Kitty Raises Hell kn-6

by Carrie Vaughn

  Not able to fight my way back to sleep, I left Ben in bed, pulled on an oversize T-shirt, and wandered to the living room.

  My head pounded, and my eyes were caked with grime. My hair smelled like soot and fire. Fire. No wonder I felt boiled and limp. I didn’t want to see what New Moon looked like in the daylight. Seeing the damage in detail would probably break my heart.

  I checked my phone. It hadn’t rung, which I took as a good sign.

  The first person I called was Shaun. I needed to tell him what had happened before the lunch crew showed up for its shift and saw the damage firsthand. We needed a plan to get the place repaired and functional.

  As the phone rang, I squeezed my eyes shut really tight. I still didn’t want to tell him. Like if I didn’t say the words “New Moon almost burned down,” I didn’t have to believe it.

  Shaun picked up. “Kitty.”

  “Hi, Shaun. How are you?”

  “I don’t know—how are you?” His voice was coy.

  Deep breath. Had to get it out. “Not good. There was an accident at the restaurant last night—”

  “I know,” he said. “It was in the paper this morning.”

  “What?” I was relieved and chagrined. I didn’t have to explain, but—he was going to yell at me for not calling him last night, wasn’t he?

  But he didn’t. “Is everyone okay?”

  “One person’s in the hospital,” I said.

  “Shit,” he said. “What are we going to do?”

  “Make repairs. Reopen as soon as we can.” We had to continue, onward and upward. What choice did we have?

  “Does the fire have anything to do with that thing that went after us the other night?” His voice was numb, like he didn’t want to believe it had really happened, either, and didn’t want to give voice to the truth.

  “Probably,” I said, wincing. “It had the same smell.”

  “When’s it going to stop? How are we going to stop it?”

  Saying I don’t know would have been the truth. But it would also be a sign of weakness. It would be admitting that I was floundering. And I couldn’t show that kind of weakness and still keep the pack together. I had to be the strong one. If the others lost confidence in me... well, I didn’t want to go there. It didn’t matter if I had any confidence in myself. I just had to convince them I did.

  “I’m working on it, Shaun. I’m sorry I don’t have a better answer than that.”

  “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

  “I will. Thanks. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  He hung up without saying goodbye. I’d make it up to him, I promised myself. I’d make this right.

  Next I called Tina for an update on Gary. Jules answered her phone.

  “We’re still at the hospital,” he said. “Tina finally conked out, so I’m letting her sleep.”

  “How’s Gary?”

  “Awake, but groggy. He doesn’t really remember what happened. But he’s going to be okay.”

  I repeated my promise to myself: No one was going to die. We’d figure this thing out.

  “Any other news on your end?” I said.

  “Not yet. I’m waiting to get replies to some of my e-mails and calls. We still need to talk about what we’re doing next. We could meet this afternoon, if you like.”

  “Sounds good.” We agreed on a time and place—the hospital cafeteria—and said our farewells.

  I made another call. Grant picked up on the first ring.

  “You’re probably getting sick of hearing from me,” I said.

  The barest hint of a smile touched his voice. “If I were, I wouldn’t answer the phone.”

  Ah, the magic of caller ID. What did we ever do without it? Strangely enough, I was comforted.

  “What’s happened?” he said.

  “There was a fire.”

  I told him, starting with the incident with the van, even including the part about the Ouija board, even though that was a little embarrassing. I didn’t want to leave anything out in case it turned out to be important. But we’d had enough attacks now to discern a pattern: heat and fire. Something invisible that struck suddenly and left no trace.

  “It’s rare finding someone who can read anything through a Ouija board. It’s not the most efficient tool.”

  And I’d been worried that he’d make fun of me for going along with it. Grant seemed to take everything seriously.

  “What is an efficient tool?” I said.

  “Oh, this and that.”

  The trouble with the real-deal psychics and magicians is they didn’t like to talk about what they could do. Like Tina covering it up because she wanted her colleagues to take her seriously.

  “What does something like this?”

  “I’m starting to get some ideas,” he said.

  “What are we supposed to do in the meantime? This thing is getting more violent. I don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”

  “What do you know about protective magic?”

  “You can crush St. John’s Wort pills and scatter them with breadcrumbs to get rid of a fairy,” I said.

  After a pause, he said, “I didn’t know that. Interesting.”

  Hey, my side gets a point on supernatural Jeopardy. That was a switch.

  “But that’s probably not going to be useful here,” Grant said.

  Oh well.

  “Try this instead.” Grant gave me directions: “Take the dust from a ruin—”

  “Ruin? Like old temple, Roman aqueduct? How am I going to get—”

  “You live in a city—what’s been knocked down recently? An abandoned shed going to weed will work just as well. Mix it with blood—”

  “How much blood? Human blood? I’m trying not to kill people here—”

  “Cow, sheep, pig, chicken. Special order it from a butcher shop. Not human.”

  Grant was being very patient with me. “Oh. That makes sense.”

  “Mix the dust and blood, then sprinkle the mixture around whatever you need protected. Probably the homes of everyone who’s involved. Any other structures. You can even carry a jar of it with you, to use in a pinch.”

  Kind of gross. But I wasn’t going to question it. “What kind of spell is that?”

  “I adapted it from an old Egyptian potion. Ideally, it’ll form a protective barrier.”

  “And it works?”

  “In at least one case it did, yes.”

  Now, there was a story I needed to get. But later, when this was over and we were all still alive.

  “Thanks. We’ll give it a try.”

  “This still won’t stop it,” he said. “This isn’t an ideal solution. I’ll try to come up with something better.”

  “I appreciate the help.”

  “I took it upon myself to keep that group from causing trouble. Much of this is my responsibility.”

  Grant was usually calm, emotionless, a good guy to have at your back. But he was sounding downright frustrated.

  “There’s only one of you and like a dozen of them. Just think how much damage they’d be doing if you weren’t there.”

  “It’s kind of you to say so.”

  I tried to sound cheerful. “Let me know when you come up with anything else. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Until then.”

  We clicked off and I felt better, because now I had something I could do. I started thinking about taking a shower.

  By this time Ben had gotten up and was making phone calls of his own, in bed, a pen and notepad beside him.

  I said, “Grant has this protection spell I want to try, but I have to get ingredients. Do you want to come?”

  He glanced up. “Do you need me to?”

  “No, I guess not.” We were married, after all. Not attached at the hip.

  “I still have to call the insurance company and try to figure out what we’re going to do about New Moon. I called the fire department a little while ago. They’re going to inspect the building for structural and gas-l
ine damage, but if it checks out we should be able to make repairs and open back up in a couple of weeks.”

  Which was good news. We were still in the game.

  “Call me if anything happens,” I said.

  “You too. Be careful.”

  Which, when Ben said it, also sounded like “I love you.”

  Chapter 8

  It turned out you really could go to the butcher shop and get blood. It wasn’t easy—I had to call all over town to find one that could special order it from their slaughterhouse. But I found one that was willing—and they were certainly willing to charge me for it. I also got a couple of steaks to go along with the blood. Any excuse.

  For the ruin, I went to where a set of 1920s townhouses was being—tragically, in my opinion—torn down to make way for high-priced lofts. I had always wondered what made a place a loft rather than an apartment or condo. I figured it had to be the outrageous price. Around back, the crews weren’t watching, so I was able to get to the roofless, half-knocked-in building and scoop up a bucketful of dirt and debris.

  When I mixed the two ingredients, I ended up with a dark, sticky, smelly paste. Plaster of Paris from hell. The stuff reeked. I separated it out into a dozen mason jars, hoping it would be enough. I hadn’t realized how much I had to protect.

  The first place I anointed was New Moon. The building was still intact, after all, even though the doors had yellow tape sealing them off and a sign from the fire department declaring that the building was awaiting inspection. I stared at the facade a long time. From the outside, no damage was visible. Lycanthropic vision was pretty good for seeing in the dark, so I peered through the window of the front door, searching the shadows. Tables and chairs were scattered. Puddles spotted the floor. Scorch marks streaked from the kitchen. I could smell soot, sulfur, brimstone. The Ouija board still lay there, abandoned.

  I didn’t want to think about it any more than that.

  I walked around the building clockwise, because for some reason these things were always done clockwise, using a spoon to dribble out spots of Egyptian blood potion. If this didn’t work, I’d look really silly. And if it did, how would I know? What if the thing didn’t attack us here again? Would the potion have protected us, or would it be a coincidence? I could begin to see how superstitions like this got started. If you got a hot date the one day you happened to be carrying a rabbit’s foot—well, why not?

  But at least I was doing something.

  Ben pulled up in his car just as I was finishing the bloody circle. He wore his “threw it on as I was leaving the house” look: rumpled trousers, rumpled shirt, brown jacket, hair brushed back from his face, obviously with his fingers. He smelled clean and showered.

  “Hey!” I grinned at him as he came to meet me.

  “Hey—oh, my God, what is that? Did you put that around the whole building?” His nose wrinkled, and he glared with disgust at the jar of bloody goo.

  “It’s the dust of a ruin mixed with blood. Odysseus Grant’s protection spell. It’s supposed to keep nasty spirits away,” I said.

  “I can see why—it’ll keep anything away. Gah!”

  Sensitive werewolf noses. By this time, I’d gotten used to the reek.

  “What brings you out here?” I said.

  “I’m supposed to meet the investigator and insurance adjuster in half an hour. I have a feeling the insurance company is going to want to call it arson and fraud.”

  “Arson! Are they kidding?”

  He shrugged. “We were there when the fire started. And in a way, ‘weird-ass supernatural attack’ might be classified as arson.”

  I groaned. “Great. That’s just great.”

  “Don’t worry, I think we have the investigator on our side. He’s talking something about a gas leak igniting particulate matter in the air. A big whoosh with no outright boom. If the insurance company buys the explanation, we’re set.”

  Another car, an old, small-size pickup, pulled up to the curb and parked behind Ben’s. My poor little burned-out building sure had a lot of visitors.

  “Is that your investigator?” I said, even as I knew I was wrong, because I recognized the truck. It was Mick’s. Sure enough, Mick and Shaun got out. Both were frowning, walking with their shoulders bunched up, surly.

  “Oh, this can’t be good,” I murmured. These were two of the pack’s strongest wolves, apart from me and Ben. In fact, in a straight-up fight, they were probably stronger. We were the alphas because they let us be. Because they trusted us.

  “Hi, Shaun,” I said. “You’re in time to walk through with Ben and the investigator. You can see exactly what the damage is.”

  He pressed his lips, nodded. Peered in through the front door like I had, searching, and I hoped the fact that not much was visible from here made him feel better. Shaun loved the place as much as I did. He’d picked out the name.

  Mick didn’t stop staring at me. When Ben edged up to me, he stared at both of us. He had to know what that stare meant to our wolf sides.

  “Is something wrong?” I said, my voice steady. I rounded my shoulders and stood straight. I didn’t want to have to do something as gauche as growl at him.

  He shrugged, offhand, like nothing was wrong. “I just want to find out what you’re going to do to take care of this.”

  I held up the jar of blood goo. “Protective spell. I’ve got extras in the car. I’ll give you some to take home with you.”

  He and Shaun regarded it with the same disgusted, puckered expressions Ben had. The stuff did smell pretty vile. But once it was spread around the place, it wasn’t noticeable. Much.

  “Are you kidding me?” Mick said, obviously not impressed. “I’m not smearing that crap anywhere near me.”

  “I’m open to other suggestions,” I said.

  Mick and Shaun glanced at each other, which made me even more nervous, because it meant they’d been talking about this beforehand. I was way too new at this alpha thing to be facing dissension in the ranks already. I wasn’t sure it would work, but I’d have to handle this the way I handled most everything in my life: brazen it out and act like I knew what I was doing.

  I crossed my arms and waited for an answer.

  “We go to Vegas,” Shaun said. He was fidgeting, just a little. Hands picking at the seams on his jeans, eyes darting, unable to look right at me. It made me think this was all Mick’s idea. “Go to the source. Take care of that pack directly.”

  “Did you two come out here to tag-team me or what?” I said.

  Shaun looked away at that, because I was right. Mick didn’t. He said, “Well? How about it?”

  “I thought of going back to Vegas. Did you consider that they may want us to do exactly that? That it’s a trap? This is a cult that sacrifices werewolves. I don’t want any of us going within a hundred miles of there.”

  Mick started in with more confidence, still staring at me like this was a challenge. “Then we hire someone to go there for us. Or we call the police.”

  “And prove to the cops what’s happening, how?”

  “I don’t know—you think of something, you know so much.”

  “What, you don’t like my icky blood spell?” I dipped my finger into the mixture and pointed it at him. Maybe I could obnoxious him into submission.

  “I’m worried, Kitty. I’m worried that you can’t handle this,” Mick said.

  “You think someone else could handle it better?”

  “I think if it wasn’t for you, this wouldn’t be happening.”

  Ben, who had been standing behind my shoulder the whole time, studying the pair of them, sprang. Surprised the hell out of me. Out of all of us. Ben grabbed Mick’s T-shirt at the shoulders, wrapped it in his fists, spun him around, and shoved him to the brick wall of the building. Held them there. It was over before I could blink.

  Ben’s teeth were bared. Mick’s eyes were wide, his feet working to try and scramble away. All his bravado vanished. Now he was scared. Ben was close enough—and seemed an
gry enough—to take a bite out of him.

  I stared. “Wow. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

  “Neither did I,” Ben said, his voice hoarse. His expression was taut, his whole body tense, and his wolf glared out of his eyes. He gave Mick one last shove, then stepped away, rolling his shoulders back, shivering almost. His breathing slowed. Mick backed away to stand next to Shaun.

  I moved to Ben and squeezed his hand. Come back to me, I thought at him. I wanted him to be human, not wolf, right now. I wanted to work this out as human beings.

  “I was really hoping we could have a pack where this sort of thing wouldn’t happen,” I said, sighing. New Moon was supposed to be the symbol of that. Peaceful cooperation. It was damaged, and look what happened.

  “I’m sorry,” Mick said, not meeting my gaze, only glancing warily at Ben. “I didn’t mean for this to look like a challenge. But I’m worried.”

  “Yeah,” I admitted, my voice soft. “But we’re working on it. We’ll figure this out. Tell everyone we’ll figure this out.”

  Again, they glanced at each other. My hunch had been correct. They’d been talking to everyone in the pack. They, the toughest nonalpha males, had been appointed spokeswolves. And now they were backing down. Maybe I could do this job.

  Shaun said, “How did you know we’ve been talking?”

  “Female intuition,” I said. “I have to go meet with some paranormal investigators about this whole brouhaha. Will you guys be okay if I leave you alone?”

  “Paranormal investigators?” Shaun said. Finally, he was smiling, at least a little. “So you really are working on this.”

  “Yeah, I am.”

  “We’ll be fine,” Ben said. I was confident he was right.

  Ben walked me to my car.

  “You okay?” I asked. I didn’t know how close we’d come to a fight back there. I didn’t really want to know. Ben was still tense.

  “Yeah. It just came out of nowhere. I just couldn’t let them talk anymore. Or the wolf side couldn’t. Hard to explain.”