Dave’s manifestation gave her a reassuring smile. “If I start smelling bacon, I’ll let go.”
Erica took a deep breath and reached out a hand. He wrapped glowing fingers around hers, and she inhaled sharply, smelling ozone. A psychic buzz vibrated through her, the same feeling she got whenever she touched Jake’s manifestation.
Concentrating, Erica worked to split her aura into two layers again before sending a tendril of energy to brush his mystical form. Even shielded, the burn was fierce and immediate. Though the circle’s magic was far greater -- drawing as it did on the power of the earth -- Dave’s was so much more concentrated.
Erica gestured, drawing another dragon, this one even bigger and brighter than the last, then sent it soaring around them. Drawing on Dave’s power as cold sweat rolled down her spine, she fed it more and more magic.
“Take more,” he murmured. “Don’t be afraid of it. I won’t let it hurt you.” He grinned. “Jake would never forgive me.”
Setting her jaw, ignoring the acid burn beginning to spread over her skin, she drew in more and more Feral magic, feeding it to her dragon. The magical construct began to radiate a rainbow of colors, growing as it flew, its wings beating faster as it circled them.
An image flashed through her mind -- Bobby staring up into her face, his eyes impossibly wide. His face shifted, taking on the sharper angles of his brother’s, until it was Jake staring up at her, begging her to save him. Pleading for forgiveness.
The magic shifted in her grip, escaping her control to plunge into Dave’s. Distantly she heard his startled gasp as pain screamed through her, searing the base of her brain in an explosion of light.
She screamed. Everything went black.
Chapter Sixteen
Erica opened her eyes to see a tiger’s massive head blocking out the sky. She jerked with a yelp of alarm.
“Hey!” Dave said, as the tiger quickly retreated from her wild stare. “Hey, it’s me. You’re okay. I think you’re okay.” He looked around. “Is she okay?”
Genevieve bent over her, replacing the cat. Her aura blazed, and Erica felt the feathery brush of her friend’s magic. “Looks that way. Are you all right, Erica? Anything hurting?”
Her skull was throbbing in time to her pulse, and she groaned, dropping back down to cover her eyes with both hands. “God, my head is killing me.”
“I’m not surprised, considering how fast you were pulling power at the end. You’ve got to be more careful when you do that trick. Can you sit up?”
Erica lowered her hands and considered the question cautiously. “I think so.”
“Let’s give it a try.” Genevieve took one of her hands and slid an arm around her waist, helping her into a sitting position.
Erica groaned as her head thumped like a bass drum. “That wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done. Got any Excedrin?”
* * *
Fifteen minutes later, she was sitting in Gen’s kitchen, polishing off a glass of water to wash down the aspirin.
“You never did have a well-developed sense of self-preservation,” Dave told her.
“Look who’s talking.”
He flicked his tail and shook his huge head. “You and Jake really are made for each other. Both of you are stubborn as hell.”
Erica stiffened.
Genevieve’s red eyebrows climbed. “Well, that’s not a happy expression. What’s the King of the Jungle done now?”
“Jumped her because she almost got herself killed.” Dave rolled over on his back so that all four feet were in the air. He covered his eyes with one big forepaw. “I swear, that boy could fuck up a wet dream.”
“He also can’t keep his mouth shut,” Erica growled.
The tiger lowered a paw to glare. “You’re no better. We’ve talked about this.”
“He roared at another cop!” She held up two fingers pinched together. “He came about this far from getting fired. Cops must keep their heads or people get killed. And Jake and I are really lousy for each other’s self-control.”
Dave flipped over onto his stomach and stared up at her, ears rotated forward. “So what you’re saying is it’s not just him who’s got a problem.”
Erica ground her teeth. “No, it’s not just him.”
Genevieve headed to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of wine and a Mellow Microbrew, then reached into the cupboard for a pair of wineglasses and a bowl. Digging a corkscrew out of a drawer, she asked, “So what are you going to do about it?”
Erica opened her mouth to tell the Arcanist she didn’t want to talk about it -- only to realize she did. Maybe talking it out would help. “Only thing I can do. I broke it off.”
Genevieve filled Dave’s bowl with beer and put it down in front of him, then poured wine in their glasses and strolled over to hand one to Erica. “And that’s going to make you happy?”
Erica sipped the wine -- a chilled, fruity Riesling -- before she answered. “Sometimes it’s not what makes you happy. It’s what makes you less miserable.”
Genevieve sat down and sipped her wine, her eyes very green and direct. “I’ll admit a romance with a Feral can be pretty damned complicated. Sometimes it’s downright dangerous. But it’s got its rewards too.” One corner of her mouth quirked up. “And not just that.”
“But if you want to talk about that,” Dave said brightly, looking up from his beer, “I’m here for you.”
Genevieve reached down, grabbed his twitching tail tip and gave it a tug. “Shush.”
“You have no shame,” Erica told him with a reluctant grin.
He widened his big gold eyes in an attempt at innocence that failed completely. “Shame? I’m not familiar with this concept.”
“Yeah, we noticed.”
Gen toyed with her wine glass a moment. “Are you really so sure giving him up will make you less miserable?”
Erica opened her mouth to answer… and hesitated.
“I didn’t think so. Maybe you need to give that one a little more thought.”
* * *
The next morning, Jake was trying to keep his mind off Erica when the call came in. “Alpha 23, Laurel County dispatch. I have a 911 hang up at 320 Blackstone Court. The female caller was screaming at someone when the call cut out. Sounded like a man.”
“Laurel County, Alpha 23 en route.” He put the address in his GPS, activated lights and sirens, and hit the gas.
Nine times out of ten, a 911 hang up turned out to be someone’s four-year-old playing on the phone. But the raised voices suggested this was a domestic, and domestics could get seriously ugly.
As he accelerated, Erica’s voice spoke. “Laurel County, Alpha 22. Backing up Alpha 23. ETA ten minutes.” Which put her at roughly the same distance from the address as he was, since it was on the outskirts of his patrol zone.
Evidently, Erica hadn’t liked the description of that call any more than he had. Despite the situation, his heart lifted. He knew he was being ridiculous. Any zone partner would do the same. But the more often he and Erica worked together, the more chances he got to prove they could work together without him fucking it up…
Damn it, Nolan, keep your mind on the job and off your dick.
Some instinct made him kill his siren as he drove into the development. It was a thoroughly middle-class neighborhood, a blend of new construction and older homes. Which meant absolutely nothing when it came to domestic violence. The middle-class and the rich were just as likely to beat their wives as anyone living in a trailer park.
Jake slowed the cruiser as he approached the house, killing his blue lights. He’d rather not find the homeowner waiting at the door with a gun.
He had the feeling this was that kind of call.
A cranberry-red Honda Accord was parked halfway on the grass, half on the driveway that sloped upward to the house. Black skid marks striped the concrete leading from the garage, as if the driver had peeled rubber pulling out, only to lose control of the car.
“I do not l
ike the looks of that,” Jake muttered. He parked the car diagonally in the drive, passenger side toward the house, in case he needed to use the unit as cover from gunfire. “Laurel County, Alpha 23 on scene.”
“10-4, Alpha 23.”
Clarence? he thought, reaching for their link as he got out of the car. With a soft chuff of greeting, the lion filled his consciousness and burst into full manifestation around him.
Better than a bulletproof vest.
Jake straightened, magically drawing on the cat’s acute leonine hearing, and scented the air. He didn’t hear anything but Clarence’s psychic growl of warning, but there was a faint hint of something magical and rank on the air. He drew his Glock.
A car engine rumbled as Erica’s cruiser rounded the corner and pulled into the drive. She parked diagonally next to his car and got out, staring at the house, eyes grim. He gave her a hand signal to follow and moved toward the car.
Erica drew her gun, aiming it at the ground in a two-handed grip as she followed. “Somebody’s working some really dark magic in that house.” She nodded at the Accord. “And it’s affecting whoever’s in that car.”
Jake stopped, tensing. “Is there a MEED?” The last thing he wanted to do was trigger a magical bomb. Or, God forbid, a spell trap that drives me crazy as Bobby.
She hesitated, frowning. “I don’t think so. It looks like a feedback loop, as if magic is flowing from the house into the driver and back again.”
Closing his eyes, he looked toward the car. A sullen red magical nimbus surrounded the vehicle, but he couldn’t tell what it did. Which was no surprise. If Erica couldn’t identify it, he certainly wouldn’t be able to.
“Shit.” Her voice took on an urgent, alarmed note as she switched on her body cam, holstered her weapon, and moved fast toward the car. “Whoever that is, I think they’re dying.”
“Oh, hell.” Transferring his Glock to his right hand, he activated his own body cam, then grabbed his mic to radio Dispatch. “Laurel County, Alpha 23. I need an ambulance at 320 Blackstone Court, and we need backup. It looks like a Code 76 with unknown injuries. I’ll give you the details as we get them.” As he spoke, he shadowed Erica, ready to step in and surround her with his manifestation if things went sideways.
There was a tense pause as the dispatcher digested the fact that the department’s magical heavy hitters were calling for backup on a magical crime. “10-4, Alpha 23.” There was a definite oh shit note in her voice. “Be advised multiple units are tied up with a search for a subject who fired on a deputy in Daniels.”
Fuck. The town of Daniels was on the opposite end of the county. God only knew how long it would take backup to arrive from there. Jake bit back a curse. “10-4, dispatch.”
As Laurel County dispatch went into a flurry of radio traffic, Erica jerked the Accord’s door open. A woman sat slumped in the driver’s seat, her head lolling, her face slack.
“Ma’am?” Leaning in, Erica laid two fingers on the woman’s throat, searching for a pulse. “Meghan. Meghan O’Reilly?” So she must know the woman from somewhere. “Can you tell me what happened? Who’s doing this to you?”
“Wha…” O’Reilly stirred, then jerked as if coming awake, a note of panic entering her voice. She lifted her hands as if to ward off a blow. “Ray… no, Ray, no… Not Noah…”
“Meghan, who’s Ray?” Erica’s voice sharpened into a demand. “Who’s Noah?”
“My son,” the woman moaned. “Bastard’s sacrificing… my son… in a spell…”
Oh, holy fuck.
* * *
Muscles clenching, Erica stared into Meghan O’Reilly’s bruised face. Somebody had hit her in the jaw at least once. Her skin was pale, clammy with shock to the touch, her green eyes vague over bloodless lips. She didn’t look like the same defiant shop owner who’d tried to rip off Wanda Jefferies over a cocktail ring last week. Did you try to scam the wrong guy this time?
Because someone was using magic to kill Meghan as well as her son.
“Who’s sacrificing Noah?” Erica demanded. She and Jake needed more information if they wanted to save the boy. If they charged in blind, the Arcanist might murder the kid on the spot, or trigger a booby trap that could kill them all. “What’s the spell do?”
“Ray… my boyfriend… He cut Noah. Bleeding him for the spell… Ray’s a drug dealer. Al… chemist…” Her eyes narrowed, and dull recognition flickered in her eyes. “Wait… I know you. You’re that… cop. Told you I needed the money. Your fault. He’s doing this because a’ you…”
No, he’s doing this because you moved in with a drug dealer with a taste for human sacrifice. Erica drew a look over her shoulder at Jake, still surrounded by the blaze of his manifestation. “Spell must be targeting her through her blood link to her son.”
“We’ve got to get in that house now,” Jake growled, his deep voice reverberating with Clarence’s magic. “We can’t afford to wait for backup. I’m not even sure any’s on the way. You call Lieutenant Williams while I put her in the back of my car. She needs to be prone with her legs raised or she’s going to code.”
Erica stepped back and plucked her department cell off her belt. The Alpha shift supervisor picked up on the first ring. “Harris? What have we got?” Lt. Williams’ voice was crisp with tension. He must have been listening to the radio traffic.
She briefed him quickly. “Nolan and I are going in. Judging by O’Reilly’s condition, the boy must be in pretty bad shape.”
“You think he’s still alive?”
“Yes, or his mother would already be dead.” She looked toward the house, eyeing the stream of burning red energy now swirling around Jake’s patrol car since he’d put the woman in the back seat. It had gotten brighter in the few moments they’d been here, probably building strength as this Ray bled the boy. “I’m afraid if we don’t get in there in the next five minutes, we’ll be too late. If I can break the spell fast enough, we may be able to save him.”
“Do it. I’m mobilizing SWAT and sending all the manpower we can spare from that search. Be careful. And good luck.”
They were going to need it.
* * *
The front door was locked. Jake slammed a booted foot into the thick door beside the knob, and the deadbolt shrieked as it ripped through the wood frame. The door flew open to bounce against the inner wall.
Fully manifested, he stalked inside, Erica at his heels. Weapons drawn, they scanned for attackers. “Laurel County Sheriff’s Office!”
A short foyer lay before them, an arched doorway on the right. Erica let Jake lead the way. His manifestation would deflect any gunfire short of a sustained burst with an AR-15.
“Keep your fucking distance!” a male voice shouted, pitched a little high with a kind of manic hysteria.
“I don’t think so.” Jake prowled into the room, the shell of his lion glowing around him.
A pudgy redheaded man knelt in the center of a triple ring of revolving sigils, the sprawled form of a child lying in front of him. The boy looked perhaps nine years old, a sturdy-looking kid in a sweatshirt and jeans. He stared at them, his green eyes dazed in a face smeared with tears, snot and blood. Erica saw a resemblance to his mother in the eyes, the shape of his mouth, and the curve of his jaw.
The two were surrounded by a pool of bright red on the gleaming blond hardwood floor. The blood welled from slashing cuts in Noah’s left forearm.
Ahead of her, Erica saw Jake’s big shoulders tense inside the glow of his manifestation. “If you don’t let that child go, I’m going to fucking kill you!” The last two words emerged as a shattering leonine roar that made the killer jump.
Noah cried out, his weak voice inaudible as the house vibrated with the echoes of Jake’s rage. Instinctively, Erica reached out with her aura, trying to touch the boy’s, soothe his terror. But when her power hit the outer ring of sigils, light exploded in her head as if she’d run headlong into a brick wall.
Yeah, not good. Erica stepped to one side, try
ing to get clear of the blinding nimbus of Jake’s magic. She needed to see the spell Ray had cast.
Erica frowned, eyeing the blazing sigils rotating in the air. The working was far brighter than it should’ve been, given the power of Ray’s aura. Had Meghan helped him cast it?
No, the witch didn’t have that much power, either.
Great, a third Talent is involved in this shit storm. But when she reached out with her senses, she didn’t detect anyone else in the house either. Thank God for that. We’re going to have our hands full as it is.
Ray stared at Jake, one hand holding a knife with a wavy blade and a black handle -- an athame, or ritual knife. His blue eyes were too wide in his round face, which was stubbled as if he hadn’t shaved in a couple of days. Sweat slicked his skin, and smears of blood marked his forehead and cheeks as if he’d tried to wipe it away with bloody hands.
Judging by the bloodshot eyes in the blown pupils, he was flying very high on something. Probably Tink, the illegal stimulant some Arcs used to enhance their magical abilities. Fairy Dust was addictive as hell, with long term use triggering paranoia, psychosis, and, eventually, heart attacks.
“Keep your distance, Simba, or I’ll cut the kid.” Ray pressed the tip of the knife against the child’s chest. Noah stared up at the bloody blade, his eyes huge and hopeless. “You don’t have a prayer of getting through my wards.”
Erica ground her teeth. We’ll see about that, motherfucker.
Whoever had created that spell circle had known what they were doing. As Jake and Ray exchanged insults and threats, Erica studied its outer ring, looking for any sigil that was dim or misshapen. All she had to do was disrupt the spell at that weakness, and she could crack the ward like an egg.
Damned if she saw one. Each one of the sigils was as sharp and bright as though someone had formed them with laser beams. She didn’t…
Wait. There. There was a gap between two of the sigils that was a fraction greater than the space between the others. Extruding a tendril of her aura, Erica shaped it into a long, thin spear, drawing on her magic to feed more and more power to the probe. Good thing Ray’s high on Tink and thoroughly focused on Jake, or I’d never get away with this.
Arcane Heart (Talents Book 2) Page 22