Suddenly, I saw writing on one of the pages. It was a blip of blank ink as Andy rolled right passed it.
“Stop,” I said, grabbing the pages and moving them backward until I came across the scribbling again. It was the same word, written over and over again in aged black ink.
Monalas, it said over and over. At least two dozen copies of the word filled the page, each spaced about an ink apart and very uniform in nature.
“What does that mean?” Andy asked, looking up at me. “What’s Os-”
“Don’t,” I said, raising my free hand to quiet him. “Hasn’t my name taught you anything, kid? Words have power, and someone jumped through a lot of hoops to hide this one. This is the same spell hiding my mark from the world, and I promise you, it didn’t come cheap. Whatever this is, we don’t need to go shouting it from the rooftops like a declaration of love or a two for one sale and Sam Goody’s.”
“Sam Goody’s isn’t a thing anymore,” Andy answered.
“Whatever. You know what I mean,” I said.
“I do,” Andy said. “But what do we do now? Do you recognize this at all?”
“Sort of,” I admitted, looking at the thing.
“Sort of?” Andy balked. “What the hell does that mean?”
I glared at the thing. The letters were large and round, and I instantly recognized it as the work of an ink quill. That wasn’t the only thing I recognized about it though. The arches of the circles were familiar. The crosses of the ‘t’s rang true. I knew this handwriting. I knew it very well.
“It means I’ve never seen this before, Andy. I have never laid eyes on this page, but somehow this is my handwriting.” I swallowed hard and looked up at the man. “It doesn’t make any sense, but somehow I wrote this.”
11
“I don’t understand,” Andy admitted, staring at the book and the strange word illuminated by the flame of his lighter. “How is it possible that you could have written something you’ve never seen before?” He shook his head. Closing the book and setting it on the table. “You must have forgotten or something. It makes sense. There’s got to be ten thousand years of useless information floating around in that head of yours.”
“That’s true,” I answered, closing up the lighter and tossing it back to the police officer who doubled as my makeshift nephew. “And if I had found this in an old box somewhere, I’d be inclined to agree with you. I didn’t though. This was on my bookshelf, hidden with a powerful spell that—as far as I know—doesn’t even exist anymore. I mean, the coven who placed it on me died out ages ago.”
“What are you suggesting?” Andy asked. “I could see him slip even further into detective mode. He was so much like his father. So long as a question was posed to him, he couldn’t rest until it was answered. It was that same compulsion that got his father killed all those years ago. I wasn’t about to let the same fate befall him, especially when I had no idea who or what we were dealing with.
“I’m suggesting you leave it alone,” I said, stuffing my hands back into my pockets. “Someone is screwing with me. A book with my handwriting in it, hidden with the spell on my face somehow finds its way past the not too shabby wards I have surrounding this place. It feels like pieces of a puzzle are clicking into place, and the world scribbled on the inside of that book might be the next one. I’m not going to engage, at least not yet. I have other, more pressing issues to concern myself with.”
“The sisters?” Andy asked, glaring at me as I began to pace the room again. He hated when I did that, but it calmed me.
“They’re only out because of me. I have to find them before they hurt someone…before they hurt a lot of someones.”
“And do what?” Andy balked, shaking his head at me. “You already said they were crazy amounts of possible. I know you can’t get yourself killed, but what are you going to do up against them. Trick them into calling you by your name?”
“Oh no,” I answered quickly. “The sisters are way too smart to fall for that. But you’re right. I can’t really go up against them in terms of sheer power. Luckily, I don’t have to. They’ve already earned the ire of somebody much more powerful than any of us.” A slight smile tugged at the ends of my lips. “They attacked me back in the War Room, Andy. They slapped me with some kind of magic that held me against the wall until I could cut myself out.”
“So they kicked your ass,” Andy said, raising his hands in the air. “Are you trying to make my point for me, Uncle C?”
“They never got their comeuppance,” I explained. “Sevenfold, remember? They attacked me, so they’ll get it back times seven. The Big Guy doesn’t let that sort of thing slide. Trust me. I should know.”
“So all you have to do is be there when it happens and throw them back into that fairy guy’s heart,” Andy said, nodding in agreement. “It’s not a bad plan.”
“Half of it’s not,” I answered. “Ralphie isn’t exactly thrilled with me at the moment.”
“Can’t imagine why that might be,” Andy murmured, rolling his eyes. “So where does that leave you? If you don’t have any place to put them, what good does it do to go up against them?”
“Let me worry about that. I’ve got an idea,” I answered, moving to the dresser by the couch. “What we need to do now is find them.”
“I guess I could call the precinct, see if they’ve got any calls about abnormal disturbances,” Andy said, pulling his phone out of his pocket.
“Don’t bother. The sisters don’t work that way. It took me two hundred years to even realize they were up to no good last time. They like to go under the radar, and they’re very good at it. By the time the cops even realized anything was wrong, this world would be even more screwed than it already is. Our only chance is to track them.”
“Track them?” Andy asked. “How do you suggest we do that?”
I pulled a note from the dresser, balled it up and tossed it to Andy.
“Call him instead,” I said.
“What’s this?” he asked, catching it and spreading the note out.
“It’s the number of an alpha werewolf without a pack who owes a favor,” I smiled. “Don’t tell me you forgot about Clint already.”
^
“I thought you told me I was tracking witches. Why does this smell like fairy ass?” Clint asked, looking up at me with his nose buried in a pair of Ralphie’s slacks.
It took the werewolf all of fifteen minutes to get here once he got the call from Andy. It didn’t surprise me. Since his pack was killed at the hands of the lunar coven, the alpha had sort of been drifting listlessly around. He jumped at the chance to be useful though, for pride, he’d wrapped his excitement up in the pretense of owing us a favor. Either way, I was happy to have him. He was a big help in taking down the coven last time and, given what we were up against with the sisters, I felt more comfortable having a second supernatural person in tow.
“They spent a lot of time inside of one,” I answered. “It makes sense.”
Clint narrowed his dark eyes at me, staring at me like he couldn’t tell whether or not I was being serious.
“Trust me,” I said. “The only other person who would carry that scent is in the War Room and we both know you can’t track anyone in there. This’ll work.”
“Fine,” he answered, lifting the pants up to his face and taking another whiff.
“Is it strong enough to track?” Andy asked, one hand hovering near his pistol. I sighed. Even now, even after all we’d been through with Clint, Andy still didn’t really trust him. If he knew that one of Clint’s pack members had actually killed him back in Gypsy country, he’d probably send bullets flying on the spot.
Still, that was another bit of intel I decided he didn’t need to know about.
“Are you joking?” Clint scoffed. “I was an alpha trained in the ways of the old Rocky Mountain packs. I could track a snowflake in a blizzard. I’ll be able to tell you where these bitches are in ten years.”
“If you live that lo
ng,” Andy muttered under his breath.
“Of the two of us, I’m not the breakable one, human,” Clint said.
Werewolf hearing. It was no joke.
“That’s enough of that,” I said, shaking my head. “And to think, you guys got along so well the last time we worked together.”
“Different circumstances,” Clint grunted.
“Not that different,” I said.
“What does that mean?” Clint asked, looking over at me. “You piss off another coven already?”
“I’ve pissed off a lot of people, Clint. More than I care to remember. Some of those people are coming after me, and they’re using innocent girls to do it.” I nodded firmly. “How do you suggest I deal with something like that?”
“Off the top of my head?” he asked, moving to the window, pushing it open, and taking a deep breath of city air. “If it was me, and some asswipes were using innocent people—innocent women—to hurt me, I think I’d rip their throats out.”
“See,” I said, grinning and elbowing Andy in the ribcage. “I told you getting him would be a good idea.”
“Come on,” Clint said, turning back to Andy and I. “I think I know where these witch bitches are.”
“Well,” Andy said, shrugging. “That didn’t take long.”
12
I felt a bit of nervousness rise in me as I followed Clint through the cobblestone streets of the city and toward the pier; the place where he’d tracked the sisters to.
It wasn’t that I was afraid, per say. I couldn’t die and, after a quick pitstop to my office, I had not only my enchanted knife but also my Brazilian axe. It hung across my back like I was a warrior pulled out of the Middle Ages. Which, of course, wasn’t true. No one pulled me out of the Middle Ages. I just sort of skated through it unscathed. Still, it earned me more than a few confused and concerned stares as I kept pace with Andy, letting Clint trail off ahead of us a couple hundred feet.
“It’s okay. I’m a cop,” Andy said, nodding at an old woman who literally jumped backward as she saw the weapon on my back. “He’s part of the Renaissance Faire,” he lied, smiling a huge ‘public servant’ smile.
“I wouldn’t be caught dead at a Renaissance Faire,” I said, taking a deep breath and breathing in Savannah’s standard mixture of sugar and sea.
“You wouldn’t be caught dead anywhere, Uncle C. That’s your thing,” he answered. “But that woman looked like she was one piece of bad news away from a massive coronary. I didn’t figure we should be the ones to give it to her.”
“Sounds about right,” I answered. “Though, the Renessaince sort of blew, in case you were wondering.”
“I wasn’t,” he admitted. “I don’t think I’ve ever wondered that. I am wondering why you decided to bring him in on this,” he added, motioning to Clint.
“You got a problem with Clint, Andy?” I asked, looking over at my nephew. “He’s not a bad guy.”
“Bad doesn’t have anything to do with it,” Andy answered quickly, his brows furrowing. “And, just to be clear, you have no idea whether he’s a good guy or not. You met him twice. Once, he wanted to rip your head off for a wallet, and the next time-”
“The next time he helped me save Merry,” I finished.
“That wasn’t for you. It wasn’t even because it was the right thing. That coven killed his entire pack right in front of him. He’d have helped you kill the Girl Scouts if you’d have pointed him in that direction.”
“Then we’d have both been in trouble, because those girls can fend for themselves,” I answered.
“You know what I mean, Uncle C. This isn’t some workplace sitcom where everybody you meet wants what’s best for you. This guy is an animal, at least partially. You corner him, and he’ll become desperate, just like any other animal.”
“He’s already desperate, Andy,” I answered through gritted teeth. “Why do you think he’s here?” I grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop. “Let me tell you something about werewolves; they’re pack creatures, and they’re very loyal to their own. Once their own are gone though, things don’t get easier for them.”
“He’s an alpha,” Andy scoffed. “Raised on the bayou and Rocky Mountain or whatever. You heard him. I doubt he’s having trouble finding another group to take him in.”
“Then you’d be wrong,” I said, shaking my head. “Being an alpha; that’s not going to make it easier. Think about it. What sort of pack leader would willingly take in someone stronger, someone who could easily challenge his rule?” I looked up at Clint. He had gotten further away from us. “No. That guy’s got a long, lonely road ahead of him, and I know a thing or two about that.”
“You don’t get to do that,’ Andy said, huffing loudly. “You don’t get to lay your burden on another person and pretend it makes them alright.”
“Do I get to pretend it makes me alright, Andy?” I asked, feeling a surge of anger rush through me. This was ridiculous and a little bit insulting. I didn’t give my trust away easily. Andy should know that. I wasn’t some bleeding heart kid who wanted so badly to see the good in people that he walked around blind to the truths of the world, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to be treated that way by someone whose diapers I helped change. “Because the way I see it, kid; I’ve done a lot worse than the wolf over there ever thought about.”
“This isn’t about Abel,” he answered.
“I’m not talking about Abe,” I said. “I’m not talking about the horrible crap everyone knows I did. There’s a thousand lifetimes between that instant in the field and me becoming anyone close to the person you know now. A lot of it was dark. Most of it, I’d rather not think about.” I looked past him, toward Clint, still tracking out ahead of us. “You know what the worst part was, Andy? It wasn’t having to live with what I did or trying to find peace within myself or any of that other crap Oprah used to tell you was the secret to life. The absolute worst part of being the dickhead drifter I was, was having to do it by myself. I didn’t become this guy for no reason. Your dad and you, you helped me be this person because that’s who you are.” I sighed, looking at him once again. “That’s part of the reason I brought you here. You helped save me, Andy. I figured you might-”
“Be able to do the same for him?” Andy asked, finishing my thought. “See, that’s where you’re wrong though. I didn’t save you, Uncle C. My dad didn’t either. You saved yourself, and you did it because that’s the only way it can be done. Now you may be right. Clint might just be a good guy looking for a place to hang his hat, but I don’t know that.” His hand drifted to his gun again. “We’ve got a lot to think about. We’ve got the end of the world on our doorstep and I, for one, would like to stop it, if only so I can go to my grave thinking my daughters will get to live a full life.”
“We will stop it, Andy,” I answered, setting my jaw. “I promise you that.”
“And I know you well enough to know you believe it, but it seems like a full time job to me. And, what’s more, it seems delicate as hell. One wrong move, one wrong ally, and the whole thing comes tumbling down.” He pointed to Cliff, now off in the distance. “That guy right there, he’s got ‘wrong’ written all over him.”
The instant the words left Andy’s mouth, Clint jerked back toward us. Stopping in his tracks, he leered in our direction and started running at full speed, his mouth opening to reveal wolf fangs.
“How good is werewolf hearing?” Andy asked, clutching his pistol.
“I didn’t think it was that good,” I answered. Grabbing his arm, I said, “Get behind me.”
“Not a chance,” he said and unsheathed his gun.
“No!” I said, my eyes still trained on Clint. His body was morphing, clothes ripping off as he transformed from a standard biker looking dude into a furry humanoid, and then a full-fledged wolf. “Let me talk to him.”
“You can talk to him once his carcass is mounted over my fireplace,” Andy said and pointed the pistol.
“Goddamn it, Andy! Don�
��t you dare! I can stop this. Whatever this is, I can stop it!”
“Too late,” Andy said, cocking his gun.
I could hear Clint’s growl, could see the yellow in his eyes. “Clint!” I screamed. “Clint! What the hell are you-”
The wolf leapt over us. Not really understanding what was going on, Andy held his fire. Spinning, I saw the reason behind Clint’s sudden and startling actions.
He leapt into the air, colliding with some invisible force and knocking it to the ground. He sat atop the unseeable mass, growling and looking down at it. As hot wolf drool ran down from his gaping maw, the visage came into view.
A woman with red hair, startling green eyes, and a heaving chest stared up at Clint. Then, turning to me, yelled with a menacing tone. “Get your dog off of me, criminal! Otherwise, I’ll be forced to rip it in two!”
Criminal? Usually, it was murderer or killer or something to really drive home the nature of what I did. Still, she knew better than to call me by my name, which meant she likely knew exactly who I was.
“Big talk seeing as how you’re on your back,” I said, settling in front of her and grabbing my axe.
“You should know a thing or two about women on their backs,” she answered. Then, reading the stern look on my face, cooed, “Is that not how you convinced the child’s mother to betray her sacred duty?”
Now, this was what we—in the business—liked to call ‘a minefield question’. I have been alive an extremely long time, and I had known more than a few ‘child’s mothers’. I’d even managed to get a bunch of them on their backs. The betraying their sacred duty part, that narrowed the field a bit, though not enough for me to ahead and answer definitively. The truth was, this woman could be talking about any number of people. It didn’t matter. All that matter was what she was doing here now and getting her to leave us the hell alone so we could deal with the sisters.
Curse of Cain (Immortal Mercenary Book 2) Page 7
