“Hey. Where are you guys?”
“Hi. We’re driving around Lithia Park,” said Sheila, referring to the large pie-shaped public park in downtown Ashland. “Newt thought he sensed something up this way. What about you?”
“We’re on our way back. We found the Were—or he found us.” I updated her quickly. She sucked in a long breath when I told her the Were was Tony Blythe.
“Wow.”
I heard Newt’s voice in the background.
“Where? Okay.” Sheila wasn’t talking to me. Newt spoke again, not loud enough for me to understand.
“Jules?” Sheila’s urgent tone made me clutch the phone. “Newt found them. We’re up at the top of Lithia Park, near the swimming area. He doesn’t think they’ll sense him because of the bracelets. We’re going to try to ambush them.”
I bit back my first words and settled for saying, “Okay. Be careful. We’ll be there in”—I checked out the window—“fifteen minutes.”
“Okay. Tell—never mind. See you soon.” The phone cut off.
Eliza turned around completely in her seat and Tim’s gaze darted to me in the rearview mirror. He’d started speeding and I hoped the don’t-notice-me extended to traffic cops who liked to pull people over on Highway 99.
“Um, they found the Salamanders and they’re going to ambush them.”
Tim nodded, jaw tight. “We heard.”
Right. Super Were senses again.
“Plan?” Eliza said.
The two Weres discussed strategy. Eliza was particularly skilled at calling the moon to cause madness in others, but she needed to be in close range. The combination of called darkness and Sheila’s bracelet might allow her to get near enough, though none of us knew exactly how the ’Manders electromagnetic senses operated. Eliza also thought she could call a substantial amount of water, since we were only four days from a full moon. Calling water would be easier so close to Lithia Creek and the reservoir. Tim said he could take the Salamanders in a physical fight, especially in wolf form.
I started to say something then thought better of it.
Tim’s eyes met mine in the mirror and he said, stiffly, “What you saw earlier wasn’t a fair picture of my fighting ability.”
Eliza kept a studiously straight face. She said, “True. If Tony’s been wolf for five years, neither one of us could take him in a fight—regardless of Sheila’s charms—and you certainly weren’t expecting me to attack you.”
I detected a note of smugness in her voice and spoke to puncture it. “Yes. Since we’re all on the same team, no reason to think you’d attack Tim.”
Eliza winced. “Sorry. Again.”
“We can have a rematch sometime, if you’d like.”
I rubbed the prickles off the back of my neck.
“All right. Stop the Were posturing, both of you. Focus on the Salamanders.”
“Right.” Tim switched gears. “Julie, when we get there, I want you and Carson to stay in the car and out of the fight. In fact, maybe you should drive into town and wait for one of us to call you, give the all clear to come back.”
“What?”
I looked at Eliza for support, found none, and lashed out angrily. “No way. No way will I leave you all in danger—danger because of me—while I flee downtown and grab a latte.”
Eliza grinned. “No one said anything about a latte, Julie.”
“Stop it. You know what I mean. I’m not running away from this. It’s my fight.”
“Our fight,” said Tim. “And we can’t fight effectively while worried about you and Carson.”
Shit.
“So…” I scrambled for a solution. “Let’s drop Carson off with…Dana. Eliza, let’s run by my friend Dana’s house and ask if she can watch Carson—I can call her now—and then he’ll be safe and I can come and help.”
“How exactly are you going to help?” Tim’s matter-of-fact question felt like a punch in the gut.
“I…we can stop by Sheila’s, too, and I can get a gun. Or maybe she has an extra one with her. I’m sure she brought a gun.” Dammit, why hadn’t I brought a gun?
Tim said, “You suggest we detour to your friend Dana’s house, then across town to Sheila’s house to get a gun, then back into town and up to the park, the place where our friends may even now be involved in mortal combat?”
I collapsed back in my seat, utterly defeated. If only I was a real Were. One stupid recessive gene. What good could I do?
“Fine. You’re right. I’ll drop you off, but I won’t drive away. I’ll wait in the car. If they come near the car, if we’re in danger, then I promise we’ll leave right away.”
They both knew me well enough to hear the resolve in my voice.
Tim and Eliza continued to plan as we sped toward Ashland. I looked at Carson, full of power though only a baby and dug my fingernails into my palms, wishing I could do anything useful to help.
****
We didn’t have to search for our team. We just followed the smoke.
As we drove up the road through the park and reached the top near the beach area, a small plume of smoke appeared against the blue sky, tracing a path upward. I wondered how long before the fire trucks appeared—September was prime wildfire season in southern Oregon and everyone watched the horizon.
Tim pulled into the gravel lot and stopped the car. With a glance at the several other cars to make sure we had no audience, he tossed me the car keys with an admonition to stay put, nodded at Eliza, and changed form. Shadow chased over his body and left the gray wolf behind. Eliza followed suit and the two of them disappeared into the woods.
I checked on Carson, who seemed just fine, and scrambled into the front seat just in case we needed to make a getaway.
Then I waited.
I found myself staring into the woods and jumping at noises, no matter how innocuous. Even the sounds of children splashing at the pebbly beach were imbued with menace. I crossed my fingers—literally crossed my fingers, even though it felt stupid; it was something I could do—and hoped the fight wouldn’t expand to include any bystanders. I craned my head this way and that, hoping to see something more than the faint smoke spiraling into the air above the trees, which hadn’t seemed to attract anyone else’s attention yet.
Three minutes passed.
A woman emerged into the parking area from the beach, grabbed a tube of sunscreen from her car, and headed back toward the water. She noticed me sitting there and gave a cheery wave in that small-town way. I waved back and smiled over gritted teeth. The car grew hot, even though we parked in the shade, and I swiveled around to check on Carson again. He’d fallen asleep and I sent up silent thanks. The last thing I needed was a screaming baby. He seemed kind of sweaty, but I decided against starting the car to run the air conditioning and just made sure all the windows were open.
Five more minutes passed. I told myself to stop looking at the clock.
A branch cracked and I jumped. And looked.
Him.
The black Were stood right at the edge of the woods, nearly on the gravel, mere feet from my car. His flanks heaved with his panting and I somehow had time to marvel how he found us—he somehow kept pace with us—he’d followed us here. Or maybe he knew to meet the Salamanders here. Maybe they planned some sort of ambush. At the same time all those thoughts ran through my head, I tried to start the car. My hands shook and the keys clanged together. Which key? Where was the right key? Shit! I fumbled the key ring and dropped it on the floor with a clatter. I couldn’t take my gaze off the black wolf, his amber eyes trained on me in turn. What was he waiting for? I risked a glance down, saw the keys near my right foot, and kicked them back toward me. I stretched my hand down, keeping my attention on the wolf so I’d see him when he sprang, when he—
The wolf’s entire body jerked suddenly and his head swung to the left. He glanced back at me with those unreadable eyes, and he sprang into the woods, silent and invisible as a shadow.
He’d attracted my attention
on purpose with that cracked branch, I realized. Weres were fully capable of moving silently. Did he taunt me? As I taunted him with my voice and songs earlier?
I grabbed the keys and cranked the engine, slammed the car into reverse, then as abruptly stepped on the brakes.
Shit.
They didn’t know he was coming. None of them expected him—they wouldn’t be ready. He’d—
Shit, shit, shit.
I stopped the car and banged my fist on my forehead as if to clear my thinking. I grabbed my phone, ready to call Sheila. Or Tim. Or Eliza. I aborted the plan before my finger hit a number, realizing—if the phones weren’t in magical limbo—a ringing phone in the middle of the woods was as likely to alert enemies as to warn my team.
I had no choice.
And no gun. Dammit. I vowed to never, ever, ever leave the house again without a gun. Liberal politics be damned.
Cursing under my breath, I grabbed the sling and my sleeping baby. After a moment of thought, I slung him onto my back, snugged him tight, and made sure his head wasn’t flopping around. This way, I’d have full range of motion with my arms and—hopefully—any attack would have to come through me before injuring my son. I firmly squashed the mental images that streamed through my brain with those thoughts. After I secured Carson, I took several deep breaths and threaded my way through the woods, thankfully clear of dense underbrush in this mostly pine-based forest. I tried to step lightly and found myself holding my breath as if that would allow me to hear better, to find the others. I cursed my woefully weak senses.
I smelled the smoke first and retched before getting myself under control. My pulse raced and I stopped, leaning my hand heavily against a nearby tree. I swallowed several times, shifted my shoulders to relieve the tension, reached back to check on Carson, and grimly proceeded. I caught movement from the corner of my eye and swung in that direction. Did those bushes just snap back? Was that a shadow or a darkness-wreathed Were? The motion didn’t repeat, so I continued.
There.
Ahead of me on a slight upslope, I saw flames licking up the trunk of a tree. Leaves of red fire danced in the heat overhead. As I watched, Newt ran over and put his hand on the tree, right in the middle of the flames. The fire instantly tamped down, lingering near his hand as if in caress. He pulled his hand off the tree and the flame went with it, cupped in his palm. Then, he turned his back to me. I saw the concentration in the set of his spine and shoulders. The flames licked his hand and I watched in shock as they flickered into deep purple: beautiful indigo and blue flames wreathing his fingers. Newt drew back his arm and lobbed the flames at some target out of my sight.
“Wow,” I breathed in awe.
“Newt,” I called softly and walked a few steps toward him. I didn’t move up the slope, instead choosing to stay where I was less visible.
Newt turned to me with a start. “Julie! What are you doing here? Tim said you were in the car.” He kept turning his head frantically, dividing his attention between me and presumably, the other Salamanders.
“The black Were. Tony. He’s here. He must have followed us,” I said. “I needed to warn you.”
A breeze spun up and ashes cascaded down from the recently burning tree as its leaves relinquished their forms.
“Okay, then—” Newt said. “Oh, shit.”
A tree about forty feet away burst into a pillar of flame. I heard the pop and sizzle of its needles. I took one involuntary step backward, but stiffened my spine and stood my ground.
“Goddammit, I could fight better if I didn’t have to keep the whole forest from burning down.” Newt cursed and darted away in the direction of the new fire.
I crept up the slope for better visibility. Carson shifted restlessly in his sleep, but gave a deep sigh and fell limp against me once more. His warm weight comforted me.
I watched as Newt snuffed out the pine tree, fire writhing back to the ground and then disappearing. Moments later, two fires started in opposite directions, quite spread out. I remembered Newt saying ’Manders could call fire better with touch and realized our enemies split up to keep him busy.
“There!” An exultant voice rang out and all of a sudden, Newt’s running form was engulfed with fire. I closed my eyes involuntarily, then pried them open. A dazzling orange and red fireball resolved into Newt’s form, dark against the light. He raised his arms, fingers spread wide. I watched as the fire drained into his hands; the orange flames concentrated into super-white then morphed into the purple flames I saw before. He flung the flames and I heard a scream in the direction of the earlier cry.
Fire tore through grass near a small rock outcrop about twenty feet to the left of me. I saw Tim leap up and crash into a figure I barely glimpsed, just enough to see he was the Salamander I’d labeled Surfer, the one with the bleach-blond hair. As the two of them struggled on the ground, Eliza stepped out from the shadows. Even from this distance, I saw her forehead crease with strain as she held her hands out in front of her. The flames on the ground guttered; the last red light glimmering on what I realized was water, called out of the ground by Eliza’s link with the moon. Tim and Surfer ’Mander thrashed about, now kicking up mud. Bits of flame tried to erupt around the two, but immediately quelled with Eliza’s water. I saw a flash of blood on Tim’s muzzle and heard him growling, deeply resonant.
Wait. Not Tim.
“Eliza!” I yelled and pointed. Downwind from our Weres, the black wolf poised to spring.
Eliza’s head whipped in my direction and I registered her look of surprise before her gaze followed my finger. She saw the other Were and—just like that—dropped into wolf form.
A scream rang out, followed by two gunshots. Sheila. I knew it was Sheila. So did Tim, because he was running before I could move, leaving the Salamander behind. I crashed after him, slower, much slower in my awkward non-Were body.
As I approached, Tim shifted to human form and cradled Sheila on the ground. At first, I didn’t know why. Then I saw the burns, angry red and black. Flames had eaten deep into her skin on her right hand, up her arm, across her shoulder onto her collarbone. Blood-soaked and stiff, pieces of her blackened shirt stuck to the skin. Sheila’s eyes closed; her face rigid with pain.
“Oh my God. Sheila!” I slid to a stop on my knees beside them, heedless of jouncing Carson on my back. Sheila bit back a moan. Her eyelids flickered and she fainted.
“We have to get her to a hospital.” Tim’s face remained impassive, his own anguish visible only in the way he held Sheila to him so desperately, yet careful not to touch her injuries. “And take care of the body.”
Only at his words did I notice the dead Salamander scant paces from Sheila. The woman, the one I’d last seen with the cat eye sunglasses. She lay in a heap on the ground, two bullet wounds in her chest.
I heard sirens, wailing their way up Lithia Park, and realized the fire department was almost here. Certainly followed quickly by the police, unless we were lucky.
Newt appeared at my shoulder. “Crap. Third degree and bad,” he said.
“Can you do anything?” I felt a sudden surge of hope, squashed as he shook his head. He laid one hand on her leg.
“I drew the heat out of her body so the burns won’t get worse, but there’s nothing else I can do. She needs a hospital. I can take care of the body, though.” Newt jerked his head in the direction of the corpse.
“Tim! Do you need help carrying her?” Eliza reached us.
“No.” Tim stood with Sheila in his arms and strode away without a glance at the rest of us. “Just take care of the body.”
“Eliza!” The rest of the fight popped back into my head. “Where are the other two Salamanders? The black Were?”
“Fled. The blond one severely hurt. Not sure about the other. Tony took off after them.”
“Probably because of the sirens,” said Newt. Indeed, it sounded like the fire trucks arrived at the parking area and I heard shouts from that direction.
Newt moved over to the
fallen Salamander and checked her pockets efficiently. He pulled out a wallet, then roughly stripped the body. I averted my gaze, feeling it was obscene. The reason for his search became apparent in a minute, however, as Newt said, “Look at this.”
On the woman’s left shoulder blade was a tattoo, a stylized sun circled by a lizard. Eliza moved to study it.
“Eclipsers,” said Newt. Then, seeing our blank looks, he waved his hand. “Later. Okay, hold on.”
He heaped the clothes back onto the body, then extended his hands. He touched the pile of clothing and a white-hot tongue of flame descended onto the corpse. Light flashed and a smell of burning meat made me gag. Purple flames roared, and just seconds later, left behind a charred mass of ash, not even bones identifiable.
I stared at Newt, unable to muster up my usual foul-language response to shocking events. Eliza’s eyes were wide and she let out a low whistle.
“Douse that? So it’s not a pile of ash?”
Eliza took a minute to understand Newt, but then she nodded. A muscle twitched in her jaw as she called up a flood of water over the spot. The ashes swirled and settled into soggy earth.
I hear another shout and crashing, as someone—presumably firefighters—approached.
“Quick,” Eliza said in a low voice.
She shifted form and darted through the trees, leading us smoothly around the firefighters and back to the car. She stopped and became human again before we approached the parking area. A fire engine idled there, with lights flashing. A firefighter hurried over to us as we emerged from the woods.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.” I stepped forward. “We’re okay. We ran into the woods to see what was happening, to see if we could help. There were some trees burning. Our friend—”
“At the hospital. I radioed for an ambulance, but the guy wouldn’t wait, put your friend in the backseat and left.” The firefighter shook his head and grimaced. “She’s bad off.”
The reality of Sheila’s injuries started to sink in. I swallowed hard.
“Is she going to be okay?” I asked, fighting the rising panic.
His forehead creased. “I’m not a doctor. But those were bad burns. Did you see anyone else in the woods?”
Waxing Moon Page 11
