by Laura Bickle
Renan looked from my sisters to Celeste. “Do witches not use cell phones?”
Celeste rolled her eyes. “Those two are difficult to get ahold of. They sure never listened to any of my summonings.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “So you’ve called them home before?”
“Yes.”
And they didn’t come...I looked at them. Starr, the youngest, squirmed in her seat. Halley met Celeste’s gaze levelly. “I was in Shanghai the last time you called.”
Celeste stared at my sisters over their dinner plates. Disapproval still hung heavy in the room.
“But you came now. That’s all that matters,” I said, wanting to smooth things over.
“We came,” Starr said, also wanting to make peace.
“This time,” Celeste said. I kicked her under the table.
Halley’s gaze narrowed. “Look. Not everyone wants to be a witch when they grow up.”
“You made that very clear,” Celeste said.
I slapped my hand down on the table, hard enough to knock down a saltshaker shaped like a frolicking cow. “Enough. Everyone’s here now, and we have a fight on our hands. Save the guilt trips and petty bickering for afterward, okay?”
I stared at each of the women in turn, hard. Starr picked at her food. Halley met my gaze as she drank her coffee. Celeste stewed at the head of the table, her fingers chewing at the edge of her plate.
“From what you’ve said, these guys have a metric fuckton of magic,” Halley said. “And they want more.”
I glanced at Renan, who was on his third portion of meatloaf. He laid his fork down and nodded. “They’ve been accumulating magical artifacts for centuries. But it’s important to remember that they have no magic of their own.”
“But they have shapeshifters,” Celeste said.
“What can they do with this land if they even got it, anyway?” Starr asked. “If they’re not natural witches, then how could they even activate it?” She looked at Celeste. “They weren’t able to use it the first time they fought the Summerwoods here, right?”
“They might not be able to use it right now,” Renan said. “But if they had magical heirs with some convenient witches, they might.”
Starr wrinkled her nose, and her nose ring glinted in the light. “Oh, hell, no.”
Halley frowned. “Strategically, if we lose...we’ve just served them up a bunch of witches by coming here.”
Starr shook her head. “Nuh-uh. I’m noping out of that. Suicide pact, anybody?”
“We’re getting way ahead of ourselves,” I declared. “What we need to do now is figure out how best to defend the land.”
“They sent someone here already,” Celeste said. “Our ward held, but I don’t know if it could stand against a prolonged assault.”
“They sent Voss for that,” Renan said. “Voss had a stone in his possession that granted him power over water. He could also change in shape to that of a crocodile. It will be harder for them to trespass now that Voss is dead, but they have stronger magicians. Silva, in particular, is gifted at breaking locks and crossing magical barriers.”
“How many shifters and magical artifacts do they have?” Halley demanded.
“I’m not certain of the total number. The Casimir operate in cells. Silva is at the head of this one. I don’t know how many total are in this cell or how many artifacts they keep in their pockets. Could be up to thirteen magicians and shifters. There are at least five shifters in his cell—Silva, Voss, Bernard, Duval, and me.”
Halley frowned. “How strategic are they?”
“When they raided museums and on subsequent jobs, they tend to prefer to work at night and take their targets by stealth.”
“So you’re saying that they won’t come rolling up with guns blazing?” I asked.
“Unlikely. They’ve probably been doing reconnaissance for some time, evaluating the target. They’ll operate when everyone’s asleep or off guard.”
I thought back to the eagle I’d seen. “There’s been an eagle hanging out at the edge of the property. Looks like a harpy eagle: massive, grey. It wasn’t able to cross the wards, either.”
“That’s Duval,” Renan said. “If anyone sees it again, I would shoot. Same with any wolves you see on the premises. Bernard can change to a wolf.”
“A wolf attacked Dalton.” My hand flew up to my throat. “Do you think that they took him, thinking that...” I couldn’t finish the thought aloud, but I said it in my head: Thinking that they could bend him to their will like they did Renan.
“They took me,” Renan said. When my face fell, he reached for my hand. “I’m sorry.”
I took a deep breath. “Okay, it’s time to pool our resources, figure out what we have and what we can do. Maybe we can still get Dalton back.”
The women and Renan nodded.
I placed my hand palm down on the table before me. “I can ask the local animals to go on alert. The grackles will raise a cry if anyone comes onto the property. I’ll alert the barn animals. I’m going to leave the trash outside tonight to attract some raccoons to keep us updated. If we’re lucky, that will draw in that bear that showed up last fall. I bet I can bribe her to go on watch with a pizza.”
Celeste placed her fist down, bracelets jingling. “I’ll set up some debris around the doors of the house. If someone tries to enter, I can play whack-a-mole with some 2x4s and a bucket of nails.”
“I can sure make it look like there’s an army of cops here as long as I’m awake.” Halley took a breath, closed her eyes, and an image of a police officer from a recent blockbuster movie appeared standing beside her. The guy looked as if he came from a glossy magazine, his custom-tailored uniform shirt straining over his abs. He looked at Starr and winked.
Bristol yelped and ducked under the table.
“It’s okay,” I told him. “He’s not real. Smell.”
Bristol’s nose peeked out from under the tablecloth. I don’t smell anything.
“That’s because there’s nothing there.” I rubbed his ears reassuringly.
“Ugh. Maybe conjure something a little more realistic,” Starr said, rolling her eyes.
“I dunno. That works for me,” Celeste said, her chin resting in her hand as she gazed up at him. Her eyelashes fluttered.
“Fine.” Halley flipped her hand open. The movie cop melted into an ordinary-looking man. He seemed to fold in on himself again and again, like origami, and produced a dozen identical copies. She flicked her fingers, and the men began to march off to the other rooms of the house.
“Wow,” Renan breathed. “Are those guys spirits, or..?”
“Just illusions,” Halley said. She waved her hand through one of the policemen, and it slid through as if he were a hologram. “I can make them look and sound pretty real, but they can’t actually fight.”
I was silent. I’d been immensely jealous of Halley’s power when I was a girl. She’d been able to create illusions of adults and other kids. Teachers would materialize to get her out of trouble. I remembered when I was sixteen and kissed an illusion of my crush, only to realize that I’d been pranked. I winced at the memory. She’d sworn off the power when she joined the military. I guess I was glad that she still practiced, but it made me, like Bristol, a little nervous. Some witches, like my aunt, had capital P Power. Halley was like that. So was Starr.
Starr frowned at the retreating back of the illusion. “I’ll talk to the dead. Try to figure out what our ancestors did to defeat them the first time. We don’t have all their spellbooks, and we need to know.”
I didn’t know how much she’d been practicing talking to the dead, and I didn’t ask. I just noticed that there was a shadow beneath her eye, and she looked a bit more haunted than when she’d left Summerwood House.
Last, our eyes fell on Renan. “Teeth of a maned wolf can do some damage. I’ll be ready to shift.”
I began to relax a bit. Maybe things were going to be okay. Maybe.
A pounding sounded at the door
, and my head jerked up. I slid from my chair and stalked toward the door, careful not to make any noise. I picked up the shotgun propped beside the doorframe and pressed my eye to the peephole.
“Oh, Goddess,” I breathed.
I fumbled to open the door.
Dalton was standing there, soaking wet, shivering, and dressed in nothing but a hospital gown. Grass had stuck to his feet, and he wore a dazed expression. He was escorted by one of the deputies who’d been guarding the road.
“What happened to you?” I gasped, pulling him inside the house. I was so relieved to see him, to know that the Casimir hadn’t taken him. “You should be at the hospital.”
The deputy nodded. “We found him up on the road. He insisted on speaking with you.”
“I’ve got him. I’ll call the hospital,” I assured the deputy. Celeste practically shoved the deputy outside and closed the door.
Dalton leaned on my shoulder. “Jesus. I had this dream. I had a dream and...I woke up in the woods.”
“Come sit down.” I led him to sit at the kitchen table. Starr grabbed him a blanket, while Celeste set about making more coffee. Halley and Renan watched him silently, seeming to take his measure. Bristol came up to him and rested his head on his lap.
“Your sisters are in town,” Dalton muttered.
“Yes.” I knelt before his chair. “Let me see your neck.”
He leaned toward me, and I pulled the soggy bandage away. I blinked. There was no wound. None. His skin was smooth and perfect.
He was babbling. “I dreamed I was running through the forest, faster than I’d ever gone before. I was running from something. I had to get away, get to safety.”
Renan approached. I glanced up. “That wound...was it a wolf’s bite?”
I nodded. “And the wound’s healed.”
Renan grimaced. “The wolf was Bernard. And he’s now a wolf, too.”
Dalton stared at him. “Who the hell are you?”
“I’m a friend. I investigated these men for art theft. My name’s Renan,” he said, extending a hand.
“Why the fuck are you wearing my clothes?” Dalton demanded, ignoring the offered hand.
“Dalton. It’s okay.” I reached for him.
He wrenched away from me. His face twisted, and he turned toward the door. “I gotta get out of here.”
“No,” I said. “Stay here. Stay here with me.” I placed a hand on his chest, and he let it remain there.
I met his gaze. His eyes, which had once been the color of grey skies, had changed. They’d become a dark amber. Grey began to pepper his dark hair.
Bristol yelped and fled. I didn’t blame him.
“Renan, what’s happening?” I whispered.
“He’s changing.”
Dalton’s limbs lengthened. Under my fingers, I felt ribs crackling. Fur rippled over his body as he changed into a wolf. The chair fell over, and a wolf as tall as my waist at the shoulder gazed back at me. His coat was silver, the fur standing up, and his legs and tail were black.
My hand hovered just above his head. “Dalton...”
His eye rolled, the white showing in panic. He turned, his paws skidding, lunging for the door. He rushed up against the closed front door, his claws digging into the wood.
“Dalton,” I said once more, but he wasn’t hearing me.
Renan stood beside me. He reached for my hand to pull me back. “Don’t.”
Cornered, Dalton turned. Lips peeled back on his teeth, his nose wrinkled, and he growled. I took a step back. But he wasn’t growling at me. He was looking past me, staring at Renan holding my hand.
A thunderous growl echoed in his chest. Fur stood up along his back, and he lunged for Renan.
Renan’s hand ripped away from mine as the wolf plowed into him. His back struck the hardwood floor with a bang. Dalton’s teeth snapped at Renan’s throat, but Renan was already turning. In an instant, his face had lengthened into a muzzle, and red fur rippled over him. He growled back at Dalton, kicking at him with back feet.
“They’re going to kill each other,” Halley declared, reaching for the shotgun.
“Don’t shoot,” I yelled at her.
The canines rolled over the floor toward the sitting room. One of them yelped, and I smelled blood.
I tore my gaze away and rushed to the clinic. I ripped into syringes and snatched up a vial of ketamine. Dalton had the weight advantage on Renan, and this was not going to end well if I didn’t do something.
When I skidded back into the sitting room, a fringed lamp had been crushed to pieces on the floor, an end table was overturned, and Renan was standing on an upturned velvet settee. Dalton was on the floor, snarling at him. Blood dripped from Renan’s ear. Celeste stood on the askew rug, her hands thrust out between them. The canines shook, but a blast of gale-force wind swept around the room, tearing mirrors and pictures off the wall. That wind separated them, for the moment. Her arms shook in concentration, and she was yelling at them to be good dogs.
Halley had the shotgun aimed at Dalton. She pumped it, getting ready to take a shot.
“No!” I shrieked, though my voice was torn by the wind. I waded into the storm, eyes tearing, clutching a syringe full of ketamine.
Celeste made a fist, and Dalton skidded across the floor, slamming into the china hutch. Dishes fractured, but he was pinned there by the storm she’d called up, whimpering.
I fell into that air current and was slammed there against him. My vision blurred, and I struggled to get the right angle. I jabbed the needle into his furry hide and pushed the plunger.
I could barely breathe under this gale. Gasping, I watched as Dalton’s eyes flickered closed.
The wind slackened a bit, and he slumped. His legs gave out, and he spilled to the floor in a heap of fur. When Celeste called down the storm, he collapsed into my arms.
I sat in the center of that ruined room, amid broken glass and porcelain, holding the wolf who was my ex-boyfriend.
Celeste wobbled on her feet. Starr rushed forward to support her. Celeste pressed her hand to her chest.
“Are you okay?” Starr demanded.
“I’m fine. Fine.” She waved Starr away.
Renan carefully climbed down from the couch. He shook his head, like a wet dog, and transformation rippled down his body. When he took the shape of a man, his T-shirt and one side of his face was stained in red.
Halley lowered the shotgun. She took in the mess and muttered: “We’ve got problems, ladies. A lot of problems.”
CHAPTER 15
“Is Dalton going to be all right?”
I didn’t know; I had to ask Renan. He sat on my stainless-steel examination table as I stitched up a cut above his eye. Renan held perfectly still for me. The blood had already stopped flowing. I thought that sewing it shut might be overkill, but I was unfamiliar with shapeshifter physiology. He let me do it, though. Bristol watched me work from under the table, chewing nervously on a rope toy. I made sure that toy was too big to swallow, and I kept one eye on him.
“It depends on Dalton,” Renan said. “He needs time to adjust, to figure out what happened to him. It depends on how adaptable he chooses to be.”
I grimaced. “Adaptability has never been Dalton’s strong suit. He likes things to be the way they’ve always been. He doesn’t do change well.”
“So...are you two together?” His voice was soft, inquiring. There was no possessiveness or blame there, just a genuine wanting to know.
“No. Not for some time.” I finished my last knot and cut the suture. “We’re friends.”
“Seems like he thinks otherwise.”
“We have to talk,” I said, moving to the hazmat container to dispose of my gloves. I did need to talk to Dalton. Sometime when there weren’t magical dealers bearing down on us, and he wasn’t in imminent danger of becoming furry.
“I could help him,” Renan offered. “I could tell him what it’s like...show him how to control it.”
I nodded. “That
would really be kind of you, Renan. I just don’t think...I don’t think he’s there yet.”
The paramedics, summoned by the deputies, had come for Dalton. They found only a wrecked sitting room and a sleeping wolf that I told them was a dog. Celeste explained that Dalton had rushed off into the night, and the sheriff’s deputies had gone off in search of him, sweeping their flashlights into the darkness. I felt like shit lying to them, but explaining shapeshifting was above my pay grade for the evening. I did feel a little relieved when they took the cruisers to search the roads, leaving us alone. There was no way they could defend us against the Casimir, and I would rather that they were out of harm’s way.
“When he wakes up, he will be unhappy,” Renan said, hopping down from the table.
“I don’t much like the idea of confining him,” I said. “But until he gets a grip, I don’t think we have a choice.”
I walked back to the kennel room to check on him. I’d put him in the largest dog cage I had in the clinic, the one Renan had previously occupied, which still felt too small for a wolf. Beast and Goblin had their faces pressed against their own cage, watching him with crumbs tumbling out of their mouths.
What did he do to get put in jail? Beast asked, nose twitching.
He was a Bad Dog, Bristol announced. He was fighting and broke things.
I sighed. “No, sweetie. He just got overexcited and needs to sleep a bunch of stuff off.”
Goblin slurped from his water bottle. If you say so. But I’m watching that guy.
I headed out of the kennel room and opened the back door. Soft darkness teemed with ordinary night sounds: crickets, frogs, cicadas. It was late, and damp grass pressed against the legs of my jeans as I walked out into the field. Bristol and Renan followed me as I scanned the dark.
“It’s safer back in the house,” Renan said unnecessarily.
Bristol squatted to take a dump. I was relieved that his bowels were functioning normally. I took a quick look at his poop. No blood. I was satisfied with small victories these days.
“I have to summon some animal friends,” I said. I walked away from the Bristol poop to the center of the field. I faced east, feeling the power of the land churning around me. It held me and caressed me, the cool breeze drying the sweat on my brow. Above me, a waxing moon painted the landscape in shadow and light.