Sound's Familiar

by Dana Marie Bell

  The guy laughed, albeit shakily, and gestured toward the room. “After you, ma’am.”

  Carol woofed, stood, and strode into the storeroom. Behind her, she heard two sets of footsteps following, one of which must be the photographer with the video camera. She glanced behind her, ensuring that yes, it was the technician and the camera guy.

  “Carol?” Jonah knelt before her, stroking her ears. He glanced up at the investigator, his tone going from fond to frigid. “Why is my familiar shifted?”

  She caught the sound of the investigator swallowing before he replied, “Um, we, I mean I, thought her sense of smell might be useful, Detective Sound.”

  Jonah turned his attention back to her, his expression once more tender. “Do you agree?”

  She woofed and licked his chin.

  “Goofy pup.” Jonah rubbed her ears again before standing. “Fine. I’m going to go speak to the staff and find out who had access to this room.”

  She nodded, padding past him as he left. She had her own job to do, and Jonah could take care of himself out there. Besides, Ian was there, keeping the peace between Dean Hill and Dean Anthony.

  And if anything were to happen to Jonah, she’d sense it through their bond.

  Carol put her nose to good use, sniffing everything and anything that crossed her path. She scented a minute amount of blood, ash, soot, and the faint stench of feces and urine, both animal and human. The building had a mouse problem, but human excrement shouldn’t be here. She rubbed her nose with her paw to keep from sneezing—and thus contaminating the scene—and kept going.

  The scent of death and decay became stronger in the back portion of the room. It was familiar. She could almost taste the desiccated flesh of the wither as its scent danced across her senses. Mingled in with it was the scent of ash, soot, and Dean Anthony. She shifted. “The wither’s been here, several times. I also scent Frank Anthony.”

  The investigator nodded. “We’ll check this area more thoroughly, thanks.”

  “Was this where you expected me to head?”

  The investigator shook his head. “Nope. We had a luminol hit over there. What lit up was shaped like what looked like hieroglyphs.”

  She immediately shifted and headed where he’d pointed, sniffing at the ground for any clue as to what would have drawn hieroglyphs.

  The investigator was right. Whatever they looked like they were definitely drawn in blood, but so thinly that she’d ignored it as background noise among the stronger scents. She shifted again. “I need a picture of the hieroglyphs and anything else you find that’s out of place.”

  The investigator nodded. “We can do that.” He glanced around. “Anything else catch your interest?”

  Carol shook her head. “Sorry, no. It’s all so jumbled up in here that only that spot called to me.”

  “Then I think that’s it. If you want to join your partners, we’ve got things from here. I’ll call you back in if we find an area where we need your olfactory senses again.” He held out his hand. “Thank you, Ms. Voss. I appreciate the help.”

  “No problem. If you need me, you know where I’ll be.” Carol headed out into the hallway, surprised to find more staff outside the room rather than less. Ian appeared harried as he worked with a uniformed officer to keep the crowd away from the doorway.

  Worse, it appeared there were fucking journalists beyond the staff. Dean Hill was currently speaking to them, but Carol couldn’t quite make out what she was saying. She’d need to shift to do so, and she didn’t want to do that in front of this crowd. Outing herself as a familiar could lead to being interrogated herself. The last thing she wanted was to be stuck talking to journalists. Instead, she joined Ian, who was holding people back. “Where’s Jonah?”

  Ian nodded toward the left of Dean Hill. “Being the face of our little trio.” There was Jonah, speaking to the journalists with an ease she envied. Every once in a while, he would gesture toward where she was standing. He was either talking about the CSI guys, or about their relationship, but over the other sounds around them she was having some trouble hearing his words. Ian turned back to her with a wicked grin. “All done with your Scooby-Doo duties?”

  She scowled at him, tuning out the reports. “Ass.”

  “That’s beside the point. Are you?”

  “Yes,” she grumbled.

  “Good. Then help me with the crowd.”

  “Gotcha.”

  Carol and Ian worked with the uniformed cops to keep the crowd in line. As the CSI guys began to wrap things up, Carol’s stomach grumbled. She batted her lashes at Ian. “I’m hungry.”

  Ian nodded. “Me too. Let’s—”

  Carol held up her hand as an overwhelming sensation of wrongness filled her. Glancing around, she couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. She closed her eyes and used her other senses, but again, there wasn’t anything she could pinpoint as the cause of her unease.

  “What’s wrong?” Ian touched her shoulder.

  She shook his hand off and concentrated, turning in a circle as anxiety filled her. Missing, something was gone that should have been there, the burning in her wrist—

  Her wrist! The symbol linking her to Jonah was burning, warning her of something dire. But what?

  “Shit!” She opened her eyes to find herself facing the room she’d emerged from, the room where the murders had occurred. “Ian, where’s Jonah?”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him glance around, a scowl forming on his face. “I have no idea.”

  “Fuck.” She held up her wrist, and it was red, raw, the symbols etched in gray. “Something’s happening to him.”

  “We need to find him.” Ian strode toward Dean Hill, Carol on his heels. The moment they reached her, Ian barked, “Have you seen Jonah?”

  Appearing startled, Dean Hill took a step back from the scowling detective. “I... No. He walked away a few moments ago.”

  Carol exchanged concerned glances with Ian, then showed Dean Hill her wrist. “Something’s happening to him.”

  The dean’s eyes widened, then narrowed in determination. “Frank left a while ago.” She pulled out her phone and was soon dialing, shaking her head as the rings went on and on before switching to voice mail. Carol could hear the cheerful message and wanted to break the man’s neck. “He’s not answering.”

  Carol growled. Her canines descended, claws erupting from her nailbeds.

  The enemy had her soul-bound sorcerer, and he was about to learn why predators were feared.

  Chapter 39

  Jonah groaned and tried to clutch his aching head, but his hands didn’t move. He opened his eyes, unsurprised to find the world around him bleary. Something bad had happened recently. Had he found another pinhole and tried to close it? If so, where was Carol? Was she still unconscious?

  God, it hurt. Hell, even his fingernails hurt. He closed his eyes again, hoping to fall asleep once more. Worse, there was an odd taste in his mouth, like...herbs?

  “Wakey wakey, Detective.” An annoying, sing-song voice tried to take his peaceful slumber from him. “You’re a little older than I usually take, but that’s fine. Once you’re dead, the ritual will be nearly complete.”

  Ritual.

  Jonah opened his eyes. “Dean Anthony, I presume?” His vision was still pretty blurry, but it was slowly clearing. Too bad the same couldn’t be said for the ache. Anthony must have hit him over the head, same as he’d done to Reeves. He had to applaud the man. The dean had to have hit him exactly right, or Jonah would have fried his ass.

  “Yes.” A blurry form came closer, resolving into the face of the dean. “Can you see again? I used a bit of magic on you to make you more compliant, but the effects should be wearing off by now.”

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The inability to move was irritating, but more so was the fact that he couldn’t sense Carol anywhere nearby. Had the dean taken her as well, or was she safe with Ian?

  “Isn’t it obvious?” The man ra
ised his arms, his expression reverent. “Immortality.”

  What? This didn’t seem to match what they’d been thinking, but he’d been on the wrong track before. “And you plan to achieve this by feeding the souls of others to a god of destruction?”

  The reverence left his expression, replaced by serenity. “You don’t understand. I doubted you would. Most people wouldn’t be able to comprehend what it is I’m ascending to.” The dean settled next to him with a cheery smile, one that looked completely at odds with the position Jonah was currently in.

  For the first time, Jonah realized where he was. “This is the storeroom where the pinhole appeared.”

  “So, your sight is definitely getting better. Good. I’d hate for you to miss the finale.”

  “The storeroom was a red herring?” He hoped the asshole kept talking. The more he monologued, the closer Jonah’s familiar got to chewing Dean Anthony’s ass off.

  “Your dogs are currently going over the bait I laid out for you.” The dean caressed his cheek, the gesture almost loving. “I was certain you’d fall for it.”

  “They’ll soon figure out I’m gone.” In fact, Jonah was counting on it. His body might be frozen in place, but Carol’s wasn’t. She was going to rip this guy a new asshole when she found them.

  “In that crowd?” The dean chuckled, apparently amused at Jonah’s bravado. “They’ll be too busy trying to keep the curious away to notice anything until it’s far too late.”

  Dean Anthony stood, and for the first time, Jonah realized he was not on a bed but the floor. Glancing around, he saw his arms and legs were spread, like Da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man. A sacrificial pose that made him tense. To make things even direr, appeared he’d been in Anthony’s hands long enough for the man to take his clothing off.

  The dean continued, his tone indulgent. “Why do you think I told the staff what was going on?”

  “Did you call the media too?” It would make sense, if what Anthony was saying was true. He’d want as many distractions as possible while he completed his mad plan.

  “Of course.” The man knelt down by him again and began rubbing some sort of oil on his wrists. “This case is bigger than you realize, or it is now, especially since a member of the Sound family is about to disappear forever.”

  “My partners already know who you are.” The smell of the oil was strange, pungent. Myrrh, perhaps? Frankincense? He couldn’t tell. Either way, he wished he could move. He’d kill the insane dean before the man even realized what was happening.

  “I highly doubt they’ll get here before my wither friend has a chance to eat you.”

  Fuck. He’d completely forgotten about the wither. “How’d you manage to get one under your control?” Jonah had his suspicions, but he needed them confirmed.

  “Offer one power, and it will eat out of your hand.” The dean stood and moved to his legs, anointing each ankle with the oil. “By the way, just so you are aware, even if your friends attempt to kill me, the spell should be strong enough to prevent it.”

  He seemed so nonchalant, so sure of himself, that Jonah almost began to doubt that Ian and Carol would find him in time, let alone save him. Almost. Because already he could sense Carol’s fury through their bond.

  She was coming. All he had to do was keep the dean talking long enough to prevent the wither from arriving and killing him.

  “We thought you were trying to resurrect someone.” It wouldn’t hurt him a bit to tell Anthony what they’d theorized.

  “You might, from the bits and pieces you’ve gathered of the spell.” The dean shrugged and crawled to Jonah’s side, anointing his forehead. A five-pointed star, then: wrists, ankles, and then the seat of consciousness. No wonder he was spread out the way he was. “Of course, you don’t have the full spell, so its ramifications would be lost on you.”

  “You even fooled our experts.” Jonah had interrogated more than one suspect in his day. He was aware when one wanted to brag, and Anthony had been practically begging to do just that.

  “I’m sure I did.” Anthony shook his head, seemingly disappointed. “Ramsey? Really?” He snorted in disgust. “Might as well look the spell up on Wikipedia.”

  Jonah barely managed not to roll his eyes. “How did you fool everyone into thinking you were a sorcerer instead of a priest?” It was the only thing that made sense now. There was no partner, no other participant in this crazy little game Anthony was playing. There was only him. Him, and the wither.

  “Egyptian magic is exclusive to its priests, Detective.” He stood, walking toward something Jonah still couldn’t see. The spell was more potent than even Anthony had anticipated if it was still affecting Jonah. “Really, Ramirez, what did you tell them? Ra good. Set bad. Blah blah blah.”

  His contempt for the professor didn’t seem to stop him from continuing on with his plan. Jonah heard him muttering in a language that Jonah didn’t understand, meaning it must have been a mundane language rather than a magical one. Was he saying the words of his spell in Egyptian before reciting it in the language of sorcerers? It would make a twisted sort of sense if Anthony did so.

  Damn it, he wished he could see what the hell Anthony was doing. He could barely make out that the man was moving his arms, but that was all. Anything else was lost in the haze of the blinding spell. “Immortality? How do you hope to achieve that?”

  The chanting stopped. “How many souls is a pharaoh worth, Mr. Sound? Ten? A hundred?” The man stepped close once more, giving Jonah a glimpse of his hands. “A thousand?”

  He was holding a poker, the end of which twisted and morphed in a nauseating way. Jonah couldn’t focus on it no matter how hard he tried.

  “Once my pyramid is complete, I’ll be a king.” He knelt by Jonah’s side once more and set the poker on the floor. “See?” He opened his shirt, revealing dark, desiccated flesh. “It’s already begun.”

  Shit. Dean Anthony was becoming a wither.

  “I’ll rule over Terra Noctem as its immortal pharaoh.” He stroked Jonah’s hair, the gesture almost fatherly. “The withers will fall under my command, and the mortal realm will tremble before me.”

  “Psycho.” Jonah couldn’t stop himself, the word coming before he could censor it. “It will never work.”

  Dean Anthony smiled. “They all say that.” He picked up the poker and held it over Jonah’s chest. “Right before they die.”

  Chapter 40

  Carol held tight to her temper as she listened to the bullshit Dean Anthony was spewing. Ian’s expression was horrified. Leader of the withers? A pharaoh?

  He’d had lost his friggin’ mind.

  “How do you want to do this?” Ian whispered just as Dean Anthony raised the strange, icky-feeling poker.

  “Fast.” Carol shifted and ran, knocking Dean Anthony to the floor.

  Unfortunately, that didn’t last for long. The side of the poker hit her, pulling a scalding howl of pain from her. Whatever that poker was made of hurt like a son of a bitch. She staggered, her hold on the dean broken.

  She growled despite the pain, showing her fangs to the man who threatened her mate, her soul-bound. She’d kill him before he left this room, and anyone who tried to stop her would die with him.

  She leaped at the dean once more, but he sidestepped faster than she’d expected, avoiding her entirely. Her teeth snapped shut on empty air.

  “Foolish dog. You can die with your sorcerer.” Anthony waved his hand.

  A sickening wave of wrongness filled the room. Energy crackled along her skin, raising the hairs on the back of her neck even higher. An alien hunger crawled along her spine, making her gag in horror.

  Wither.

  Carol intercepted the creature’s lunge for Jonah, leaving Anthony to Ian. She had to deal with the otherworldly threat before she could help her partner take care of the sorcerer, priest, whatever the hell he wanted to call himself.

  The wither bayed, thwarted from its prey. Its hunger slithered through her, forcing her to deal not on
ly with the damage Anthony had dealt but also a staggering nausea that threatened to drive her to her knees. She snarled, pushing at the wither, but it shifted its position and tried to dodge to her left.

  Carol intercepted, snapping at the wither’s arm as it tried to reach for her fallen mate. Jonah groaned, but she couldn’t turn to find out what was happening. She had to keep her attention on the monster in front of her. Shots rang out, and Carol shook her head, the sound far louder than it should have been.

  The flickering lights were driving her nuts. It was hard to watch the wither’s movements when she was tracking it through staggered strobe lights. Worse, out of the corner of her eye, she could see Ian and Anthony struggling hand-to-hand, and she couldn’t determine who was winning.

  The wither hissed, its long limbs bent, its hands gnarled as it reached for her. She snapped again, missing flesh as the wither got ahold of her scruff.

  Howling agony raced through her, blinding her as her anima was slowly sucked away. While she didn’t have the draw of a sorcerer with their vast pools of power, a wither would take a familiar if it could. She was a snack, an hors d’oeuvre before Jonah was consumed. Its pale eyes bored into her as it clasped her skull, its talons perilously close to her eyes.

  Another shot rang out, but she couldn’t be bothered to look, not while her whole body shook. This was worse than thunderstorms could ever be.

  “Carol!”

  Somewhere behind her a voice called her name, but...who?

  “Latch onto me!”

  Latch on?

  Strength poured into her, forced into her by someone...Jonah! It was Jonah, giving her the power to pull free of the wither’s grasp by sacrificing some of his own animus.

  Carol was now well past angry and into cold fury. She was going to rip the fucking wither limb from limb, then shit on it, then bury it. If it was lucky, she wouldn’t do it while it was alive.

  She leaped onto its chest, forcing it down to the ground. She got her teeth around its neck, ready to rip and tear, but the wither’s claws were in her back, her sides, doing the same to her. Her only chance was to kill it before she bled out.