Cursed to Death

by L. A. Banks

  “Agreed,” Crow Shadow said, gaining nods all around.

  “Agreed,” Shogun said, staring at Hunter and then offering Woods a slight bow.

  Sasha picked up the cell phone. “ ’Rissa . . . I don’t know how, but you guys have to get out of there. Gunshots were fired, and . . . What?”

  Silence surrounded Sasha, save the hum of bullfrogs and crickets. Background sirens dulled as her mind exploded. “Hold on a sec.” She pressed the cell phone to her chest again and stared at Woods. “Two civilian girls are in the B&B in tears—no, make that hysterics—because they saw creatures they cannot explain, are waaaay freaked out, and saw Doc unload a silver, hallowed-earth-packed hollow-tip to explode one . . . Oh, did I mention that Bradley and Doc had to duct-tape them to a chair for their own safety so they wouldn’t run out screaming into the streets to get bitten? Wanna talk to me, soldier?”

  “Oh, shit . . .” Woods ran his palms over his hair while Fisher began to walk in a tight circle.

  “Jesus frickin’ Christ,” Fisher said, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. “I forgot about the girls!”

  “Yo, Cap, we just jumped up, went into battle mode, you know . . . hit the steps locked and loaded . . . hit the jeep, ready to roll . . . Holy shit!” Woods paced back and forth.

  “Clarissa,” Sasha said calmly. “Ask Doc if he has some Valium on hand.” She waited a beat. “You’re sure?” Sasha shook her head and looked at Woods and Fisher as the rest of the men swallowed smirks. “Doc doesn’t happen to have any meds on him.”

  “What about in the ambulance, Sasha?” Hunter offered in an amused tone.

  For a second she just looked at him and then let out a long breath. She turned her attention to the cell phone again. “Much as I hate to do this to a person . . . maybe if they can get to the ambulance, find something in there to knock them out without hurting them . . . Drive the ambulance to the hospital and bring them in as maybe having gotten something spiked in their drink at the bar . . . When they wake up in the morning, it can all be played off as a bad dream. I don’t know if we can get to you soon enough to provide you with a security escort, though . . . That’s the only thing. We’re pinned down in the swamp.”

  Sasha let her breath out hard again. “I know drugging them is bogus and manipulative and screwed up—but it’s either that or have those poor women mentally jacked up for life. Also, if you guys go to the hospital, which, with all the local heat on things now, puts you out of suspicion’s eye . . . It also puts you guys somewhere the Vamps aren’t likely to go after you again tonight; at least you’ll be somewhere kinda safe.

  “I know, I know, we’ll be there as soon as we can,” Sasha said in a weary tone as Clarissa’s voice became shrill. “Call in our markers at Tulane with Doctors Williams, Lutz, and Sanders from before. At least they’re cool and know the supernatural drill. And when those girls wake up—tell Doc to be there with Silver Hawk as the older men who found them and helped them get to the hospital unmolested,” she added, giving Woods and Fisher the evil eye, “with you, Bradley, and Winters. Maybe they’ll wake up like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz.”

  Woods let out a hard sigh as Sasha ended the call. “Sounds like a plan, Cap . . . Only one question, though—how do we get out of the bayou?”

  CHAPTER 16

  Woods was right. There was still enough of the Buchanan Broussard clan that had retreated into the swamps to make an ambush a deadly possibility. If Vampires were on the offensive, then out here away from the eyes of human authority, they were sitting ducks. Her hope was that the Vamp killed back at the B&B had backed them off long enough for them to think twice about going after her human team, especially if NOPD was on the way.

  The one thing she was sure of was that, after their exposure and involvement with the death of a human general, the Vamps would want to stay concealed from human military types right about now. Vampires were many things, but openly foolish wasn’t one of them.

  And despite how badly the situation rankled her nerves, now was certainly not the time to get into it with Fisher and Woods about why they’d brought civilian females back to what was essentially base. Half of her was truly pissed off, the other half glad her men had been at the B&B and not AWOL at some chick’s apartment somewhere. They had been there when needed, they had responded immediately to the call to arms, so she really couldn’t dress them down about that. Nobody was on top of their game.

  Shogun couldn’t even meet her gaze now. As the rush of battle ebbed, understanding gained a foothold in her brain, along with a very irrational spike of jealousy that made her cry out safe haven in her soul.

  Hunter lifted his head, breaking the silence. “Blood-hounds.”

  “This is the South, six cops are dead; I’d expect no less,” Sasha said.

  The order to move out was given with a nod. They all took a wolf’s pace in a hard jog, heading deeper into the bayou. Every now and then Sasha circled back to be sure her men with the least wolf in them could keep pace—she refused to leave Fisher and Woods . . . She’d go to prison with them, if it came to that, but leave them? Never. They seemed to know that as they pushed themselves to the edge of their mostly human endurance.

  “You go ahead,” Shogun said, dropping back. “I can throw off the dogs—I’ll split the scent trail.”

  Hunter stopped and turned. “We stay together.”

  “We stay together,” Sasha said, giving Woods and Fisher a chance to stop and gasp in deep breaths. “Shogun, I know how the human military and Homeland Security systems work over here. You’re a foreign national. You’ll be pinned as a drug dealer who triggered the violence by bringing in opiates from Asia with your men . . . and will disappear into a CIA interrogation black site.”

  “Under the circumstances, would that be so bad an option?” he said quietly, staring into her eyes.

  She looked away. “Unacceptable.”

  “But honorable.”

  Hunter threw a punch that felled a tree and began circling. “Don’t go there, brother.”

  Confusion tore through the ranks for a moment, but a hail of silver-tipped arrows made everyone jump back. Weapons raised with hair-trigger reflexes.

  “Hold your fire!” a heavily accented voice called out from above.

  All eyes quickly scanned the tree limbs above.

  “Friend, not foe!”

  “It’s Fae archers,” Sasha called out. “Hold your fire!”

  Silver Hawk moved with the speed of a wolf as Doc ran behind him, covering him with a nine-millimeter. But once the inside of the ambulance had been cleared of a potential Vampire ambush, Doc ravaged the medicine supply for anesthesia while Silver Hawk covered him with the weapon.

  Everybody worked quickly, racing against the clock, racing against sirens. Clarissa was in another room in the B&B on the telephone with Tulane’s physicians explaining the predicament, while Winters and Bradley spoke to the terrified women in calm tones. Their whimpers were heartrending as the men covered their eyes with strips of sheets, blindfolding them while trying to reassure them that they wouldn’t be raped, wouldn’t be killed.

  But their struggles against their bindings and screams that had to be muffled told everyone in the house that they didn’t believe a word that had been said. They were close to passing out on their own without the meds, believing they were going to die.

  “We heard the explosion, first off,” a tall Fae archer said, jumping down from the trees with a half-dozen armed men. “We thought the Buchanan still had finally given up the ghost—they pushed ’er like crazy pumping out rotgut, so that didn’t surprise us. Nor did a couple of shotgun blasts. No offense, but the wolves often get rowdy and they have to bounce males who get too familiar with the ladies without paying the goin’ price.”

  “But when we heard machine-gun fire,” another said, “Sir Rodney sent an advance guard to be sure there wasn’t an attack headed toward the fortress. I don’t know if your men made you aware after they left off the McGregors,
but our entire camp was laid bare.”

  “Exposed to the brick,” the lead archer said. “Took all evening to reverse the bleedin’ magick, and it’s still waverin’ in and out, not wholly stable. Sir Rodney said we could tell you that much, even though Fae business is usually a strictly confidential affair.”

  Hunter cocked his head to the side and turned on Bear Shadow and Crow Shadow so quickly that Crow bumped into a tree. “You left an Elf family in the swamp with their fortress exposed and did not communicate that information to me or Sasha!”

  Silence crackled between the trees, Sasha’s voice a low, calm murmur. “Safe haven . . . These men, like you and I, are under the influence.”

  Hunter rolled his shoulders and walked away from his men to keep from savaging them.

  “You lads and the lady kicked up quite a fuss in the glen,” the Fae captain said nervously, trying to divert the potential wolf fight. “Mayhap we might take all concerned back to Sir Rodney who can discuss the particulars we know about the dark magick.”

  It had taken a bit of maneuvering, but Doc spoke medicalese and Dr. Williams well understood the issues. The two civilian women were admitted and placed under heavy observation in ICU, just as a precaution—should they wake up screaming.

  Silver Hawk held the small table rapt within the cafeteria as he explained what he saw on his spirit walk with Hunter.

  “Can you draw the symbols you saw for me?” Bradley asked, his gaze intense as he pushed a napkin and a pen toward the elderly shaman.

  Silver Hawk nodded and accepted the paper to begin re-creating what he’d seen.

  “The use of sigils—symbols—is the cornerstone of chaos magick,” Bradley said, closely studying the symbols as Silver Hawk committed them to paper.

  “I would see a marking,” Silver Hawk said, “and then the person—one of us . . . And a shadow self of the person would walk out of their body.”

  “Doppelgangers?” Bradley said, leaning forward quickly and speaking in a rushed, horrified whisper. “They’ve attached a dark sigil to the etheric or energy double of the person’s spirit, and thus can send all kinds of malintent into that essence to twist the behavior or even rob the person of their natural gifts and talents. It is an insidious spell, but a complex, brilliant, diabolical process.”

  “It is theft,” Silver Hawk said, his eyes burning with wolf outrage, even though his voice remained calm. “To rob a Shadow Wolf of his ability to enter the shadows is no less than severing a limb.”

  “To rob a person of his or her ability to reason,” Doc said, looking around the table, “is no less than that.”

  “These symbols,” Bradley said, studying the series of napkins that Silver Hawk pushed toward him, “are combinations. They’re set up like bind Runes, with several spells linked together to harm one person.” He let out an exasperated breath and then picked up the one associated with Hunter. “This takes away natural gifts—which is the same for Sasha . . . Look at the symbols Silver Hawk drew on her napkin.”

  Using his finger he traced the geometric shape. “Their natural gifts would be the ability to call their wolf selves or to merge into the shadows. But look at the one that is similar for Shogun and Hunter . . . in fact, for all of the younger male wolves. Not only have they been blocked from properly calling their wolves, which was why Shogun’s shape-shift was botched earlier today as the spell took root, but there’s something even worse layered on top of that.”

  Bradley sat back, his expression tight with repressed fury. “This is such bullshit . . . They are betting that the males will tear each other to shreds. Look at this!” he said, slapping his hand on the table and causing a mild stir in the otherwise quiet hospital cafeteria.

  “Fill us in, dude. I might as well be looking at hieroglyphics or Greek,” Winters said in a quiet rush. He glanced around and waited until the few late night visitors having coffee went back to their own conversations. “And keep your voice down, man.”

  “Bradley, whatever it is, we’ll get to the bottom of it,” Clarissa said, rubbing his back.

  “But they’re out there with weapons, all together,” he said, his voice fracturing with rage and worry. He took a deep breath and composed himself. “This symbol is sexual in nature,” he said, his eyes holding an apology in them as he stared at Doc and then Silver Hawk. “It increases libido in all the younger wolves; plus, follow this line,” he added, tracing the symbol with his finger. “This one spikes jealousy and rage right over the top of it. I can go to any one of the grimoires and pull these sigils and I bet I’ll get an exact match on what they mean; I’m 99 percent sure.”

  “This explains so much,” Doc said, rubbing his hands down his face with a weary sigh.

  Silver Hawk nodded and closed his eyes. “I have sent prayers to the Great Spirit to guide our children in the way of unity.”

  “I’m also praying for peace,” Bradley said quietly. He returned his attention to the napkins. “Go to Sasha’s . . . Her libido is being tampered with, too. But rather than jealousy or rage layered next to it, hers is entwined with indecision. Do I need to say more? Both Federation alphas are out there with machine guns and grenades!”

  Clarissa whipped out her cell phone and began clicking photos and texting. “Screw the bad guys—we have technology.”

  Sir Rodney met them at the castle gates just as Sasha’s cell phone started buzzing. Two valets rushed out, offering Shogun’s men clothes. Oddly, Sir Rodney greeted her with more than his normal Gaelic smile . . . He opened his arms and pulled her into an embrace.

  “We were so worried,” he said, breathing into her hair.

  Sasha pulled back, hoping that both alphas would take it as emotional relief and nothing more. “Thank you,” she said. “Were it not for your men, we’d have been left stranded in hostile territory.”

  “We’re in your debt,” Hunter said, eyeing Sir Rodney.

  “As are we,” Shogun said with a little extra bass in his voice.

  “My human squad is at Tulane . . . I have to take this call,” she said and used the cell phone call to break the tension. But within seconds her shriek drew everyone in close. “Oh, shit! Look at this!”

  Waving the cell phone, she showed Sir Rodney the pics that were transmitted, along with the text message—and then showed it to Hunter and Shogun. She dug in her pocket as though bees were in it and stinging her. She held out the crumpled pieces of paper for Sir Rodney to inspect.

  “Sigils of darkness,” Sir Rodney said and spat. “But these are different than the ones we saw on Desidera and Penelope like Ethan had described, only maybe worse. Where did you find them?”

  “They were under Desi’s body,” Sasha said. “I couldn’t capture the symbols exactly . . . They were in some foreign hieroglyphics that I couldn’t remember enough of to reproduce. But these were geometric shapes that vanished when the ashes were pushed aside.”

  “Beneath the bodies?” Sir Rodney whispered, clearly revolted.

  Rupert nodded. “Chaos magick is afoot, milord.”

  “Our clan elder, a shaman, went on a spirit walk and discovered how they went after each person’s spirit with doppelgangers . . . That’s how they got the spell fused with each person’s etheric body,” Sasha said, spinning around and talking to the others in the group. “Each person’s weakness, they’ve exploited; each person’s natural gift or defense mechanism, they’ve tainted. That’s why we can’t go into the shadows or call our wolf.”

  “This is important information, milord,” Rupert said, wringing his hands. “But we need to know how they’ve black-charmed an entire fortress and castle . . . or even Ethan McGregor’s bar.”

  “They’ve blocked ye from the shadows, lassie?” Sir Rodney said, clearly appalled, and only focused on what Sasha had said.

  “We were in a flreflght back there, ambushed by the Buchanan clan, and could not use the shadows or call our wolf.” Hunter received nods of assent from his men, but Sir Rodney frowned.

  “What,
for the love of God, would send you into that low-life brothel—tell me it was for the moonshine, man!” Sir Rodney walked back and forth for a moment. “I don’t understand. It was a clear ambush, or am I daft?”

  Every man found a point on the castle wall to stare at, but no one spoke.

  “I was following a scent,” Hunter said carefully. “The same feral trace that I picked up at the scene of the first crime, then at the young woman’s trailer.”

  “That’s no doubt why Shogun went there, too,” Sasha said, trying to help Shogun save face.

  “Vampires and some type of Were scent?” Sir Rodney said, his gaze narrowing. “How so? Can you be sure?”

  “Vampires attacked Winters, the youngest, most vulnerable member of my human team, when he was running across the street to get help. Bradley had the old Dugan B&B fortified against Vampire attacks, since that’s where my team was making base camp. But they showed their hand by going after the kid . . . just like they’d gone after him before. Doc incinerated one of them, but the other got away.”

  “Good for your da . . . I’ll have to remember he’s a man of action and a solid shot.” Sir Rodney smiled a smile that wasn’t wholly appropriate for the occasion. “Why don’t we go inside, eat, have some ale, and then figure out an anti-charm, shall we?”

  “We only promised you access to them in a vulnerable state,” Kiagehul sneered, showing his pointed demon-like teeth and standing quickly. “You come into my hidden bayou coven battered, snarling, and reeking of canine sweat and then assail me with charges of reneging on a deal? I am offended! You knew what you were supposed to get out of this bargain. The trade was fair—I was to remove the wolves as a threat; you were to receive, in exchange, the revenge you seek against them. End of discussion.”

  “The Bayou House is no more!” one Werewolf yelled, pounding his fist against his palm. “Our still, obliterated; our working girls, dead.”