by Wen Spencer
"What are you doing for Christmas?" Bethy growled after losing to Seth. "Are you coming home then?"
Silence fell on the room.
"No," Joshua said. "I can't, not until my birthday. When I'm eighteen, I'll go home to visit. You know mom and dad; if I go back any sooner, they'll get lawyers involved, and they can't afford that."
"We can host Christmas here," Decker said.
"Good idea," Cabot said. "But we're not having frozen poultry that can be used as projectile weapons."
"Ham." Decker smiled hugely. "A nice Christmas ham."
"I get out of school a week before Christmas." Seth seemed excited by the idea. "We could come up and get a real tree at Bog Hollow."
"Bog Hollow?" Joshua laughed. "That sounds like something out of a horror movie."
"It's a cranberry bog that does cut-your-own Christmas trees in the winter," Seth explained. "They have hayrides and the best hot chocolate. We used to go every year to get a tree off them. We'd always get the seven-foot-tall tree because our house had really high ceilings, even higher than Decker's."
Joshua's family had always cut one of the small trees that grew where their backyard abutted state land. It wouldn't seem like Christmas without the scent of fresh pine. A real tree would make both him and his wolf happy.
Life was good but fleeting. Bethy had told their parents that she was stuck in Syracuse because of the weather. As soon as the roads reopened, she needed to drive to Saratoga Springs for a postponed Thanksgiving with their grandparents. Elise planned to leave before midnight. Seth could only stay until Sunday morning. The wolf was going to miss his brother and cousin horribly. (He could tell because it popped out to snuggle with Decker, embarrassing Joshua to no end. Personally, Joshua was still struggling with the idea that a kid as cool as Seth wanted to be his friend.)
Christmas is only a month away, he silently told his wolf. We've got lots of work to do to be ready. It will go quickly.
51: Elise
Elise had missed five calls and three texts to call into Central while she was in the shower. Her stomach tightened at the number. Something big had happened. She stood naked in her bathroom, dripping water, as she called in.
Clarice answered the phone with, "Oh my God, where have you been? I guess you're on Decker time so it's still early for you and you were in the shower. I figured you weren't out shopping. I never understood why people shop Black Friday weekend. All the crowds and standing in long lines and everything. It makes me glad we don't do Christmas."
"Clarice, why are you calling?" Elise could hear her cousin typing quickly, a sure sign that she was frantically tracking information.
"The warlock in Belgrade is on the move. He landed in Heathrow an hour ago."
Heathrow. It would be hours, if not days before the warlock was in her area. He might stay in London, abandoning whatever the Wakefields had planned. If he came to the United States, he might be rejoining what remained of his coven. Why had he stayed in Belgrade? Why was he moving now?
Elise pulled a towel from the shelf. She wrapped it around her and headed into her bedroom. "Any clue where he is headed?"
"No. I've been monitoring people traveling first class for the last three weeks. If a Wicker boards a full plane, a ticket holder gets bumped. Thank God, witches always bump people out of first class or they would be impossible to track. The ticket holder has to buy the ticket a second time and it stands out like a red flag. First class has priority in boarding and getting off, so I think this is the warlock. I'm not finding anyone matching him on the list of official passengers."
Elise's phone pinged with incoming mail. She flipped open her laptop to pull up the security photo. The warlock was a young man, tall, blond, elegantly dressed and bejeweled. Was this Heath Wakefield?
"Oh no," Clarice cried.
"What?"
"A first-class passenger on a flight to Logan International just bought a second ticket. I'm checking security cameras on the gate he should have departed from. Yeah, there's the warlock." Clarice groaned. "The real passenger just handed the warlock his ticket and walked away. The bastard probably just waltzed through security in Belgrade. The plane took off from London fifteen minutes ago. The warlock is on his way to Boston. He'll land in six hours."
"I'll be at the gate." Elise opened her closet. She tossed clothes onto her bed. Pants. T-shirt. Bulky sweater to hide her guns and daggers. She added two Tasers to deal with puppets and extra magazines. "Can you set up clearance for me to pass through security with weapons?"
"Working on it. Oh! Oh!"
"What?"
"The warlock might be running from the Wolf King. The king's jet just landed at Heathrow."
"The king is coming to Boston?"
"I'm seeing if he filed a flight plan out of Heathrow. No, no, don't do that," Clarice muttered darkly at something on her computer. "Stupid. Stupid. Oh, come on. Yes! No."
"No, he's not coming to Boston?" Elise guessed since it was the last thing that Clarice said.
"He's on his way to New York. They're refueling now. They'll be back at the Castle later tonight."
Elise hoped to have everything wrapped up long before the king returned. The werewolves had left a swash of blood and destruction behind them in Utica and Milton. Logan Airport would be packed with holiday travelers. She didn't want to offer up that many innocent bystanders to the wolves. She checked the time. "Is there anyone available to back me up?"
"Aurore is free," Clarice said hesitantly. "She could be there within four hours."
"Oh God, no!" A Power would be worse than the werewolves. Elise wished she could rely on Decker but the vampire would just be waking up as the airplane landed. Elise would rather ambush the Wicker in the tight quarters of the gangway when the warlock wasn't expecting an attack than chance losing him outside of the airport.
"What about tall, dark, and hairy?" Clarice asked.
"Cabot is on his way back to New York." Elise put the call on speaker so she could towel dry her hair.
"How did that go? Did you...?"
"No," Elise snapped.
"You forgot protection?" Clarice stated as if it was fact.
"No! Six people in one house, three of which have ultra-sensitive hearing, was far too public for me. Besides, it turns out I'm little too trigger happy."
"Shoot first, ask questions later?"
"Yes. It's going to take a while for me to work past some kneejerk reactions."
"How did Cabot take that? Guys usually are kind of ticked off when you nail them hard."
"He's actually very sweet about it. It was kind of funny; he squeaked when he'd trigger a reaction, like one of those dog chew toys."
Elise checked the time again. The problem of calling Cabot was he was riding herd on the prince. She needed to keep Seth out of any danger. News of the incoming warlock would pull Seth back to Boston. Cabot might be ten years older than his cousin, but he couldn't say "no" to the boy. Dominance overruled age. The roads were still a mess from the blizzard. The holiday and the snow combined meant that the trains were running at maximum capacity. Even if Cabot could talk Seth into taking the train back to New York alone, there would be no room for the prince.
Clarice sighed loudly as she continued to type. "Oh, you're so lucky. I met this guy at the supermarket. It was in produce. I was buying eggplant and potatoes for moussaka. He picked up a cantaloupe and said that 'we have to get married because I can't elope.' He didn't stare or drool like most guys. He actually managed to say smart and intelligent things. There's this little coffee shop in the store where you can sit and eat. We got a table---it's one of those little round things on a spindle---and were talking. Out of the blue, he asked if the carpeting matched the drapes. I thought he was asking about my apartment. I was just about to tell him that I have wood floors when I realized he meant my red hair! I was so mad! Do you have any idea how much those stupid tables cost? Really five hundred dollars is way too much for a piece of wood on a metal pole."
He was lucky that Clarice used a table on him. Elise wasn't the only one that was trigger happy. It came with the training.
"I have a visual of the warlock making a call while he was in Heathrow," Clarice said. "I'm checking the cell tower nearest to Heathrow for calls to Boston area codes. There's a shitload of them. I'm going to compare the numbers to those called in Belgrade when he took off. I might find matches. It's going to take a while."
"I need security clearances," Elise reminded her.
"I'll have them by the time you get dried off and get dressed."
Elise had time to prepare and hopefully surprise on her side. She checked on Decker, or more specifically, Decker's phone. Joshua seemed to be safe within the wards. If Heath Wakefield had been in Belgrade all this time and chose to return to Boston, then he was sticking to whatever plan that his coven put into motion.
52: Joshua
Joshua woke to the sound of the wind through bare branches.
Everyone had left earlier that morning, heading to their far-flung homes. Elise lived someplace nearby. Seth and Cabot had driven back to New York City. Bethy had gone back to her dorm in Syracuse. With Decker asleep, the house was silent and still. It felt strange and wrong. Joshua had decided to take a nap to speed up the hours before Decker woke up. There been yet another power outage; his digital clock flashed 12:00.
How long had he been asleep? He rolled onto his back to stare out the window. Rain turned the world outside a sullen gray. He couldn't tell if it was morning or afternoon. He felt like he'd only been asleep for a little while.
The whispering of the wind grew louder outside. It was only when the branches started to scratch on the glass of his window that he remembered that there wasn't a tree that close to the house.
There seemed to be nothing outside until something shifted, an absence of light with two small darker spots for eyes.
Joshua yelped in fear until he realized what he was looking at. "Fred! Geez, you scared me!"
He was going to have to fix his doorbell. Too many weird things were waking him up.
Winnie was probably downstairs, knocking softly on the door in fear of disturbing Decker.
Joshua dressed quickly and padded sleepily downstairs to see what Winnie wanted. She'd be happy to hear that Jack was indeed fine. Elise was probably the "prettier than you" that Marie Antoinette warned Winnie about. In Joshua's book, however, Winnie was the better choice for girlfriend. Elise was scary.
Winnie wasn't on the porch, nor was her Vespa parked at the curb.
"Hello? Winnie?"
Fred loomed over him.
He and Winnie had traded phone numbers and such on the subway ride to the Frog Pond. Her voice mail picked up after six rings. "If I was granny, I'd know why you were calling," Winnie's recorded message said. "But I don't work that way, so you're going to have to leave a message."
Joshua hung up without leaving a message. Fred scratched and whispered and moaned in what seemed to be distress. Joshua felt sudden empathy for people in television shows that were supposed to respond to barking dogs. "What's wrong, girl? Something happen to Timmy?"
Cold and dark and the smell of an open grave swept over Joshua. He had the distinct impression that Fred had just smacked him as hard as he could.
"I'm trying to understand!"
Luckily Winnie had also let him friend her on the Find My Friend app. According to Decker's phone, she was about a mile away. Why would Fred be here if Winnie was there? As he puzzled over the location, he realized it was the Royal Pastry Shop. Didn't Winnie say something about Marie Antoinette loving the bakery?
Did this mean the dead French queen had kidnapped Winnie again? What was Joshua supposed to do about it? Bring more money for pastries? He didn't have one of the magic clock-thingies that Winnie had used during the séance. He'd gotten the impression that Marie would leave when she felt like it, no harm done.
Maybe the queen had some information for Joshua about the Wickers.
* * *
Luckily, he'd bought an umbrella. Something that could have been rain or sleet or very wet snow was falling. It drummed noisily on the taut fabric as he followed the GPS on Decker's phone.
The Royal Pastry Shop was a tiny little storefront shop. A sign stated that it offered Italian and American pastries.
He'd forgotten to eat before leaving the house. As he walked through the door the smell of sugary pastries hit him. He lost control to the wolf. When he gained awareness again, he was sitting across from Winnie at little folding table, inhaling cannoli and cream puffs. Winnie wore an angora turtleneck sweater and a beautiful silk scarf with a sophisticated flair. She had four macaroons on a plate beside a coffee mug that was labeled "Queen of Effing Everything." Scanning the bakery, he realized that the there was no indication that patrons were supposed to eat in the store, nor did they seemed to sell coffee.
"Bonjour Monsieur le Loup," Winnie purred in French. She flicked a finger from Fred to herself. "Sir Frederick vous a récupéré pour moi!"
Marie Antoinette had kidnapped Winnie. It seemed as if she'd also sent Fred to fetch Joshua. Maybe.
"I don't understand French," Joshua said. "I took Spanish. Hola? Hablas Español?"
She gave him a dark look. "Je refuse de parler en Espagnol."
He'd take that as a "no."
"Oh, this is going to be fun." The wolf stole one of her macaroons. "Fred all but dragged me here. I don't know why and you can't tell me."
She pursed her purple lips at the cookie theft. "Vous êtes ici à cause de cela." She rolled up the left sleeve of her sweater. "Winnie a besoin de votre aide."
Coiled about her wrist was thick vine like a heavy bracelet. Little tentacles of green and tiny leaves showed that it was still very much alive. The vine wrapped up her arm and disappeared under her sweater.
"Oh geez, what the hell is that?"
"Wickers." She lifted the hem of her sweater to show woven cables thicker than his arms wrapped around her waist. "Ils veulent lui pour le livre que les gardes Dorothy. Je suis empêchant la construction de prendre Winnie, mais je ne peux pas l'enlever par moi-même."
Dorothy guarded the book of runes in Sioux Zee's vault. The Wickers were trying to get it by going after Winnie? Why had Marie gotten Fred to grab him instead of taking Winnie to Sioux Zee?
"Shit." He hadn't been able to tear the huntsman's hounds completely apart. They'd reformed too quickly. This thing was denser and hidden by her clothes.
Marie pulled at the turtleneck to show that the vine continued up to wrap around Winnie's neck. The plant looked dangerously tight already.
The choker of wood and leaves stirred at the change of light. A snakelike head slithered into sight and hissed at Joshua. Its blue eyes were weirdly human.
Joshua leaped to his feet, snarling. He reached for the loop of woven wood around Winnie's neck.
"Non! Non!" Marie warded him off with upraised hands. She demonstrated a little tug on the vine around her wrist. It tightened even as she pulled on it.
What the hell did he do? Even Elise's daggers didn't damage the magical constructs enough to kill them. They had needed Decker to deal with the hounds. The vampire would be asleep for hours.
Marie pulled down her collar again. "Mordre!"
"What?" Joshua started to pace. "I don't understand!"
"Hey!" the baker called from behind the counter. He was a surprisingly tall and muscular for a pastry chef. "Are you bothering her?"
"No! We're friends!" Joshua cried. "She wants me to do something but I don't understand French...well."
He trailed off as he realized that it would be hard to explain being with friends with someone without speaking a common language.
The baker flipped a towel onto his shoulder. "Ma petite reine est cet homme vous tracasse?"
"Non, Giuseppe!" Marie blew the baker a kiss. "C'est mon ami."
Joshua seized on the important part of this exchange. "You speak French?"
"Only a little. I go
t that Rosetta Stone app so I could talk to her."
"This is great! What does 'mordre' mean?"
The clerk gave him an odd look and then turned to Marie. "Votre Majesté, que voulez-vous?"
Marie held her cupped hands beside her temples. "Monsieur le Loup mordre."
"Eh?" The baker apparently didn't understand the phrase or hands on her head any better than Joshua.
"Monsieur le Loup!" Marie tilted back her head, hands still cupped beside her temple, and howled like a wolf. "Mordre!" She chomped her teeth together.
"Oh!" Joshua understood.
The baker didn't. "I don't get it."
Everyone had told Joshua that a werewolf's bite was magical. Seth had stressed several times that even the smallest nip could turn a human into a feral. If a werewolf's teeth broke the skin on anyone but Decker, they'd become a monster. Joshua's decision to flee home had been a wise one.
He wasn't sure if he could bite though the vine snake without also biting Winnie.
"Se dépêcher!" Marie cried as the snake tightened its hold around Winnie's neck.
Biting at the snake's tail around her wrist would be useless while it had a choke hold. He'd have to bite off its head---while he was a wolf. He needed to transform here at the bakery. He glanced at the tall baker. Did he know about werewolves and ghosts and other scary stuff?
The baker stared at Winnie, slack jawed. "What---what---what the hell is that?"
No, the baker didn't.
"Things are going to get---weird," Joshua said. "Scary weird. Just---don't panic."
Yup, that was clear.
He hadn't purposely transformed into the wolf before. All the other times, he'd changed completely by random accident. Seth had told him that he had to embrace the beast, accept it as part of himself.
If he was going to save Winnie, he needed to be the wolf.
"Seriously, what is that?" The baker had gotten on thick oven mitts and a box knife. "It's hurting her. We need to get it off her!"
