Something to Curse About (Discord Jones)

by Gayla Drummond

  “I was a little worried about frying you with them,” I admitted. “Kind of hoping that ability proves to be a one-time deal. It was très scary.”

  He mm-ed. “I bet you’ve never offered a supe sanctuary before.”

  “Nope, can’t say I have, and unless I’m wrong, that was a bad move on my part. You shook your head at me right after I did it.”

  Logan put his hand on my shoulder, a couple of his fingers coming to rest on my neck. A faint tingle spread from the point of skin-to-skin contact. “It means more than I can say that you did, but before that, we could’ve downplayed your involvement. We can’t now. That was an official declaration of where you stand, and it’s with us. The White Queen and her clan.”

  “That’s okay. You guys are my friends. Friends help each other out by doing stuff. You know, keeping each other alive, keeping perverts from kidnapping teenagers, things like that.”

  He squeezed my shoulder. “It means our enemies are now your enemies. The tigers who don’t swear fealty to Terra, and any other supes who have a beef with us, now or in the future, will gun for you along with us.”

  Maybe it wasn’t just shifter politics that were super complicated. Maybe all supe politics were. Then again, so were human politics, what with all the parties and politicians. I shrugged. “Okay.”

  Logan pulled his hand away. “That’s it? Okay?”

  “Can’t change it now, right?” Not that I would. Logan had proven himself to be a friend and someone who wasn’t afraid to back me up when needed. Of course now, with Terra in the city, I knew she had to be his first priority.

  “Actually, it can change. You could withdraw your offer of sanctuary, and stay clear of us.” He licked the corner of his mouth, settling back into the seat to look out the windshield. “That would probably be a good idea.”

  I braked for a stoplight. “I think that’s an awful idea. All wishy-washy and stuff. I like Terra. She’s a sweet girl, and I’d feel terrible if anything happened to her, or to you. I may not always be around to help, and maybe helping will cause future problems for me, but it’d be really crappy of me to turn my back on you guys. Friends don’t do that to each other. They help if they can. I’ll help whenever I can.”

  “And if you can’t?”

  I felt my lips draw away from my teeth. “Then I’ll do my best to kick the holy hell out of whoever hurts you.”

  ***

  “That building, down in the cellar.” Bone rested his paw on my shoulder. “The one with the white door. Don’t think they’re using it tonight. Too quiet.”

  “Okay.” I nodded at Logan, who tapped Damian’s number on my phone. “The building with the white door. He says they hold them in the cellar.”

  When Damian answered, he gave him the address and passed on the info. It was the second we’d called in, both in the Palisades. Ending the call, he said, “They’re about to roll out.”

  “We need to move faster. How many more places are there?”

  “There’s one out on Jefferson, and one out past the edge of town in a gulley.” Bone licked his chops. “There’s another in a warehouse in another part of town, down the highway from here.”

  I realized that I was “hearing” him by a combination of body movements, sounds, and mentally too, with images and words. Maybe I wouldn’t lose the newfound ability to talk to dogs after all. It would be cool to keep, seeing that I’d have five, or maybe six, living with me. “Let’s get the one on Jefferson, the other one down the highway, and we’ll come back to the one outside. Maybe by then, Damian or Kate will be free to go with us.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  Bone directed me to the place on Jefferson, which turned out to be an empty store. Logan called in the address though neither he nor the dog heard any activity inside. “They’re rolling.”

  “Cool.” I’d already turned around and begun heading for the highway. Even with the boost of my unnamed ability that let me know what others drivers would do, it took a good thirty minutes to reach the warehouse and call in the address. I listened to Logan explain our plan while circling the block to return to the highway.

  “Damian said to call and tell him which street when we get there. He’ll get there as soon as he can,” he reported after hanging up.

  With Bone’s directions, we arrived on another street that ended in a cul-de-sac and had nothing but moldering, abandoned houses lining it. The few streetlights still standing weren’t working, and the clouds had rolled in while we’d driven around, obscuring the half-moon.

  I parked my car facing the way out. Logan had already called Damian, and we sat for a few minutes after he said, “They’re at the first two places. It’ll be a little bit before they can come out this way.”

  Bone looked from him to me. “We just gonna sit here?”

  I kind of wanted to, not knowing exactly what we might see. There were enough imagined possibilities dancing around my brain, most of them involving screaming dogs and a lot of blood. “No, we’ll go scope things out and come back, so we can lead them there.”

  Agreement came in the form of Logan opening his door and climbing out. He held the seat forward for the dog to follow suit. I opened my door and locked my car while they headed for the end of the street. “Why aren’t there any other cars here?”

  Bone huffed. “There’s a dirt road they use, but I don’t know how to get to it. We made our break from the gulley, came back this way.”

  “Oh. Okay, we find them, and one of us comes back here to meet Damian and lead his group there.” Gazing at the tangle of mesquite, yucca, and cacti spreading out before us, I felt certain either Logan would have to do it, or I’d have to teleport back. It’d take me forever to trudge through the mess without someone showing me the easy way through. “Let’s go.”

  When we started into the brush, I pulled out my phone and set it to silent. Logan noticed and repeated the action with his phone. No sense alerting the bad guys we were around, in case someone decided to give us a call.

  The dog took the lead. To my surprise, the great outdoors had less interest than usual in beating me to a bloody pulp. Maybe the cool night breeze kept the insects away, but I didn’t stumble or fall victim to grabby, scratchy branches or sharp cactus spines. In fact, when Bone began trotting, I fell into an easy jog, ducking and weaving, hopping over rocks and other debris.

  I pinned the change on leftover doggy instincts.

  By my estimate, we jogged for nearly two miles before hearing anything. We all slowed down without a word, and continued forward at a walk, only to stop a few minutes later at the edge of a gaggle of much larger trees I thought were probably elms. Over a dozen vehicles sat parked around and under them.

  Both Logan and Bone sniffed the breeze, almost identical expressions of alertness on their faces. “We’re clear.”

  The sound grew louder after we passed the vehicles and I finally realized what it was: People yelling in excitement.

  Cheering.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  The cheering made me sick. Under it, I could make out the snarls of dogs. What kind of sick bastards found the sight of dogs tearing each other up entertaining? What the hell was wrong with people?

  Logan grabbed my arm and spoke in a low voice. “Wait, I smell magic.”

  “You actually smell it?”

  He frowned, his gaze intent on the shadows under the trees, and released my arm. “Kind of smell and feel it. It feels like a low electrical current and smells like warm metal.”

  I noticed the lack of sniffing from him, and drew my own conclusions, based on personal experience. He sensed it, and his mind assigned a scent to it for identification purposes. Mine preferred to assign temperatures, such as cold for vamps with psychic abilities. The colder the feeling, the more high-powered the vamp. “We can’t just stand here. It could be a while before the others get here.”

  Logan did sniff the air then. “There’s wolves here, not just humans, and something—someone—else. Almost smells
like an elf.” He shook his head and sniffed again. “Not an elf like Thorandryll though.”

  I shivered, rubbing my arms with both hands. Bone whimpered and pressed his side against my leg. “There’s more than one kind of elf?”

  “Not supposed to be, after the kind you’re familiar with went to war a couple of centuries before the Melding.” Logan scowled, turning in a circle to scan the darkness. “They supposedly wiped them out. I think they missed one, and if they did, we’re in big trouble.”

  I hesitated, listening to the cheering rise and fall. “If this elf is Crazy Curseman and such big trouble, why am I still breathing? He could’ve killed me, sounded like he wanted to because I’d ‘interfered’, but he didn’t. He turned me into a dog.”

  “That could’ve been an accident. A dog hair might’ve fallen into the mix.” Logan nodded to a clump of mesquite trees a few yards to the left, and I followed him with Bone right on my heels. We squatted down. “Then again, how many people wouldn’t panic over being turned into a dog? He may have thought you’d get hit by a car or attacked and killed by street dogs.”

  “I guess.” The sound of snarling had lessened, but whether because the cheering had grown louder, or the fight was almost over, I didn’t know. A lump that threatened to choke me formed in my throat. Here we were, not too far away from one or two dogs probably drawing their last breaths, and we weren’t doing a damn thing about it. “If he didn’t outright kill me then, he might not now. Maybe he gets off on showing up another supe.”

  Logan’s fingers caught my chin and turned my face toward his. “I know you want to help the dogs, but we’re outnumbered. Not just outnumbered, but there’s wolves, probably armed humans, and the dark elf.”

  “Help me come up with a plan.” Bone nosed my knee, and I looked down at him. “What?”

  “Cages aren’t kept near the fighting. They’re down the gulley a little. I can show you.”

  I repeated that to Logan. He thought it over for a minute. “If we circle around, and there’s not more than one or two watching the dogs, we can free them. That’ll probably end things for the night, but there might not be anyone still around by the time the cops get here.”

  “I don’t care.” I didn’t, even if it meant we’d have to do this all over again whenever the bad guys rounded up enough dogs so they could restart the fights. Night had fallen over an hour before, which meant one or more dogs had already died. Maybe we couldn’t do anything about the two in the ring now, but we could keep the others from dying tonight. “Let’s do it.”

  He looked at Bone. “If things go bad, both of you need to run.”

  The exact same order Nick always gave me. “Right, and leave you behind holding them back?”

  Logan shook his head, his lips curving slightly. “I’ll be running like hell too. Elves are bad enough, but the stories I’ve heard about the dark ones…” He shuddered, no more hint of a smile to be seen. “Run, teleport, whatever you can do to get away as quickly as possible.”

  Maybe we should wait for backup after all? I tossed that thought away in favor of helping whatever dogs we could, since it would definitely be the last chance for some of them. “Okay, you heard him, Bone. Things get sticky, run.”

  He gave a quick wag of his tail in response. “Follow me.”

  With that, we were off. The dog led the way, darting from shadow to shadow, Logan close behind. I brought up the rear, trying to move as silently as they did. The lack of moonlight didn’t help, but leftover doggy instincts again kept me from making my normal amount of not-a-woods-person noise. At some point, we passed north of the excited crowd. I gritted my teeth upon catching the faint smell of blood on the breeze and kept going.

  There wasn’t a damn thing we could do for the two in the ring. I needed to focus on the others.

  That inability dug at me, impossible to ignore, but necessary to resist. Can’t do anything if we’re caught, except run.

  Ahead, Bone stopped and looked back. Logan halted beside him and knelt, looking down. I slowed and walked to join them at the edge of the gulley. Once there, I knelt too. Roughly twenty feet below, camouflage tarps had been set up in a line of sort of open-sided tents. A figure moved restlessly from one to the other. I recognized the shifter from the old brewery. He apparently hadn’t been scared enough to run.

  Logan tapped my shoulder and pointed to one at the end of the line. I had to squint to make out what he wanted me to see. A pair of feet clad in white running shoes stuck out from under the hanging tarp edge. It took another few seconds of hard staring to make out the rope around the person’s ankles.

  Another tap and point. I looked away from the prisoner to focus on a wide crack about ten feet away from where we sat. Logan’s mental voice caused a flinch because it sounded too loud. We can climb down there.

  Okay. We both kept our heads down, moving to the crack in the earth in crouches. My legs shook, mostly from the anger I was doing my damnedest to keep control of. When we reached the crack, I peered down and shook my head. I can’t climb that. I’ll teleport us to the bottom.

  He held out his hand. I took it and put my other one on Bone’s back. We were down in a blink, and the pit bull slipped away from my touch. I’ll go tell them to be quiet and come back.

  Okay. We watched as he slunk around the corner of the crack’s entrance. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes, and willed my anger away. Anger could be seductive, urging a person into action to right wrongs. It could also push people into believing they were doing the right thing even when they’d crossed the line and weren’t. We weren’t here for revenge. We were here for what justice we could manage, and we’d already decided what that justice was: Setting the dogs free.

  When I opened my eyes, I found Logan watching me. Okay?

  Yeah. We’d have to move quickly. The shifter needed taking out first so he couldn’t sound the alarm. Next, release the prisoner, who might turn out to have useful information if we were lucky, and then free the dogs. I’ll smack down the guy.

  He agreed with a nod, and Bone returned. They’ll stay quiet. I told them to follow me once everyone’s out of cages.

  I petted him, and on impulse, kissed the top of his broad, scarred head before murmuring, “Let’s do this.”

  We walked out. Logan left my side to go free the prisoner, and I managed to sneak up on the fidgeting shifter as he stood staring down the gulley toward the noise. He never saw me, barely even got out “Wha…?” before he slammed face first into the rocky wall.

  The urge to smash his unconscious body against the wall a few more times rose, but I fought it down by remembering how scared he’d appeared at the old brewery. He had enough trouble without my beating him into a pile of spare parts.

  I turned and hurried back down to the last makeshift tent, arriving just as Logan walked out from underneath it carrying a puffy blue bundle. “She’s unconscious.”

  “I know her. Kind of. Her name’s Tonya.” Her coat had provided some protection, spilling dirty white from some slashes. It hadn’t protected her from a head blow, as the large goose egg protruding in shiny pink glory from her temple attested. “Her dog must be here too.”

  “I’ll take her down a ways. Why don’t you start at the other end? I’ll start here when I get back.”

  “Sure.” I said it even though something in his voice hit me wrong. “Hurry.”

  Logan turned and took off without another word. I hurried back to the first makeshift tent. It took me less than a second to open the four large cages with occupants there, using my telekinetic ability. The fifth cage, already open, was empty and I scowled at it before shooing the dogs out.

  Under the second, there were only three large cages, and one held the Husky. I let them out, and she was the first to dash out from under the tarp. I hoped she didn’t attack Logan while moving on to the third tent. Three large cages, one open and empty. Nine dogs total, so far. One of them, a German Shepherd, paused to lick my hand before joining the other dogs milling
around Bone, who waited past the last tent.

  Logan wasn’t back yet, so I ducked under the tarp into the last one and froze as my eyes adjusted. I understood the reason he’d wanted me to stay out of this one. “Oh, my God.”

  Three pairs of terrified eyes stared back. The fourth and fifth pair, death glazed, stared at nothing. Both of the dead ones had been brutalized by fangs, their bodies ripped in several places. A foreleg hung from a shred of skin on one. The other was missing a hind leg. As I stared at them, numbness descended, and an eerie, calm feeling with it. Spotting a small pet carrier and a roll of trash bags, I carefully bagged the two dead, silently promising them a decent burial later, and then coaxed the three survivors into letting me move them from cages to carrier. They huddled together once inside.

  Logan made it back as I stepped out from under the tarp. He winced at the expression on my face. “I didn’t want you to see that. Let me have them, and let’s get out of here.”

  “Take the carrier. The bag’s a lot lighter.” My voice sounded thin and toneless. “I’ve got it.”

  He came close enough to snag the back of my head with one hand while taking hold of the carrier’s handle. I closed my eyes at the brief touch of his warm lips to my forehead, and he murmured, “I’m sorry.”

  Released, I stepped back and forced what I hoped was a smile. It didn’t feel like one. “Let’s go.”

  With a last glance around, Logan turned and set off. Bone and the released dogs were already out of sight. I did follow him a short distance. You know, before the numbness exploded in a shower of sparks I could almost see, and the anger I’d been fighting completely flooded my mind.

  I’m not even sure whether I stopped or just teleported, but Logan wasn’t in front of me anymore. Instead, the backs of several men were. Packed closely together, their bodies hid the dog-fighting action from me.

  Some tiny part of me thought it’d be a really good idea to leave before anyone saw me. I ignored that part, lifting my arms out straight ahead of me, my fists touching, and the trash bag with its awful burden swinging from side to side.