by Faith Hunter
Tandy stepped back from his drawing, studying it.
T. Laine took a deep breath, her eyes on Rick. “The last DNA test results came back from the lab. One vial of liquid was your blood. I’m betting Jason has even more, which is how he’s draining you. It’s how he can reach you even inside the null room or a silver cage. Maybe the blood was drawn by Loriann during the inking. Maybe stolen from a hospital lab or something, prior to you being infected with were-taint. Security in hospitals is set up against humans, not witches. But how he got it doesn’t matter. Now he has fresh blood inside of him. I’m hypothesizing that with the blood, Jason added an extra layer to the curse. He has Rick’s human DNA. He’s been using Rick’s blood and life force to power the spells. Rick is aging fast. The demon, however, doesn’t know what’s happening. It’s a bait and switch with Rick’s life in the balance, made worse because Jason likely infected himself with Rick’s were-taint. Jason kills Rick and curses the vampires who hurt him in one fell swoop. If he loses his bargain with the demon, then the were-taint might heal his cancer anyway.”
Rick looked out the window at the western horizon. His silvered hair seemed awfully bright, the black strands fewer now, in spite of the were-taint, which was supposed to give him a much longer life span. Now it made sense. Rick was dying. The pencil drawing of Rick being tattooed was on the table. I spun the paper, studying the depiction. There was something—
T. Laine interrupted my thoughts. “Only after the curse is done will the demon realize that Jason hasn’t aged, isn’t old, and he’s been cheated. Then they live in powerful disharmony until Jason dies.”
Rick murmured, “Jason must really hate me.” He was rubbing his shoulder, the one with the mangled tattoos, tats that he’d accepted, a spelling that he’d suffered, to save Jason, the child. A good deed, horribly punished, proving the old adage that no good deed goes unpunished.
I couldn’t stand watching my boss’s face. I leaned to Tandy and pointed to his drawing. “The arms of the X were more squished. And there was a little hook right there.” I pointed. “Claws. I forgot the claws. The demon’s claws were hooked, like a cat’s.” Rick and Occam looked up at that. “Retractile.” The hand and the ring were coming to life on the paper, drawn by Tandy’s pencil. It was scary.
Rick asked, “What happens if we miss our deadline and we have to kill Jason after he’s possessed?”
“The last time that happened was December sixteenth, 1811, in New Madrid, Missouri,” T. Laine said. “It resulted in the largest earthquake in the history of the United States. It had an estimated magnitude of eight point six on the Richter scale. The earthquake raised and lowered parts of the Mississippi Valley and changed the course of the Mississippi River. A thirty-thousand-square-mile area was affected, and tremors were felt on the eastern coastline of the United States. Additional earthquakes went on for months. If that happens here? An earthquake that big? The entire river valley will likely suffer a substantial upheaval,” T. Laine said. “The U.S. witch council estimated an eight point five or higher. Every power plant and dam in the valley will be damaged. Some will suffer catastrophic failure. There will be flooding like we’ve never seen. Nell’s house might be safe as long as the hilly ridges don’t fall over. The rest of us will drown.”
“Power plant,” Rick said softly. “The nuclear plant?”
“Is not secure to an eight-point-five earthquake,” T. Laine said.
“So the spell of totality is tied to LaFleur’s tattoos,” FireWind said softly.
“Yes,” T. Laine said, just as softly. “I think so.”
“If I’m dead will the spell be broken?” Rick asked.
My head snapped up. Was Rick talking about suicide to save the city?
T. Laine made a sound that might have been laughter if laughter was mostly grief. “Gebo in opposition means a lot of things, boss. Greed, privation, obligation, dependence. In your case, because of who you are, because of your natural protective instincts, it also means oversacrifice unto death. You die and the demon will just take the vampires targeted by the summoning/curse spell. You can’t stop it by dying. Jason prepared for that possibility.”
Rick looked old, the lines in his face deeply engraved, his skin sallow and tired. He turned away, spinning in his chair, his back to us, staring out over the city.
T. Laine said, “We knew the local witches were scared. We knew there was a Circle of the Moon cursing, a blood sacrifice, the Angels and Demons tarot spread, and a summoning. We knew something bad was coming.”
“But not a major prince of darkness,” FireWind said, sounding wry. “Not a curse to bring all the vampires to true-death.”
“What about the Vatican?” T. Laine asked. “Are they sending an emissary or a cardinal or whatever?”
FireWind was leaning against the doorjamb, arms crossed, watching us. He said, “I’ve been in touch with them, through a PsyLED emissary. They are assembling an entire team of exorcists, but they can’t be here by nightfall. And they aren’t willing to sacrifice a few local priests to assist us and keep the vampires alive.” He shrugged. “Undead. Their plan is to deal with the demon if the rest of us are dead and the demon is free.”
Rick shook his head. Rick was Catholic. I had no idea how he felt about FireWind’s statement. “We should have called them sooner,” he said.
“Yes. But we didn’t know, didn’t guess what Jason was really doing, until we saw the hand rise from the circle.”
“We have clues, but we still don’t know everything,” T. Laine said. “We weren’t clueless or too stupid to see the writing on the wall. It was just too big a curse to focus on. And no one expected a Major Power or Principality.”
“I’ve had encounters with demons,” Rick said.
“There is only the one in your records—” FireWind stopped. “Ahhh. The one at Spook School, when you were present for a demon who was taken into a containment vessel, and the one involving my—Jane Yellowrock.” He had almost said “my sister.”
Rick glanced at his supervisor. “The one Jane killed on national TV was summoned by the Asheville coven leader. It was called the Raven Mocker. And though I’m sure someone has left messages with her voice mail . . . ?” He glanced at JoJo, who nodded. “. . . We’re still not clear how Jane contained it or destroyed it.”
“I didn’t know you were there,” FireWind said.
JoJo, already pulling up footage of the demon’s death, said, “You can’t kill a demon.”
“Close enough,” Rick said.
The footage appeared on the screen overhead. We watched as a demon killed some humans. Then Jane, now the Dark Queen of the vampires, Ayatas’ sister, killed the demon. And the redheaded woman who had summoned it.
“Yowzers,” T. Laine said. “I had forgotten the sequence of events here.”
“Jane’s rough on her friends,” Rick said. Unspoken were the words “and her boyfriends.” “According to Jane, there was an angel present and only with that angel’s help was she able to stop it.” Rick looked as if he might say more but stopped.
“Was that demon a Major Principality?” T. Laine asked.
“No.”
“Anyone have an angel on speed dial?” Occam asked in dark humor. “Anyone try prayer?”
“Yes,” Rick said softly. “Jane’s angel hasn’t answered.”
Replaying the YouTube footage, T. Laine said, “I agree that this demon isn’t as powerful as the one Jason Ethier is calling. He’s killed two vampires and a buttload of animals in sacrifice and the demon’s still not free. If B.K.L. gets loose, we are screwed six ways to Sunday.”
I said, “The death of one wereleopard won’t be enough. How many vampires will he sacrifice tonight?”
“He’s in the lair with Godfrey and all his humans and scions,” Rick said.
“Jason would have seen the witch amulets on the prisoners they took from Mi
ng’s. He would have known what they were. My money says Jason arranged for the local vamps to find out the address, bringing more vampires to them like lambs to the slaughter,” Occam said. Which was very twisty but made sense. “If so, then Jason plans to drain every one of Knoxville’s fangheads as sacrifice, including at least three master vampires, Godefroi de Bouillon, Ming Zhane, and Lincoln Shaddock.”
“Where’s Loriann?” Rick asked. “She was being treated at the hospital after Jason’s attack.”
FireWind said, “You are tattooed to be protective of her and her brother, so I have to ask. Why do you want to know?”
“She might be the only one in the world who could stop Jason. Or at least slow him down until the team gets to him. She and Kent could set up protections for us. Maybe something that could slow down the ascension of the demon to this plane of existence. If Kent is willing to work with Loriann.”
“I will not authorize Loriann Ethier to work with our people,” FireWind said, “though I will allow her to be on-site in case we have need for hostage negotiation. The wound in her chest was bloody, but the round just nicked a small artery, in and out. She’s patched up and is currently in the null room, repenting of her ways.” He raised his brows slightly and asked T. Laine, “Do you have the restraints ready?”
“Yeah. The level-five null cuffs are painful enough to fall under the Eighth Amendment’s ‘cruel and unusual punishment’ clause, but since the U.S. witch council approved of them, no one seems to give a rat’s ass. They’ll hurt like hell, but they’ll keep her power docile.”
“Level five?” I asked.
“Brand-new,” T. Laine said, her face grim. “They work by sliding minuscule silver needles under the skin and directly into the nervous system. I happen to have two pairs. Lucky me.”
FireWind’s cell chimed and he lifted it to see the screen. A look of satisfaction crossed his face. “If they get here in time, we’ll have additional reinforcements in the form of the National Guard and a big brass observer from the DOD.”
Relief pulsed through the room, but FireWind doused it with the words, “If. Moonset and sunset are awfully close today, about ninety minutes apart. If we are right about the timing of the curse, Jason will have to drop his hedge of thorns just after seven, and he’ll begin his blood sacrifices. We’ll need to take him before he’s finished. Gear up.” He added softly, “Every weapon at your disposal even if they grate against your morality. We will be joined by SWAT led by Gonzales, Special Agent Margot Racer leading a small FBI team, a team from the Tennessee Highway Patrol, and TBI.” TBI was the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation. “I assume Ming’s and Shaddock’s former-military humans will show up prior to sunset and her former-military Mithrans just after dark. I’d like this operation in the bag when they show. Jones, you will handle communications from here. Dyson, you will be with me throughout the op. LaFleur—” He stopped. “Where is Soul? With the null room so easy to break out of, Soul is the only one strong enough to contain LaFleur.”
I said, “She disappeared when Jane Yellowrock never called us back about the Mercy Blade to try and cure Margot.”
FireWind cursed and studied Rick before shifting his yellow eyes to me. “Ingram, are you willing to drive your truck?”
I nodded.
“Is the truck bed empty?”
“Yes,” I said, confused.
“Any extra gear that won’t fit in the unit’s van will be transported in Ingram’s vehicle, along with the silver cage.”
I blinked. The silver cage? Rick’s cage?
“Kent,” he continued, “shackle Loriann Ethier. Since Soul is AWOL, she and Rick will ride with me.”
“You’re going to let Rick be there?” T. Laine said, frowning, her eyes narrowed in disagreement. “Close to Jason and the demon?”
“Loriann broke out of the null room. Do you really think it will hold a were-leopard?” FireWind asked.”If he’s with us and in a silver cage, Occam can shoot him in the leg with silver to stop a shape-change.” FireWind looked at Occam. “Do not let him free of the cage. No matter what.” Occam dropped his chin in agreement.
Feeling numb, I went to my cubicle and gathered my weapons. In my gobag I secreted extra magazines, some marked silver-lead, the others loaded with standard ammo. In a plastic zippered bag I placed the bits of bloody tissue. My secrets. In my truck was a shotgun and a plant in a clay pot—the sprig of the vampire tree.
Occam stopped at my cubicle. “Nell, sugar,” he said softly, “okay if I ride with you?”
“Fine by me, but you need to know that I’ll likely be doing some B and E this afternoon.” B and E meant breaking and entering and that statement made Occam pause.
After an uncomfortable length of time, he said, “You can take care of yourself, I know that. But . . . I’m thinking you might need backup if you’re breaking the law.”
I met his eyes, glowing a soft golden brown with his cat. “Oh. Well. In that case, I’d like you to ride with me, very much.”
* * *
• • •
We detoured to Rick’s house and found the new, hidden key. I didn’t have to resort to the threatened B and E and shatter a windowpane to get in. Unfortunately, I knew my actions were going straight to JoJo at HQ from Rick’s security cameras. All I could hope was that my illegal entry and theft would be forgiven. Or maybe the footage would disappear.
Later than we wanted, we cruised in to a prearranged address on Roseberry Road, at a small sign that said, FOR SALE. BANK OWNED. I motored down the drive, winding in until my C10 was deep in the scrub, well hidden from the street. At the back, there was a house, overgrown, ramshackle, windows and doorway boarded over. I got out, into the stifling heat, to overhear FireWind say to T. Laine, “We have the bank’s permission to use the property. Were you able to get any of the local witches to assist us with a working here?”
“No. They haven’t responded to texts, e-mails, voice mails, police stopping by with requests for help, or notes tacked to their front doors. They’ve gone to ground. I’m the only witchy woman on-site unless Loriann becomes suddenly trustworthy. And that’s not going to happen, so why don’t you tell me why she’s really here, and not some silly hostage-negotiation tale.”
FireWind glanced at the van. The side sliding door was open and Loriann was sitting on the bench seat, her legs dangling in the sunlight. Loriann was wearing a green dress with bright blotches of purple and red on it. Her hands were bound in front of her with dozens of thin twisted strands of silver wire. Among the strands were traces blood.
“The reason,” FireWind said crisply, “is that I was hoping to turn her over to the local coven until Jason is taken down. Loriann broke the lock on the null room. Jason destroyed the outer door. We can’t secure her in HQ. Jones will be alone handling comms and I don’t want her to have to step away from comms to shoot a prisoner during an interagency op.”
T. Laine blew out a breath. “Yeah. There is that. And we can’t leave Rick there for the same reason. Here you can shoot his legs full of silver if he starts to shift.”
“Precisely.”
I got out my gear. Per FireWind’s orders, I was going on a short hike, close to the house where Jason Ethier and a group of invading vampires laired. In the back of the C10, Occam snapped a blue tarp over Rick’s empty silvered cage. I made sure the shade covered my little vampire plant. It was cute, and if the tree didn’t eat puppies and try to take over the world, I’d market it.
It was still daylight, hours before the local vampires would show up at the address to attack the invading vampires. More unmarked cars and a few Highway Patrol cars drove into the deep, abandoned lot. A big SWAT vehicle, the shape of a bread truck, but heavier, bounced up the rutted drive. The bigwigs were gathering for the operation.
All across Knoxville and neighboring counties, Homeland Security and FEMA were on alert. The governor’s office was f
lying in an observer. The public had been notified that an unspecified threat had been detected and citizens were being asked to stay off the streets.
I thought about Mud. About my family. About leaving Mud with Esther. I’d had no other sensible choice. I’d just left my sisters there, together, protected by Jedidiah as best he could. If there was a major earthquake, no place in Knoxville except the heart of Soulwood would be safer than a compound full of hillbillies, supplies, and weapons.
I tossed my faded pink blanket over my shoulder and tied the laces of my field boots. I was going to read the land and see what I could see. And my cat-man was going with me. “That’s close enough, Nell, sugar.”
I stopped, the weeds up to my knees, beggar-lice all over my jeans, along with a few ticks. Beggar-lice were traveling seeds, hitching a ride on any convenient cloth or pelt or fur. I flicked them and the bloodsuckers away. “They’re vampires, cat-boy. With the exception of Godfrey, who would have to slather sunscreen all over himself to step outside, they’re asleep.”
“The witch might be awake. Demons never sleep.”
“Sure they do,” I said, before I thought.
“And you know that how?”
Oops. I didn’t answer, suddenly concentrating on a particularly insolent little tick who seemed to like denim. “I love every creature on God’s earth, except ticks and roaches,” I said. “Why can’t ticks drain roaches and roaches eat ticks? That would be perfect, don’t you think?”
Occam’s voice dropped, all silky and dangerous. “Did you read the land alone? Go looking for a demon? Alone?”
