by Faith Hunter
Page 36
Found wolf scent on road. Found wolf-kill of big buck. Old blood, old flesh. Ate from old kill, claiming it. Beast’s kill now. Licking muzzle clean, followed wolf scent again. Long time passed.
I/we smelled Molly. Smelled Angelina.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Molly Can Kill Cow?
Raised head to sky and screamed, this time in warning. Mine. Mine, mine, mine. Kill wolves who hunt Molly’s den. Sound of territory-claim echoed through hills. Raced ahead of scent, to yard with trees and flowers, house in middle of grass sparkling with witch wards. Blue wards, bright with light, covered house. Molly and Angelina-kit and Little Evan-kit were safe inside. House was dark. Molly would not see Beast. But she would know our scream. Know we were here to protect.
Padded silently around Molly’s house, outside of wards, magic tickling on pelt and whiskers. All were safe. Molly was good mother of kits. Evan was good protector. Evan made Jane claw of steel, favorite vampire knife. I spun and raced after wolves. Will kill.
By the time dawn turned sky gray and chased away small stars, I had hunted all night. Followed wolves far. Ate from old deer kills. I had chased wolves to Molly’s witch sisters, little houses warded by blue lights and purple lights, some smelling like pumpkin or melon or stinky herb, each sister’s magic different in color and scent. Hunted wolves downhill to river and along creek. It was full, roaring with water-voice, claiming place in creek bottom. It ran fast, splashing cold on pelt. Rain- and mud-smell were everywhere. Smell of grindylow was strong in creek, but was different here in mountains. Better. Not dead-fish stink, but fresh-fish stink. Grindy had marked rocks and trees with claws.
Smelled Evangelina. Leaped to big rock in middle of creek and saw big house on hill above creek. It was Evangelina’s den. Stacked den rooms, three stories high. Many-more-than-five pointed tops above many windows and many colors of blue and green paint. Gables and dormers, Jane murmured. An old gingerbread-style house. The Everhart family home, maybe? Wolf-stink was strong here, but ward was up, bright and burning Beast-nose like sting of bee. It should keep out the wolves, Jane thought. I crouched, watching, listening.
Many-more-than-five kinds of flowers and stinky herbs grew on hill. Many trees with hard nuts. Vegetable garden with yellow squash and pumpkin and other plants Jane might eat. Beast would not eat. Beast was hunter. Did not smell catnip. Liked catnip herb. Ward around Evangelina’s house went off. I sniffed. Magic still in air, stinging in nose. Wards always on during night. Off now. Smelled . . . Tightened feet together, ready to pounce. Smelled wolf, close! Hate wolves. Thieves of meat.
They’re here now? Jane thought, fear in her heart, wanting to run. A bright spot came on inside house. Candle? Jane asked, seeing through Beast-eyes. Small light moved through house, bright in windows, light then dark. Door opened and Evangelina walked into yard carrying small lantern and a covered bowl made of clay, painted blue. She’s naked, Jane thought.
Breathed with silent laughter. Jane is naked, I thought, when we become big-cat.
Door closed behind Evangelina with soft click. Saw short straight handle, like limb, on door. Jane said, Lever handle. I leaped to land on bank and crouched, pawpawpaw, silent up steep bank. Found place under thick bush to watch.
Evangelina had a witch circle on the ground, round trench dug out and lined with white quartz stones as big as Beast-paw. She lit little lanterns at four points of circle, flames flickering. Smaller stones made lines inside circle, like words Jane reads.
Compass points, Jane thought. But not English words. I can’t read it. I don’t know what it is.
I moved into shadows and crawled across cold ground, belly low and shoulders hunched, closer to house. Two leaps from house, settled into tall stalks, flowers up high, moving in breeze.
Evangelina was sitting in middle of circle, facing lines that were not words, legs crossed, bowl in her lap. Pink diamond rested on stone before her. Glamours and spells misted over her, bright pink and color of blood in Jane-sight. Not easy to see red with Beast eyes. Black lightning flashed through the mist, which grew like storm clouds in sky, bigger and bigger, out of nothing. Sparkling mist seemed to flow through the air, over diamond, and back, breathing through witch’s body as if alive.
Evangelina said a word. It sounded like, “Ansuz. ” A ward came up, billowing from the mist around her body, blood-colored and dappled with black clouds. The clouds sparked and snapped like electricity, as the ward curved over her and closed. Evangelina sighed.
The witch removed lid from bowl; it was full of blood. Much blood. Evangelina said strange words, not in Jane’s language. “Fayhoo. Eeesaw. Fayhoo. Eeesaw. Fayhoo. Eeesaw . . . ” Chanting. She put hand in bowl of blood and raised it, cupped. Dripped it over the pink diamond. Her chanting grew softer. Sleepy-sounding.
I panted silently as heart rate sped. Jane cursed inside of mind. I watched house. It was dark and empty, windows looking at world like dead eyes. Gathered limbs tight, eyes on porch. What are you doing? Jane asked. I leaped. Landed on bare patch of ground. Leaped again, landing on porch. Whirling around, long powerful tail whipping for balance. Evangelina was still chanting the two words, her back to house. She poured blood over her own head. Foolish witch, like kit with first kill, climbing inside to eat. Hard to clean pelt after.
I sniffed. Blood did not smell of witch. Nor of anything Beast knew. Strange blood.
Spelled blood, Jane thought. She’s done something to it.
I lifted a paw and unsheathed claws. Hooked lever. Lifted. Door opened. I liked lever opener of door. I raced inside. Door closed quietly behind me. I raised up and looked out window. Evangelina was still sitting in circle, her naked body running with blood.
I padded through the house, food room, eating room, sitting television room, room for computer with table for writing. Two rooms with beds, one with faint smells of many humans, one for Evangelina. It was large with big bed, dead trees at corners, tent top above. Silly to have tent over bed in room with ceiling. Jane laughed. Chair, bathroom, closet, clothes everywhere on floor. I stood at door, pulling in air through mouth in soft screeing hiss. Stopped. Tasted air again. Vampire Lincoln Shaddock and much blood and sex.
Crap. Molly’s going to have a cow, Jane thought.
Beast wants to hunt and eat cow. Like bison but easier to kill. Jane says no. But Molly can kill cow?
No. Molly won’t— Jane made air breath sound in mind. Never mind. Upstairs. Quick. Please, she added. Jane was trying to be good beta when Beast was alpha. I turned and padded to stairs, long tail bumping hallway. Raced up stairs. Doors closed up here, but were levers in dark metal. Bronze. Period reproductions, Jane thought. I opened doors. One room piled high with things, dusty, old. One room was bedroom, dusty, not used. Bed had tall tree posts like Evangelina’s and tent on top. Canopy, Jane thought. Decorated in pink and lavender. Curled photos around the mirror. An old laptop. CDs. Jewelry in a pile. Crap. It’s a teenager’s room.
Pulled door closed. Room for bathing and cleaning body was dusty too. Big house-den for one witch woman. Waste of den space. Last room at end of small hallway was different. Smelled scent from this side of door. Blood. I sniffed, learning scent. Male. Blood many years old. I pressed lever with paw and door opened. Room had wood floor, couch, table, TV. Smelled of cigar smoke. And old newspapers. And dead human.
Stepped carefully, slowly, inside. Blood was on floor, smell oldoldold. Chemicals had been used on it. Clorox, Jane thought. Detergents. I padded to back of couch and found rug there, against wall. Rolled up. Sniffed at end. Dead human was inside. Jane cursed, fear in her heart.
Beast is not afraid. Beast is not prey, I reminded her. I turned and left room, pulling door shut with paw until it snicked closed, hiding dead man in rug. Checked other doors. All closed. Padded up to third story. Door at top had round handle, not lever. Will not be able to go here.
Ran down stairs. Saw door at bottom, not abl
e to see going up. Low light came from around edges. Opened door to see stairs leading down. I stopped. Tasting, testing. Air sparkled like taste of lemon. Taste of onion. Bad taste, like sting of bee. Remembered bee landed on food. Ate it. Hurt for long time. Could smell nothing here but bee smell. Nose curled. Hacked. Sneezed. Bad taste/smell. Heard soft groan. Sound of breathing, snoring, came up stairs, with light from room at bottom. But stairs were dark. Unlit.
Good thing we aren’t in a bikini, Jane thought, or this would be seriously dangerous.
Did not understand Jane’s laughter or Jane’s fear. Stepped over threshold. Checked door handle, to see if I could get out. Good lever handle on both sides. Started down stairs. On wall at end of narrow stairs I saw a picture in frame. Jane slowed to study it. I let her be alpha. Jane thoughts flooded my mind.
I drew on my human sight. The painting was a depiction of a witch circle with a pentagram in the center; there were adults standing at the points of the pentagram. The female participants were dressed in belled skirts, big sleeves, and corsets that came to a point below the navel. The males wore knee pants, lace and satin, big-buckled shoes, and white wigs piled up high. And all had fangs. Lying in the center of the pentagram were two human-looking children, naked and bound. One of the wigged and goateed men held an athame over them. On his chest he wore a gaudy, heavy, gold chain set with a thick casing holding the pink diamond—the blood-diamond—the casing shaped of horns and claws. It looked barbaric, brutal, and powerful, an artifact from a distant time and place.
I knew this painting. It was a depiction of a black magic art ceremony intended to bring vampire scions out of the devoveo, the state of insanity they entered into when they were turned, and which they endured for ten years or so, until they found themselves again amidst the bloodlust of vamp-hungers. I nudged Beast down the stairs, slowly. As we moved, more paintings appeared on the white-painted basement wall ahead, all hung at the same level.
I had stolen these paintings from the vamps who had killed witch children. There were fifteen, a batch of seven from one century, the fifteenth century, I thought, and seven from the sixteenth century—or maybe it was sixteenth and seventeenth century. The only thing that mattered was that this was art from two time periods that had been used to chronicle experiments of black magic—blood magic. I had given them to Evangelina to destroy or store. Not to use.
