bits of litter that my broom had missed.

  Here’s another. Must be tidy!

  A little worried, I tucked them all back in the cage and made sure it was firmly locked. Whatever the hell was going on, I hoped to hell they’d get over it. Heading back to the kitchen, I washed my hands and proceeded to make lunch.

  Chapter Six

  Kipa arrived around three p.m., snow dusting his shoulders. I glanced out behind him. The four inches had turned into six, with no sign that it was going to stop. He kissed me, but a preoccupied look in his eyes told me that he, too, was feeling a bit off.

  “Something wrong?” I asked, leading him to the sofa, where we curled up together.

  “Yes, actually, and I was wondering if you could help. But first, how are you doing?” He toyed with a stray curl by the side of my face, brushing it back. “I missed you.”

  I grinned. “We saw each other yesterday, dude.” Sobering, I added, “I missed you, too. I love hanging around with you.” I thought about telling him about Buck, but didn’t want to spoil the mood. Besides, Buck was my problem. My battle to fight.

  “Then let’s hang more,” Kipa said, gathering me to him for a kiss. His lips were warm against mine, and I felt myself stirring as he wrapped his arms around me, holding me tight against his chest. I ran my hand up his arm and through his hair, holding the back of his head as he leaned me back against the sofa cushions. But just as we were about to get hot and heavy, a loud thump against the front door broke the mood.

  “What the hell? Today seems to be the day for interruptions.” I disentangled myself and heading for the door. I opened it just in time to see Buck turning the corner off my sidewalk into the driveway. On the sidewalk, right in front of my door, the snow had been brushed away. In bright red paint, he had sprayed the word sluts with a circle around it and a line drawn through the circle.

  “What the hell?” Kipa peeked over my shoulder. “Who did that? Did your neighbor do that?” He sounded dangerously perturbed.

  “Yeah.” I was about to explain what had gone down the night before, but Kipa pushed past me and was out the door before I could say another word. I sputtered, then grabbed my phone and followed him after taking a picture of the graffiti.

  As I rounded the corner to my drive, almost slipping on the snow, Kipa had already made it across the street. Buck was waiting for him, holding a baseball bat, but Kipa took a running leap and, right in midair, turned into the most massive wolf I’d ever seen. He stood shoulder high to Buck when he landed in front of the man, and the wind rippled his gorgeous gray fur. He launched himself at Buck, knocking him down. The bat slid out of Buck’s hands as Kipa’s great jaws snapped at his throat. Buck screamed as he tried to grapple with Kipa.

  I managed to reach them just as Minerva—Buck’s wife—came racing out of the house, holding a shotgun. I conjured up a ball of fire, sending it sailing her way. She jerked to avoid it and the gun went off at the same moment that Buck managed to scramble away from Kipa. The bullet slammed into the redneck’s shoulder. He shrieked again, dropping to his knees. Minerva screamed and dropped the gun, which went off a second time. This time, the bullet whizzed by and lodged in the trunk of a cedar tree. I fumbled for my phone and called the cops—Marcus Fjord had left me his number.

  As I told Marcus what was going down, and that Buck would likely need an ambulance, Kipa turned back into his human form and stomped over to where Buck was writhing on the ground. He leaned down, grabbed Buck’s collar, and lifted him up with one hand. Buck’s feet dangled several inches off the ground. Buck was a big man, but Kipa was far stronger.

  “You ever come near my woman’s house again and I will tear your jugular out and feed it to my wolves! Do you understand?” Kipa’s eyes blazed.

  Buck, who was bleeding profusely from his shoulder wound, let out a stammered gurgle. Kipa tossed him back on the ground, like he might toss a stick or a stone. Minerva looked at me, then at Kipa, and backed away, not even bothering to pick up the shotgun.

  Buck glanced at his wife. “I’m bleeding, you stupid cow. Get me a bandage.”

  Minerva nodded, her eyes wide, and turned back toward the house, sliding on the snow as she ran in her flip-flops. I tried not to laugh when she slipped and fell on her ass before she reached the front door.

  “I don’t think you answered me,” Kipa said, leaning over Buck. In the distance, I could hear the wailing of sirens. Marcus in his patrol car, and a medic unit sped down the street toward us.<
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  Buck pressed his hand against his shoulder, blood pouring through his knuckles as he tried to stanch the wound. He leaned back in the snow, cowering as Kipa loomed over him.

  “All right, all right. I heard you. What the hell are you?”

  “A god. Don’t forget it.” Kipa jabbed him in the chest. “I could end you with no regrets at all. But I won’t—this time. Next time…”

  Just then, Marcus jumped out of his cruiser as the medics raced toward Buck and Kipa. Marcus and his partner stared at the scene.

  “What happened? Who shot him?”

  “His wife—she’s in the house right now. She was aiming for my boyfriend. I’m not sure exactly how it happened, but she ended up shooting Buck.” I pulled up the picture of the graffiti on my phone. “This is what started it. You can still see it over on my sidewalk, next to the house.”

  “Hell in a handbasket. All right. We’ll add that to his charges.” He paused, glancing over at the medics, who were attending to Buck’s injuries. “We’ll put the pressure on the courts, Raven.” A veiled look clouded his face. “We have enough problems now without having to deal with human trash.”

  A chill ran through me, and I had the feeling that Officer Marcus Fjord was definitely better to have on your good side. But as threatening as he sounded, I agreed with him. The world was too small to allow hate groups and their ilk to run rampant through society.

  “Thanks. I appreciate it.” I returned to Kipa’s side. Marcus followed me and took his information, his eyes widening when Kipa told him just exactly who he was. That cut short the interview and Marcus waved us on.

  “We’ll take it from here,” was all he said.

  As Kipa and I returned to the house, I had half a mind to pummel him for charging ahead like that. “You know, I can fight my own battles. I don’t need someone else to pinch hit for me.”

  Kipa arched his eyebrows. “Whatever that means, though I get the gist. But Raven, it’s time you accepted who I am. Be very clear about this: while I know you don’t need anyone to fight your battles, I always protect my pack. And you’re part of my pack, whether or not you realize it. I’m the Alpha wolf of all wolf packs, and you’re my consort. I take my duties seriously.”

  “So, I’m the Alpha bitch right now?” I grinned at him, but stopped when I saw how serious he really was. This wasn’t just a testosterone match like the ones he had with Herne, and I needed to accept that—just as I was true to myself, so Kipa was being true to himself as well.

  “All right, I get it. But ask me from now on first. All right? Unless someone is pummeling the hell out of Raj or me, please ask before charging in. There are times when blunt force is not the way to go, and I have a number of those situations in my life.”

  He cleared his throat, then wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “We’ll find a balance. Now, go inside while I wash this crap off your sidewalk.” We were standing by the graffiti.

  I shivered as the evening cooled even further. As the dusk deepened, the temperature was dropping and the snow had yet to stop, piling up in a slow, steady increase.

  “All right. Thank you. I’ll go make some dinner. Any requests?”

  “Whatever you like,” he said. “Just something hot.”

  I entered the house and saw Raj sitting there. “Kipa’s staying for dinner,” I said, glancing back at the door. I shut it, leaving it unlocked. “Macaroni and cheese all right with you, Raj?”

  He nodded, then in quiet tones, added, “What is Kipa doing?”

  “To the man who attacked you? He tried to… He made Raven unhappy. Kipa stopped him.”

  Raj paused, a contemplative look on his face. “Kipa help Raven?”

  I nodded. “Yes, Kipa helped Raven.”

  After another pause, Raj said, “Macaroni and cheese is good. Raj go watch TV.” And he lumbered off toward the living room, as though he’d settled something in his mind.

  I started water boiling for the noodles, and began to grate cheddar and smoked gouda, then whisked flour and butter together to start the béchamel sauce. As the roux thickened, I added cream, some ricotta, and the grated cheese and then turned the heat down, whisking the combination. Next, I split open a baguette and brushed both sides with butter and parmesan and tucked the bread in the oven to brown. I frowned. I decided we should really have some sort of vegetable with dinner, so I tossed together a quick salad, going heavy on the cucumbers and tomatoes since lettuce wasn’t my favorite food in the world.

  I was almost done by the time Kipa returned. He washed his hands at the sink, then dried them on a paper towel before he wrapped his arms around my waist. He kissed my neck as I stirred the sauce into the noodles in a casserole dish, covered them with crushed potato chips, and popped the dish in the oven to broil after taking out the bread.

  “It’s gone,” he said, breathing softly into my ear as I leaned back against him. “Your sidewalk is clean enough to eat off of. Though given the amount of water I used, the pavement will most likely ice up by morning. Temperatures are supposed to dip below freezing tonight.”

  “That’s all right. I have rock salt in the closet in the ferrets’ room.” That suddenly reminded me of their peculiar behavior. “Hold on, I need to check on them. Can you watch the mac ‘n cheese?”

  I took off my apron—I had several retro-1950s circle aprons—and draped it over the back of a chair before heading down the hall. I hadn’t heard much from the ferrets since their little cleansing frenzy.

  As I peeked into the room, I groaned. While they hadn’t gotten the cage door open again, they once again had shoved their litter through the cage. A tidy pile had accumulated on the floor.

  “What the hell? Elise, what’s going on? I want you to tell me right now.” I opened the cage, scooped her out into my arms, and sat down with her at the table. “Why are you doing this?”

  I peed. Templeton pooped. Dirty litter’s got to go. Can’t have the cage untidy. We’re not filthy here.

  She sounded almost drugged. I paused, glancing at the water bottle. But it couldn’t be that—I had changed their water myself and I always used bottled water. Their food had come straight out of the same batch as yesterday. I hadn’t brought anything poisonous into their room.

  “Elise, honey, listen to me—” I stopped as Kipa peered in the door.

  “Everything okay?” He froze. “What the hell? Who’s been playing fast and free with magic here? I know you’re a bone witch, Raven, but…” He looked around, confused.

  “Magic? What are you talking about?” I asked, but stopped as the doorbell rang. I handed Elise to Kipa, who gently put her back in the cage as I went to answer the door.

  Angel was standing there, a package in hand. “I should have called first, but I was on the Eastside and I wanted to drop off the material I promised to give you.”

  I invited her in. “You want to stay to dinner? Kipa’s here.” I took the bag and peeked in. Just as she had said, the material was gorgeous, a rich black velvet, embossed with plum designs, and glints of gold threads woven throughout. It would make a gorgeous dress or skirt.

  She shrugged. “Sure, if I’m not intruding. I can stay for a little while. Sounds good.” She followed me into the kitchen. “Need any help?”

  “I was just checking on the ferrets. If you could set the table, that would be great.” I hustled back to the ferrets’ room, where Kipa was waiting. “Angel’s staying to dinner. Did you figure out anything?”

  He shook his head. “No, there’s just a strong aura of magic in the room that I don’t recognize. I’m surprised you don’t feel it. There doesn’t seem to be any malevolence behind it, but whatever it is, I’m pretty sure that it’s affecting the ferrets. I’m not the best one to ask about magic, though.”

  I quietly shut the door, worried. One, I didn’t feel much of anything—and that was unusual if there was strange magic around. Two, I didn’t want anything disrupting the ferrets.

  We returned to the dining room. Angel had set th
e table, but now she was over at my bookshelves, frantically rearranging books.

  “Angel, hon, what are you doing?” I approached her. She looked confused as she pulled books out, reshelving them in other places.

  “Raven, let me organize your bookcase. Look—if you’re alphabetizing by author, they’re out of order. If you’re alphabetizing by title, they’re also out of order. And the tops are dusty. Bring me a rag and I can dust them.”

  I cocked my head, watching her as she was getting more and more frantic with each book she found that was out of whatever order she’d gotten it into her head they should be in.

  “Angel? Angel…let’s eat dinner.”

  She allowed me to steer her away from the books, but when she served herself some food, she spent five minutes arranging it in neat piles on her plate. Angel was organized, but I’d never seen her act like this.

  Glancing over at me, she said, “If you want, I can clean and rearrange your kitchen. It’s not dirty, but your cupboards could be arranged better, and really, it’s the time of year when you should wash every dish in the cupboard and all your silverware—”

  I broke in. “Angel, no. First, you’re thinking of spring cleaning. Second, my cupboards are organized just fine and I never put a dish away without cleaning it. What’s gotten into you?”

  She didn’t even blush, just fidgeted through her meal. With every bite, she dabbed her lips with the napkin, and at one point, began rearranging the salt and pepper shakers, lining them up with the centerpiece. I watched her for a moment, then glanced over at Kipa, who gave me a perplexed shrug. The food was good, but the whole meal felt so off-kilter that I was relieved when it was time for her to leave. The moment she stepped outside, though, she seemed to relax.

  “I had a…” she paused, blushing. “I guess it was fun. I’m sorry I said all those things about your house. I really don’t think you’re a slob, Raven. I didn’t mean at all to imply that.”

  “You feel up to driving home?” I asked. We hadn’t bothered with wine for dinner, but I was concerned about her, nonetheless.