Under Witch Moon (Moon Shadow Series)

by Maria E. Schneider

  Too bad the fire alarm went off when I went out the back way.

  It didn't occur to me until I got outside that El Ojo was right next to the cemetery on Cerrillos road. The graveyard had long been closed due to lack of funding, but what did that mean for a cemetery? Big deal; more people wouldn't be buried there. Not like anyone already interred was going to complain about being abandoned.

  The first fence wasn't bad because it had wooden support boards across the sides and top of the chain link. It also wasn't very high. The second fence was harder for me to climb because it was normal chain link. I was in a bigger hurry too because my original follower plus a bouncer was staring out the open back door of El Ojo.

  You'd think the neighborhood would care about all the bar noise, but on the other side of the cemetery there was a school for the deaf. The two guys behind me could kill me and celebrate loudly. Even better for them, I was already in a cemetery, no burial necessary.

  From behind a decaying mausoleum, I watched the bouncer looking guy step outside and slam the door behind him. In the last swatch of light before the door closed, I saw the glint of a gun in his hand.

  When he started to climb the fence, the gun clanged against the metal. He stopped, tucked the gun into his pants and tried again.

  Witches didn't carry guns. I always had spells, but none were all that lethal. Some spells could turn that way depending on my desperation, but in general I didn't want to use my talent to kill anyone. Frankly, I'd rather use a gun, but didn't happen to have one on me.

  The guy after me did.

  It would have to do for both of us.

  My magnets for levitation were still in my shoes. Since I wasn't about to go flying around the graveyard, the magnets would work nicely for a different spell.

  A place to set the spell and infinite time would have made things easier. Obviously, I wasn't going to get such a luxury. The guy looking for me walked with his arms flung out as if he were a human drag-net, and I was going to run right into them. His breath rasped loudly enough for me to hear, but I couldn't tell if he was a shifter using his sense of smell or tired from climbing the two fences.

  I took off one sneaker, checked the outline of the tombs around me and prayed no one or nothing evil had been buried here.

  Muttering carefully, I used a spell that would only resonate with iron and other metal materials. Nothing plant, nothing that might have come from say, bones or degraded ashes-to-ashes type earth.

  I tried to draw most of the energy from myself, but magnets were of the earth, and they automatically resonated back to like energy.

  The feeling from the ground was downright creepy. Worse, it smelled.

  I didn't want energy from this place.

  Shivers ran up and down my back. The spell barely touched the surface of the earth, but in a place like this, it didn't take much. The mustiness that rose to my fingertips and my shoe made me want to gag. It was probably nothing more than energy from rusted iron responding, a screw, hinges…I gulped.

  Mr. Net-man was almost on top of me before the spell had enough strength to pull the gun toward me. It floated rather faster than I expected, but the speed was probably a good thing, because Mr. Net lunged.

  The gun batted against my hand. I snagged it and rolled away. There was no time to put the shoe back on, but I kept it tucked under my arm. I was not leaving anymore pieces of myself for anyone to find.

  "Dammit," Net-man snarled when his arm barely missed me.

  He didn't give up. He reached over the top of the tombstone.

  I somersaulted behind the next one, crouched and fired over the top. The bullet parted his hair and probably took a piece of his ear.

  Net-man stood with his arms wide opened for a split second.

  I kept my arms steady on the tombstone, the gun trained right at the breath of air emanating from his lips.

  Net-man pulled in his arms and changed course. He weaved like a drunk toward Cerrillos road at the front of the cemetery.

  We had both come in the side, but apparently he wasn't going to try and get back inside the club.

  "Your aim ain't that great," Lynx informed me from behind another gravestone.

  I nearly shot him. I would have shot at least the tombstone, except he was there one second and gone the next. Trembling, I set the gun down and hugged myself. "I didn't have time to aim right for him, idiot!" My eyes searched the eerie darkness.

  "What are you doing here?" Lynx's voice came from behind another stone.

  "Looking for you."

  "In the place of the dead? You think I spend much time here?" He appeared behind me, a neat trick since I was slowly turning, checking every direction possible.

  I nearly throttled him, but settled for catching my breath.

  "You couldn't leave me a message?" he asked.

  "That would have been a better idea."

  "It's dangerous here," Lynx said. "You shouldn't have come. There are people looking for you."

  "Who are they?" I hissed.

  "You need work that bad? You don't usually take hires from here."

  "No, it isn't the work."

  "Come on." He grabbed my arm and pulled me up. "You ain't equipped for that place." He looked down at my flat shoes, at least the one still on my foot, and up to my shirt, which hadn't budged. I wasn't showing any more skin than when I started, but I was dirtier.

  He snorted with disgust. "You maybe better hire yourself some protection if you're going to be cruising around without trying to blend in."

  I found my shoe, which had fallen after all, and put it on. The gun wasn't going to do anyone here any good, so I picked it up also. "I heard you might be selling protection services," I said, trying to keep the sarcasm and annoyance out of my voice.

  Lynx didn't answer, he just kept walking. With no choice, I huffed after him. "Who was that guy?"

  Lynx walked me to my car, climbed in and said, "He's the one I told you about, the one talking around about working for the "government." A cop."

  "Cops don't go running after people for no reason." I got in the driver's side.

  "You did leave the club by way of the back door. Could be he thought you stole something."

  I shook my head. "No way."

  "Probably not," Lynx agreed. "But you were asking funny questions about witches, and I hear you was looking for me also. That's gonna get some attention even if he didn't know you were a witch." Lynx gave me his twisted smile. "At least you found me. I'm charging you dinner in addition to my regular rate on account I had to go find you in the graveyard."

  I glared at him, but didn't argue. He was as bad as Angel about getting food tips, but I wouldn't get any more information out of him until he had eaten.

  There weren't many places open all night in Santa Fe except the nightclubs. I pulled up to The Owl's drive-through. Technically the sign said, "Closed," but we knew it was open all night. I ordered him a burger and fries.

  "Make it two."

  I ignored him. Growing or not, the kid didn't need two burgers at two a.m.

  I let him get his mouth full before I started pestering him. "I came for two reasons. I was trying to figure out who is looking for me. I thought maybe it was a vampire, the one that came knocking, but that guy didn't look like a vamp."

  Lynx almost choked. "You ‘ot--" he gagged. "Vampires--"

  "Don't worry, the guy and I already talked it out," I said. "But he did find me after you said someone was looking so I figured maybe it was him at the clubs, maybe not. I also thought maybe it was my normal police contact, but my contact swears no one on the force is looking for me."

  Lynx swallowed and peered at my neck.

  I smacked his head lightly. "It was days ago, dummy. I'd have already made you into fish fry if I was going to go after you. The guy was checking up on a bunch of witches."

  "Hmph." Lynx went back to eating.

  "If it isn't the police, and it isn't the vamp, who is it? Who is that guy?"

  "Dunn
o. The guy says he is looking for the best witch money can buy, and he asked about you by name at least once. He could be for real, but I still think he's working for somebody else because he isn't the only one putting out that message." Lynx shrugged. "I tol' you, it's like a bigger search, not one normal looking for a single spell."

  The description sounded like what the vamp had said, but I had already told the vamp to look elsewhere. Of course, who knew how long it would take Matilda to tell the vamp about Sheila? Even if the vamp looked into Sheila, in the meantime the vamp could leave the offer open.

  "Fine," I sighed. I pulled up to the house. "Next issue. I hear from your buddy Zandy that you're competing against Arturo or in this dating service or something." It was none of my business. After stating my suspicion out loud, I had nowhere to go with it.

  "So?"

  I got out of the car and slammed the door. He got out also, but didn't come up onto the porch.

  "Lynx, there has to be a line. You can't go selling sex like some kind of whore!"

  "It's not only sex. You think you're the only one that can offer protection? Besides, yours didn't work so well."

  "There was nothing wrong with that spell!"

  He shrugged. "Sure, I know that. But the normals, they worry about stupid stuff. If they want to hire me to protect them from a date gone stupid, I ain't gonna tell them that your spell works."

  It took a great deal of patience not to snap at him. "How do you convince them they need protection? Wait," I stopped him. "They already know they need protection because there are four bodies littering the landscape."

  He nodded. "Yup. And I'm the bodyguard."

  "What happens if Arturo comes after you looking to put you out of business?"

  His eyes flattened. I'm sure his ears went back. "Who cares what he thinks? He runs a business, and I run mine."

  "How did you get into this business of yours?" I demanded, thinking of the complications.

  He closed his lips stubbornly.

  I rolled my eyes. "Lynx! I am not trying to steal your business. You said yourself that it's easy enough to convince the normals that they need protection. Shoot, Dolores thought of it all by herself."

  "Yeah." He loosened up enough to admit, "The ladies still want dates, but they want more reassurance."

  "Don't you realize playing bodyguard could get you killed?" I was pretty sure that Lynx wasn't a werewolf. Even if he were a Lynx as his name implied, who hired a cat to go against a wolf?

  "They pay for a shifter, and they get one. I'm quick enough to get them out of danger."

  I gulped. "Do you change for them? To prove it?"

  He shook his head no before I could envision cameras and evidence. "Nah. Mostly they don't even meet me at all. I do the hiring like you do, through an intermediary."

  My eyes closed. "Zandy."

  "Yeah." He sounded unsure for the first time.

  "Let me guess." I opened my eyes. "Zandy needed to be able to convince a date that he was safe so he hired you."

  Lynx shifted his gaze away. "Not exactly."

  I waited.

  "Arturo needed some proof that Zandy wouldn't go nuts again. I offered to hire myself as protection."

  "You work for Arturo?" I shrieked.

  "Freelance. On that one case I do Arturo a favor. But I do protection on my own."

  "What's to keep Arturo from having one wolf protect against another?"

  "People trust it this way more."

  The numbers still weren't adding up. "But for the others, is Zandy your go-between?" Lynx didn't answer. I sighed. "You're working for Arturo and Zandy." I paused. "And charging them both." I knew I was right even though his face didn't change. "It's no wonder Zandy told me that if Arturo found out about you, you'd be in trouble."

  Lynx grinned, showing a flash of tooth in the starlight. "Aw, come'on. Zandy, he's a lot of talk."

  Yeah, and Lynx thought he was freelance. He was up to his ears in this stuff. I didn't like it, but there wasn't anything I could do about it. Well, maybe one thing. "Lynx, you gotta draw a line in the sand. You can't be hiring yourself out to both sides."

  "Says who?"

  "Says me. I am not hiring some guy who can't reasonably draw a line where there should be one. I don't want a guy working for me that is basically a…a…pimp." There, I'd said it.

  "Fine by me." His voice was a low hiss. "I can make more in one night from one of these jobs than a month on yours. When those ladies hire, they pay big bucks. They want the best and that's who I am. Maybe you should find out who is looking to hire the best. Maybe you'd make more money that way too."

  "That's little more than whoring--" He turned his back and walked away. "Lynx!"

  The night swallowed him without any help from his talents.

  He was gone. And mad.

  And I couldn't blame him. Who was I to try and tell him where to draw the line? But my God, these ladies were dangerous. Couldn't he see that?

  I paid him close to two hundred a month on a normal basis, and that didn't count the extra work he had been doing for me lately. One night at that price?

  I shook my head. Money that big was going to attract a lot of attention.

  Dammit, it already had.

  Chapter 23

  My work calendar went from the pot into the fire the very next morning. As if it wasn't hard enough to fraternize at bars, Vi called first thing in the morning and demanded I attend a political schmoozer.

  "I don't think me going will help your husband," I told her.

  "Harold has to be there. I want someone in the background to counter any spells that Sheila sets to humiliate me or Harold."

  "Why don't you both stay home? Harold doesn't need anyone yanking on his chain right now, and I assure you, if she yanks and he doesn't respond, we're going to have a bigger mess than we already do."

  "There is no way he can get out of attending. Every political hack thinks he deserves special attention before awarding a contact to Los Alamos. It's Harold's job to be seen, to rub the right egos."

  "Have him take someone important out to lunch instead," I suggested.

  "He has to go! As it is, he's going to be missing a few days of work, and he may as well not have a job if he can't keep doing what needs to be done."

  "Why will he miss work?"

  "Because we went to a shaman like you recommended. It's done wonders for him, but the shaman said Harold wasn't ready for a sweat lodge yet. We have another appointment with the shaman next weekend. If it goes well, we plan to stay through Tuesday."

  "No sweat lodge? What did the shaman give him then?"

  "Nothing. We hiked out to some ceremonial cave over by Bandelier Monument. There was a lot of adobe. The shaman said the mud would be good for him."

  "Ah. The ruins blocked Sheila."

  "All I know is Harold was happier than I've seen him in a long time. We ate enough food that he actually put on a couple of pounds. I want to go back."

  "That's good news. The longer Harold flies under the radar, the better he will get. He can build up his resistance, but only if he isn't being noticed. I'd have to advise against the party."

  "I'll pay triple your regular rates since you know how dangerous this could be."

  Lately people were willing to pay a lot of money for witch services. It should have been a stroke of luck, but all it did was convince me that things were going in the toilet. "Vi--" I hesitated. The truth was best. "I can't guarantee that I can stop Sheila from controlling your husband. She still has some very powerful pieces of him. I can't compete with that."

  Predictably, she went from professional to shrill. "You're not as good as she is, are you?"

  "Depends on how you define good. I would never bind someone like she did. That doesn't mean I don't understand the spell, it means I wouldn't use it."

  Silence on the other end.

  "There isn't anyone who can necessarily stop her," I said. "If the shaman thinks Harold wasn't ready for a sweat lodge, wel
l, that means we have a long way to go. We can protect him, and we can wean him. Eventually the spell will weaken. But the best thing is for him to stay away from her."

  "He has to go to this party. It's his job!"

  "Maybe if you weren't there, Sheila would be less likely to create a scene?"

  It was her turn to hesitate. "I thought of that."

  "And?"

  "And she might cause a scene anyway. Just to embarrass him. That's why I need you there. Surely you can counteract some of the spells she might try."

  "It's possible. But if she realizes we're fighting her, it could undo all the progress we've made so far. I'm not sure he could withstand a second trip down that lane, especially if she isn't careful about how she does it."

  "And we can count on her to be careless," Vi agreed bitterly.

  "It's likely."

  "I want you to go." She swallowed noisily. "And use your judgment. Deflect the spells at least a little."

  "Even if I have to let some through, and he is embarrassed?"

  She choked back a sob. "Even then. He might lose his job, but he'll live." There was another stretch of silence. "Right?"

  I didn't have a good answer for that question. Some people couldn't live with embarrassment. I didn't know enough about Harold or what had been done to him. The parts I did know scared me. "He's been through a lot already. We had better prepare him for the worst."

  Vi sniffled. "I'll send a courier with the invitation. I need your address."

  I gave her the address of Matilda's shop. "I'll pick it up there. And remember. I can't stop her outright."

  Vi took down the address before saying, "You know, I think you're afraid of her."

  She hung up before I could explain that Sheila was a very scary witch. She had a piece of me already, I just didn't know what it was. If Sheila figured out who had broken into her place, I'd become the sudden focus of her attentions, and that was a war I didn't need.

  I shivered and headed for my closet, hoping I had something appropriate to wear to the gala event.

  Chapter 24

  My head was in the closet, but my mind was in my workshop. I needed some spells at the party that had no part of my aura anywhere near them. Since that wasn't possible, I would only be able to produce a version of stink bombs--little more than smoke and mirrors.