Luckily Jesse jumped in for me. Unluckily he said, “I’ll take her to the doctor. I promise.”
She eyed him up and down. “Swear by your honor,” she said finally. The word should have sounded silly—who talks about honor at a hotel coffee shop? —but she used it with such gravitas that it would be hard not to take her seriously.
Jesse flinched, and I knew he was thinking that his honor was tainted. Without thinking I reached out and covered his hand with mine. He gave me a startled, grateful look, and said to Noring, “I swear by my honor. I’ll take Scarlett to a surgeon as soon as she can get an appointment.”
“Excellent,” Noring said with a smirk. She reached into her wallet and pulled out a business card from a doctor’s office, the kind with the lines on the back for appointment times. “I’ve already scheduled you to see Dr. Shapiro next Tuesday. He’s the best orthopedic surgeon on the West Coast. You’re welcome.”
I withdrew my hand. “Wait,” I protested. “Jesse, I can’t just—”
“We’ll be there,” Jesse said firmly, shooting me a glare. “Please, tell us about the Luparii.”
Noring looked down at her empty coffee cup. “What do you want to know?” she asked, careful to keep her voice down.
“Let’s start with how they manage to kill werewolves on a regular basis,” I said promptly.
For the first time since I’d met her, Noring looked genuinely shaken. “They use a spell.”
“I thought you couldn’t use magic against itself,” Jesse pointed out.
Noring shook her head. “Not a spell against the werewolves. They use a spell to create a creature that can fight werewolves.”
Jesse and I exchanged a look. “What creature?” Jesse asked, his patience obviously thinning.
Noring drew in a breath and blew it out slowly through pursed lips. “It has a few names,” she said hesitantly. “I’ve heard hellhound, or demon dog.” She turned her mug around and around in her hands. “But witches usually call it a bargest.”
Chapter 30
“Isn’t that like a fairy-tale thing?” Jesse said, somewhat less politely than before.
Noring waved a hand dismissively. “There are many stories about the bargest. The Hound of the Baskervilles, for example. But the bargest is real, although it’s not at all natural.” She asked, “Do you know how modern hunters kill wild wolves?”
I knew about as much about hunting as I did about water polo—nothing—so I shook my head, but Jesse answered grimly, “They use dogs.”
Noring nodded. She glanced at the barista, who appeared to have nodded off on his stool with one hand propping up his face. She continued, “The Luparii used packs of dogs to hunt wolves for centuries. But when they tried to adopt the same plan to hunt werewolves, the wolves simply killed the dogs. They were too strong, too fast—even a single werewolf versus a whole pack of dogs. They tried crossbreeding different kinds of dogs next, even breeding the most vicious of them with wild wolves.” She shuddered. “There are stories about some of their creations, which I try not to think about.”
I winced. My mother had been a veterinary assistant, and she had spent more than one family dinner venting about recklessly negligent dog breeders. She’d firmly believed that anyone who breeds dogs should be required to spend a week in their dogs’ conditions.
Noring drained the rest of her coffee. Jesse looked impatient, but Noring didn’t seem in any hurry to continue the story. I prompted gently, “They crossbred dogs with wolves . . .”
The doctor hardened her face to keep any expression inside. “But none of it worked, so they incorporated their magic. The Luparii make things . . . twisted,” she said distastefully. “Corrupt. They still breed the dogs with wolves, as big as possible, and they channel a tremendous amount of magical energy into one dog, usually a male. As a side effect, the spell turns him coal black, which is where the stories about the black demon dog originate. But the main purpose of the spell was to design a creature, something they could control, that was able to keep up with a werewolf physically.”
“Genetic experimentation by way of magic,” Jesse said thoughtfully. “It’s interesting, in a diabolical super-villain kind of way.”
Noring snorted. “The Luparii are not super-villains, I can promise you that. They’re more like a cult of magically gifted thugs.”
“Even so,” I said helplessly. “We’re up against evil dogs from hell.”
“That’s not entirely fair,” Noring said, frowning. “Magic itself isn’t good or evil. The bargest spell simply creates physical abilities that are then twisted into killing. The bargest is as fast and tireless as a werewolf, with tough skin that the wolves can’t bite through, and they can heal as fast as werewolves. They live for a long time too, because the Luparii didn’t want to put all that work into the creature for a ten-year life span. But its brain is still the brain of a dog. The Luparii are the ones who train it to kill.”
I glanced at Jesse, who looked disgusted. “Like bully breeds,” he said to me. To Noring he said, “We have degenerates here who breed pit bulls and rottweilers, and then pour pain and hate into them until they’re basically a weapon. I’ve seen those dogs. The people who do that to them . . . they’re monsters.”
Noring nodded. “That was the Luparii’s plan too,” she said crisply. “They see werewolves as monsters and vermin. So they created their own monster to fight them. Killers who can hunt and smell magic. And it worked: a bargest can handle a werewolf without much difficulty. Two, even.”
I thought I picked up a note of bitterness in her voice. “Will said you ran into them before,” I said neutrally. “But you’re obviously not a werewolf.”
“I’m an oncologist,” she retorted. Her chair pushed back suddenly as she stood up. Noring stalked a few feet away, out of my radius and toward the doorway where the coffee shop opened into the hotel lobby. She surveyed the lobby with her back to us. Jesse started to speak, but I touched his arm again, shaking my head. I glanced at the barista, but he was still half-asleep on his arm.
Finally Noring paced back to our table, sitting down with stiff limbs. “The Luparii work with death magic. Sacrifices,” she hissed, her voice brittle with tension. “And the bargest spell requires a human.”
I blinked. I’ve encountered witches who used sacrifices, but I’d only seen small birds—chickens and doves, mostly. Images from movies filled my mind. As if she could see them, Noring shook her head. “It’s not as melodramatic as it sounds. Money has never been a problem for them, so they go into a hospital, find a terminal patient with lots of medical debt and a family to support, and they buy him.”
“And you’re an oncologist,” I said, finally understanding. “They bought one of your patients?”
She nodded. “They tried to. That’s when I asked around and found out about the Luparii. I was young and idealistic; I tried to intervene. This was twenty-five years ago, in Suffolk.”
“Why?” Jesse asked. “I mean, you clearly have no love for the werewolves, and your patient would get lots of money.”
She stared at him coldly. “You know nothing about my relationship with werewolves. And I believe in the soul. Death magic is like using the soul as fuel,” she spat out. “It’s sick.”
“What happened?” I asked. “Did your patient go through with it?”
She turned away, as much as the wooden chair would allow. “I don’t know. The Luparii weren’t pleased with my interference. I came to the States to get away from them.”
My fingers clenched into fists. Who were these clowns? Who had the power to scare Dashiell, Beatrice, and Dr. Noring out of Europe altogether?
“How do we kill it?” Jesse asked, trying to get us back on track. “The bargest, I mean.”
“You don’t,” Noring said simply. “Their hides are too thick for bullets, and bigger weapons are too conspicuous for the Old World. Spells don’t work on them, because they’re already made from magic.” She nodded at me. “Even you wouldn’t be able to
undo the spell, I believe. Bargests are permanently changed.”
“Dammit,” I complained. “How do bad guys keep finding these frickin’ loopholes?”
Jesse ignored me. “Could you undo the spell?” he asked Noring. “I mean, if we captured it, could it be . . . I don’t know, dissolved?”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t work like that, not when there’s a sacrifice involved. A trade has already been made: a human life in exchange for the magic to be placed in the creature. To undo it, you’d need a second human sacrifice and a full coven of witches, or a very powerful boundary witch—not to mention an ancient strain of mandrake root.” Noring realized her voice had gotten louder and leaned forward to continue quietly, “Even then, I doubt anyone outside of the Luparii could pull it off. They haven’t exactly shared the secrets of the bargest spell.”
“Boundary witch?” Jesse asked, eyebrows raised.
“Witches whose particular skills are in death magics,” Noring said shortly. “They are anathema even among other witches. I’ve never even met one, or at least a witch who would admit to being one.”
I winced. The first dead body I’d ever destroyed, back when I was working with Olivia, had been that of a witch who had died playing with death magics. We wouldn’t be undoing the bargest spell anytime soon.
We asked a few more questions after that, but we’d reached the limits of Noring’s knowledge on the subject. Jesse asked if we could call her if we thought of something else, and Noring shrugged her assent. “I won’t be here much longer, though,” she warned. “My deal with Will was to stay until Scarlett was healed or she could be handed off to another doctor. And now you have an appointment.”
“Ha!” I cried. “I knew it. You don’t actually care about getting me better; you just want to go home.”
Noring gave me a hard look, then fixed a glare on Jesse. “You. Take her home right now, make her rest for at least two hours, with ice for the knee and anti-inflammatories.”
Whoops. I had maybe been a little too mouthy just then. Jesse gave me a sidelong glance, clearly uncomfortable. “We’re in the middle of an investigation—”
The doctor snorted. “With the wolves, I know. The full moon’s still two days away. A couple of hours aren’t going to hurt. Look at her. She’s going to fall over.”
“Hey!” I protested, but Jesse was already assessing me like I was a used car he might buy. And it was true, I felt like shit. But in a way, focusing on the investigation kind of helped—at least it meant I wasn’t sitting around dwelling on the pain. I made a face at him, and he gave me a tiny smile.
“She’s right, a few hours won’t hurt. We could both use the rest,” he told me.
Noring added stiffly, “I probably won’t see you again, Scarlett.”
“But . . .” Dammit, I kind of liked having a physician on hand for when I inevitably fucked up and hurt myself. But it made sense—she’d been here almost two weeks, and she had to get back to her own life. I swallowed and started again. “I understand. Thank you for everything.”
Noring sniffed. “Tell Carling to find someone else next time. This was my last favor.” She stood to leave.
Before she could walk away, I said quickly, “What is it between you and Will, anyway? You act like you hate the guy, but you flew halfway across the continent to do his bidding.”
Whoops. Noring glared death rays at me, and I realized I could probably have phrased that more tactfully. She said icily, “Ask Will.”
“I did. Right before we came here,” I replied. “He looked pointedly at his watch and suggested we should shake a leg.”
“Or four,” Jesse muttered under his breath. We high-fived.
Noring ignored us. “Maybe he thought it was none of your business.”
“He trusted you enough to give you full access to my body while I was unconscious,” I pointed out, more serious now. “Doesn’t that kind of make it my business?”
Noring dug her key card out of her pocket and straightened her top, and I figured she wasn’t going to answer. But she relented. “Will,” she said severely, “trusts me because I was his doctor too.” She spun on her heel and marched out of the coffee shop.
Jesse and I looked at each other with matching “what just happened” faces. “Did she just . . . say that Will used to have terminal cancer?” he asked incredulously.
I nodded and mused, “I guess I’ve never asked Will how he was changed. He probably decided to become a werewolf when Noring couldn’t cure him medically. Or maybe it was the other way around—Noring’s a witch, so she could have arranged it for him.”
“Why would that make her hate him, though?” Jesse said quizzically. “I mean, if she helped him become a werewolf, why would she be pissed at him?”
I shrugged. “Maybe it’s a God complex thing, like she’s mad that magic succeeded where she failed. Or maybe she wanted him to stay in Minnesota or something, and he left.”
“Maybe . . . ,” Jesse said dubiously. “Anyway, we need to figure out what to do about the Luparii and the nova wolf.”
“Oh. I know exactly what to do,” I announced. “I’m thinking maybe we should find them and stop them.” I wiggled my eyebrows up and down. “You know. In their tracks.”
He rolled his eyes. “If you say ‘The hunter will become the hunted,’ I’m gonna throw your cane out of the car window.”
Jesse drove me back to Molly’s, where he fetched an ice pack and a glass of water, helped me up to my room, and handed me the bottle of Vicodin. After I’d swallowed two of them, there was a moment of awkwardness while he arranged pillows under my knee, the two of us in close proximity. He smelled the way he always did, like Armani cologne and oranges. The oranges had always been a pleasant mystery, since I’d never seen him eat one. “Do you need anything else?” he asked softly, and maybe I was imagining things, but I felt like there was another question beneath it: do you want me to stay?
“I’m good,” I said with cheer that fell flat. Sleeping together now would be a bad idea for a lot of reasons, even if it was just sleeping. I was sure of my romantic interest in Jesse, but not sure about pretty much everything else. And my knee hurt. It just wasn’t the time or the place—especially considering the pills I had just taken.
“But maybe you could just crash on the couch for a couple of hours?” I added. Didn’t make sense for him to go all the way home, either, I told myself.
He nodded. “If you need anything, just yell,” he told me, but my eyes were starting to droop already. I mumbled something that even I didn’t really understand, and fell asleep with the impression of him smiling on the way out of my room.
The next thing I knew, someone was gently but insistently squeezing my hand, over and over again. “Scarlett,” Jesse said quietly, “Wake up. We need to go.”
“Time’s it?” I muttered, but Jesse understood.
“It’s five o’clock. I just got a call back from the woman who’s in charge of Humans for the Protection of Animals, Cassey Maximus.”
I yawned, squinting at him. “Sounds like a fake name to me.”
“Scarlett,” he said patiently, “three members of her group went missing last night. Three women.”
Chapter 31
Jesse used his phone to read up on the HPA while he waited for the e-mail that Cassey Maximus had promised to send. Humans for the Protection of Animals was the third-largest animal rights organization in the country, with chapters in most major cities. They weren’t quite as militant as PETA, or as do-goody as the Humane Society, but what they lacked in positive media coverage, they made up for with political influence. HPA focused their time and funding on lobbying politicians directly, one animal-related cause at a time.
The leader of the LA branch, Cassey Maximus, was a former socialite who now spent her time designing purses and running her part of the HPA. To his surprise, though, Jesse had liked her when they spoke on the phone. She had seemed genuine, and also genuinely worried, promising to send him the rost
er of all the LA HPA members, as well as photos of the missing women.
The e-mail arrived while Scarlett was freshening up, so Jesse borrowed her computer to read it on a bigger screen. Cassey had created a simple Word document and pasted in information on each of the three missing women: Ruanna Martinez, Samantha Wheaton, and Lizzy Thompkins. She’d even included a separate photo of each one, likely cropped from photos taken during some sort of group event since none of the women were looking at the camera. Beneath each photo, Cassey had added each woman’s contact information and a little description of the woman depicted. Rue has three kids and loves horses. Sam has a new baby and can’t stand the sight of blood. The last page in the document was the roster of the LA branch’s members.
In a stroke of luck, the leader of PAW had e-mailed him back as well, and by the time Scarlett returned from the bathroom, he had printed off the rosters for both organizations.
“You wanna go talk to their families now?” Scarlett asked as they headed out of the house. “The missing women’s?”
He considered it for a moment, then shook his head. “Not yet. If the nova wolf took those three women early last night, he may have already tried to change them. Which means he may be dumping bodies tonight.”
“You wanna go back to Will’s?” Scarlett said dubiously.
Jesse held up the printouts. “I want to kill two birds with one stone. We go back to Will’s and go through the two rosters in the car. If we can find a name that’s on both lists . . .”
“That might be the nova,” she finished for him, newly excited.
An hour later, they were back in their spot across the street from Will’s house, and Jesse’s hopes were quickly deserting him. He squinted down at the list of PAW members. “The next name is Orlando Rajes, age twenty-two.”
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