She shook her head. "He still couldn't tell me anything. The more questions I asked, the worse he got."
"Was this episode before or after he slept with her?"
Her chin lifted. "I don't know. He doesn't talk about that either."
"How do you know he slept with her then?"
It took her an extra heartbeat to answer. When she did, it was almost a whisper. "He moved out of the bedroom."
I gave her a minute to deal with the pain. I doubt she had told many people, if anyone. "Have you actually asked him if he has slept with her?" I asked gently.
She shook her head, once. "I think he would tell me if I asked. Sheila wouldn't bother to put any kind of coercion against him telling me. It's not her style."
Conflicting coercions were also extremely hard to do. A passion spell tended to get rid of inhibitions, not increase them. If Sheila went after the sex to control him, she wouldn't also try to force him to forget about it or deny it. "He's still sick, not eating?"
A sharp nod. "And rumors at work that he slept with her. I think it would only take once. Now she can use that against him, use it to keep him in line."
"But if she doesn't care if you know--"
"Not because of me." She balled her fists into her white skirt. "Because you don't sleep with co-workers, especially if you sit on committee with them and have say over approval of funds."
"Okay, okay. How long ago did he bring the papers home?"
"Last week. Can it…can this kill him?"
I didn't answer that. Instead I said, "He will have signed the papers by now."
"No! He wouldn't do that!"
"He won't have been able to keep from doing it."
"He'd quit before he would! That's why he brought them home. He knew what it meant."
I shook my head, sorry to have to tell her the truth. "When he signed them, even the first time, it's doubtful he knew what he was doing. These spells have to override a lot of awareness. In his case, he probably signed the first of the papers, was interrupted, and the spell had time to wear off. When he looked at the papers later, he knew something was wrong, but couldn't fix it. He brought them to you. But it's quite likely she was able to make him sign them again."
"No." This time it was a hoarse whisper. "I know she hasn't turned them in! My friends at the lab would have told me. You have got to stop her!"
I tapped my fingers against my knee. "One way or another, she will have gotten his signature by now. It's easier to reassert control if done sooner rather than later." I tapped some more. "You're certain they haven't been turned in?"
She nodded.
"She probably doesn't keep the papers at work because someone else might find them. She will have them in a safe place, somewhere accessible only to her," I said.
Vi sucked in a near sob. "He'll have to quit."
"If we remove him from the picture, she'll likely go after whoever takes his place."
"I don't care! As long as it isn't him!" Tears boiled over her eyelids.
I stood and said as gently as I could manage, "A replacement isn't likely to make your husband feel any better. It's going to take a lot to repair his psyche. The good news is that I think there may be a way to make it all work--if we can get the papers back. For that, I'll need something of Harold's to use as a link."
Vi bit on her fist, shivering and trying hard to gather herself. Quietly, having no other comfort to offer, I outlined my plan.
By the time I left, she had pulled herself together and if nothing else, had a semblance of hope.
As for me, I had picked up any stress she had dropped. That happened when I assigned myself dangerous projects like break-ins. After the last one, you'd think I'd have learned.
Chapter 6
I'd planned a relaxing evening at home. No way was I going to start on Vi's project without some rest.
I was all locked in, snug and well fed, but it wasn't to be.
The vamp didn't knock, he just slammed the door open. I screamed.
The spelled garlic across the top of the doorway started smoking.
Let me be clear: I didn't like vampires, and I didn't do business with them. Fine, I was prejudiced; throw me out of society. But let's face facts here. Vampires suck blood. Human blood. Don't give me that crap about synthetics or animals. That was like telling me to eat a soy burger. Vampires might occasionally drink animal blood for all I knew, but I bet it tasted like an unseasoned soy burger.
When the vampire said, "Good evening," I nearly died and saved him the trouble of killing me. It would have helped greatly if he had knocked so that I could have run away. It would have helped if he hadn't shown up at all.
"Get out," I squeaked, bolting upwards off the living room couch. One of the garlic pieces exploded; the rest sent waves of choking smoke as they burned, proving beyond a doubt that he was a vamp. "Don't you dare cross that threshold, you aren't welcome here." I invoked the ancient protection spell, although I'd heard withholding an invite didn't work that well.
The vampire smiled, showing a hint of fang. I'd heard that was a compliment. I was insulted and scared out of my mind. "Go…ge..get--out." About the last way I wanted to die was to have some night creature suck out all my blood. It was supposed to feel great. Bull-ony. I'd seen death, and it was never great.
"I mean you no harm," it said, erasing the smile. "This is a business proposition." His face was incredibly handsome. A guy could die with pimples, be a hundred pounds overweight and bald. Make him a vampire and he would sleek down, get hair and his features, over time, would be molded to perfection. Or so I heard. And I had never seen an ugly vampire so I believed that one.
"Go away." My silver jewelry echoed the sentiment, tingling. "I don't do business with vampires." My friend, Matilda, worked with vamps, but she also advertised herself as a witch, owned a shop, the whole nine yards. Just because she was stupid didn't mean I had to be.
He smiled again, no fangs. "Of course you do. Everyone needs customers."
I could feel myself turning blue. Sucking in as much air as my shriveled throat would allow, I said, "Find yourself another witch. You are not welcome here. Next time knock, and I'll tell you that through the door."
He inclined his head. "My apologies. I would have knocked, but with the spell around the doorway it was easier to touch the door only once." He shrugged beautiful shoulders, his perfectly creased black dress shirt didn't dare wrinkle.
"The spell worked?" I gasped, without thinking.
He actually chuckled. "It's a good one. That's why I'm here. You are considered one of the best witches, maybe the best in the area."
"Flattery," I mumbled frantically. That was one of their weapons. I had to--I made the sign of the cross and headed for the crucifix over my fireplace.
"Don't bother. Besides, if you take that down, it makes the chimney more accessible to my kind."
I froze. It never occurred to me when I enacted protection against night-creatures that putting the cross there might keep vampires from coming down the chimney. The old texts advised a crucifix in every room and not always by a door or window. Together they formed a magic diagram.
"The reason I am here, if I may get on with it, is to hire you before the enemy hires you to find one of us."
"I don't work for vampires," I croaked.
"Then that is a problem." He was no longer smiling. "I don't have all night to convince you that it is better to work for me than against me."
"I don't work against you either." An infinitesimal, almost inconsequential bit of curiosity got past the fear in my brain. "What…what are you talking about?"
Eyes like smooth black tar calculated silently. I didn't want to look at his eyes too long, so I stared across his perfect midnight hair. It was swept into a tucked ponytail at the base of his neck. His skin was a rich olive, flawlessly…preserved.
"It is rumored that there is a witch who wants the power of the vampire without becoming one," he said. "You are a witch. Why wouldn't you
help another witch find a vampire unless I pay you to stay out of it?"
My mind couldn't grasp the concept for over a minute. He was patient. Finally I said, "Sorry, buddy. I can't think of a single good reason to help anyone find a vampire." I bit down hard on my lip to keep from stuttering. "I suppose if a vampire was kidnapping children, I could be persuaded to do something about it. Truthfully, I'd probably help if the vampire were rampaging against humans in general." My upper body shivered violently at the thought of having to track a vampire, a violent killer who was already dead.
He inclined his head politely. "Vampires do not rampage against live humans. That would be self-destructive."
"I'll say." I backed towards the chimney so that the crucifix was within reach. "But you can't say it hasn't happened before."
The elegant shrug again. "Of course not. But we take care of our own. We're not looking to be annihilated. Any vampire that goes rogue will be a dead vampire."
He didn't smile at his own joke. Neither did I. My mouth already felt as if fangs were growing just because I was within a hundred yards of the guy. "I am not going vampire hunting. I am not for hire for such jobs."
"You are certain?"
"Damn straight."
"I can pay you well to ensure your cooperation."
I didn't like the sound of that. "You mean you can buy my cooperation?" I knew that was not what he meant.
The fangs again. "No, I meant that if you agreed to my business proposition, I would ensure your cooperation, although I would also pay you for the agreement."
"Figures." Taking a deep breath, I straightened my shoulders. "I won't bargain with you, sell my soul to you, be hired by you, paid by you or…stalked by you. I am not for hire where vampires are concerned."
"Not even for the hunt."
"Especially for the hunt," I corrected. I was calm enough now that an evil thought surfaced. "Correct me if I heard wrong, but this hunt, whoever wants a vampire…you said you weren't talking about a hunt to get rid of a vampire?"
"No." He waved an elegant hand, getting too close to the garlic. It flared again, burning away entirely.
"You're telling me that someone out there wants a vampire for the power."
Even before he nodded, my skin crawled. "Heaven help us," I whispered.
"Someone had better."
Swallowing hard, I promised, "It is not I who is looking for such danger." Had he come here thinking I was good enough to mess with a potion that required vampire fluids? Was he insane???
"You are a very talented witch."
"I'm also one attached to staying alive. No offense."
"If a witch were to capture one of ours, death wouldn't be what she would fear." He didn't snarl, but it was close.
"I can imagine." I held up my hands in a peaceful gesture. "But it isn't me. Trust me, I'm not that stupid."
He studied the door frame. "I can see that you are not stupid." Pointing to the door frame he said, "You won't sell this spell either."
"To another witch?" My livelihood was selling spells, and that might include spells against vampires.
"That is partly what I came to pay you for. You must not help."
I shook my head. "I sell spells. I don't necessarily check to make sure that someone--uh-oh," I said softly, thinking of Dolores. She had bought what should have been a protection spell. I hadn't known her intent. "Oh."
"Yes, it's a rather touchy problem. I would advise you not to sell this particular knowledge for a while. Until we take care of the problem."
"You don't know for certain who this witch is?" I dared ask.
"We will find out."
I shook my head. "If she is good enough to be thinking of capturing a vampire, she will already know this spell."
The smile again, without fangs. "Exactly."
Like the myth, he was gone. The door did not close by itself. I was too scared to walk over and shut it. He had visited because he knew I had enough knowledge about vampires to keep them at bay. I shivered.
It was bad enough that he knew I knew a few spells, but it scared me even more that vampires anywhere thought I might have the means to track them. That was not the kind of knowledge I needed, wanted or would want to use. If I were very, very lucky, I had convinced him of that.
Chapter 7
It was late, but I went to the grocery for garlic. I wasn't sleeping another night without more protection in my house. While I was there, regular groceries wouldn't hurt either.
I already had a blessed crucifix and was wearing it, but a spare or six seemed like a really great investment. There wasn't time to design one myself given the circumstances. I woke up my regular supplier of silver and bought the two in his inventory along with some extra silver strands.
Crucifixes didn't come blessed, so I'd have to wait for morning to get Father Dan to do it for me. I also wanted some holy water.
It was almost midnight when I got back home, but the place still felt violated. It couldn't wait until morning. I called Father Dan.
"Can I bring over a couple of gallons of water to be blessed?" I hoped he'd tell me he was awake, no problem, bring it over.
"What? Why in the world do you need so much holy water?" he sputtered. "Are you running baptisms out of your yard?"
Father Dan knew me too well to swallow a "visit the poor" excuse. "I, uh…" Luckily, inspiration dawned. "The werewolves," I whispered into the phone.
"The--oh for--Give me patience, Lord! You're the tenth person to call me about that."
"It wouldn't hurt to have it, right?" Every time I talked to the man, I was overwhelmed by guilt. It wasn't that witches couldn't be God's workwomen, it was that the priest didn't necessarily believe in the things I tried to protect against. "And I have another cross that needs blessing," I added, so long as I was already upsetting him.
"After Mass. You wait until after Mass on Sunday."
"Are you sure you can't do it tonight?"
"Yes!"
"How about a blessing for me and my house? Over the phone?" It was weak as far as spells, but unless I wanted to drive over, pound on his door and wake him again, it was the best I could do.
"Fine, fine, a prayer, but then you hang up and let me get some sleep!"
"Okay," I promised.
Begrudgingly, he muttered prayers. I added my own voice to the, "Amen," and then said, "Thanks, Father Dan. I'll bring my new cross to Mass."
He was still muttering when he hung up.
I dragged out my toolbox and pried off the trim around the front and back doors. To my relief, the silver around the front door had not melted. I wasn't quite sure why the garlic had nearly burned off; that problem required more study. The entire house still reeked from the smoke. "Has to be garlic," I grumbled. "Couldn't it be other herbs?"
That gave me an idea. "Chile…" New Mexico chile was more caustic than just about anything. It was readily available in dried forms too. "Powdered?"
Of course, if the chile burned, the cayenne would be released into the air. I'd choke myself out of my own house if I did the spell wrong. "I could use it in the chimney where the fumes would go up."
I went into my lab and worked up a formula. The literature gave me some stats on why garlic worked against vampires. There was no earthly reason that chile wouldn't help. In fact, after studying the problem I was pretty sure chile was a better anti-vampire tool. Caustic peppers weren't all that common in medieval Europe when the first spells were developed. That and there was still the whole threat of dying from inhaling cayenne if things went wrong.
I happened to have a rista that hadn't been lacquered for use as a decoration. I ground some of the red chile into a fine powder.
It was three in the morning before I finished my task, but I had finished some nice ropes made from dried chile and garlic wrapped in linen. I strung the stuff under the doorframes and tapped the trim back on. The chile might smoke, it might do nothing, but it most likely would enhance the garlic.
Hoping the v
amp had no reason to come back any time soon, I lined the porch with some of the new silver I had purchased. The vamp had to touch the silver to be burned, but I was hoping the vamp would feel it under the boards and stay away.
I was exhausted, and I still hadn't done my bedroom. A couple of extra garlic bulbs hardly seemed enough protection. I had to sleep in there. "How much silver has to be in a stake?"
I got on the internet and then backed the research up with some old texts in my lab. It turned out the answer was none. The stake had to go through the vampire's heart. "Does it have to be ash? How about oak? And how ‘bout I tip it with silver?" Double protection. "What about a silver dagger?"
I read long enough to figure out that ash had some properties where vampires were concerned that oak did not. With a big yawn, I shut my books. A stake was going to involve more than carving up a spare chunk of wood.
I took the rest of the thin silver thread and worked it around my bed. It would have to do if a vamp found a way past the other protections. I muttered some more protection spells and put bundles of chile powder at the foot and top of my bed. I think I even finished the spells before I fell asleep.
Chapter 8
In the morning, late as it came for me, I had to face facts. I couldn't just sit on the information Lynx had given me. There were two choices. I could go out in the mountains and find the body Lynx described, or I could get the information to White Feather.
My aura had been all over the Dolores thing. Even though I had taken care of that as much as possible, I didn't think it was a good idea to go putting myself near another body. I didn't need anyone telling the authorities that the same aura appeared near two murdered women.
Unfortunately, if I met with White Feather, he'd have questions. I didn't have many answers. Checking on the body myself might answer some of them, but White Feather could get that information as easily as I could if he followed the directions to the body.
I drew a map and made sure my aura was nowhere on it. Instead of wasting time with a long description, I added the words "forensic team required" to the bottom. The man wasn't an idiot; the message and map were clue enough. Unless he had forty other informants in the paranormal world, he would know it was from me, but he couldn't prove it.
Under Witch Moon (Moon Shadow Series) Page 4