No Rest for the Wicca

by Toni LoTempio

  “He considers himself somewhat of an expert in the field of black magic, yet maintains he is only interested in the study, not the practice. Erdos and Morrow have also done extensive research in the field. ” He trained that gaze full on me. “Have you ever heard of Marinette?”

  I looked at him, startled. “She’s a female lwa—one who oversees black magic and evil works.Why do you ask?”

  “About two months ago we got a tip about an underground society. They call themselves the Sevites of Marinette.”

  I put my finger against my lips. “Sevites, huh? Voodoo-speak for servant.”

  “Correct. Our informant couldn’t give specifics, but hinted that someone at the University was involved. These professors, because of their specialities, could easily be involved.”

  I reached for my drink, realized the glass was empty, and curled my fingers around it. “So, what? You think there might be a link between this so-called Secret Society and the witch killings? That one of those men is the killer?”

  Those fabulous lips quirked up, a semblance of a smile. “I don’t think anything—yet. It helps to establish a connection first.”

  “I see.”

  He swung his long legs out in front of him. “What I’m proposing is this—“ he swung his long legs out in front of him. “You and I go undercover at the University, check things out. You can be a student, enroll in some of their classes, get a firsthand feel for these professors, and for the other students. Maybe, with those heightened senses of yours, you can get a bead on who, if any, might be involved. Who knows, we might be off base entirely,but—I don’t think so.”

  “And they make fun of women’s intuition.”

  He fixed me with a stare. “Inheritor intuition is amazingly accurate.”

  I shifted in my seat. “Dust off my backpack and drag out the old textbooks, huh?” My eyebrow quirked up. “And you? Will you be a student as well?”

  His fingers brushed absently at a speck of dust on the lapel of his jacket. “No. I’ve arranged to be a temporary replacement for an ailing faculty member.”

  I shook my head. To see an Inheritor Vamp pose as a professor would be worth the price of admission. Tempting, but…

  “Sorry.” I rose from my chair. “As I’ve said, I’m not interested. You’ll just have to find some other sucker with a voodoo background to help you catch your killer.”

  As I started to move away, his hand shot out, encircled my wrist. “What would it take,” he asked softly, “for you to change your mind?”

  I hesitated, and shook my hand free. “Not much. Just a miracle,” I said, and walked out.

  In the alley behind the club, I leaned against a signpost for a minute. The mix of Zuluki and beer had a little band of men shaking maracas in my head. I needed to get home, lie on my soft bed, and just sleep. Drain away the tension, lick my wounds, come to grips with the fact that come tomorrow, I’d be returning to work, not on a special Homicide case, but back to paranormal investigating. Bugger.

  My vision skewed slightly to one side and I caught a movement from the shadows at the back of the alley. I stiffened. Two of the shadows melted into large forms, dressed in scruffy jeans and sweatshirts. I saw the yellow gleam in their eyes and figured them to be weres—not nice ones, either.

  “Hey, look what they tossed out in the trash,” one of them uttered a low growl. I pressed a hand to my throbbing temple. It was the week before the full phase, and I did recall hearing weres were especially bitchy around this time, which accounted for Dorrie’s moods. They also had increased appetites and shorter tempers. Lucky me.

  The good news was, my headache was starting to dissipate. The bad news was, my blade and other weapons were in my other jacket at home.

  One of them pulled out the biggest, sharpest knife I’d ever seen. “Hey, baby. Where you goin’ so fast. Me and Percy, here, we need some fresh meat. Practice for next week.”

  “Back off.” I fished in my pocket, found my shield. I pulled it out and waved it in front of them. “Police.”

  They both laughed. “You ain’t a real cop. We know who you are. You’re the Wiccan bitch what got her partner killed, because she thought she could harness the forces of black magic for good.” Another growl. “Can’t mix white and black magic, girl. Ain’t you learned nothin’ yet?”

  I should have learned not to go down back alleys right before a phase, but apparently my education was sorely lacking in that area, as well. “Okay, guys. I don’t want any trouble. Just let me pass—“

  “Sorry, babe. We’re kinda hungry, and you look tasty. Percy, do you want the arms? I think I’ll take her brain. I feel like eating kinda light.” He patted his bulging stomach. “Gotta shed pounds.”

  I dropped instinctively into the stance, arms upraised. “Bring it on,” I hissed. “At least I’ll go down fighting.”

  The two of them lunged. I lashed out with my leg and arm. I caught the smaller one on the jaw with my karate chop and he staggered backward. The larger one, however, blocked my leg kick and spun me around so hard I went splat! Facedown on the ground.

  “Appetizer,” he whispered.

  I tried to twist around but he held me in a steely grip, and I still reeled from the effects of my liquid lunch. I could smell his fetid breath and I winced, swallowed to keep from gagging. “Sardines for lunch?” I snapped. “You need a breath mint.”

  “You’ve got bigger things to worry about than my kissing sweet breath, bitch.”

  “So do you,” I growled, and brought my spike down hard on his instep. He swore but loosened his grip enough for me to spin away. My head was a little clearer now, but the odds were still two against one.

  The smaller one advanced toward me. “I didn’t like the way you treated my friend Percy,” he rasped. “Especially when he has only your best interests at heart.”

  I seriously doubted that. “Oh, yeah? Such as?”

  “Well,” his incisors gleamed in the moonlight. “I don’t like to brag. Let’s just say it involves you calling out his name and mine—as you writhe in ecstasy from our touch.”

  “I wouldn’t say the words ecstasy and your names in the same breath, personally. What is your name, anyway?”

  I’d always thought myself speedy but this were moved with the speed of light. Before I’d finished the sentence he’d grabbed my arm and slammed my head against one of the dumpsters with such force I saw brilliant stars in front of me. Crap. I felt the warm sensation of blood oozing down, and over the ringing in my ears his harsh laugh as he stood over me, hands fisted on his broad hips.

  “Clive. Now, are you gonna cooperate or not?”

  Well, I might be down but I certainly wasn’t out for the count. “Not,” I hissed, and struck out with my leg. I caught him on the side of the shin, and he howled, a mournful sound. I took advantage of his momentary dishabille to scramble to my feet. I turned, poised to run, when all of a sudden I felt something lodge in my hair and pull me back. My neck tipped and I gazed into Percy’s blazing yellow eyes.

  “That hurt,” he said. “I don’t like to be hurt.”

  “Yeah, well, deal with it,” I shot back. It was getting hard to concentrate. That whack on the noggin had caused my headache to return.

  “I shall,” he said, and flipped me over as if I were no more than a sack of meal. As I watched, his nails grew long, sharp. With one flick he’d cut open my blouse, exposing my lacy bra.

  “First, some pleasure,” he murmured. “Ever do it with a were?” He laughed at the glint in my eye. “Ever do it with anyone?”

  I shut my eyes. “Bastard. Rapist.”

  “Quit the sweet talk. I—heh?”

  At his growl, I opened one eye. The were now flopped down on top of the garbage pails lining one end of the alley, buried from the shoulders down. I struggled to a sitting position, and then I saw the other one, Claude. He dangled about six feet in the air, his eyes yellow with fear, his arms and legs flailing about. Standing directly below him, index finger upraised,
stood Cole.

  “Now if I let you down, will you take your friend and leave the young lady alone?” he asked, dangerously quiet. “Or would you like to fly headfirst into one of those dumpsters over there? I saw some rats going in earlier—you could get a headstart on dinner.”

  “Let me down. We won’t…we won’t bother her.”

  “Fine.”

  Cole lowered his hand and the were plummeted to the ground, landing, swack! On top of more garbage next to his friend. The two of them stumbled and grumbled through the mess, and when they were both finally free, lumbered down the alley and out of sight, still covered in remnants.

  I hobbled toward Cole, still a little unsteady. “Why are you still standing here,” I cried. “Go after them! They’re dangerous, they’ll end up attacking another unsuspecting female, and the next one might not be so lucky.”

  He put his fingers against his lips, gave a small yawn. “You don’t give me enough credit, Morgan. I made a call just before I joined the melee. There’s a squad car just around the corner, waiting for them to show their ugly faces.”

  “Yeah, well—good. Great.” I scooped my hair out of my eyes, wondering if I looked as unkempt as I felt. “Thanks,” I mumbled softly.

  Cole bent his head down to mine. “What? I couldn’t quite hear you.”

  I snapped my neck up. “Thanks. I said thanks for helping out.”

  His lips twitched. “You’re quite welcome.” His hand brushed against my forehead, and he frowned. “Got a nasty cut, there.”

  I shrugged away from his touch. “I’ve gotten worse. My cousin has some special ointment. By tomorrow I’ll look as if nothing ever happened.”

  “Ah. That’s fortunate, then.”

  We stood awkwardly for a few moments, then I said, “I appreciate it, but I could have handled them on my own, you know.”

  He looked me up and down. “No doubt.”

  I pushed my blouse back into my waistband. “I could. I was just toying with them, lulling them into a false sense of security. I had every intention of making my move.”

  He nodded. “Of course you did. Sorry to intrude, but I just needed to exercise my levitating abilities a little.”

  I pulled on my jacket to straighten it, not meeting his gaze. “Well, I guess I’ll be going now.”

  He fell into step beside me, and I slid him a look. “I’m okay, honest. No need to keep following me.”

  He took a step back, hands upraised. “Fine. Perhaps I’ll run into you again sometime, in another alley.”

  “Ha, ha. Yeah. Maybe.”

  He regarded me with a hooded stare. “You’re certain you won’t change your mind?”

  I nibbled at my lower lip. “No. Sorry.”

  He shook his head. “You are quite stubborn, aren’t you, Morgan Hawkes?”

  “I’ve been called worse,” I said. I turned, walked down the alley to my convertible, and slipped behind the wheel. As I tooled away from the curb I stole a glance in the rear view mirror.

  Cole still stood on the sidewalk, watching me. As I made the turn onto Pine, I could still feel the searing heat of his gaze burning into the back of my head.

  The feeling, I grudgingly admitted, was not altogether unpleasant.

  Chapter 6

  Over the next two days I had more than enough work to occupy my mind and keep me from giving Cole St. John more than a passing thought. Spirits trapped between worlds suddenly seemed to crop up everywhere, from a theatre to a restaurant to one daemon caught in a toilet bowl. When I entered PSI Headquarters late Wednesday afternoon, Danny slouched behind the main desk, feet up, speaking in low tones into his headset. When he caught sight of me his eyes widened. As I started to pass, he whipped the headset off and his free hand shot out, grabbed my wrist.

  “Holy Zeus, Morgan. You look like Hell.”

  I managed a wan smile. “Gee thanks. You don’t look so bad yourself.”

  He clucked this tongue. “I’m not kidding. There’s bags under your eyes deep enough to put a couple steaks in. What’s been going on?”

  I shrugged. “Not too much. The usual. Especially tough daemon today, though. Little bugger just didn’t want to leave the manhole on Eighth. Seems he pissed off his succubus lover, who paid a Castor Witch a good amount to strand his soul between worlds. It took a lot out of me.”

  He clucked his tongue. “I can imagine.” He paused. “Gilley wants to see you.”

  My eyebrow went up. The Captain hadn’t so much as batted an eyelash my way since my refusal to work with Special Services and Cole St. John. “Yeah? What for? He needs a punching bag?”

  Danny shook his head. “Give him a break, Morgan. You know Gilley has a lot of respect for your abilities…deep down.”

  I snorted. “Buried pretty deep these days.”

  I turned and started to walk down the hall, but Danny’s voice froze me in my tracks.

  “April knew what you had planned. She could have stopped you, you know. She could have refused to go along with it. She made a choice, too.”

  I didn’t answer, just kept walking to the end of the corridor, to my cubbyhole little bigger than a broom closet. Once inside, I flopped down in my chair and leaned back. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror on the far wall and started. It seemed harder and harder lately to tell my image from some of the ghosts I’d exorcised. I looked paler than usual, my eyes shadowed. The corners of my lips dragged down. My hair stood up in spikes, the result of dragging my hands through it countless times. I pressed my fingers to my burning eyes, and felt a sudden jolt.

  Something was in the room with me.

  I pushed my chair back, stood up. Yep, something was here all right.

  I can usually pick up a presence by virtue of feeling a tightness, a sense of pressing, against my own energy. I moved across my office next to my tiny bookcase and placed my hand on the expanse of wall, closed my eyes.

  Who are you?

  Nothing. But I could still feel the energy swirling around me. I held my arms straight out in front of me, willed myself to center all my concentration on whoever had decided to pay me a visit at my workplace.

  Who are you?

  The voice came, reedy, thin, as light as quicksilver. You don’t know us.

  Progress. I scrunched my eyes tighter. Us? Are there more than one of you?

  Yes.

  Why are you here?

  We need your help.

  My eyes snapped open for a brief instant, then I willed them to close, willed my energy to center. My help? If I can, I will. Who are you? Why have you chosen me?

  Silence.

  I brought my arms in front of my chest, pressed my palms together, steepled my fingers and rested them underneath my chin.

  I cannot help you if I don’t know what you need. Who are you?

  A whoosh of air swept past me, then: He must be stopped.

  He? Who?

  We cannot say. The spirits will not let us.

  Try. Try, won’t you?

  A long, drawn out moan, and then, in an almost guttural tone:

  Ago angajan asogwe. Lughnasadh.

  “Morgan.”

  My eyes flew open and my shoulders straightened as if steel poles had slammed into them. I could feel the cosmic energy drain out of the room as I turned to meet my Captain’s startled gaze.

  “Captain.”

  Gilley frowned, eyes darting to and fro. “Did I interrupt something? Some sort of yoga meditation perhaps?”

  I licked at my lips, certain now was not the time to confide what just happened to Gilley, nor speculate on what the spirit’s strange message might mean. “Ah—I have a lot on my mind, sir.”

  “Yes, I understand you’ve been busy the last few days,” he said stiffly. He ran his hand through his thick mass of iron gray hair. “Dammit, Morgan. Sometimes I just don’t know what to do with you.”

  “Most people don’t, sir. Most of my own family gave up on me a long time ago.”

  He blew out a sigh. “Self-pit
y really doesn’t become you. Take the stick out of your butt, young lady, and sit down. I—we need to talk.”

  I moved to the chair, sat, looked up at him expectantly. “Yes, sir?”

  He stroked at his chin with his fingers. “I won’t say I’m not disappointed at how things turned out, because I am. Frankly, I thought it a marvelous opportunity for you.”

  “I appreciate your confidence, sir, but—“

  He held up his hand. “Don’t interrupt your superior, Morgan. I’m not finished.” He paused. “I can possibly understand why you turned it down.”

  His remark caught me off guard. “You can?”

  He nodded. “Yes. The only thing I’m not sure of is which scares you more, the voodoo angle or the fact you’ll have to work with a partner again.” He let out a giant sigh. “Morgan, I’m going to give you some advice you might find corny—an old cliche.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Please, sir—“

  He held up his hand. “Trite but true--once you fall off the horse, you’ve got to get back on it again.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “You’re right. It is trite.”

  Gilley’s hand balled into a fist. “Dammit, Morgan. I want to help you. Do you think I like to see you waste your talents snuffing out misplaced daemons? You’re better than that, far better. No, I—“

  The door burst open and Danny stood on the threshold. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” he said, and looked straight at me. “Still didn’t get that cell battery, did you?”

  I felt a tingle narrow up my spine. “No.”

  “Well, County Hospital’s on the line. They’ve been trying to get you. Your cousin Xia’s in the ER.”

  ***

  I burst through the double glass doors of County Hospital and made my way to the desk where a stern-faced nurse sat, staring at a monitor. She looked up as I approached but her bored expression switched to shocked surprise when I banged my fist on the counter.

  “I’m Morgan Hawkes. My cousin, Xia Randall’s been brought in here. What’s her status?”

  She stared at me, turned her attention to the monitor. “I don’t know if I can release—“