Under Witch Curse (Moon Shadow Series)

by Maria Schneider

  Mom smiled. “Better.” She completed her examination, but was less than pleased. “He needs surgery to have the tainted skin removed. It’s not right. There are pieces from a nasty spell. The magic glows black.”

  “Can we unspell it? Use some herbs?”

  She traced a finger across his rib. “Did you rinse it with holy water?”

  I nodded.

  “Good, good. But there’s an odd blue tint embedded in the skin. His body, the white blood cells, are attacking the bits and pieces in his blood and muscles. Those are surrounded and being beaten. But those left in the skin cells sit there in fragments. I don’t know what it is.”

  “Tattoo ink!”

  She blinked. “He had a tattoo?”

  “No.” I explained about the dragons. “It bit him. The construct was formed from a tattoo.”

  She groaned softly. “Tattoo ink is impossible to remove. Most things in the skin are.” She chewed her lip. “Your father could burn it.”

  “Why not cut it out?” White Feather asked through clenched teeth.

  “What about lasers? Wouldn’t that be safer?” Last time Dad used fire around one of my boyfriends, the result hadn’t been pretty. Sure, no one was hurt. But that didn’t mean the idea was a good one.

  Mom tapped her forefinger against her thumb as though itching for the right balm. “Lasers work by opposite light, but it would only make the pieces smaller. You don’t want this stuff absorbed by the body. It needs to be expelled.”

  “Is he stable?” I demanded.

  “For now. But that ink has to come out. The tattoo ink won’t spread, but it’s still a spell that the owner can activate depending on the witch and what the spell does.”

  “Someone already used that ink to suck a victim dry,” I mumbled, rummaging in my pack.

  White Feather said, “I’ll block anything that tries for me.”

  We really needed a sample of the ink in a spell that blocked and protected against it. Then again, the ink might be drawn right to the ink in his side. “I’ll be back. I need to research something.”

  “Lynx can do it,” Tara said suddenly.

  “Do what?” I asked.

  “Expel things. He does it when he changes. It’s a shifter thing.”

  If Lynx could teach us to do it, that might work. Otherwise what good was it to White Feather?

  Before I could continue to the lab, Mom caught my attention with a question of her own. “Can you see what Lynx does?”

  Tara nodded. “Sure. Like when you tell me to focus beneath the skin and see the blood and muscles. It’s like that.”

  “Can you channel it through you?”

  Now, doubt and emotion contorted her face again. “I don’t think so.”

  “Can you do it, Mom?”

  She shook her head. “No. It’s why most healers are no good against cancers. We can help, but not find every bad cell or correct the things that caused the bad cells in the first place. We can knit. We can stop blood flow. If we learn to control our emotions, we can heal the spirit and that helps heal much that is physical. But expelling every single cell that has become embedded in the layers of skin would be impossible.” She shook her head. “It is easier to build a strong barrier than it is to cut something out, especially something this fragmented.”

  I turned on my heel, lest anyone read the fear in me. “Research. Be back.” I headed to the bedroom to use White Feather’s computer.

  Mom followed me. She extracted a jar from her purse. “You need some salve on that burn. This has aloe in it.” She talked as she spread the salve, which told me she was worried. I googled “removing tattoos” while she inspected the blister that had formed under my bracelet. She may not be able to remove tattoos, but she did a darn good job on burns.

  “Certain lasers break up tattoo particles. The color of the light has to be right and hot enough to break apart the particles. The pulse has to be fast enough that it doesn’t burn everything else. That tattoo was mostly the standard blue with some black and maybe purple.” I scanned more text. “Moonlight madness, why would anyone want a tattoo? The ink is full of toxic minerals, paint and even blood to create specific colors!”

  “It is possible that Tara can help if she is able to team up with Lynx,” my mother said softly.

  My fingers froze on the keyboard. “Really?” The idea was preposterous. Lynx wasn’t all that cooperative with people he liked. And Tara was a mess. Setting the logistical problems aside, there were other barriers. “Can she possibly heal that way? Technically, I mean?”

  Mom shrugged. “She is more talented than I am in many ways. She hasn’t trained so she doesn’t have the set notions I have either. I would never have dared examine a shifter with my sight.”

  “Mom, you don’t know any shifters to examine!”

  “This is what I mean. In my day, we wouldn’t admit to knowing any if we did know them. She doesn’t have this notion.”

  “How can she shift tattoo ink?”

  “That is something I would like to witness. And if she and Lynx can’t do that part between the two of them, maybe I can figure it out by studying the shifting. Although I’ll need to use either White Feather or Lynx to ground unless we invite your father.”

  It was a new experience for me to work deeply with the witch side of my mother. She was my mother. First and always. And sure, she did healing now and then, but she wasn’t a witch, not to me. She didn’t have a craft that she studied and excelled at...only she did. And more openly since Tara had entered the picture. Maybe Mom realized she didn’t have to stay quite so hidden, quite so old school.

  “I guess we better call Lynx then. Only he’s a cat. He’ll be thrilled to hear that you and Tara want to run an experiment. And that we’re all planning on watching. Oh yeah. He’ll be one happy cat.”

  My mom sighed. “You let me know when he agrees, mija. In the meantime, we can look into this laser thing. There is probably a doctor who will do it.”

  “Or a witch who manipulates light. Do you know any?”

  Her head tilted. “Not right this instant. But that doesn’t mean we can’t locate one.”

  And if her network didn’t know of one, one didn’t exist. At least we had the right people on the job.

  Mom smiled and kissed my cheek. “I will teach Tara a few more tricks. She needs to practice transferring and channeling. Meanwhile, we will have to watch White Feather’s wound carefully.”

  Mom emptied her purse, leaving me with enough salves to cure several people of various ailments. Sadly, none would fix the tattoo.

  I added a few ingredients to the burn salve to block black magic and smeared more on my arm. Even though it wouldn’t help, I dabbed some on White Feather’s side.

  There wasn’t any food prepared, but we settled for the next best thing: scrambled eggs and bacon. Having a mother-in-law who raised chickens was coming in handy. White Feather never ran out of eggs. Of course, if he had cooked, he’d have made a nice, neat omelet. Since it was up to me, I diced crispy bacon, tossed it in with eggs and cheese and stirred the mess until it was cooked through.

  Fed and showered, you’d think we could sleep, but White Feather was restless, unable to find a comfortable position. “You should never have been at the scene of the crime.”

  I raised up on one elbow. “You’re right. I should be living at home, probably with a vampire feeding on me.” I nodded sagely. “I never get into any trouble on my own.”

  He glared at me. “I’m not taking any painkillers.”

  “I know. You can’t fight if you’re drugged up.”

  He struggled to sit up. “If this thing in my side turns into a dragon and attacks you, how the hell will we stop it?”

  I laid back down so that maybe he would. “Hmm. You attract dragons, and I attract insane vampires. We’d better stick together. How else will we survive?”

  He fell back against the pillows. “Quiet, you. I need to concentrate. I was trying to make a point.”

&
nbsp; “Maybe you need to sleep instead. Tonight, I play bodyguard.” I rested my head against his arm.

  He didn’t say anything for a while. Then, after I thought he’d fallen asleep he asked, “When do I get to be your bodyguard?”

  “Seems like you’ve been doing that all the other nights. Moving me in here. Moving my furniture without even letting me remove the protection spells. I’d say you were doing your level best to protect me. It’s my turn now.”

  He grunted. “Moving the furniture without asking may not have been my best idea.”

  “It could have used some finessing.”

  “I didn’t like you stopping over there with Patrick showing up all the time.”

  “Him showing up all the time is definitely a bad idea. You overprotecting me and trying to run things won’t work either.”

  “I might have been worried you’d decide to move back in there if I didn’t get you moved in here.”

  “I might have been feeling a little pushed to live here.”

  “You’re not Tara. You don’t need babysitting. But you find more trouble than anyone I’ve ever known.”

  “You should have stopped with me not needing babysitting.”

  “I’m new at this,” he protested.

  I nodded against his arm. “I didn’t even have a business partner before. Now I have this thing where I don’t know if I’m supposed to be checking in with you all the time or what. I’m pretty sure I don’t want to, and yet when you wander off to investigate dead bodies, damn right I intend to be there because what if something happens?”

  He grunted. “I’ll probably ask before moving furniture the next time.”

  “I’ll definitely go with you to the next dead body.”

  He groaned, but it was theatrics. I slid sideways away from his arm so he could rest. “It’s not any easier for me,” I told him. “But tonight I’m bodyguard. Tomorrow, we’ll worry about who is in charge.” I held his hand and listened while his breathing evened out.

  The dream catcher spun in the window, reflecting moonbeams. I hoped it was strong enough to keep a dragon out.

  Chapter 23

  Morning dawned cold and not so clear. I phoned Lynx first thing and left him a message that was upfront about what we needed, but didn’t divulge all the nitty-gritty. His phone was never turned on when he was working. He’d show up when he got around to it if he didn’t leave town entirely and refuse to ever do business with me again.

  Tracy had returned to build more walls, and the roofers arrived to start the lab roof.

  While I scrambled eggs for breakfast, I asked Tracy if he knew the homeless guy we had discovered at the nail salon. Describing the guy was difficult and came out as a rambling list of his clothing. I had never seen the color of his eyes and his hair had been so dirty it was impossible to know if it was gray covered with dirt or a brown combination.

  Tracy listened until I stuttered to a stop. “There’s a lot of us. Some hobos, lots of winos, some families. There’s this one guy. He rides trains all the time. Tried it with the bus system, but he ended up locked in the luggage compartment for three days. Almost died.”

  “The guy I’m talking about liked beer and was hoping for a warm place to sleep,” I remembered.

  Tracy nodded. “Maybe Nick. He’s a wino. He’d go anywhere for a beer. Warm place for the night, maybe not, but a beer or wine, yeah.”

  “Did he have any tattoos?”

  Tracy nodded again, never once looking up as he shoveled in a final bite of food. Before he finished chewing, his plate was in the sink.

  Since Tracy didn’t offer anything more, I pressed. “What did they look like?”

  He stepped outside and hummed an almost inaudible tune, a greeting to Mother Earth. My bracelet vibrated once as if hit by a silver tuning fork. This house would be an artistic monument when he was done.

  I followed him to where the house met the outside. “Do you remember what the tats looked like?”

  He paused, but then resumed removing the plastic sheeting that protected the kitchen. “I don’t remember.” He scratched his nearly bald crown and then added, “I need to light the brick oven.”

  “Any idea at all?” I grabbed a jacket and trailed in his wake.

  He wasted no motions, but every now and then, he’d hum his little greeting. Finally he said to me, “He wore his coat mostly. But he had some on his arms. Blue, faded. A lot of lines.”

  “Dragons?”

  He shook his head.

  “Did he have one in the shape of a dog?” I could name shapes all day and get nowhere. “Any idea what the shape was?”

  “Was more like a cross, but not exactly because there was a sun in the center or something like that. He said he had them done in the army.”

  Ah. Maybe we could trace him through there. “Do you know his last name?”

  Another head shake. Something told me that homeless guys didn’t offer up too much personal information. “Are you a wino?” Martin had been.

  His eyebrows lifted, but he still avoided eye contact. “Me? No. Used to smoke, but it’s hard to find enough butts lying around and isn’t worth the trouble.”

  Yeah. Finding butts. “Thanks.”

  He hummed again as I retreated.

  I scrambled more eggs in time to greet White Feather easing into the kitchen. Moving around was taking him a lot longer than normal. “With all the noise here, we should go to my house,” I suggested. “You can relax there while I pack the rest of my things.”

  “I’m not able to lift much.”

  “Nope.”

  He’d get no rest here, and he needed it. Dark circles topped with pain shaded his eyes. He accepted the eggs and balanced on the edge of a bar stool. “Gordon called a minute ago. He brought Tam and her husband, Richard, in for questioning. Said she was all fired up because she’s certain someone has gone in the salon at night before. But nothing was stolen so she didn’t report it.”

  “How many times, did she say?”

  White Feather nodded. “Two or three. Could have been more, but she didn’t notice right off. She said she started leaving little piles of hair on the floor and small ribbons trapped between the cabinet doors. Twice for certain, someone opened the cabinet doors and the ribbons dropped to the floor.”

  “What did the hair tell her?”

  “She said she usually uses a steam mop at the end of the day. One morning after she put off mopping something wasn’t right, but she wasn’t sure what. So she started leaving a small pile of hair here and there. One of the same nights the ribbons fell, the pile of hair was scattered all over.”

  I thought about the tarp. It would scatter hair, especially if someone shook it out. It had been heavy cloth. Hair would stick to it. “Twice. That she noticed. And that doesn’t count last night when we were there. White Feather—”

  “Yeah. Someone has been using her studio as a location to secretly create the tats.”

  “What about the bakery?”

  “Never been broken into that they know of. Her husband started leaving things he could track as well, but nothing ever indicated an overnight visitor. On the way to your place, we should stop back at the jewelry store. With the new information we have, maybe now we can figure out what they were doing and how.”

  “You up for that?” I asked worriedly.

  “Might as well keep moving.”

  As soon as he finished eating, I washed up and we headed out.

  “I almost forgot. Before we stop at Piercing Hoops, swing by Mat’s place. Gordon said he’d meet us there. He had one of the police sketch artists draw the tattoos from the wound. Since we saw the constructs, he figures we can tell him how closely the tats match.”

  “Mat’s speaking to Gordon, then?”

  “Sounds like it. He didn’t say much other than he planned to run the surveillance on Tam’s from Mat’s place. The bakery up the street makes it easy for daytime checks; her place will suffice for nighttime.”

  Since the
nail salon wasn’t within eyesight I guessed, “Cameras?”

  He nodded. “And he’ll be right there if something goes down.”

  “That’s good because if Lynx happens to follow Zandy back there, it’s better if Gordon is already nearby to watch his back.”

  Mat’s shop wasn’t yet open, but she answered the alley door as soon as I knocked. She held a very large cup of black coffee in one hand. She was much less grumpy than she normally was at nine o’clock. “We haven’t been to the bakery yet,” she said in greeting.

  “That’s okay. I’d better avoid eating there or I’ll get fat.” I gave her a hug.

  Gordon sat at the kitchen table sipping from another of Mat’s giant mugs. Her mugs only came in two sizes, large and larger. Gordon had either just arrived himself or was classy enough to be fully dressed, including his sidearm, so it wasn’t completely obvious whether he had spent the night.

  I slid my eyes to Mat. From her cool stare and quick nod, I guessed that while things weren’t perfect, she had decided to give him a second chance. She wasn’t cutting him a lot of slack, however. Instead of hovering close to him, she remained detached, leaving a business edge on things.

  Gordon was nothing if not professional. He had the folder ready for us and spread the pictures across the table as soon as our greetings were out of the way.

  “Once the police artist knew the wounds were tats, it was easy for her to add in detail.”

  “Wow. These are impressive.” The artist had taken the time to draw a colored snake from the first robbery, a lizard from the jewelry store, the dragon and the dog-like creature we’d fought, and what appeared to be a lizard with wings from the house owned by Tam and her husband. The colors were all done in common tattoo inks, but she had added scales, claws, and nasty snouts with teeth.

  The winged lizard reminded me of an Asian dragon, more snake than the typical fatter European ones. The fact that Tam and her husband were Asian may have been why the thought occurred to me, but between that and the drawings, I realized I’d been missing something important. “Tam’s son draws.”