by Kelly Meding
“Maybe, but we can’t do that. They’ll resent us, not to mention they could fight back and hurt themselves, or us. We don’t need hostages, we need to expose the truth. Because if this place is experimenting on werewolves, and if it’s funded by this Damian guy, then you know well and good they aren’t stopping at fertility experiments.”
“Agreed,” Chandra said. “We need to discover the full extent of what they’re doing here and why, before we take any decisive action against them.”
Everyone agreed.
A familiar Jeep entered the lot and pulled in next to us. We were now a little bit obvious as a group, facing the town’s busiest street—not that I’d noticed more than a dozen cars passing us since we arrived—so we agreed to find a shadier spot to plan our next step. Jaxon found an abandoned grain silo about a half mile outside of town. The interior smelled like dirt and old things, but it gave us shade for Tennyson and Kathleen, and we could talk more easily.
Tennyson lurked near a far wall, keeping his distance from me. I guess twenty-odd hours hadn’t fixed whatever he’d felt after tasting my blood, and that was okay by me.
Mom hung on the edges of our circle, and I had half a mind to insist she take her rental and leave, so she’d be safe. But Mom could have taken her keys and left on her own initiative. Instead, she was listening—and then I realized why. The magical signature. The witches who killed her parents. She now had a very personal stake in how this went down.
Which made me want her to leave even more.
Jaxon was already typing away on his phone. “Okay, they have a vague website for DM Clinic. Slogan about making the world a better place, but no clear offering of services. No photos other than a shot of the building’s exterior. No email address, just a telephone number.”
“Gimme,” I said. The line rang three times before a machine picked up. “Thank you for calling DM Clinic. We are not accepting new patients at this time. Please visit our website for more information.”
“Dummy line,” Novak said. “Whole thing’s a front, probably so the town doesn’t get suspicious.”
“As long as the place pays their local taxes, I imagine the town council doesn’t give a shit what they’re up to behind closed doors. Jaxon, what about the doctor and dentist next door? Are they legit?”
“One sec.” Jaxon tapped away at his phone. “They seem to be. Pictures of the docs and smiling patients. Probably needed legit businesses to move in to keep up the front.”
“Yeah, well, I want to know if those front doors even open.” I winked at Jaxon, curious to see how we’d play off each other in an undercover gig. “Wanna pretend to be a couple with fertility issues?”
He grinned.
We took Mom’s rental to the clinic with Novak stuffed in the back in case we needed quick backup. Before we went in, Jaxon called Chandra’s phone so they could listen in on an open line—ear mikes would have been too obvious. I’d also fetched a bug from the Jeep, which I hoped to plant somewhere inside.
The heavily tinted front door did, in fact, open. The lobby reminded me of a doctor’s office, with a small waiting area with two chairs and a fake plant, a glass partition, and a single door leading elsewhere. Impersonal and boring. The glass partition was likewise tinted, and next to it was a button that said Ring for Service.
Jaxon pushed it.
I absently scanned the room for any obvious cameras or recording devices and found none. The distant hum of magic remained present, probably whatever protective ward kept their dirty business under wraps. Even Jaxon seemed agitated by it, if the scratching at the skin patch on the back of his neck was any indication.
I knew about skin-walkers simply from being informed. The ability is passed from parent to child, but not all children become full walkers. At ten years old, they perform a ceremony in which their animal spirit either shows itself or not. If it does, the child kills the animal, drinks some of its blood out of respect, and then a small piece of the animal—skin, feather, et cetera—is permanently adhered to the back of the child’s neck. In the old days, they’d take the entire skin as a symbol to wear, but it’s a lot harder for an eagle skin-walker to get away with wearing a whole cape of eagle feathers in broad daylight.
The glass partition finally slid open, and a middle-aged man in a lab coat appeared. He gave us both a quick once-over, then fixed on an apologetic frown. “I’m sorry, but we aren’t accepting any new patients right now.”
“Oh, are you sure?” I asked with my best pout. “We heard from a friend of a friend, who’s a cousin of mine, that you guys are doing cutting-edge research in infertility.”
“Our research is intensely private and by invitation only, I’m afraid. I hope you folks didn’t travel too far to see us.”
“We just drove in from Wichita, is all.”
“I’m sorry you came all the way out for nothing.”
“Is there nothing we can do?” Jaxon said, with a touch of desperation in his voice. “I don’t suppose we could leave our personal information behind? Maybe we can get an invitation one day, if we can’t find another facility to help us?”
“Sure, sure,” the man said. He handed Jaxon a clipboard and a pen, then glanced past us. He paused and said, “Excuse me—” And then he literally froze.
I turned the same instant I felt Tennyson behind me. His eyes glowed blue as he held the receptionist in a gazelock. “Feel free to explore a bit,” Tennyson said. “This one will not notice a thing.”
“Thanks,” I replied. Leaving a bug here didn’t make a lot of sense, since it didn’t look like the room was ever used, but I planted it under an armchair anyway.
The door was, as expected, locked. And it was metal, so I couldn’t pass through it and see what was on the other side. But the far wall, which held a weird brown-and-white abstract painting, drew me toward it. Something sparked and pulsed there. I put my palm against it, only for the palm to pass right through on a zap of magic.
A glamour.
Curious, I pushed my face through the veil and was presented with a wide elevator, the big kind you usually saw in hospitals so they could fit two gurneys side by side. Nothing else, just the elevator, and a corridor that angled to my left, probably to the room where the receptionist was currently standing frozen.
No one was around, and I didn’t see any cameras, so I stepped completely through the glamour. Studied the elevator. It had a swipe-lock of some sort.
“Shiloh, what?” Jaxon appeared next to me, and we both turned. The illusion was one-way, because I could still see Tennyson and the lobby. “Weird place for a glamour, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. Then again, if all the werewolves came here of their own free will, then they’d need the official-looking check-in setup. Maybe this gives Dr. Ferguson or whoever a way to spy on the new arrivals.”
“No idea. Wouldn’t the werewolves notice the glamour once they’re here waiting for the elevator?”
“How do I know? I didn’t build this place.” I checked the other walls, which were all solid. Then I took the left corridor to find a fairly empty office space. A computer that wasn’t on, some file folders full of empty papers. Not a single useful thing, except the key card on the receptionist’s belt.
I snatched that and took it back to the elevator.
“Shi, what are you doing?”
“I’m not gonna ride it, I just want to look inside.” I swiped the card, and the doors immediately slid back. Jaxon’s hand slid to his holstered weapon.
The car was empty. Jaxon put his arm across it to keep it open. I stepped in and snapped a picture of the floor buttons. Five floors, all designated with a combination of symbols that made no sense to me. Even odder, all the floors seemed to go down, not up. The walls were perfectly smooth, not a single hiding spot for another bug, bless it.
“We should not linger,” Tennyson said, his voice carrying through the veil easily.
“He’s right,” Jaxon added.
I gaped at him. “Did you just s
ay Tennyson is right?”
“Don’t read into it.” He grabbed my wrist and gently pulled me out of the elevator. Its door slid shut. “Come on.”
We exited as discreetly as possible, and Tennyson—who’d apparently used his super-speed to run after us, instead of simply asking to tag along—got a ride back to the silo. After explaining what we observed and passing my picture of the elevator panel around, Gideon said, “Werewolves are not sensitive to glamours. That’s likely why they didn’t notice the one-way wall you observed.”
You learn something new every day.
“I didn’t see any obvious security devices,” Jaxon said. “But they’ve got magical wards, so it’s hard to know if we were noticed behind the glamour or not. No one attacked, but we were also holding up the only elevator.”
“Anyone have thoughts on those floor symbols?” I asked, pointing toward Chandra, who currently had my phone. “By the looks of it, this place is bigger than we assumed, and they’re doing more than just fertility studies.”
“It’s reminiscent of a witch language,” Chandra said. She gave the phone to my mom. “I am unable to read it.”
Mom’s eyebrows furrowed. “It’s an ancient language based in Gaelic symbols. The Chicago witch coven is Irish in origin.”
“Can you read it?” I asked.
“No, it’s far older than I am, sweetheart.”
Tennyson slid up to my mom’s right and peered down. Mom’s internal struggle to stay still played out all over her face. “I’ve seen some of these symbols in Brighid’s home in the past.”
“Brighid isn’t going to get pissy with us if we go after her witches, is she?” I asked.
“No, Brighid is selfish with her power and knowledge, and while she created the moon witch line, she has no others under her protection. If my history is correct, the Gaelic line was created by Cailleach at the start of the human rule of this world. They are one of the oldest and most powerful.”
“Fantastic.” I threw both hands up. “Why can’t we ever hunt weak entities anymore? We used to get easy jobs, and now we’re going after necromancers and super-ancient witch covens.”
Tennyson quirked an eyebrow at me.
“I would kill to have K.I.M. and her handy insta-info capabilities right about now.”
“I’m texting myself the photo,” Mom said. “I may know someone who can translate it.”
“So how do we get inside to snoop?” Jaxon asked. “The front door obviously didn’t work.”
“Maybe we can get the werewolves to spy for us,” I replied. “If we can convince them they’re part of a larger plan, maybe they’ll help us.”
“Alice was unconvinced,” Chandra said.
“I know, but can you use her to find the minds of the other female wolves? Maybe set up a conference call or something in our minds?”
“I can attempt it, but my last try was quite fuzzy. I’m not sure I’m powerful enough to manage it with their wards up.”
“A drop of my blood would boost your power,” Tennyson said.
Mom took two wide strides to her left, away.
I glared, irrationally irritated at the idea of anyone else drinking his blood—which, you know, gross. And why? The fading bloodlust never seemed to go fully away, and it probably had to do with a combination of my djinn nature and his close proximity. I knew what pulsed in his veins. I’d tasted it, been drunk on it.
And very, very unstable on it.
“He’s not wrong,” Kathleen said with a bland tone. “Vampire blood is powerful in its own right, but she’s less likely to develop a bloodlust if she drinks mine.”
“The power boost would be half,” Tennyson replied.
“I’d prefer not to drink anyone’s blood,” Chandra said, “but if I do, I’d prefer it still have some human in it.”
Tennyson shrugged, seemingly unoffended.
“Hey,” I said to Kathleen, “how come you never offered your blood to boost our powers in the past?”
She slow-blinked at me. “You never asked.”
Sweet Iblis, I really wanted to smack her.
“Okay, let’s give it a try,” Chandra said. “Elspeth, would you like to join us? Hearing from a neutral party may help.”
“I’d prefer to sit this one out, thank you,” Mom replied. “What about Gideon? Someone they’re familiar with?”
“All right. Gideon?”
“I’m in,” he said.
“It will be easier if you step closer to me. You, too, Shiloh.”
We three huddled in a circle, with Kathleen on the fringes. She descended her fangs and punctured a finger. Held the welling blood out to Chandra. Chandra glanced at me, her trepidation shining in her dark eyes. “No moon witch to my knowledge has ever drunk from a dhampir or vampire,” she said.
“Here’s to new experiences,” I replied. I don’t know how supportive my smile was, but I tried.
Chandra held my gaze another beat, and then sucked on Kathleen’s fingertip.
Something powerful slammed into me and I hit my ass on the hard ground, followed by my head. Dizzy and discombobulated, I blinked up and swore I saw the night sky and a full moon shining down on me through the hole-filled silo roof.
But that wasn’t possible.
Right?
Chapter 11
“Uh, guys?” I struggled to sit up, because damn, that had been a blast of magic I hadn’t expected. Everyone had been hit, including Tennyson, and only Chandra remained standing. She stared straight up, hands by her hips, fingers splayed. Energy crackled around her, like an electric wire flopping on the ground. I’d been knocked a few feet away, and I instantly crawled over to my mom.
She was on her side and holding her head in both hands. “Mom? Are you hurt?”
“My head.” Mom moaned. “Anyone sensitive to magic within a hundred miles will have felt that outburst.”
I helped her sit up, concerned by how gray her complexion was, even in the silo’s gloom. “Did you hit your head?”
“Not really, it’s just the feedback. Ugh.”
“Okay, sit tight.”
Everyone else was struggling to their feet—no, not everyone. All that was left of Gideon was his pile of clothes.
Great, we had a werewolf running around town on a magically induced shift.
Tennyson’s eyes glowed green with desire, and Novak had a boner. Even Jaxon seemed to struggle not to give in to his skin and shift.
“That was unexpected,” Kathleen said.
“No shit. Chandra?” I followed her gaze upward, thankful to see regular sunshine streaming down and not the moon, because that would have been bad. Her ebony skin glowed with an ethereal light that cast a literal fucking shadow on the ground, and she stared straight up, lips slightly parted. “Chandra, can you hear me?”
The silo disappeared, leaving our entire group—minus Gideon—in the swirling mists with Chandra at our epicenter. One by one, young werewolf couples popped into the . . . room wasn’t the right word. Meh, chat room, whatever.
Some of them tried to back away, but they couldn’t actually go anywhere. It wasn’t as if you could walk around in here. It really was like an online chat room or group text, but with faces instead of words. Kathleen’s blood had given Chandra the power to get into the mind of every single missing werewolf, male and female, including the Andersons. The mists seemed both cramped and unending, and it was kind of spooky.
“Chandra,” Alice said. She clung to a man with ashy brown hair who had to be her mate, Raymond. “Agent Harrison, what’s going on? What is this?”
“Think of it as a private chat room,” I replied, since Chandra was a bit overwhelmed by magic at the moment. “No one on the outside can hear anything you guys say in here. It’s completely safe.”
“Did we leave the clinic?” a young woman asked.
“No, this is happening entirely in our heads.” I pointed at Chandra, who seemed to be coming around a bit. “She’s a moon witch and this sort of telepathy wi
th other females is one of her powers. We’re here because we’ve been working with Alpha Kennedy to find you.”
“If he knows we’re here, we’ll be executed for using human medicine,” a man said.
“No, you won’t. I know this will be hard to believe, but I, Chandra, and Alpha’s Second, Rosalind, spoke to your goddess Danu.” Several people gasped. “She has no problem with the Packs using human medicine. All she wants is for her wolves to be happy and healthy and enjoy their lives. We’ve told Alpha Kennedy all this, and he’s willing to compromise, especially since your infertility was caused by magic.”
“What do you mean?” the same man asked, so I designated him Harry, simply because I’d never be able to remember everyone’s names. Twelve perfect strangers stared at me from their huddle with the Andersons.
“Your homes contained magical wards,” Mom said, somehow moving closer even though her legs never actually moved. “They have now been contained, but before that, I used their magical signature to track you all to this clinic’s location here in Gabriel.”
“You’re a witch, too?”
“I am not. However, I do have certain sensitivities to magic.”
“Those same wards were found in four other homes where young couples were having trouble conceiving,” I continued. “Whoever created those wards has also created some sort of glamour that hides the true nature of your research facility from the outside world.”
“They explained that to us,” Raymond Anderson said. “The townsfolk would freak if they knew werewolves were here, so they keep us hidden. We aren’t prisoners. We’re all here of our own free will.”
“Are you? Dr. Ferguson played on your grief over your three late children to get you to come here, right? Promising you the moon and the same to these other couples?”
Raymond didn’t speak.
“They’re helping us,” the first woman to speak said, so she became CC—Chatty Cathy. “My mate and I are pregnant.”
“So you believe they spontaneously discovered how to cure werewolf infertility in the two weeks you’ve been here?” I asked, grateful the others had allowed me to take point here. I was probably less threatening to them than an incubus or Master vampire. “Or maybe it worked because the magic whammy isn’t under your bed anymore, preventing you from conceiving the old-fashioned way.”
