“Too much energy drained in a fight last night. I’ll recover and be pretty much the same as before, given time to rest and restore my energy,” I said wearily.
“So what brought you here, these murders?”
“They’re more of a side effect of why I’m here. The local Wiccans have been hiding a book of strong night magic for decades, maybe centuries.”
“Abigail,” Biers said with no uncertainty in her voice.
I nodded. “She’d done a good job until recently. The killers are trying to gather enough power to take the spell book from Abigail.”
“You said killers. There’s more than one?”
“Carl Nichols was one. You may have found what was left of him at the ballpark,” I said.
“That was Nichols? The body was burned past the point of recognition. What happened to him?”
“He tried to kill another girl; I stopped him.”
“So if the murderer is dead, what’s going down tonight?”
I shook my head. “There’s at least two more of these rogue witches. What I’m not sure of is whether they’re partners or rivals.”
“Rivals? If this book has been hidden so well how’d three people find out about it at the same time?”
“That’s a good question. One I don’t have an answer to. But one of these mages has a lot of power, a lot more than a typical witch.”
“So what, they steal the grimoire together and make copies?” Briers asked.
“Yes, there’s nothing to stop someone from copying the book. You would have to do it by hand, as a photocopier would probably burn itself up in trying to reproduce those spells. No, the issue is that night magic users tend to jealously horde their spells. Sure, many spells are common, but others have been developed through years of research or through deals with demons.”
“Demons? Ah shit, the whole Lucifer thing?”
“Yep.”
“But you call it night magic. Why not black magic?”
“My own belief is that demons live out there,” I pointed up, “out in interstellar space where the gateways between dimensions are thin. That’s why I think their power is strongest at night, but that’s conjecture. Few humans have ever returned from the demon dimensions.”
She held up a hand in protest and lowered her head. “All right, too much, way too much. I can’t handle anymore right now. What do you need from me?”
“The most I need is to have the streets around Abigail’s store blocked off tonight. I’m sure they’re going to try for the grimoire tonight and you wouldn’t want civilians in the crossfire.”
“That’s all?”
“That’s the safest thing you could give me,” I said.
A flapping of wings interrupted me as a large hawk braked and then landed gently near me.
I frowned at Beast. “Don’t think I didn’t notice the soft landing, asshole. Biers, this is Beast. Don’t get alarmed when he drops the glamour.”
“Glamour? Hey, this hawk growled at me,” she said as she stood and turned toward Beast.
“Beast, you can drop it, but please try to not appear threatening. Biers is one of the good guys,” I said.
Without warning, Beast appeared as himself. Cris was in the process of sliding off his back. From her windblown hair and massive smile, I knew she’d had a good ride.
Biers took a sharp breath but didn’t flinch away. She had better nerves than most mundanes. “What is it?”
“It is a manticore. Lady, I apologize if I startled you earlier,” Beast said.
“This is one of those mythological creatures you mentioned?” Briers asked me.
“Hardly mythological,” Cris said as she came to stand beside me.
“Ah, Cris, you might want a brush. Next time, try a ponytail; it handles the wind better.” Cris patted her hair with one hand but ignored the rest of my remark.
Biers continued to stare at Beast and I was wondering if she’d ask for a ride. What was it about Beast and human women? It was like twelve-year-old girls and ponies.
“So, Agent Biers, can you support tonight?” I asked.
“What? Yeah, sure, I can get the downtown area closed off. I’ll say we have a suspect loose in the area. By the time anyone knows what’s going on…well, just catch the bastards.”
“I’ll do my part. Now I need a little rest before tonight.”
Biers nodded. “Yeah, you don’t look too good. Tell me, if you know where this book is, why don’t you just destroy it before they can come for it?”
I could tell her about the page that Ophelia said was the start of the process to open the Gates. Then I have to go into the whole Ragnarök thing and I just didn’t have the energy. So instead, I kept it simple. “They’ve killed two innocents. If I destroy the book before they come out of hiding, it may be years before I get another shot at them. No, I need to make sure this stops now, tonight.”
“All right, I’ll take care of my end.” She stood to leave and then hesitated.
“What?” I asked.
“The killers, you’ll turn them over to me?”
I shook my head. “This isn’t that kind of confrontation. You have no jail that can hold these animals. If I can’t beat them then the best you can hope for is that they kill each other trying to get the grimoire.”
CHAPTER 28
Special Agent Biers left. Beast sat on his haunches eying me.
“What?” I asked.
“You don’t typically involve the mundanes,” he said.
“It wasn’t like I had a choice. You’re the one who growled at her.”
“She irritated me; it was instinctual.”
“Instinctual my ass; you just like causing trouble.”
I felt Cris’s hand leave my shoulder and lightly touch my hair. “You shouldn’t be worrying about this. You need to rest and get healed. You look like you’ve aged a score of years since yesterday. Come on, give me your hand.”
She was right. I was being stupid. I gave her my hand and she pulled me to my feet.
“Beast, you can wait outside. See if you can keep those two Wiccan bitches away from me,” I said over my shoulder.
“Wasn’t my fault, you told me to take you there,” Beast said.
“But you could have kept an eye on me.”
“So now I’m a mind reader?”
“Hush, both of you. Beast, you can watch from the roof if you glamour up,” Cris said.
“Whatever the lady desires,” Beast replied.
That did it. I was going to send him back to his own world and get by without a familiar.
There was a blast of wind as Beast leapt to the roof. I didn’t look to see if he’d glamoured up. I was just too tired.
Cris led me through the house to the master bath. After starting the shower, she began undressing me.
“What no bath?” I asked.
“You need to get in bed. There are only a few hours before sundown and I don’t know how fast I can get you back into shape. Just wash some of the blood and dirt from you and get under the covers.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said.
“I took a step toward the shower and nearly fell over my own discarded clothing.
“Are you that weak, Raphael?”
“Guilty as charged. Abigail kept me in a circle. I couldn’t restore my reserves or cast my own healing spells.”
“That old witch! Did Cynthia know about this?”
I nodded feebly.
“The bitch! I called her this morning and she said she hadn’t seen you since midnight. I’m going to rip her a new one.”
“Perhaps you could do that another time?”
Cris nodded. “Yes, but I’m not going to forget this.”
She slid her sweater over her head and reached behind her to unfasten her bra. In half a minute, she was as naked as I and helping me into the shower.
There’s something seriously wrong with a man when he’s sharing a shower with a beautiful woman and all he can think of is sleep.
The sheets were crisp and fresh.
Cris leaned over and kissed me lightly on the lips. “I’ll be right back.”
I awoke when she pushed against me to roll me over. I felt her hands rub warm salve onto my wounds and then she rolled me back.
I heard her chanting and opened my eyes. She stood naked beside the bed, reading from a small notebook. I couldn’t remember her needing to read her spell two nights ago. There was something strange about the spell. It didn’t have the same tonal qualities of the Wiccan healing spells I’d heard before.
She stopped chanting when she saw me watching her. There was concern on her face. She lowered the notebook and leaned toward me. Her fingers caressed my cheek. “Raphael, you’re in no condition to fight again tonight. Can’t you wait until you’ve recovered?”
“No choice, if that book has the one page that Ophelia warned me about then they’ll start Ragnarök. Ophelia said that once it starts it is prophesied to finish.”
“But you’re exhausted. If you fight them in your condition, you won’t survive.”
I tried to smile and failed. “It’s what I do, Cris. I can no more avoid the fight then I can grow wings and fly.”
There were tears on her cheeks.
What had I done to deserve this kind woman’s affection? “Just heal me as much as you can and let me sleep. It’ll have to be enough.”
“Okay, Raphael, but don’t say I didn’t warn you when some demon has your heart for dinner.”
“Don’t worry, Cris, it’ll take more than a couple of witches to beat me.”
She leaned down and kissed me deeply.
I was drifting off when I heard her start chanting again.
Something warm and hard was pressing against my lips. I felt a feminine hand against the back of my head, lifting me toward the cup. I opened my eyes and focused on Cris’s face, hardly a foot from mine. Her eyes were red as though she’d been crying. There was still moisture there, but there was also a determination I hadn’t seen earlier. “Drink, Rafe, this will help you survive.”
I opened my mouth and it filled with warmth. I swallowed until she no longer held the cup to my lips. A strange aftertaste of iron and copper had me smacking my lips. What kind of potion had she given me?
The mattress shifted with her weight. Her body slid against mine and molded to me. She was warm, soft, and smelled good. I mean really good. Good as in apple pie, brownies hot from the oven, or hamburgers on the backyard grill on the Fourth of July.
I rolled toward her and she shifted to meet me. As our lips met, the weariness seemed to flow out of me. Everywhere our flesh touched, I was alive with energy. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her to me. The need to have her, possess her, to devour her overwhelmed me.
She moaned into my mouth and I was inflamed with desire.
I rolled her onto her back, and then I was onto and inside her. Her legs came up around my hips, pulling me deeper into her. With no preamble, no foreplay, we made love. Our bodies were joined at mouth and groin and heat erupted at every point in between. We moved together in an increasing tempo with no thought in my mind other than drinking her passion. An astounding cascade of energy flowed from her into me, building geometrically until we climaxed together in a mutual spasm that left me feeling as if I could conquer the world.
Then my mind came back into control of my body.
What the hell had happened? A few minutes earlier, I was exhausted to the point of not noticing a naked woman standing beside me. Now I was fully rested, my body flowed with energy. I was ready and able to take on however many villains wanted to test me.
But Cris had stopped kissing me. I supported my weight on my arms and stared down at her. Her eyes were closed; her breathing was shallow, her skin pale, and her cheekbones stark. I kissed her lips and she barely responded.
“Cris, open your eyes.”
She did. Her pupils were little more than pinpoints. She tried to smile and failed. “Hey, lover, that took a lot out of me. Let me rest.”
“No, Cris, snap out of it. What have you done?” I demanded.
“Fixed you, lover. I couldn’t let you get yourself killed.”
“But how? That was no Wiccan healing spell. What have you done?”
“What I had to do.”
“What? What do you mean?” I demanded.
“You had to fight tonight, whether you could or not. So I had to help you. I wouldn’t be much help in a fight, but I could make sure you were restored.”
“How?”
She brought a hand across her face as though trying to shield her eyes from the glare of her candle. There was a bandage on her wrist. It hadn’t been there in the shower. I ran my tongue over my teeth and recalled the taste of blood. A cold knot formed in my gut.
“Cris, where’d you get that spell?”
She didn’t respond.
I shook the bed until her eyes opened again.
“Let me rest,” she said.
“Cris, I have to know what you did. Where did you find that spell?”
“Don’t want to say.”
“Cris!” I shook the bed again.
“Abigail,” she said weakly.
“Abigail? Why’d she give it to you and when?”
“Abigail’s book.”
“Oh, my God.” A cold shiver went through me and I asked the question that I didn’t want to hear the answer to. “Cris tell me what that spell did. How was it supposed to work?”
“You’ll be mad,” she sounded like a six-year-old afraid to tell her parents about the broken window.
“No, Cris,” I said, softer, “never mad with you. Now tell me about the spell.”
“It was an energy exchange spell. You needed energy and I gave you mine.”
That explained it. Just the damn kind of night magic that I’d been afraid was in that book.
I rolled to one side, pulling her with me, suddenly afraid for her.
Her eyelashes blinked at me. “I knew it. You’re mad.”
I kissed the tears that flowed from her eyes. “No, Cris, I’m not mad. I’m afraid. You’ve never used that spell before. You don’t know how potent it could be. I could have killed you.”
“Nope, just a little energy shift from me to you.”
“Dear Cris, there’s nothing little about that vampire spell. I could have killed you, drained you dry without even knowing what I’d done.”
“You wouldn’t hurt me; remember, I saw your soul.”
“Cris, you are so innocent, so naïve when it comes to what those spells can do. Didn’t it give you an idea of the results you should expect?”
“Just said energy exchange. Now, please, let me sleep.”
I hugged her to me and held her gently, unmoving until she was breathing soft and regular. I eased away. Standing beside the bed, I stared down at her. She seemed thinner, her cheeks shallow, her ribs prominent, her hair gray, and her face that of a woman well past middle age. I covered her with the sheet and blanket.
The notebook was on the nightstand beside the cup and candle. I took the notebook into the bathroom, closed the door behind me, and switched on the lights. I thumbed through the notebook, reading just the titles until I reached the page titled “Energy Transference.” I read it rapidly and had my worst fears confirmed.
It was a vampire spell, the strongest I’d ever seen. By reading the spell and drinking your victim’s blood, you could absorb their life force. The amount of energy transferre
d was related to how much blood you took and how long you drained them. I hadn’t had more than a cup of her blood, but how long had our passion lasted?
I could guess why she looked so sunken, so thin; I’d drained decades off her life in a manner of minutes.
It was all I could do to keep myself from torching the notebook as I held it in my hands.
I wanted to scream, to burn something.
Instead, I gathered my soiled clothing, flipped off the bathroom light and went back to the bed. Cris slept soundly. I kissed her forehead and marveled at the blurriness of my vision. I wiped my eyes clear, blew out the candle, and left the bedroom.
I found a phone in the kitchen. Standing there, naked, holding my clothes, I picked up the phone and dialed.
She picked up on the first ring. “Nuevo Retro.”
“Cynthia, it’s Rafe.”
The line was silent for a moment, then, “How dare you call here?”
“Don’t push me, Cynthia. Cris needs someone here until I’m finished tonight.”
“I’m sure you can handle anything she needs. She knew what you were and didn’t tell me. As far as I’m concerned she can haul her ass back to Atlanta.”
“Shut up, damn you!” I screamed into the phone. “You will be here in fifteen minutes or I will burn Abigail’s house and her entire garden to the ground. Do you hear me, witch?”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Then try me and if Abigail is home when I get there I will make her home her funeral pyre.”
“No, you wouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t I?”
She was silent for a beat, then she said, “All right, all right, fifteen minutes.”
I took a deep breath and gathered what little restraint I had left. “Oh, and Cynthia.”
“Yes?”
“Bring my clothes with you.” I hung up.
CHAPTER 29
The brick building we landed on had a feeling of age, a century or more. Twilight time had passed into dark and the city streets were lit by the glow of artificial light from streetlamps, storefronts, and automobiles. A half mile to our left a great glow arose out of the park along with the sounds of bluegrass delivered through speakers the size of cars. The voice of a multitude rose as one song ended and another immediately followed.
Wanderers: Ragnarök Page 27
