I angled my head toward Asa’s voice, careful to avoid admiring his bare torso or the dress pants slung low on his hips from his other form stretching the waistband to the breaking point. Okay, fine, so I took it all in. For science. Medical science. He had been shot, after all. He might need a field medic. I wasn’t one, but I did have a poultice or two in my kit that might patch him up until we got back to the cabin.
“You’re bleeding,” I said, proving my grasp on stating the obvious.
Unconcerned, he kept his stare fixed on me. “This changes things.”
Our simple zombie case had blown up in our faces, and we had to dig through the debris for fresh clues.
“We need to head back.” I stood before him, fingers running down his taut abdomen, the muscles clenching beneath my examination. “You’re hurt, and we need to get your wounds treated.”
Sliding one hand behind my neck, he pulled me toward him until I was close enough for him to touch his forehead to mine. “Your concern honors me, but I’ll be fine.”
“I’m fine too.” Clay gripped my arm, hauling me back. “Don’t worry about the holes in me, Rue.”
The sudden movement cause the daemon to burst from Asa’s skin in a flash of fire. “Mine.”
“Not yours,” I reminded him, shoving him back for good measure. “Clay was right to break us apart.”
Many times, I had read about the phenomenon of the world shrinking until it only held two people.
That moment, with Asa, was the first time I had experienced the heady rush for myself.
I yelled at those heroines, ready to throw their books at the wall. I called them total idiots for letting their guard down in battle just to smooch their hero. Yet there I had stood, recycling Asa’s air, with a dead body a foot away.
I was a total idiot.
“As much as I would love to go back to the cabin, we’ve created a problem.” Clay glanced between us. “If that was the zombigo’s—which is still a dumbass name—handler, then we’ve just unleashed it.”
“Any active workings would have died with her,” I disagreed, confident in my assessment. “She was too weak to leave a lasting construct.”
The zombigo, wherever it had gone, ought to have collapsed where it stood when she died.
Our backup team could track it down, by smell alone, and cremate the remains.
Problem solved.
Case closed.
Go team!
Phone still in hand, Clay puffed out his cheeks. “We’ve got an ID.”
“Really?” I frowned at his reaction. “That was fast.”
“The Kellies use facial recognition software to help identify agents killed in the line of duty these days.” He flashed his screen at me. “That was Annie Waite.”
“A Black Hat black witch,” I supplied as I skimmed the bio the Kellies attached from her file. “No way was she powerful enough to reanimate a gnat, let alone a wendigo. Lovely. That means she’s got a partner, a more powerful black witch, out here somewhere.”
“Rogue agents?” Clay cut his eyes toward the darkened trees. “Anyone else experiencing déjà vu?”
First David Taylor, then Annie Waite, and now a third black witch gone dark side?
The Bureau hit bumps in the road, sure, but that was to be expected when you blackmailed, kidnapped, bought, stole, traded, or threatened agents into service rather than recruiting them through, say, hiring fairs. But this much upheaval? It was dangerous. For humans, for agents, and for the director.
“How much power is required for reanimation?”
Asa was back, his transformations giving me whiplash, and his wounds seeped with fresh blood.
The ironclad grip Clay kept on my arm kept me rooted to the spot as I tuned in Asa’s heartbeat.
Ba-bum, babumbabumbabum, ba-bum.
“You can’t hold that form.” I tuned him out just as fast. “That’s why you keep shifting back and forth.”
Upon hearing that, Clay released me to inspect his partner’s wounds. “The bullets were cold iron.”
“Yes,” Asa hissed on an exhale, as if giving up the charade of invincibility hurt worse than the injuries.
“Let’s get him back to the cabin.” I circled them. “We need to make sure he purges those bullets.”
“You two go ahead.” Clay stared off in the distance. “I’m going to make the circuit, see what I see.”
“She came armed for fae.” I wedged my shoulder under Asa’s armpit to help support him. “That’s more proof she knew who and what she was luring here.”
A bullet was a bullet as far as witches go. The expensive upgrade had nothing to do with me.
Thanks to my previous dietary habits, and my genes, I would most likely survive anything short of having my heart pulped or my brain scrambled. But cold-iron rounds were specific ammunition for hunting fae.
That witch, whoever she was, had expected Asa and come ready to take him out.
Did that mean she was targeting him? Or simply that she knew Clay was the unstoppable force?
Bullets didn’t much matter to golems either. He would repair the damage within hours.
“Call if you run into trouble.” Clay kissed my forehead. “Be careful, Dollface.”
“You too.” I returned my attention to Asa. “You okay to walk back?”
“I can manage,” he grunted and pulled away from me. “I shouldn’t put so much weight on you.”
“I can take it.” I tightened my arm around him, forcing him to lean on me, and we set out toward the cabin. “Trust me.”
“I do.” He rested his chin against my temple for a beat. “Thank you.”
“You got shot protecting me. This is the least I can do.”
A rustle in the leaves drew my eye toward the branches overhead, and I half expected for Annie to make her demands of me again. About the time I talked down my paranoia, an ominous prickle stung the base of my neck, and a low growl spilled into the cool air. The foul stink hit next, blurring my vision with tears.
Asa was in a bad way, worse than I first thought, if he hadn’t clued into the problem yet.
“We’re going to take a little break.” I eased him to a stop then helped him sit. “Just rest for a minute.”
His head lolled against the trunk, his hair tangling in the bark, and he gave no sign of hearing me.
Heck of a time for the team to decide to split up, just when I could have used Clay’s muscle to carry Asa.
With Asa leaving a blood trail, the zombigo must have decided we made easy pickings and followed us.
The fact it was tracking us confirmed its maker was still out there, so good news/bad news?
Drawing my wand, I stood over Asa, putting the tree at our backs. I had seconds to gather my intent to ready a spell before the creature burst from the underbrush, drool stringing its jaw as it snapped at my throat. I stabbed the wand tip under its chin, and my simple defensive exploded in white light, the blast far beyond my capabilities.
The beam shot through the top of its skull, straight to the moon. Smoldering leaves rained down over us, and smoke rose from its charred limbs. The zombigo did a stagger-step forward, its claws raking the air, and then it collapsed at my feet in a sizzling heap of rot.
A wave of white-hot fury zinged through me as I scanned the treetops until I spotted a white orb.
“Get your fuzzy butt down here,” I snapped out at Colby. “And dim that glow.”
The moth did her best to drag her arrival out for as long as possible, until she spotted Asa and cried out.
“Hair bow time.” I pointed at my head. “Now.” I waited until she lit then turned to Asa. “Still with me?”
With his eyes shut, his head tipped back, lips parted, he could have been sleeping.
Or dead.
Arrowing my senses toward his heartbeat, I listened to its faint but steady thumping.
For once in my life, I wasn’t made hungry by the enticement. I was too frantic over his quick decline.
; Afraid to take my eyes off Asa, I dictated a text to Clay to let him know what happened then set to work.
“I’m sorry,” Colby whispered from the top of my head. “I didn’t know he was hurt.”
“You promised to stay in the cabin.” Fear for them both sharpened my tone. “What were you thinking?”
“The magic called me.” She burrowed closer to my scalp. “I was playing my game, and I heard it.”
Hooking my hands under Asa’s armpits, I heaved with everything in me to get him swaying on his feet.
“The magic spoke to you?” I coaxed him one step, but he was dead weight. “Does it have any advice?”
Huh.
So that was how desperation tasted on the tongue.
I’d never heard of magic talking to a person, but Colby was a singularity. Who was to say magic, her magic, wouldn’t respond to her differently? The fact I made her my familiar had nothing to do with her power. I was only able to bond with her because she had it. Where it originated, aside from within her own soul, I had no clue. Her purity, her innocence, upon her death was what magnified that kernel until it exploded.
Air stirred across my scalp as she fluttered her wings, and a fission of excitement sparked in her. “Yes.”
“Okay.” I leaned him back against the tree. “I’m open to suggestions.”
I had lost my mind if I thought, for one second, taking advice from a disembodied voice was smart.
But Asa…wasn’t moving. He was barely breathing. His heart had all but given up on him.
I had nothing to lose by thinking outside the magical box.
Except him.
And I couldn’t look too closely at why that caused my own heart to break into a panicked sprint.
“We can heal him.” She hopped down onto my shoulder. “Maybe?”
“Maybe isn’t great for me.” I clutched my wand tighter. “I need you to be sure.”
Otherwise, we might cook his brain the way I flambéed the zombigo.
“We can…” she tilted her head, “…remove the bullets.”
Not without a knife, tweezers, flashlight, and a metal-detecting spell. “We can?”
“Yes.” She climbed up onto his shoulder. “Then he’ll heal.”
His knees buckled at that slight touch, and he slid through my arms to hit the damp earth.
“Asa?” I shoved the hair away from his face. “Can you hear me?”
“We need to do this.” Colby scurried onto his chest. “Hurry, Rue.”
With no sign of Clay, the only hope I had of getting him to the cabin, I had to side with her.
“Okay.” I clamped my eyes shut, my stomach roiling. “I’ll try.”
Low in her throat, Colby began to hum a tune that struck me as familiar. Her glow increased in time with its cadence, until she was as luminous as the moon on a starless night. When it hurt to look at her, she quit her song. Her brilliance was a balm to my dark soul, and I soaked in her goodness until it filled me.
“Now,” she breathed, her voice a vibration on the air. “Do it now.”
Wand hot in my hand, I touched it to the puckered edge of the worst of his injuries and shoved power into him until beams of light shone from the bullet holes, piercing the darkness like searchlights. His wounds, they…boiled…the blood foaming as the battered projectiles were ejected in metallic lumps. The raw skin sizzled and hissed as magic cauterized his injuries from the inside out, leaving a burnt-flesh smell behind.
The magic fizzled out of me, and I sank onto my haunches. I put away the wand and smoothed my hands over Asa’s chest and abdomen, stunned at the miracle Colby had worked through me with her magic. He would live. Already his heart thumped stronger in my ears, and his lids fluttered as he fought to surface.
Anger drove me to pick up a malformed bullet, and I squeezed it until the metal bit into my palm.
“Rue,” he exhaled my name, his voice a thready rasp of sound.
“I’m right here.” I clasped hands with him, pocketing the bullet. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“We did it.” Colby shot for the moon. “We did it.”
“You mean you didn’t know it would work?” I gawped at her. “I told you—”
“I heard a voice in my head, and you decided to listen to it.” She spread her hands. “It was fifty-fifty.”
As much as I wanted to snap at her, she had me there. I had known the risks and chosen to take them.
Heavy footsteps announced Clay’s arrival, and he jerked to a stop beside the charred zombigo.
“What the f—” he spotted Colby, “—fudgesicle happened here?” Then he sniffed. “What’s that smell?”
“Asa.” I squeezed his hand harder. “Colby healed him.”
A long whistle escaped Clay as he took in the proud moth’s fading glow. “Impressive, Shorty.”
“Can you help me get him back to the cabin?” I stared down at Asa. “He’s still out of it.”
“I’ll handle it.” He clamped a hand on my shoulder. “You did good, Dollface.”
“All I did was channel Colby.” I covered his hand with mine. “It was all her.”
“Ammo is no use without a gun.” He grimaced. “Okay, poor analogy, but you get me.”
“I do.” I smiled to show him it was okay. “You go ahead. I’ll hang back and finish up here.”
“Not happening,” he said cheerfully. “Miracle moth or no miracle moth, we’re not separating again.”
Given there was at least one more witch on the prowl, I couldn’t argue with his caution.
“Asa.” I traced the curve of his cheek with my free hand. “I’ll be right back, okay?”
His fingers tightened on mine, holding me to him, and I almost caved to his silent request for me to stay.
“I’m here now.” Clay knelt beside Asa. “I won’t let Rue out of my sight.” He patted Asa’s leg. “Promise.”
The vow carried enough weight that Asa let me go, but I didn’t venture far. Just to the zombigo’s corpse.
“Are we not going to talk about the moth in the room?” Clay shot her a mock glare. “You jailbroke.”
Leaving her to explain herself, I snapped several photos for our report before I touched my wand to its leg and pushed enough of my own magic into the body to render it to fine ash I kicked across the earth.
After rejoining Clay and Colby, I gritted my teeth against the urge to help when he lifted Asa in his arms. I had the oddest thought it had something to do with his hair, with some jealous urge to scoop it up and hold it away from Clay so it no longer touched his skin. Clearly, I was losing my mind, but I did wonder.
Curling my itchy fingers into my palms, I asked, “Will you get in trouble for touching his hair?”
“Nah.” Clay ruffled Asa’s hair to prove his point. “I have no sexual organs, and I can’t reproduce.”
According to him, the absence of genitalia did not equate a deficit of imagination, skill, or pleasure.
“What does that have to do with anything?” I frowned at him. “And what about Colby?”
“Colby is a child, and an extension of you, so she’s fine.” His lips pulled to one side. “The rest? Talk to him about it.”
That promised to be awkward, so I elected to pretend I hadn’t mentioned the hair, he hadn’t mentioned the lack of sexual organs, and decided we could never mention any of this again, and I would be happy.
On the trek to the cabin, I watched Clay’s back. Colby rode on my head, her legs twitching in my hair.
Pitching her voice low, she leaned over my forehead, curiosity a spark in her eyes. “No sexual organs?”
Trawling my memories, I came up with a decent comparison. “Did you have any Barbie dolls?”
“No,” she said slowly, “but I’ve seen the memes.”
Afraid to ask what memes, I plowed ahead, hoping that meant she grasped basic doll anatomy.
“Okay, well, golems are like Ken dolls. They’re sculpted from clay into a male form, but without the male part
s.” Vague was the way to go on that front. Not that I meant front like that. And now I had a mental picture of Ken’s crotch stuck in my head. “Clay identifies as male, but he’s got a friend who identifies as female, and then there’s Misha. They work in grounds security at the Black Hat compound, and they identify as neither.”
There. Nice and simple. Easy to digest.
A version of the same talk Clay had given me when I finally worked up the nerve to ask him early in our partnership.
“So, Misha is nonbinary?”
And…she left my weak sauce explanation in the dust.
Kids these days.
They had the internet at their fingertips and held the world in the palms of their hands.
“Exactly.” I glanced up at her. “How did you get so smart?”
With Colby, I often forgot she wasn’t a ten-year-old kid. She was twice that age now. She matured much slower than other kids her mental age, but she would retain her childlike innocence forever. There was a fine line between patronizing her and relating to her, and it moved often. This auntie gig was hard work.
“One of my friends, Max, prefers they/them pronouns. I got curious. The internet isn’t only for games.”
“I must have wax in my ears.” I sucked in a gasp. “I can’t believe you just said that.”
“Rue.” Her sigh rustled my eyebrows. “You are so lame.”
“Yes, well, I’m old. Old people are allowed to be lame.” I hesitated. “Did that answer your question?”
“Yeah.” She retreated to settle in. “Do you think they make wigs in my size?”
“If they can make doll wigs, they can make moth wigs.” It couldn’t be that hard. “We’ll ask Clay.”
“Nah.” Her voice went quiet. “I was just curious.”
Obviously, I wasn’t the best role model. For literally anyone. But I also hadn’t spent much time on what I started to worry might spark a trend with Colby with Clay in her life. Hair, makeup, clothes. That stuff. It hadn’t mattered to me. Ever. I trained, I studied, I practiced. That was it.
The director wasn’t much into teaching me how to be womanly, so I skated by on the bare minimum.
Lucky for me, I had that youthful glow that required no makeup to enhance, and I let it work for me.
Unlucky for all the owners of the hearts I had consumed to earn this rosy complexion.
Black Arts, White Craft (Black Hat Bureau Book 2) Page 12