“Casting the most powerful spell she can.”
Walker frowned, watching lit candles appear around the circle’s perimeter. “I thought all they had to do was wave and point.”
“Usually, but when things get hairy, they use rituals to amplify their power, especially in this dimension. My instructor said it’s kind of like directing sunlight through a magnifying glass to set something on fire.”
Masara sent them an irritated glare. “Would you be quiet? I’m trying to work.”
“Fair enough,” Walker said. “While you’re doing that, I want to search the rest of the house again. See if I can find any indication this isn’t rabid zombie rats.” He grimaced, then looked at Duncan. “Want to give me a hand?”
“Can’t. I have to be her spotter in case something goes wrong.”
Walker snorted, watching Masara climb up on the bloody bed and sink into a Lotus position. “Yeah, I can see how that might be a concern. Better you than me. This witch stuff freaks me right out.” Shaking his head, he went off to conduct his search.
Duncan moved closer until he stood at the edge of the circle. The smell of incense from the candles rose in the air, competing with the stench of dried blood and horror.
“Don’t break the circle unless you think it’s an emergency,” Masara told him.
“Yeah, I remember the class.” He also remembered some of the hair-raising stories about what could go wrong in a ritual. He just hoped none of it would happen today.
Masara closed her eyes, and magic rose up, the circle beginning to glow around her. Her dreads stirred as if in a wind as she sat in a Lotus Position, her feet hooked over her thighs, her palms resting open on her knees. She began to chant, the candle flames stretching upward, though by all rights the wind whipping through the circle should have put them out. Her dark face seemed to glow.
Duncan had no idea what language she was speaking. He didn’t think it was the Latin many Majae used in rituals; the cadence sounded more musical than that. Could be an African language, like the Swahili she’d used to name herself.
The smell of incense and ozone grew more intense, overwhelming even the smell of decaying blood. Her chanting picked up speed, growing louder, as her expression tightened with effort. Her eyes flew open. They were completely black, the sclera gone, tiny points of light sparkling against the utter darkness.
Stars. Hair rose on the back of his neck.
The psychic link snapped open between them, and she thundered into his mind. Duncan staggered as they fused until it was hard to tell where he left off and she began. Images and emotions swamped him even as he realized she didn’t even know he was there. She was totally focused on her fight to see the future -- to keep anyone else from dying. To prevent more victims from suffering as she’d suffered. Her soul still reverberated with grief for people who’d died fifteen decades before he was born.
Time ripped around him like rotten cotton. Fire exploded across his shoulders and down his back, and a horrible pressure ground between his legs, forcing its way into his body. Hurts, oh God, it hurts…
Christ, it’s a penis. Robert. She’s remembering Robert…
And then, thank God, the tearing pain was gone. A hand hit his face so hard he saw stars. A female voice shrieked, “Who do you think you are? You’re nothing! I’m no blood of yours. You’re cursed like the rest of your kind, you little slut!”
Then that too was gone, swept away as she fought to see the werewolves’ next victim. See them so she could save them…
And prove her wrong. You’re nothing!
Masara knew she wasn’t the most powerful Maja. She certainly wasn’t the most experienced. But she was, by God, the most stubborn. She would not fail these people. That would be the same as if she’d killed the victims herself. She had to find who was doing this and stop them, no matter what it took. Even if it meant dying…
Oh, fuck no, you don’t! Denial rang through Duncan’s soul like a scream. I’m not going to let you die. I’m not going to lose you!
Duncan? What are you…?
You pulled me in.
Horrified embarrassment swamped her as she realized how much he’d seen. An answering guilt stung him, as if she’d caught him peeking through her bedroom window. Hey, it wasn’t my idea…
She thrust him out of her mind so hard, he staggered and almost fell on his ass. “Damn it, Masara!”
Masara blinked, and the magic vanished from her eyes. “I didn’t know you were there. I’m sorry you…” She broke off and rubbed both hands over her face. “I couldn’t see a damn thing.” She clamped her mouth shut as the fine muscles of her jaw worked. At last she said, “But I don’t think anything’s going to happen tonight.” Rolling off the bed, she gestured. The candles disappeared, leaving behind a faint tang of incense and ozone. The smell of decaying blood rushed back, so intense it was all Duncan could do not to gag.
Walker stuck his head in the door. “Everything okay in here? I thought I heard someone shout.” His gaze flicked to Duncan, who realized it must’ve been him.
“Everything’s fine,” he said shortly.
Walker just looked at him, one eyebrow climbing.
“Do we have everything we need out of this room?” Masara’s tone sounded cool and clipped.
The sergeant frowned. “I think so. The Harringtons and I searched it earlier. Didn’t find anything beyond that.” He gestured at the bloody bed.
“Then I’m going to take care of this mess.”
They all retreated out into the hallway. Masara gestured, and a glowing barrier appeared over the door. She muttered something under her breath, and the bed ignited, blazing up like a torch. Walker hissed a curse as the ceiling caught. The whole room flashed white and the floor vibrated under them with a muffled whooooom! When the light disappeared, the walls were charred, the furniture little more than blackened sticks.
“Shit!” Walker sounded appalled. “Those are load-bearing walls! Do you want the house to collapse?”
“Please, give me a little credit.” Masara indicated the barrier over the doorway. “That barrier surrounds the room, including the floor and ceiling. It contained the blast.” Duncan felt the surge of magical effort a heartbeat before another blinding flash. A glance through the door showed the room looked complexly untouched, the walls white again, the bed whole and neatly made under a cream comforter covered in tiny blue wildflowers. Even the pictures on the wall were back, the Rand family smiling out at the world as if their lives hadn’t gone to hell forty-eight hours before.
The werewolf blinked and shot her a respectful glance. “It’s a good thing you’re one of the good guys, because we’d never catch you.”
Her lips twitched at the grudging compliment. “Come on, I need to take care of the rest of the house.”
They turned down the hallway, following the blood. Walker paused to stare at the huge bloody paw print on the floor. “Here’s what I don’t get. I’ve been around Jack when he shifts -- we used to hunt deer in Dire Wolf form. He’s maybe two-thirds this size normally. This isn’t just some kind of disease. It didn’t just drive Jack and Ellie crazy, it altered them.” The cop shook his head. “He spoke to me during that attack at the hospital. Didn’t even sound like him. Not just physically, either. The word choice was seriously weird… All that stuff about dogs and meat.”
“Which begs the question, what the hell is doing this?” Duncan said, rubbing a hand over his jaw.
Walker eyed Masara. “You guys sure you killed Warlock? Because this is the kind of shit he did. Like the guy he turned into the giant snake, or that centaur thing who killed those humans.”
Masara frowned. “Walker, I saw Arthur take the wizard’s head. Warlock’s as dead as it gets. Besides, none of the people he transformed into those creatures were werewolves when he created them. Even as powerful as Warlock was, he couldn’t cast a spell on people who were already Dire Kind. His magic didn’t work on you either. Merlin designed them that way so the Magekind c
ouldn’t cast spells on them. And if magic didn’t work on them, they couldn’t cast spells either.”
Walker flicked a finger at the paw print. “Then what’s doing this? Diseases don’t make you eight feet tall or talk like something out of a horror movie.”
Propping her fists on her hips, she stared down at the bloody prints. “I have no idea.”
Chapter Seven
When they gated to the Harrington home half an hour later, they found Amy sitting on the couch with her husband. She rose to her feet, her gaze measuring and wary, with painful hope beneath. “How did it go?”
Not good. I don’t think we can save your parents. But Masara couldn’t bring herself to say the words aloud. “I cleaned the house. Everything is back to rights.”
A fraction of the tension left Amy’s shoulders. “Thank you. Do you have any idea what caused them to…” She broke off, as if unable to finish the sentence.
“I’m still working on it. It’s not a spell, that much I know. The only magic I detected is werewolf magic.”
“What about Warlock’s daughter, Miranda Justice? And her husband. Maybe they could help.”
“Yes, and I’m sure they will. But the Magekind are in the middle of a battle right now, and they’re too powerful to be spared.”
“An actual battle?” Amy stared at her. “Who are they fighting? Nobody human is a match for…”
“The war’s on Mageverse Earth. There’s this race called the Fomorians, and their king is intent on conquering…” It was too complicated to get into. “Never mind. They’re tied up right now, but I’m sure they’ll help when they can.”
As if trying to help smooth things over, Walker said, “I issued a BOLO for your parents’ SUV. We know they took it. Once someone spots it, that should give us a place to look. In the meantime, you and I need to fill out a missing person’s report.”
“Yes, of course.”
He nodded. “The paperwork’s in my SUV. I’ll go get it.”
Fifteen minutes later, Masara watched as the cop and the Harringtons worked their way through the report. A headache throbbed behind her eyes, a warning that she’d worked far too much magic today.
“So,” Duncan murmured, “if I were a mutated werewolf bitten by rabid zombie rats, what would I do next? Who’s my next target?”
Masara blinked as cold realization struck, abrupt as a bullet. She lifted her voice to catch the cop’s attention. “I need a word with you, Sergeant.”
Walker looked up at her, then told the Harringtons, “Give me a minute. I’ll be right back.”
Masara, Duncan, and the werewolf stepped out into the hall. “Somebody needs to watch this house,” she told them in a low voice. “If Jack attacked his wife so he could infect her, he might come after his daughter and her family next. That may be the reason why I couldn’t scry anything. If his next targets are werewolves…”
“That’s a damned good point,” Walker said. He fell silent a long moment, frowning as if considering the angles. “Normally I’d try to get my lieutenant to assign someone to keep an eye on things, but that’s obviously not an option with this.”
“We’re going to have to do it ourselves,” Masara agreed. She studied the big cop. “How long has it been since you had any sleep?”
He sighed. “About forty-eight hours. Not the best circumstances for a stakeout.”
“I’ve had more sleep than either of you,” Duncan said. “I can take the first watch.”
“And I could put a ward up around the house,” Masara said thoughtfully. “Something to alert us and delay them from getting inside until we can put a stop to it.”
“Would that kind of magic even work on them?” Walker asked.
“The Direkind may be immune to magic, but you’re not immune to electricity. A ward designed to generate an electric discharge when it’s broken would stop you in your tracks.”
“It could also prove an ugly surprise for the garbage man.”
“Not if I key it to respond only to those with magic. Besides, the idea isn’t to kill anyone, just slow them down long enough for us to mount a defense.”
“That might work. The problem is, I’m on duty from eight a.m. to six p.m. I could be here by six-thirty, but that leaves you alone for several hours while Duncan is in his Daysleep. You can call me if there’s an attack and I’ll come running, but it would still take me time to get here.”
“Didn’t you say there were other werewolves in town?” Duncan asked. “Couldn’t some of them back her up?”
Walker rubbed his chin, considering it. “Maybe. There are ten of us, counting me, our bad guys, and the Harringtons. Two others are elderly. Another is a single mother with kids, so she’s out. There are a couple of single guys, though. I could call, see if they can give us a hand.”
Duncan looked back into the living room, where Tom sat with his arms around his wife, whispering into her hair. “We’d probably better give the Harringtons a head’s up too, especially if we’re going to be hanging out in the yard and setting up electricity-generating spells.”
“I’ll take care of that,” Masara told him.
“Good. I’ll make those calls.”
While he walked off down the hall, Duncan and Masara started hashing out the details of the plan. He wasn’t particularly pleased when she told him he’d have to gate back to the Mageverse during the Daysleep.
“If you’re in a coma, you’re nothing but a hostage,” she argued. “We did that when Warlock invaded Avalon. A swarm of werewolves grabbed Arthur and his knights and hauled them around like sacks of flour. If a fairy goddess hadn’t taken an interest, we’d all be dead. So, no, not doing that again. You’re sleeping at the house in the morning.”
“What if you’re butt deep in werewolves by the time I wake up, and I’m stuck in the Mageverse? I’d have to go find someone to gate me.”
“I’ll put a gate spell on your armor. It’ll transport you wherever I am.”
“Jesus. Would you at least try Belle again?”
So she did. And once again, got nothing but a blast of mystical static.
When Walker stomped around the corner wearing a pissed expression, Duncan swore in sheer frustration. “That about sums it up,” the cop said. “According to their grandma, both those idiots are in fricking jail in Daytona Beach. Got drunk and disorderly and busted up a bar. And to put the cherry on the shit sundae, they put another guy in the hospital, so they’re charged with aggravated assault. Only decent part of the whole thing is at least they weren’t furry at the time. They won’t even be able to see a judge until sometime tomorrow afternoon. No way are they going to be back in time to do us any damn good.” He scrubbed his hands through his hair. “Then I tried to call the Wolf Sheriff.” Whom he’d said was the enforcer for the Council of Clans. “He’s currently in California, hunting a werewolf serial killer there who’s murdered six women, which is why I couldn’t get his help with this to begin with. Only I couldn’t get through, not to him or any other werewolf I know.”
Masara frowned. “That’s… odd.”
“It’s more than odd,” Duncan growled. “It reminds me of something my old CO used to say: ‘Once is bad luck, twice is coincidence, but three times is enemy action.’”
Walker looked at him. “Flying rabid zombie rats who own stock in Verizon?”
“You explain it.”
“Fuck me,” the werewolf groaned. “What are we going to do?”
Masara sighed. “Go get some sleep. I’ve got to think about this. If it is enemy action, there’s got to be some way to figure out who, what, where, and why.”
Duncan swore some more. It didn’t help.
* * *
Thoroughly disgusted, Walker headed home to catch what sleep he could while Masara and Duncan briefed the Harringtons. She explained what she had in mind as the couple looked increasingly worried. “If you hear the wards go off, grab the kids and run. In fact, I think it would be a good idea if you arrange to be elsewhere until th
is is over.”
“You really think my parents are going to come here and infect us?” Amy looked pale, clinging to her husband’s hands as if he was the only stable thing in her world. “Infect my kids?”
“I don’t know. But given what happened with your mother, I don’t think we can afford to assume they won’t. If somebody designed this to be spread by biting, werewolves are definitely the way to do it.”
Amy nibbled her lower lip. “I want to tell you that’s nuts, but with everything going on… you’re right, we can’t assume anything.” She turned to her husband. “That credit we got on the canceled flight. Could we rebook and add the kids?”
Harrington frowned. “We can try. We’ll have to book another hotel too, but I’m sure there’s something available in New York, of all places. But…” He looked at Masara. “I should stay and help fight. Amy can get the kids to safety.”
“And if they get through us and you get yourself killed, what happens to your family?” Masara asked. “I’ve fought them. They’re a foot taller than Walker, and whatever’s happened to them has made them incredibly vicious. Do you have any combat training at all?”
“No,” Amy said. “He’s an accountant.”
Tom shot her a dirty look. “I’m still a werewolf. I can defend myself. And you need all the help you can get.”
“Not if you end up getting infected. The last thing we need is more werewolves spreading this.”
“And if you get killed, you’re not going to be able to stop anything.”
She sighed. “Look, we’ll have backup. If someone is blocking our communications, I can gate to the Mageverse and get reinforcements. We’ll have all the help we need.”
Tom hesitated. His wife gave him a look that was just shy of wild-eyed, and he sighed. “I don’t like it, but I see the point. I’ll make the reservations.” He pulled out his cell phone and hunched over it.
Amy looked equally relieved and guilty. “We can’t thank you enough for everything you’re doing. I realize you’re taking a big risk to protect us. I want to tell you we can take care of ourselves, but…”
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