by Judith Post
Hecate bent to bring out another book, and Reece braced herself. This one would be worse than the last. The second book moved on to bigger animals. How To Sacrifice a Goat, with pictures of how to slit its throat for the most blood drainage. That led to How To Sacrifice A Bull on the last page, with intricate drawings on how to arrange entrails. The stench in the room was worse than before. Reece thought she might gag. Hecate grabbed the book, sealed it, and jammed it back on its shelf. Then she gulped down some potion. Reece drained hers.
Hecate took a deep breath. “It's only going to get worse. We’ll want to pace ourselves, or we’ll be gorged on fluids.”
Reece looked at the third book. What would be next? Would she have nightmares about it for months to come?
Reece’s stomach felt queasy. Random victims for human sacrifices came first. Then the book moved on to virgins—lots of spilled blood on altars. Reece wondered why any woman would remain untouched in those days. As far as she could see, virtue was not rewarded. But could a woman survive and raise a child on her own?
The rituals progressed to young witches and warlocks. Seizing unclaimed power, it seemed, was like filling your gas tank too full. The pictures of warlocks creeping into houses to slit babies’ throats made goosebumps rise on Reece’s arms. When they reached young girls and boys, tied to altars, anger blazed through her veins.
Filthy murderers! Sadistic bullies!
Reece took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. Hecate’s hands shook as she turned to the next page. Things didn’t get better. Reece rubbed her eyes, trying to erase the images she’d seen. When they closed the book, both women fled the room as quickly as possible, waiting until they were in the kitchen to guzzle their potions.
Damian glanced their way, worried. Andre frowned.
“My love, maybe you should spread this out. Quit for the day and try again tomorrow.” Andre’s French accent was thick with concern.
Hecate gave a quick shake of her head. “If we don’t do this now, we won’t be able to.”
“Can we…?”
“It’s a witch thing.” She and Reece hurried back to the study.
The new book, it turned out, was all about demons. Shape-shifters, fire demons, and shadow demons.
The air in the small room grew rank. Reece could taste the evil. It pooled in her stomach like an acid. The first half of the book was about summoning them. It took blood. Lots of blood. The second half was about caging them and sending them home. Hecate and Reece both learned the spells, but when they saw the means, they glanced at each other with worry. Even if each of them—gargoyles, witches, and every member of Wedge’s pack—contributed a pint of blood, it might not be enough.
When Hecate sealed the book and returned it to its shelf, they shambled out of the room.
Both men studied them. “Well?” Andre asked. The Were had no patience.
“Too much blood,” Hecate said. “We’ll never get enough.” She poured herself more potion and drank a second helping. Reece followed her example.
Damian’s brows knit together in a frown. “Is there another way? Another spell?”
Hecate stared at her empty glass. “In the dark arts, the more blood, the stronger the magic. It will take a miracle for us to defeat the demon, a bigger miracle to defeat Nen.”
“But we have a shot at the demon?”
Reece glanced at Hecate. Her mentor sat, distracted by worry, too disappointed to even think about success. She answered for her. “If we all work together, all donate, we might have a chance.”
Damian looked out the kitchen window at the shadows creeping along the streets, growing longer as the sun set. He glanced at Reece, and she could guess his thoughts. How long did a demon go between meals?
Andre sighed and pushed himself to his feet. “I can’t stay any longer. I have to go to the restaurant. I have to get things started.”
Damian gathered their pack of playing cards and rose, too. “Let me ride with you. None of us should be alone. Reece can drive Hecate back to the condo, and I’ll meet them there.” Damian’s movements were sharper than usual. He was worried, Reece could tell. “Reece, did you give him the vial?”
“No.” How could she have forgotten? She dug in her jacket pockets and handed Andre the holy water the priest had given her. She gave one to Hecate too. “Holy water. It might help. I need to get some to Wedge.”
Andre tucked the glass cylinder into his shirt pocket. “Mornings work better for him. Maybe you could meet him at his company.”
Reece hesitated. She couldn't picture Wedge sitting behind a desk, doing paper work. “What does he do?”
Andre grinned, guessing her thoughts. “He owns a construction company, a big one. He builds things.”
She could see Wedge doing that. “I’ll call him and see if I can set something up.”
“For you, he’ll make time.”
Reece snorted. “Right.” She and the alpha had a love/hate relationship. Most of the time, for Wedge, it seemed to border on hate.
“He likes you,” Andre told her. “He just likes to mess with you.”
“He does a good job.”
“And you play into it every time.”
Reece gave Andre a surprised look. “What would you do? He’s always hassling me.”
“Why wouldn’t he? You’re too much fun.”
Hecate had listened to them enough. “I’m tired. Let’s go.”
Andre immediately turned in one, graceful motion. Damian started to the stairs—solid and purposeful. “You girls must be starving. Once I get to the condo, I’ll fix you something to eat before I go on my nightly vigil.”
Hecate's stomach protested. "No room. Too much potion. Only crackers for me."
Damian smiled and Reece’s heart fluttered. He was so kind, so thoughtful. She didn’t want him to watch over the city tonight. She didn’t want him to perch on a roof and drop from the sky to scuffle with a demon/fog. He’d won once. Would he win again?
Damian read her thoughts, as usual. “Quit worrying, witch of mine. We’re only on the ten-yard line. We have the whole field to go.”
She grimaced. She didn’t watch sports, didn’t care for them. But Damian was right. This fight was only beginning. It wasn’t time to wave a white flag or flee in defeat.
Chapter 8
Reece gulped coffee while Damian and Andre bumped shoulders, making pancakes and sausages. Saliva pooled in her mouth. Sausages were one of her true loves. She wanted to swim in their aroma, drizzle them with maple syrup, and eat more than her share.
Hecate was sound asleep on the sofa. Reece reached to pour herself a second mug of Colombia’s finest when Damian’s phone rang. He’d had an uneventful night, he told her. They'd made plans for the day. They were driving to Wedge’s construction company to deliver the vials of holy water. But Damian’s hushed tones told her that their plans might have to wait.
“What is it?” she asked when he flipped his cell shut.
“It might be nothing, but Pete says a girl’s gone missing. Her roommate called to report that she didn’t come home this morning.”
“Has the roommate tried to call her?” Andre asked.
“She’s left messages, but no call back.”
Reece took a quick sip of coffee and hissed. Too hot. She went to the freezer and dropped in an ice cube to cool it. “Does Pete have more information? How are we supposed to find someone with nothing to go on?”
“The roommate gave Pete the name of the girl’s business manager.”
“Business manager?" Andre looked interested. "Are we talking movie star?"
"Pimp," Damian corrected. “Not known as a humanitarian. Won’t be happy to see us, but we can start with him.”
Andre turned off the burners on the stove. “Isn’t this more Pete’s line of work than ours?”
“I asked Pete to call me if anyone came up missing.”
Andre shrugged. “Maybe she had too much fun last night and she’s sleeping in.”
&
nbsp; “Maybe.” Damian forked a sausage into a hoagie bun and handed it to Reece. “You can eat on the go. We'll drop the vials off for Wedge before we visit Doogie Rowe.”
“Doogie?” Andre shook his head, then went to wake Hecate. "Damian's hitting the road. Want to ride along?"
She splashed water on her face and pulled her hair into a knot. They all crowded into Andre’s Land Rover for the trip to Wedge’s property.
“You've been to his house, right?" Andre asked Reece.
He knew she had. They all had.
"His company’s on the same property. He has plenty of room out there, and it’s private. A lot of his pack works for him.” Andre drove to the far edge of the city, then pulled onto the long, winding drive that led to Wedge’s house. Instead of turning toward the sprawling log ranch, he took a turn to the right. They drove past pine trees and forests until he reached a cluster of steel buildings. A small army of heavy equipment was parked nearby, and four, small, vacation-style huts bordered the gravel parking area.
Hecate frowned. “Not exactly Club Med.”
“The huts are in case anyone in the pack needs a temporary place to stay.”
For a minute, Reece was surprised by how well Andre knew the property, but then she realized that he probably came here at each full moon. She'd guess the pack met here.
“Impressive.” That was the only word that came to mind. Wedge had thought of everything. But then, he would.
The man himself stalked from the main office, housed in a dark green, steel hut. If a war started, his operation would be camouflaged. But then, Reece had to remind herself that werewolves fought wars, just none that made the papers.
Bull and Whitey accompanied him. Reece scrambled from the car to meet them. She handed them each a vial of the holy water, along with a few extras.
“Father Daniel thought of this,” she said. “We’re not sure it will work, but it might.”
“On the demon or the warlock?” Wedge asked.
“Your odds are better with the demon. Let’s hope you don’t meet the warlock. We can’t stay. Pete called about a missing girl.” Reece turned, her mission accomplished, to hurry back to the Land Rover.
Bull called after her. “You’re an awfully nice witch! You spend a lot of time worrying about Weres. Stay out of trouble if you can.”
Wedge called, too. “I heard about the demon and Damian. Listen, girl, keep your flesh glued to your bones, you hear?”
She gave a wave. He did care, then she scooted onto the seat next to Damian. Andre pulled away to head back to the city. “Where do we find Doogie?” he asked.
Damian gave him directions, and Reece settled in for the ride. Azalea bushes were just beginning to bloom. She'd usually admire their brilliant pinks and purples, but their beauty was lost on her today. Expanses of grass gave way to small, tight yards. Those gave way to apartment buildings and high rises. Doogie lived in a condo downtown, overlooking bustling streets filled with restaurants and nightclubs.
“Doogie’s doing pretty well for himself,” Andre commented on the ride up in the elevator.
“Supply and demand. Some businesses never go out of style.” Hecate’s tone was grim. She hadn’t said much most of the day, her mood tense. “I don’t like men who make money selling women.”
Damian led the way down the wide hallway to Doogie’s condo on the corner.
“Are you sure you should go in with us?” Reece asked. “It’s not like you look all that human even with your wings squashed under your shirt.”
“Doogie can ponder that,” Damian said. “It might work for us. I don’t think he’s going to confide in any of you. Once he looks at me, he might talk.”
She hadn’t thought of that. Just because they showed up on his doorstep didn’t mean Doogie would work with them. Damian, on the other hand, could be intimidating. So could Andre, but it wouldn’t be a good idea for him to shift.
They knocked, but no one answered.
Hecate shrugged. She waved her hand over the door, mumbled a spell, and deadbolts slid open, keys turned. They stepped inside.
Doogie reached for a gun. “How did you do that?”
Hecate waved, and the gun flew out of his hand. It dropped to the floor and Doogie backed away from them.
Reece watched him, surprised. Maybe they didn’t need Damian. Her mentor could be plenty intimidating when she chose to.
“We didn’t come for you,” Damian said. “We came for information about Lexy Mitchell.”
“That bitch?” Doogie sounded downright put out. “She never called in this morning. She found some big spender and hasn’t stopped playing yet.”
Hecate glared. “Maybe. Or maybe she’s in trouble. You’re supposed to protect her, aren’t you?”
Doogie glanced at the sparks dancing across Hecate’s knuckles. His knees shook. “Listen, lady, we only deal with topnotch clientele here. My girls don’t have to worry.”
“Who requested her last night?” Andre asked. “Where did she meet him?”
“That’s privileged informa…..” Doogie’s voice trailed off as Hecate raised an arm. “Hey, hold off, bitch. No need for that.” When Hecate’s eyes flashed, he cringed. The man obviously only had one word for women. “Things don’t have to get nasty. If Lexy’s in trouble, I’ll be glad to help.”
Damian straightened to his full height and looked down at him. Doogie cowered and gave Damian his full attention. "What you want?"
“We want the phone number of the man who called you, the address you sent Lexy to, and anything else you might know.”
“Sure thing, man.” Doogie stopped, then stammered, “Are you—a man, I mean?”
“Just give us the information.” The rims of Andre’s eyes glowed yellow.
Doogie grabbed his cell phone and flipped through numbers. He jammed the phone toward Damian. “Here. Here’s all I know.”
Damian wrote down the number and address the man left when he called, along with the caller’s name—Nen Skyhawk.
Reece put out a hand to steady herself. Bile flooded her stomach. Nen had called for the girl?
“Skyhawk?” Andre asked. “And you believed that?”
Doogie shrugged. “We don’t get too many real names here, you know?”
Hecate’s complexion bleached to sickly. “It’s Nen’s taken name, once he gained his powers. He meant for us to find Doogie. He gave his true identity on the phone. It’s a challenge, to let us know he’s out there.”
Reece forced down the acid that rose in her throat. She had a horrible idea of what they were going to find when they went to the address Doogie gave them.
Even Doogie seemed to realize the severity of the situation. “What’s the deal?” he asked. “What happened to Lexy?” He reached for his gun again. “I’m coming with you. No one messes with my girls.”
Damian put up his hand in warning. Doogie stared at its massive size. “If Nen’s waiting there, you won’t stand a chance.”
“Who is this Skyhawk?” Doogie’s chin jutted out. “Someone new to Bay City? It’s time he learned my boundaries.”
He was great at posturing. Reece wasn’t impressed. That’s probably all he was good at.
Hecate motioned toward their small group. “You’ll only get in our way.”
“You’re a posse, huh? Work together?” He looked at Andre, confused. “You and the girl…” He motioned toward Reece. “…seem pretty normal.”
Andre grinned. It looked more wolf than human. “Looks can be deceiving, my friend. Don’t cross us. You’ll wish you hadn’t.”
Doogie retreated a little. “Who are you people?”
“We’d prefer it if you didn’t mention our visit to anyone,” Hecate said. “And I’ll know if you do. My crystal ball will tell me.”
Doogie’s eyes went wide. “You talk to ghosts or something? I ain’t seen you then. Just let me know about Lexy.”
They turned to leave. Andre paused, curious. “Doogie? You really chose that?”
The man shrugged. “For Do Good By My Girls.”
“Right.” Andre stepped into the hall with his friends.
Reece heard deadbolts slide back into place. A heavy piece of furniture moved to block the door. She smiled to herself. If that made Doogie feel better, he didn’t know them well.
The address he’d given them was in an apartment building a few miles away. It was in one of many apartment complexes that rimmed the city. When they reached its parking lot, Andre pulled next to a rusting Ford Tempo and grimaced. “This place needs some upkeep.”
Five buildings, each three stories high, bordered a courtyard. They were yellow brick with small, cramped balconies dotted along each floor.
“They’re start-up apartments for young professionals still cutting their teeth.” Reece looked at the bicycles chained to balconies. “Maybe college students too.”
They followed a sidewalk to Unit #4 and entered a cramped foyer. A narrow hallway led to the first floor apartments. They climbed steep stairs to the third level, Andre careful not to touch the metal handrails. When Reece reached for the knob of 403, Damian placed his hand over hers. “Wait. One or both of them might still be here. Let me go first.”
“None of us are entering until we’re sure Nen’s gone.” Hecate leaned an ear to the door. “We all have acute hearing. If Nen’s in there, we can hear his breathing if we concentrate.”
They all stilled, all strained for the least noise.
“Nothing.” Andre stepped forward and sniffed the air. “Weres can smell a bird fart a mile away.” He grimaced. “I smell death, nothing more.”
Damian braced himself and turned the cheap knob. The door was unlocked and swung open. “Shit.” He rubbed a hand across his eyes.
Her gargoyle rarely cussed. Reece’s nerves already jittered. His reaction set them afire. She and Hecate stepped in behind him, Andre following closely.
“Oh, God.” Reece turned her head. She jammed her fist into her mouth not to gag. The bedroom was visible from where they stood, and a small pile of clothing lay outside its door—a tiny, black thong with a lacy, black bra, dropped to the floor near a scarlet mini-skirt. The skirt slumped around black stiletto heels and a satiny, black blouse. The girl must have undressed before stepping inside the room, closer to the bed. Her skeleton lay, contorted, across its rumpled sheets, the bones laced with shreds of flesh. Only her face was intact, the girl’s horror and pain etched permanently in place.
