Kayla’s brows rose. “What’s that?”
The witch glanced at Ray and then gave a little shrug of resignation, as if she didn’t think he’d believe her.
“Something is . . . building, like a storm rolling in off the horizon. A big one. Like a hurricane, only bigger. When it hits—if it isn’t stopped—disaster will fall upon the city. What is coming is the enemy of humans as much as it is the enemy of the witchkin.”
“Is that a foreseeing?” Kayla asked.
Raven nodded. “One of my coven has had repeated visions, but they offer little detail. Just that a great storm is coming.”
“And you believe it’s a true seeing?”
“I do. Drea has never seen wrong.”
“What makes you think it could be connected to the killings?” Ray asked.
He didn’t doubt that Raven believed every word. Some witches had a gift for prophecy. He just didn’t know how true the prophecy really was, or if they’d interpreted the vision correctly. All the same, doubting it seemed more than a little arrogant, given Magicfall and all that he’d witnessed since. It didn’t pay to take magic lightly.
“The flow of energies,” was Raven’s not-so-helpful reply. She looked at Kayla. “If I’m reading things right, everything depends on you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Whatever is coming, you can still stop it. Soon you won’t be able to.”
The witch held up her hand when Kayla started to ask more questions. “I’ve told you all I can. The visions aren’t clear. I didn’t even know you were the one from my foreseeing until you walked in the door. I’ve told you all I know. Now it’s up to you. Start with finding who killed the witchkin and why.”
Kayla dug her phone out of her pocket. It was an antiquated thing. Ray knew she was looking for pictures from the fountain square. He watched her fumble for a moment then drew out his own phone and called up his photo gallery. Thank goodness for cloud backup. Even if it was a technomagical cloud. He tapped one of the pictures from the fountain crime scene, enlarging it to better see some of the writing. He handed it to Raven.
“Do you recognize these?”
Kayla flicked a surprised glance at him before tucking her phone away and giving her attention to Raven.
The witch examined the photo for long moments. “What is this?”
“We found them at a murder scene earlier today,” said Kayla, glancing at Ray again as if expecting him to challenge the designation of murder.
He just nodded.
“It certainly looks like ritual,” said Raven, scrolling through several more pictures. “I don’t recognize the language.”
“Can you think of anybody who would?” asked Ray.
She handed him back his phone. “Perhaps a specialist in ancient languages.”
“Ancient languages?” Kayla asked.
“The cartouches around the symbols suggest ancient Egypt,” Raven said. “Though this writing is not Egyptian.”
“How do you know?” Ray asked.
“Once upon a time I studied Egyptian archaeology.”
The witch had an odd look on her face. It took Ray a moment to identify it as wry humor, as if she’d remembered a joke he and Kayla knew nothing about.
“Does the placement of the bodies or the location mean anything that you can tell?” Kayla asked.
Raven shook her head. “I would suspect the killer used blood magic,” she said. “It is a powerful sort of magic, but requires suffering to invoke the strongest power.”
“So the killer is some kind of sadist?” Ray asked.
Raven shook her head. “Blood witches gather power from people. Many of them have historically chosen to live near cities to tap that raw energy. But when a blood witch requires greater power for her spells, ritual sacrifice generates a strong rich flow, and symbols can help with the focus. Hex witches use symbols, but don’t require blood. That said, it is impossible to know whether a witch cast the spell, a mage, or something else entirely.”
“A mage is a magic practitioner who can command multiple witch magics, correct?” Kayla asked.
Ray had a feeling she’d asked the question more for his sake than because she needed to know. He had heard of mages. He hadn’t heard of anyone running in to one, and doubted any sane person would want to. Of course, any sane person wouldn’t be sitting in a witch’s parlor either.
“That’s right,” Raven said.
“Do you think a witch could be behind these killings?” Kayla asked.
Raven didn’t hesitate, giving a sharp shake of her head. “I know all the local witches. None of them could have done this.”
Could have? Or would have? Ray wondered. Either way, he couldn’t rule out witches because her conclusion was based on false information. She didn’t know all the local witches. She didn’t know about him. How many others still hid their power?
“What about witches from out of town?” Kayla asked.
Raven frowned. “I suppose it is possible, but the witch community has been keeping close watch. I have been keeping close watch,” she said, a dangerous current running through her voice.
“Do you hold the local covenstead?” Ray asked. He didn’t fully understand the covenstead system, or how a witch came to define one, but he did know that they tended to stake out covenstead territories, and within each, a center point witch ruled with the aid of the other coven witches.
“I have a coven here. But there is no local covenstead.”
“I don’t understand. Aren’t they the same?”
“The covenstead is a territory. It has a heart and a spirit. A witch will connect to that covenstead and build a coven to protect and nurture it.” The witch’s gaze slid to Kayla. “Things work differently here. Someone else holds the heart of this place. My coven anchors to the well that flows from that heart. We serve by aiding the healing and nurturing of the land and the people who live here.”
“You’re saying I hold the heart,” Kayla said with no little disbelief.
“You are the Guardian of the River.”
“You say that like I should know what that means,” Kayla said sourly.
“Don’t you?” Then without missing a beat, Raven shifted back to the reason Ray and Kayla had searched her out. “The murders must stop. We must protect those who cannot protect themselves.” This last pronouncement came paired with another pointed look at Kayla, who grimaced.
“Got it. You can quit beating that dead horse now.”
A noise outside caught their attention. Shouts and screams shredded the night. Raven leaped to her feet and ran out the door with Kayla and Ray close on her heels.
The market enclosure churned as people scrambled in fear, pinballing off one another, their panic fed by being in Nuketown among witches and other witchkin.
Ignoring the humans, witchkin raced toward the thin screen of trees separating the market from the main dock. A roaring sound filled the air, along with the stench of dead fish and swamp mud.
Raven bolted toward the dock, thrusting aside anyone who got in her way. Her bare feet slapped the path. Kayla and Ray sprinted after her.
They burst between the trees to find that a whirlpool had entered the marina cove. The churning whirl drifted toward the docks, sending waves crashing over the wooden walkways. Boats jerked and jolted against their moorings. The turbulent water smashed them together. Several disappeared down the gullet of the whirlpool only to be thrust back up as confetti.
But that wasn’t the worst of it.
A dozen or more boats on their way home to the city’s mainland had been caught in its powerful current. Passengers screamed, and one or two dove off the sides hoping to swim to shore. Loud cracking sounded above the tornadic noise of the whirlpool. Wooden dock pilings and platform boards sn
apped like dry bones. A twenty-foot length of dock broke off and spun into the churn.
Several children carrying packages to departing boats for shoppers reeled at the edge. One boy fell, and another grabbed him, but then the broken piece of pier bucked and all three went tumbling into the water.
Kayla took off at a dead run before Ray even knew what was happening. He started after her but Raven snatched his arm.
“No. This is for her to do.”
“Fuck that,” he snapped, twisting out of her hold and dashing after Kayla.
She’d nearly reached the water and showed no signs of stopping. What the fuck? He raced toward her, lungs clutching in his chest, magic clawing through his veins.
He screamed Kayla’s name as she leaped onto the buckling planks of the pier. She stumbled as the furthest edge rose sharply. She fell forward snatching at the lip still rising above her head. She climbed. As she neared the edge, the disintegrating mass dropped. She vanished from sight.
Ray screamed her name again, but his heart split in two when the planks ripped apart and swirled rapidly toward the sunken heart of the whirlpool.
Before he could leap in after her, inhuman hands caught him and yanked him back to the bank. His mind went numb.
She was gone.
Again.
Only this time she wasn’t coming back. Nobody could come back from this watery hellhole.
He was barely aware when Raven came to stand near him. She watched the water as if waiting.
“She is the Guardian of the River,” the witch said without looking at him. “The water can no more hurt her than flames can burn a salamander.”
Ray’s head jerked around, his gaze anchoring on her. “What the hell does that mean? What is a guardian of the river?”
“Not a guardian. The Guardian. You can ask Kayla when she returns.”
Ray laughed, the ragged sound tearing from his throat. “Return? From that?” He gestured at the debris spinning across the surface of the muddy, brown water and emptying down into the throat of the pool before rising to the surface again. Bodies spun past, limbs twisted and bent. “You’re insane. Nobody can survive that.”
“You could be right,” said the witch. “I hope not, because if she can’t deal with something as minor as this, then there’s no hope for any of us.”
Minor? “Can’t you help her?”
Raven gave a regretful shake of her head. “I haven’t the power.”
But Kayla did?
Before he could say another word, the churning in the water abruptly died and the surface went preternaturally still. Deathly silence fell, broken only by the cries of the frightened and the grieving.
Then forty feet away, the water bubbled and rippled. Ray couldn’t look away, his body straining forward. Something was under the water. Please God, he prayed. Let it be Kayla.
It wasn’t. What rose to the surface was a nightmare.
Chapter 15
Kayla
KAYLA HEARD RAY scream her name as the ragged edge of the wood cut into her hands. She muscled up the nearly perpendicular wood, ignoring the pain in her hands and the hot trickle of blood down her forearms. She still had time to save those kids. She had to move.
The dock dipped downward with gut-wrenching swiftness. The surface of the water came toward her. She let go of the dock and launched herself into it.
Her mind demanded the change, and her body, soaked to her skin, eagerly complied. She felt herself elongate, powerful ribbon muscles running down her neck and belly and over her back and down her tail. Her limbs lengthened and thickened, and massive claws erupted from her now-scaled fingers.
Cobalt scales covered her from nose to tail. Gold edged each one. The blue softened along her belly and beneath her tail. She shook herself, shaking away the feel of being human. She pricked up her razor-edged scales. They rose like short porcupine quills. Around her neck and down between her shoulder blades, the scales rose in a ruff, then smoothed silky flat as she lowered them.
The current of the whirlpool rolled over and around her. Whipping around, she darted like a torpedo through the water, her long thick tail and muscular body giving her speed.
She could see as clear as day. Even with the mud filling the water. Bits of broken debris pummeled her. Protected by her nearly impervious scales, she barely noticed. Her entire focus belonged to finding the three children and rescuing them. Please God, let them still be alive.
She couldn’t find them near the surface. She dove. The water here was as deep as the underwater mountain was tall. She guessed it stood at least six or seven thousand feet. Underwater glaciers gleamed white along the ridges and down into the crevices, while lush forests grew beside them. The bore of the whirlpool extended no more than fifty feet. She found the children caught in its hungry throat as it devoured them and everything else in the cove.
Kayla’s body cut like a knife through the raging current. She pierced the core of the whirlpool and snatched the bodies of the children. She held them against her chest as she thrust herself upward.
All three were limp. The first boy had been caught mid-shift, fur sprouting along his arms and face. His nose and mouth had begun to elongate, and the shape of his body was a disturbing cross between wolf and human. Another boy had completed the shift into wolf form, while the girl remained unchanged. A gash across her forehead explained why.
It was difficult to protect them from the debris that flew along the current like missiles. If she didn’t do something, they’d be dead before she reached the surface.
What could she do? The whirlpool was a force of nature. Bitterness etched grooves in her heart. The dryads and Raven had called her the Guardian of the River as if that meant something. As if she ruled the river. Like hell. She couldn’t even calm the stupid whirlpool, any more than she could shut off the sun.
Could she?
The idea was utterly ridiculous. But then again, what did she have to lose by trying?
Ignoring the fact that such questions usually ended badly, she drew in on herself, focusing everything she had on halting the spin of the pool. She almost peed herself when a glow suffused her body. A pearl aura wrapped around her while something inside her swelled, bright, hot, and ready. It pushed at her ribs, straining her muscles, and stretched her skin tight as a drumhead. Her tail thrashed, her body writhing with the pressure.
She clawed the water, mouth opening in silent protest against the pain. She drew a shallow breath from the water, but it wasn’t enough. She pushed it outward. Power swept away from her like a shockwave from a bomb. It felt like sunshine on the water, like emerald moss on water-smoothed stone. Kayla could feel everything in the water.
She felt the stolid resistance of the mountain rocks, this soft push of mud, the rigid sway of the underwater forest, the bright spark of all who lived below, and closer, the broken bits caused by the whirlpool.
Power streamed out of her, saturating the water. Overcoming her shock, Kayla gave focus to it. Demanding calm, demanding obedience. The water fell still as glass. Kayla shot upward.
Her head broke the water’s surface, and she rolled onto her back, holding the children protectively against her stomach. She swept her tail back and forth, pushing herself to shore. When she grounded herself, she flipped back over and crawled out to lay the children on the grass, all too aware of the hushed silence surrounding her.
For a moment all was still. Then Raven ran forward and dropped to her knees beside the small bodies. Her movement stirred everybody else into action.
All but Ray.
He stood like a stone statue, a bulwark against the rush of the children’s parents and family who flung themselves forward in desperate worry. Kayla backed into the water to give them room, praying Raven could keep the children alive. A quick cheer and the sounds of coughing a
nd retching made it clear that at least one was okay.
She should have been relieved. Instead dread filled her. It felt like being tied to the railroad tracks with a freight train barreling toward her. The outcome was inevitable.
She felt Ray’s gaze heavy upon her. She didn’t want to look at him. She didn’t want to see the shock, the horror, and the disgust that she knew she would see. She didn’t want to look, but she had to.
Slowly she turned her head, well aware of the dagger teeth protruding from her upper and lower jaws and fully exposed despite her closed mouth. Her nostrils flared, but she couldn’t sort the smell of his reaction from the terror and joy from everyone else.
His face had gone pasty gray, his mouth gaping. He stared and slowly started shaking his head as if to reject the possibility that Kayla was a shifter, and not just any shifter, but a massive beast, an unholy cross between a Chinese water dragon, a lizard, and a crocodile. She clenched her claws into the mud. Then she couldn’t stand it anymore. She whipped around and flung herself back beneath the surface, diving deep.
She streaked through the water as if she could outrun the fact that he’d seen the real her. Her throat and stomach clenched and burned. At the bottom of the river lake she tore boulders from the bed and flung them through the water. It did nothing to still the dreadful loss and humiliation that choked her.
Giving up, she streaked through the water in an effort to outdistance her feelings. All too soon she found herself at the turbulent junction of the Willamette River and the Columbia River. She headed out toward the ocean not knowing where she would go or what she would do.
It wasn’t until she reached Newport, well down the western coast of Oregon, that she stopped herself.
Where was she going? The damage was done. Ray knew. Not just Ray but a hundred others. It wouldn’t be long before word spread and everybody knew. But that didn’t change the fact that someone was killing witchkin, or that her grandmother and aunt had been kidnapped.
The Witchkin Murders Page 18