Once again Sky had saved my life.
I turned just enough to rest my head on her lap, enjoying the soothing stroke of her fingers through my fur.
“He’s okay,” she said quickly, her tone commanding. “He’s fine. Stay there. Thank you.”
I wondered who she spoke to. I tried to open my eyes, but my body refused to obey. Instead, I tumbled into unconsciousness.
When I awoke, head still in her lap, I had no idea how much time had passed. The exhaustion had lightened some, but I was still panting. After a moment, I was able to open my eyes to see Sky’s concerned visage hovering over me. Rolling my eyes toward the forest, I saw Abigail watching me with a cool, calculated regard.
A tear appeared in the ward behind her. I tensed, anticipating the forest would make another attempt on me that I knew would succeed, but then I remembered my wolf form. The forest’s magic had no effect on me.
Gideon emerged first, his usual smugness replaced by the shock of someone who had just emerged from a battle. Streaks and blotches of blood and dark ooze covered his pants. He wiped ineffectually at the stains, repulsed by them. As he saw Abigail approach him, he pulled at his shirt to cover the multitude of small cuts that covered his right hand and forearm. Sebastian emerged next, a sealed jar in his hand, his amber eyes afire with a primitive fury as he remained in the grip of his wolf. Deep claw marks ran along his shoulder and back, visible through his torn shirt. I noticed a pair of puncture marks on his arm.
He stood alone, taking slow breaths to calm himself until his wolf finally receded. The tension in his body slackened, but amber sparks in his eyes remained as he finally took in the scene around him. He slowly approached me, wincing at each step.
With some effort, he knelt beside Sky and rested a massive hand on my side. His eyes closed and I felt a wave of calm rush over me.
CHAPTER 12
At some point, I regained consciousness to find my brother hovering over me, but I was no longer in the forest. I felt soft sheets against my bare skin, the edge of a comforter pulled to just under my chest.
“My Jeep’s at the retreat,” he said, his voice echoing slightly in my ear. “I transported you home after Dr. Baker looked you over.”
My throat was dry, my voice hoarse as I asked, “Kelly?”
“I’ll come back to check on you,” he said, then disappeared.
I thought to rise, then lost consciousness again.
When I woke next, I knew I was in my bed. My body had regained some strength and my mind was alert. Glancing around, I saw Josh across the room, sitting in a wooden chair he’d brought from my dining room. He was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, watching me intently. Relief washed over him as I sat up and rubbed the fog of exhaustion from my eyes.
“Kelly?” I asked reflexively.
He offered a beleaguered smile. “Weak and tired, but she’s fine. It worked.”
“She—”
“It was a pretty gruesome procedure, but she has full feeling in her legs. It’ll take some rest before she can put weight on them, but Dr. Baker expects a full recovery.”
“Good,” I said, relieved. We remained quiet for a long moment, staring at each other and waiting for the other to speak. “Why don’t you just ask?”
Josh shrugged, a casual gesture belying his growing look of concern. “Why don’t you just tell me?”
I glanced at the dresser, hoping to find a glass of water there, only to be disappointed. At least he tucked me in. Tossing the comforter aside, I slid out of the bed and walked naked to the bathroom. After quickly downing two glasses of water, I walked back into the bedroom, to the dresser, and found a set of fresh clothes. Turning from the dresser, I noted Josh’s amused scowl as he averted his gaze. I tossed the clean clothes onto the bed and began to dress, deliberately saving the underwear and jeans for last.
“Save it for the ladies,” he eventually chuckled.
“You shouldn’t have carried me,” I said, buttoning my jeans.
“Well, I wasn’t going to drag you home. Is the magic that hard to control?”
I had to remind myself that the origin of my newfound magic was still a mystery to Josh. He didn’t know that I’d almost killed Sky with it, either. “Not when I’m awake. For the most part.”
“Is that why the forest tried to take you?”
Fully dressed, I went about making the bed. I couldn’t just leave it a mess.
“Ethan,” Josh continued, “the forest doesn’t just collect magic. It collects the magic of dark things, magic too dangerous to be in the world. If the forest was drawn to this new magic in you, it is more dangerous than we thought.”
“You don’t say?”
“I was wrong to suggest that you keep it,” he said softly. “We need to destroy it.”
I quickly fluffed the pillows, set them precisely centered at the head of the bed, then turned to Josh. “Easier said than done. The secret’s out now, or nearly out.”
His gaze shifted as he searched his memory, then nodded. “Abigail had a front-row seat. That’ll come back to haunt us, eventually. Whatever this magic is, we have to get rid of it before she figures out how to take advantage of your situation.”
Exhaustion caught up to me in a wave, forcing me to sit rather than lose consciousness. “I’m working on it.” As he held my gaze, I knew what he was going to offer. “We can’t use the ritual I used on Sky.”
His eyes widened as he glanced to his right and left, as if to a waiting crowd that shared his incredulity. “Why not?”
“Because I’ll lose it all.”
“All,” he repeated. A wry grin crossed his lips. “You mean the magic you inherited from our mother, the magic you used to take down my field and then feed me some BS story about how all were-animals can do that?”
I blinked at my brother, wondering when exactly he’d figured it out. “I didn’t say all.”
He gave me a wary look, but refused to take the bait. “The Aufero is your best chance. We’ll have to steal it from Marcia.”
I shook my head. “We aren’t taking anything from Marcia.”
He slid to the edge of his chair, his expression stern as he jabbed a finger toward me. “You’re not doing this without me.”
“We both know she’s just looking for a chance to strip you of your magic. You can’t be a part of this.”
I watched his frustration peak to a sharp retort, but he swallowed it and looked away. Anger rippled in his jaw as he slowly acknowledged the risk was too great for him, that my efforts didn’t require a sacrifice. Eventually, he managed a begrudging nod.
“You can tell me how to use it,” I said.
“You’ll need Sky for that, but yeah, I’ll look into it and send you what I can.” He rose from his chair. “In the meantime, try to rest. Get your strength back before you try to deal with Marcia.”
“Put the chair—”
He’d already disappeared. Glancing out the window, I saw him get into his Jeep and drive away. As I watched him, something moving in the bushes across the street caught my eye. I stared at the spot, considered leaving my house to investigate, when a sudden dizziness came over me, as if the world had suddenly lost its equilibrium. I staggered, clutching the frame around the window to steady myself. The feeling lasted only a moment, fading almost as quickly as it had arrived. I shook the cobwebs from my head and glanced out the window again, but saw nothing.
Turning back to the bed, I decided I was too tired to investigate and lay back down supine over the covers. Within seconds, my eyes were closed and I was nearly asleep, when I heard a crashing sound from downstairs, like the smashing of plates or drinking glasses.
Instinctively, I drew the knife from the headboard and rolled off the bed, facing the bedroom door in a fighting stance, but the door was closed. I froze, listening intently for a clue as to whether I was facing multiple intruders, and where they were located, assuming one was in the kitchen. I heard the pounding of a single pair of feet stomping in
the living room, accompanied by the creaking of the wood floor. The footsteps stopped, followed by the cracking and splitting of smashed wood.
I lifted my dining chair and pushed it away behind me, then faced the door. Holding the knife ready, I opened my bedroom door with a snap gesture, just stopping it from slamming into the doorstop. The hall was empty, dark.
A moan rose from downstairs, deep and mournful and crescendoing into a forlorn wail. Another crack of broken wood, followed by the rumble of something heavy being propelled across the floor.
Gripping the knife, I slowly walked down the hall. I glanced into the open guest bedroom, then the open bathroom, before reaching the top of the stairs. The couches below were pushed into the middle of the living room at odd angles and the floor was a wreck of broken end tables and bookshelves. The books that should’ve been left in heaps were surprisingly missing. I scowled, confused, but then the wailing began again, this time from the dining room.
“Why?” the voice demanded. Dennis’s voice.
Another crash that sounded like my oak table being split like firewood.
“Why?” he wailed again. His voice became suddenly guttural as he shouted, “You’ll get what’s coming to you!”
I walked down the stairs on the balls of my feet to minimize the sound. When I reached the ground floor, I flicked a gaze into the empty kitchen—every dish and drinking glass seemed broken on the floor—then walked deeper into the living room, toward the dining area.
“I know what you did!” Dennis shouted, his voice pitching into unbridled rage.
Stepping around the furniture debris, I quickly shuffled sideways into view of the dining room, knife raised. The table was broken in two and each of the chairs laid smashed over the broken halves of polished oak, but Dennis wasn’t there.
“You’ll pay!”
The shout came like a rush from the stairs on my left. Pivoting on my right foot, I saw Dennis charging me. He wore the usual blue suit, but this time the bloody wound was on his hip. He charged with empty hands reaching for my throat. Timing my strike, I swept the knife at chest height. The blade should’ve connected, slicing through fabric and skin. Instead it swept through empty air, landing in my left hand as I transferred the blade and pivoted again, but Dennis was gone.
The couches and bookshelves were in their normal position, as were the unbroken end tables, as if Dennis had never been there. Looking into the dining room, I saw that the table stood normally, undamaged. All six chairs were perfectly positioned around it. I stepped farther into the room to glance in the kitchen; the cupboards were closed and the floor spotless, uncluttered.
Something wasn’t right. I glanced back at the table, the chairs.
“You can’t kill me twice!” Dennis roared behind me.
I pivoted, driving the blade up into his torso at an angle, but the moment the blade touched him, he disappeared.
“Why!”
The shout came from the kitchen. I pivoted once more, but he was almost on me. Unable to bring the knife to bear quick enough, I punched at his jaw, intending to deflect his momentum with the blow. Once again, he disappeared on impact.
I waited, crouched, my head swiveling in anticipation of another attack. My eyes took in the chairs at the table, all six of them. I pivoted again, then looked back. Six. But one of the chairs was upstairs in my bedroom.
“You’ll never know peace,” Dennis said from the living room behind me. I swiveled, swinging the knife in an arc, but this time he didn’t charge. Instead, he walked toward me in slow, predatory steps. His eyes appeared black and lifeless, like a void. “You’ll tell me why before I let you die.”
I charged, feinting with the knife, then swinging a kick up toward his head. He disappeared. Almost instantly he reappeared at the base of the stairs, glowering at me with the grim determination of the dead.
“Why?”
Six chairs. I flicked one more glance at the tables around the chair. There were six. Chairs. This isn’t happening, I realized. Dennis wasn’t the undead, and he wasn’t a figment of my imagination. He’d been planted there by someone who’d taken the time to learn the layout of my house, the ground floor at least, but there was one detail that had been missed. The unexpected. A chair had been moved from one place to another.
Mind magic. It was the only answer.
“Why?” Dennis growled. His head lowered and his black eyes stared at me from beneath his eyebrows as he tipped his chin toward his chest to glower at me. He shifted his weight from side to side, preparing to attack.
I looked down at the wound on his side, remembering all the variations of wounds I’d seen that more resembled a wolf attack than a vampire attack. And the location and nature of the wounds kept shifting with each appearance, as if the mind witch was only guessing at how he died.
“I didn’t kill you,” I said, still holding the knife in a fighting stance.
“Liar!”
He charged. I struck again and predictably he disappeared, only to walk back out of the kitchen a moment later to stop and glare at me once more from the bottom of the stairs.
“You can’t escape me,” he growled.
None of this is real. I forced myself to lower the knife and let it drop to the floor. “Who are you?” I demanded. “If you want to kill me, you’ll have to use more than parlor tricks, but I didn’t kill Dennis.” I might as well have.
He roared and charged. I let him come. Instinctively, my body tensed for the impact, but the moment he should’ve gripped my throat in his pale hands, Dennis disappeared. Realizing I’d held my breath, I released it in a sigh and glanced around for his reappearance, but it never came. After a moment, I realized there were only five chairs at the table.
I strode to the door and walked out onto the porch, scanning the neighborhood. The witch had to have been close, but probably already escaped. I considered whether I had the energy to go out and search the neighboring woods for sight or scent, when I heard a phone ringing upstairs.
The ringtone belonged to my burner phone. It continued to ring as I closed the door and walked up the stairs and found it on the bedroom dresser.
“Caroline,” I said stiffly.
“David?” She spoke in a breathless, apologetic tone, but there was a slight edge in her voice that betrayed her. “I’m sorry to bother you.”
I swallowed, pitching my voice to sound calm, compassionate. “Anything you need, just tell me.”
“I found some of my father’s documents that he’d hidden.” She paused, presumably for effect. “There’s something that looks like a journal of his cases. I can’t be sure. He used a code, but I found someone who thinks he can decipher it pretty quickly.” Another pause. I held my breath even as I waited for her to continue. “I’m pretty sure it has the name of his last client, the one who killed him.” Hard as she tried, she couldn’t hide the accusatory tone underlying her practiced enthusiasm. She was good, but now that I knew what I was looking for, the crack in her facade was glaring. I wondered if it was the guilt or the dark elf magic that had put me far enough off my game to miss the obvious. My mind flashed to the dizzy spells, to the black crystal in her pendant.
“When I find him,” she continued, “he’s going to pay.”
I hesitated slightly, then put a hint of anxiety in my voice. “So you’re determined to seek revenge, no matter the cost?”
“It’s always been about revenge. An eye for an eye. Don’t you think that’s fair?”
“Of course,” I answered quickly. “Perhaps I can help you decipher the code. He probably used a simple character substitution.”
She chuckled. “You’re a man of many skills, David. Are you a cryptographer as well?”
I hesitated for her benefit, then allowed just a hint of anxiousness in my voice. “If you need me, don’t hesitate to call.”
“You’ll be the first. Talk to you soon,” she said heavily, then disconnected the call.
Now I know, I thought, staring at my phone. After
a moment, I called Tim and left him a voice mail message on his personal phone: “I’m thinking of inviting our guest to dinner, but I’d like to know more about her first. Maybe you can ask around her neighborhood.”
After I killed the call, I retrieved Caroline’s number from my phone’s caller ID, checked the time, then called my legal assistant on her personal phone. Judging by the clatter in the background, I assumed she was out in a restaurant or bar.
“Hey, boss,” she said, barely masking her disappointment.
“Caroline McDuffy,” I stated, followed by her phone number, which I repeated.
“Got it.”
“She’s from Boise, but she’s here in Chicago. I need to know where she’s staying, where she’s spending her time.”
Stacey sighed. “So where she’s spending her money.”
“I’ll compensate you, as usual.”
“Of course,” she said, taken aback. Regret crept into her voice. “I’ll get right on it.”
I was about to end the call when she said in a rush, “Can I ask you something?”
I winced, massaging my forehead with the fingers of one hand. I didn’t have the time or the energy for questions. “Make it quick.”
“How do I know if my date is an, uh”—her voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper—“elf?”
She saw supernaturals behind every corner. I blew out a slow breath before answering, reminding myself that she was an important asset. “Unnatural good looks?”
“On the pretty man scale, he’s a twenty. I should probably point out the scale only goes to ten.”
“Fair skin?”
Midnight Shadows Page 22
