by Judith Post
"Sorry. Habit. Well? Why didn't you use it? Mitchell would be a statue," he said.
"Mitchell was too far away. I wasn't sure how it would work, and if a car drove by while I was shifted, if a passenger looked at me, he'd turn to stone."
Dante nodded. "Then we need to get you closer to Mitchell with no street inbetween."
Should she salute? Be ready to shift to gorgon at his command? How annoying. "Or let me use my witch magic. That works, too."
He was silent a minute, thinking. Her gargoyle churned through ideas faster than she did, and Greeks were pretty quick. "When you leave here in the morning—which you will—because Mitchell's not stupid enough to attack us during the day with mortals everywhere to watch, you can go home and brew your potion. The sooner you get it to the werewolves and make all of them drink it, the better. Then you need to get some sleep."
"You're not interested in the side effects?"
Dante's jaw dropped. "Are they bad?"
She shrugged. "There aren't any, but you're getting sort of bossy."
Gideon laughed. "He's the oldest, you know, so that's made him think he's in charge."
"I am in charge." Dante's leathery wings furled close to his back, almost unnoticeable.
"Only if we agree with you." Gideon grinned. The youngest gargoyle in the group was blond and boisterous. He enjoyed giving his elders a hard time
Dante opened his lips to argue, then smiled. "That's true. We're a team. I always remember that."
"Right." Samuel pushed himself to his feet. "Well, this has all been fun, but our corners are empty. If anyone strolls by, they might notice. It might be time to get back to our stations."
Ally hurried to ask, "How am I supposed to get the potion to all of the werewolves? I only know where Skar lives."
"The entire pack's staying at his barn for now." Dante walked to his corner and crouched into position. "They know Mitchell's looking for them. Most Weres work jobs with flexible hours. They have to."
Ally nodded. Good enough. She'd only have to make one trip.
Dante didn’t turn his head, but said, "Ally, I'm sorry to stick with you all the work of making and delivering the potions while we stand watch. This is our mess. I wish you weren't part of it."
Her gargoyle always knew the right thing to say to get out of trouble. Ally blew him a kiss. "We're a team, remember? By the time I see you tomorrow night, I'll have a potion for all of you to drink." If she came at shift change, she could catch all four of them on the roof at the same time, since they were working in pairs. Gideon and Ecanus would both come to relieve Dante and Samuel.
"Thanks," he told her. "I really do appreciate it."
She knew he did, but it was time for him to do his gargoyle thing, and it was time for her to leave him alone. "I'll stick around until morning, and then I'll be back at sunset tomorrow. And don't worry. I'll spend most of my time in the church foyer where it's warm."
His body began to tense into position, hardening almost to marble. Samuel did the same. Gideon gave a smile and a wave and went into the shadows to sprout wings and fly away to his Humusi. Ally went down the steps and sat on the pew, closest to the front doors. She doubted Mitchell would return, but she wasn't taking any chances.
* * *
By the time sunrise chased away the shadows outside, Ally felt almost too weary to move. Coffee. She needed coffee.
She walked to where Dante had left the car and drove home. When she pushed through the front door, she heard people moving upstairs. It was Monday. Tepo would be leaving soon. With the shorter days, the poor boy woke in the dark and it was barely light when Hypos borrowed Ally's car to drive him to school. Hypos hadn't liked the idea that he was mingling with mortals, but not taking the bus had been their compromise. Tepo relished spending the day with kids his age—even if they were mortals—and Hypos felt safer when she dropped him off and picked him up.
Ally trudged up the back stairs to their apartment and knocked on the door. When Tepo saw her, his shoulders drooped.
"I can't go today, can I?"
"It might not be a good idea, not until we catch Mitchell."
Hypos called her into the kitchen and poured her a cup of coffee. "You look beat."
"I am, but I have work to do before I go to sleep." She explained what happened during the night.
Tepo nodded. "I'll stay home. I don't want someone to make me attack Dad."
Hypos bit her bottom lip. Tears misted her eyes. "Samuel's so happy Tepo calls him that."
"He is my dad," Tepo said. "He wants me. He loves me, too."
Ally gave a satisfied sigh. "You two have made Samuel really happy."
"So what's the work you talked about?" Hypos asked. "Can we help?"
"I have to make a potion, and yes, you can." The coffee revived her a little, and she led them down into the house's basement. One entire side of the sturdy foundation was lined with shelves, and on the shelves were many, many glass canning jars.
Hypos hugged herself. She looked a little apprehensive. "Witch supplies?"
"No eye of newt or tongue of frog, but lots of herbs and roots. Artemis taught me white magic, not dark. But hers is powerful, so my magic will be enough."
Tepo frowned. "Where did you keep these in the apartment?" He and Hypos had stayed with her in her small, downtown, one bedroom place until she'd bought the Queen Anne.
"I didn't. I kept them in a storage unit." There'd been too many to fit in her tiny kitchen or studio. She began gathering the ingredients she needed for her potion. Tepo and Hypos helped. They lugged the jars upstairs to the kitchen and Ally took out her huge soup pot.
"What? No cauldron?" Hypos teased.
"Do you want to treat mortals' drinking water?" Ally asked. "A cauldron would make enough." She went to her bedroom and chanted a spell before opening the bottom drawer of her dresser. She took out an ancient, yellowed, leather-bound book.
Hypos rubbed her arms when Ally returned with it. "I've only seen witches use spellbooks in movies."
"Witches remember any chant they hear or use," Ally told her, "but I don't make that many potions. I've never made this one, but I knew it was in here."
"Sort of like a magic cookbook!" Tepo cried. "Cool."
"Yeah, cool." Hypos didn't sound excited. "Let's do this."
They filled the pot with water, turned on the burner of the stove, and got started. An hour later, Ally chanted a cooling spell, then poured the potion into plastic pitchers. Easy to transport. One pitcher for the gargoyles and their families. Two more pitchers for Skar's pack.
"Want to come with me to deliver this?" Ally asked.
"To visit werewolves?" Hypos shook her head. Weres didn't rate any higher on her "like" list than spellbooks did.
"I'm going to drive it to Skar's place. I won't be gone that long, and then I'm coming home to crash. I need sleep."
"How long does your potion last?" Tepo poked his finger in the clear liquid and licked it off. He made a face. "It tastes like medicine."
"It is medicine to keep you safe from Mitchell's spell. And just like booster shots, once you're immune, you're always immune."
Hypos eyed the pitcher. "How much do we have to drink?"
"A shot glass will do."
Hypos rummaged in one of Ally's cupboards and came out with one. "Me first," she told Tepo. She poured it and tossed the drink back. "See? I lived. You will, too."
Tepo stared. "Do I have to?"
"Time to be brave." Hypos handed him the glass. "Bottom's up."
Tepo swallowed it as fast as he could. He sputtered and looked at Ally. "Do you need some?"
Ally shook her head. "When Artemis taught me witchcraft, she cast every protection spell on me any witch could ever have."
Someone knocked on the kitchen door and Zimaida stepped inside.
"You're just in time to enjoy the new cocktail," Hypos said.
The dry tone of her voice warned Zimaida. The nymph tilted her head. "If something's good for
you, it usually tastes like crap."
"You've got it." Hypos poured another shot. "When you're done with that, we can start working on more plates."
"That reminds me," Ally said, "someone needs to turn off the kiln at three this afternoon. The plates should be finished by then."
Tepo danced around the kitchen. "Can I make Zimaida's bowl?"
"Sure, you know what to do now, but it takes the kiln two days to cool. We can't fire anything until then."
He grabbed his mother's hand and pulled her toward the studio. "Come on. Let's get started." He'd been so disappointed about missing school, Ally was glad he had a fun distraction.
Zimaida drank her potion, winced, and poured herself a glass of water. "That tastes so bad, it must be really good for you." Then she trailed behind Tepo and Hypos.
Ally put the two pitchers for the werewolves in a cardboard box, tossed on her coat, and started for her car again. She blasted music on her drive to the far north of town. A tired headache blossomed before she reached the bumpy, gravel drive that led to the barn. The bumps didn’t make it any better. Her eyes burned with weariness. When she turned the last curve, she could see all the cars parked in the hidden lot. Good, they were all there. She stomped on the brake. Not so good…they were all outside, ripping and tearing at each other.
"Shit." The Weres were divided into pairs. Skar and Muscles faced off against each other. Jaws snapped. Teeth tore. Was this some kind of sadistic drill? Then her tired brain caught up. "Mitchell." She got out of the car and yelled her counterspell.
Werewolves staggered, they were so tired. They sagged against the person they'd just been fighting. Blood seeped from faces, arms, and torsos. Two werewolves sprawled on the ground, seriously hurt.
Ally ran to them. Their metabolism made them heal fast, but these two looked bad. She knelt beside them and pumped healing magic into them. One gasped and opened his eyes. The other moaned. His eyelids fluttered. He didn't have the energy to do more. His injuries would take longer to fix, but he'd live. Once she knew they'd be okay, Ally jerked to her feet and turned to find Mitchell.
The bastard. He'd be lurking somewhere close by to enjoy the damage he'd done. All she caught sight of was a man fleeing deeper into the woods. She raised a palm and shot blasts of hot magic at him, but he ducked behind trees until he was out of range. She could try to chase after him, but she doubted she'd catch him. And the werewolves were suffering. With a sigh, she turned her attention to them.
She hurried to press a palm against each one of them, boosting their own healing powers. By the time she reached Skar and Muscles, most of the others were bruised and sore, but their bleeding was stanched. She bit her bottom lip when she saw the alpha and his right hand man. Two powerful werewolves, they'd dealt each other plenty of damage.
Skar's right eye dangled from its socket. Half of his bottom lip was missing. Muscles's lower ribcage glistened where the flesh was torn away. He limped. A chunk was missing from his throat. How he'd survived, she couldn't guess. Yellow eyes narrowed as both Weres watched her approach. She took a deep breath. "I only want to help you."
Skar bared his teeth. Muscles' lips curled back in a snarl.
"Oh, to hell with it." She was too tired to deal with courtesies. She chanted a binding spell, and both werewolves dropped to the ground, hogtied with magic. Why hadn't she thought of that before? She knelt between them and pressed a palm to each of their thighs, far away from teeth. And she poured magic into them.
Sweet Hecate, she was tired! When she squeezed more of her energy into the Weres, her eyelids drooped.
"You can stop now," a sarcastic voice said.
She opened her eyes, and Skar, in mortal form, scowled at her. A naked Skar—all muscle and virility.
"Like what you see?" he growled.
"Sorry, I'm not into horror." Slashes covered his torso and thighs. Teeth marks scarred his left calf.
He snorted.
"You look horrible." She shot more energy into him, and thank Hecate, his eye retreated back into its socket.
Muscles tried to talk, but could only gurgle. She pressed her palm to his throat and spread healing warmth deep into his flesh. Deep grooves scored his chest—claw marks—as though someone was trying to dig out his heart.
Skar raised an eyebrow. "Are you going to release us any time soon, or do you intend to have your way with us?"
"You wish." She had Dante, and neither of them could compare. Ally pulled her palms off them and released her spell. "You must feel better. You're starting to annoy me."
Skar stood and flexed his fingers open and closed. He offered a hand to help her to her feet. Then he bent to help Muscles up. The werewolf wasn't steady on his feet. He put a hand on Skar's shoulder for support.
Skar took a minute to study her. "We'd have fought each other to the death. We owe you our thanks. How did you know we were in trouble?"
"I didn't. I came to bring you a potion. It will protect you from binding spells."
"You're a little late." His tone was dry.
"This time." Damned ingrate. She could be in bed right now, sleeping.
"Mitchell could try again."
"Where is it?" He knew she was right.
"In my car. Each of you need to drink a shot glass full." She went to fetch the box. None of them looked capable of carrying it at the moment.
When she held the glass to Muscles's lips and made him drink it, the Were grimaced. "Thanks, I needed that."
Skar snarled at his humor, then drank his dose. "Now we're protected?"
"It will stay in your system forever. No one can cast that spell on you from now on."
"Really? In that case, we owe you another thank you."
"I'm keeping a tab."
Muscles chuckled and reached out to steady himself. He was swaying on his feet.
"Dante's one lucky gargoyle. You're one hell of a witch."
"I'm a tired witch. Every single one of you should rest, too. I'm going home."
The werewolves lined up to take turns drinking the potion—at least a dozen of them.
"There should be enough for your mates and children, too." Ally hesitated, frowning. "How did Mitchell bespell you all at the same time? Dante said you'd stay in the barn."
"He set the place on fire," Skar said. "We had to race outside to put the flames out. My mate's in there. If anything happened to her…."
Ally sighed. "I should have brought a protection potion too."
"You can do that?" Skar stared at her.
"I'm a witch! More, I was trained by Artemis." What part of that didn't they understand?
Skar laughed. Great. At least, his sense of humor was restored. He put an arm around her waist and walked her to her car. "Will you be all right, driving home?"
"I'll be fine." She winced at the shortness of her tone.
He raised his eyebrow. "Take care, witch. And stay safe. You'll be useful to have as a friend."
She almost smiled. Almost. At least, he was honest. She talked to herself on the drive home. Sang songs. Rolled the windows down so that cold air blew on her. Anything to stay awake. When she finally staggered into the house, she chanted a spell to lock all of the doors behind her, tossed off her coat, and fell on the bed. She didn't wake until Hypos knocked on the bedroom door and said, "It will be dark soon. I made you a sandwich to eat while you watch over Samuel and Dante."
She couldn't move. She was tired, drained. Samuel. Dante. She had to protect them. With a groan, she pushed herself to a sitting position and swung her feet over the side of the bed.
"Thank you." She was still dressed. One less thing to do. She glanced at the clock. Holy crap! She hadn't meant to sleep this long. She reached for her coat on the floor—added her hat and gloves and grabbed the food Hypos offered her. She snagged the pitcher of potion on the foyer table, hesitated, and went to the basement to grab another one of her concoctions. Just in case. A precaution.
A wind howled down the streets and gray clouds broo
ded overhead. Damn, it was cold! She turned back to grab a long scarf for her neck. When had the temperatures dropped? She cranked on the car's heater as she drove to the cathedral. She parked a block away and bent into the wind to walk to the shadows on the side of the building. Thankfully, the thick, stone walls blocked the gusts that thrashed the branches of the trees in the well-manicured lawn.
Ally leaned into a corner, protected from the bits of sleet that bounced off the ground, making it slippery. Would Mitchell brave the elements to attack the gargoyles tonight? Jeez, she hoped not. She peered into the dark recesses of the botanical conservancy, across the street. Bright lights shone through the thick glass, and she saw the branches of tropical trees pressed against the glass ceiling. She finished her sandwich and jammed her hands deep inside her coat pocket. It would be warm in the room full of jungle plants. A shiver slid down her spine. What a horrible night! But the gargoyles stood watch, regardless of the weather.
When she couldn't feel her toes, she slid inside the church for a minute to warm them. She looked at the pitcher and the gallon jug she'd grabbed at the last minute. The potions were ice-cold, but not frozen. Magic didn't freeze. Should she, or shouldn't she? She felt slightly guilty, but she ducked back outside and walked the entire perimeter of the cathedral, chanting a protection spell while she drizzled the contents of the jug on the building's foundation. A double whammy. Now, no enemy could enter the church. No enemy magic could pass her spell either.
Was it sacrilegious to cast magic on churches? Did intentions count? She meant no disrespect. She simply wanted to protect it, its visitors, and the gargoyles.
The hours crept by until a clock chimed midnight. Shadows flew overhead. Ecanus and Gideon had arrived for their watch. If they sat on the corners of the roofline, even if Mitchell shot magic at them, they'd be safe. Her new shield would see to that.
She climbed the steps to the roof with her pitcher in hand. She dug the shot glass out of her coat pocket. "Drink this," she told the four gargoyles. "Mitchell or any other magic won't be able to bind your wills."
