Under Witch Moon (Moon Shadow Series)

by Maria E. Schneider

  The smile I offered was strained. "I doubt it. Merlin wouldn't care about that."

  He bristled. "She must have some excuse, but whatever it is, it isn't helping. Need I remind you that the guy murdered a young lady?"

  "Shh," I warned, reaching for his arm. The doors to the balcony were opened to the dance floor, and we weren't the only ones out here. At least three people used the outside as an excuse to smoke. One woman sitting at a table looked our way, but I couldn't tell if that was because White Feather was handsome or because she had overheard.

  White Feather stared down at me, his jaw clenched. Without turning his head, he let his eyes flick to the people around us. Deciding I was right, he put one arm around me and clasped my hand. "You're more agreeable when we're dancing."

  "So are you."

  His feet barely moved, which was fine because although other couples out here were holding hands, none were actually dancing. I didn't want to go back inside either. "You could help me, you know," he murmured. "All I want is the name. I could take it from there, no need for you to be involved."

  He was holding me rather tighter than before, but it didn't carry the same feeling. He turned me in a spin, further into the garden. He was facing the doors. I didn't like that. I needed to keep an eye on Harold. Gently, I pulled away, but though he gave me some space, he didn't let me go. "I wish I could help."

  "Will you at least tell Merlin I want another chance to meet with her?"

  I sighed. "Okay, but knowing one name isn't going to solve this problem."

  "He killed once. And he could do it again." His eyes sparked again, this time with anger.

  "It's possible."

  "Would two be enough?" he demanded. "Would you tell me then? After it's too late for number two?" He released me suddenly.

  He was right. Zandy was guilty.

  Before I could defend my not-so-defensible position, the back of my neck sent a warning that reached the hair on my arms. Spinning around, away from White Feather, I searched.

  Sheila was easier to find than Harold because of her white hair. She sipped calmly from a wine glass. If she was working a spell, it didn't show in her eyes. They were perfectly focused, politely amused by the man standing in front of her. The man wasn't facing me, but it wasn't Harold. If she were going for Harold…

  I found the broken man because he was moving towards Sheila, a glazed look on his face. He was everything but drooling, answering the call. Sheila never even had to crook a finger in his direction. There was absolutely no fight in him. He probably didn't even know he was under duress.

  White Feather stiffened behind me, and I couldn't blame him. Unfortunately, I didn't have time to answer his questions right now. It was beyond rude to walk away, but I headed inside, the words of my first spell choice forming on my lips.

  I was stopped cold by a sudden breeze. Strong enough to flare cigarettes, it brushed past me, scented of pines, of earth, of strong magic.

  I put out a hand as though to capture it, breathing deep of its cleansing scent. The breeze ruffled clothes, weaving through the crowd, dispersing everything from odors to…I found Harold again. He stood, a puzzled expression on his face. He shuffled forward uncertainly.

  The amulet around Sheila's neck glinted an unhealthy green, but the breeze dispensed the color into an unfocused smattering of light. I turned back around, my mouth agape.

  "You sensed it too." White Feather took my arm again, and this time, we danced together indoors. The breeze wafted gently. I didn't know if White Feather meant that I had sensed the magic in the air or Sheila's amulet. In his arms, the earth smell was stronger. I nearly swooned.

  Gads, but the man was powerful. I couldn't help but suck in a lungful of air, savoring the clean fresh scent, the power that he was controlling.

  As suddenly as the breeze arrived, it was gone. I could still feel the remnants around White Feather. Like a giddy school girl, I clung to him. "Wow."

  White Feather was bemused. "You have a lot of empathy, but you'd better learn to block it," he said.

  I blinked. "Yeah. Good idea." I sighed, not wanting to get a hold of myself very badly. I had been listening for spells, much more receptive than normal. White Feather had hit me from behind like a load of bricks. Very sexy bricks. Glancing around, I noted that the laughter was a bit fuller, the air brighter, cleaner.

  "How long will it last?" I was impressed with the warlock magic. It was so alien from the spells I used. Moving elements was not easy, but he had called a strong enough breeze that it dispersed things, including the voodoo spell that Sheila had tried to use.

  "What did you sense?"

  "Bad spell."

  "Do you know what it was? I could smell the poison. I had no idea where it was directed."

  I nodded. "A coercion spell."

  "From whom?"

  I smiled at him. "Not the werewolf."

  He grimaced. "Werewolves don't tinker with spells. I wasn't asking after that information again."

  "I know you weren't." He deserved an answer to his question. Any witch or warlock deserved to know about Sheila. "It's from the lady with white hair."

  "I thought it was directed at you. Do you know why someone would be after you? Or Merlin?"

  I shook my head and leaned closer to his ear. "Not me, not this time. But it's good that you blew it away from us."

  He shrugged. "There really wasn't an option. The wind had to come from outside. I could hardly blow it from inside. Besides, that would have drawn the spell towards us."

  "It was a good thing that you did." Having been hit by the bulk of the cleansing rush, I was still incredibly tingly. That and he truly was handsome, all by himself.

  "I suppose you're used to being around this sort of thing." His voice faded at the end.

  Surprised, I felt a rush of warmth from his neck. "Around what sort of thing?"

  He didn't meet my eyes. "People like Merlin," he finally said.

  "Witches?"

  He shrugged, a quick, irritated movement.

  "I suppose I am. What's the big deal?"

  "The big deal is that I broadcast what I am across an entire room."

  He was right. Such a broadcasting could be very dangerous. Worried, I found Sheila again in the crowd. If she was perturbed, the signs had already been erased. I had been so pleased that she wouldn't be able to home in on me because I hadn't done anything, that I hadn't thought of the possible danger to White Feather. "Do you think she can tell where it came from?" I asked.

  "Who?"

  "Sheila."

  He glanced over that way, but didn't let his eyes linger. "I doubt it. We moved away pretty quickly from where I started the spell." He grinned. "And you did a good job of jumping into my arms as though there was nothing else you were focused on." He laughed when I ducked my head in embarrassment.

  He was right. I had been nearly overwhelmed, my heart singing instead of pounding with what should have been anticipation of a fight. "I am quite sure she noticed your effort." Sheila certainly hadn't reactivated her spell. Whatever reason she had called Harold, she had decided to do without.

  The good news for Harold was that she had no reason to suspect he was fighting her because he hadn't been. The bad news for me was that she knew someone had dispersed the spell. The news was worse for White Feather, but at least Sheila didn't have a piece of him or his belongings.

  White Feather guided me back out to the edge of the garden where we could stop dancing and watch the crowd again. The tiki torches burning on the far wall threw some light, but not enough to put us in the spotlight. I had a hard time taking my attention from him, especially when he still held me in the circle of his arm.

  "I'm not normally so sloppy," he said. "But that stuff felt nasty. Who is she?"

  I shrugged. "She works at Los Alamos. Obviously she's a witch."

  "Voodoo?"

  "At least," I agreed. "Bad news."

  "Make sure you don't give her a reason to notice you."


  I shivered. I didn't bother to tell him that I already had.

  "I think I'll go see about damage control." He squeezed my shoulder. "You'll be okay? I assume Merlin already knows about this, and she can help protect you."

  His eyes were in the shadows, but I could tell he was concerned.

  "Merlin will do everything she can to keep me safe," I assured him.

  He bent his head. I held my breath, but he changed his mind. Instead of kissing me, he touched my cheek. "Be careful."

  Without another word, he moved away. There was no sign of the power from before. I wasn't sure what he intended to do, but I was worried. I didn't want her attention on him.

  Or Harold, I thought guiltily. I had neglected my charge. Hmm. Perhaps I could do some damage control on my own. Two auras of magic were surely harder to track than one. Or better yet, three or four.

  Smiling, I decided to put Matilda's wares to good use. Sheila might backtrack to Matilda, but Matilda had enough inventory, Sheila would be more confused than anything.

  I headed toward the ladies room and retrieved a few packets.

  On the way back, in an idiot act with a glass of water, I dumped the water along with the spell onto a poor waitress.

  "Oh, I'm so sorry!" I grabbed a towel from the waitress' own arm to help her dry the spray. Carefully, I swabbed the liquid spell. It would soak through her skin nicely.

  "I'm quite all right," she said stiffly.

  I kept her from drying the arm by batting her ineffectively with the towel. The woman was already invisible by a lot of social standards, and the spell was good. When I got done, I could barely look at her.

  That gave me an idea for the other spell, a much more flamboyant one by Matilda. Originally I'd planned on using it on myself because it would basically make me look exactly the opposite of my normal appearance. I had hoped it would keep Sheila from getting any kind of real description if she got a bead on me.

  I surveyed my options.

  The downstairs bar was an overlook into the kitchen. The wait staff kept it busy by refilling trays, not to mention several people stopped to order special drinks. Heading upstairs, I found better opportunities. The upstairs room overlooked the balcony. The bar was manned by a single waiter. He had none of the appetizers to entice people over.

  Most of the party-goers up here were standing aimlessly in front of artwork or were perched at a table gossiping on the balcony.

  I moseyed up to the bar with my highest watt smile. "Hi."

  The hapless, unsuspecting bartender smiled back.

  "It's so busy in here tonight," I gushed. "My gosh, I don't know how you can stand it."

  "Not a problem. What can I get for you?"

  "Oh," I sighed. "I'm helpless when it comes to ordering." I leaned forward. I could have had no boobs at all, and the man would have looked down anyway. "Tell you what. Let's split a drink--what's your best?" I giggled. "You deserve it. I've seen you working so hard."

  "Wine or something stronger?" he asked smoothly.

  "Oh, the wine sounds good, doesn't it?" When he looked mildly disappointed, I giggled again. "But how about a teensy bit of something stronger? I know there are special bottles back there for certain people. Let's pretend I gave you one of their names."

  He opened his mouth to protest.

  "Come on!" I flapped my hand at him, catching his arm in what could have been a flirtatious caress. I whispered the mayor's name. "Or how about the football player? I bet he is on the list. Just tell your boss I said I was getting two drinks, one for each of them, and I ordered the "best" stuff."

  The man checked quickly for other patrons. He got two shot glasses out with record speed. I didn't bother to note what bottle he pulled. I palmed the powdered spell into his glass. "Let me pour!" I said, waving my hands as a distraction.

  "Uh, it's against regulations."

  "Okay, I'll hold the glasses." I put a hand around each glass. "You pour but stop when I say." I giggled again and heaved my breasts onto the bar as though I had to do it to keep my balance.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw two men come up to get drinks. The bartender hurried.

  "There, there!" I took about a half shot and made sure he got a full one, swirling them both. Since the two suits had arrived, I whispered, "I'll sit here a moment."

  "Of course." He eyed the drinks and weighed them against the two gentlemen who had walked up. I let myself appear distracted, took a sip of my shot, nearly gagged and waited.

  He took care of business.

  When he came back, he downed the shot in one smooth motion as he turned to put the bottle up. He winced and licked his lips, tasting the remnants.

  "Mmm, you sure can pick them," I said. He must not have thought so. He picked up the bottle again and stared at the label. I distracted him with, "I might take your wine selection too." I sniffed again at my shot.

  What the hell was I going to do with it? The thing had to be a hundred and fifty proof. The last thing I needed was to be wobbling around the place. I tried another sip and choked.

  A helpful person nearly knocked me over patting me across the back.

  I would have said thank you, but when I turned, it was to find White Feather beside me. He gave my back a firm pat and glared at the bartender. "What are you doing?" he asked me.

  "Red herrings," I replied lightly.

  He grabbed the shot glass and finished it for me. His eyes didn't even water. "I don't know if I have any idea what you're talking about."

  The spell was good. When I looked back at the bartender, I didn't recognize him. The bartender had been overweight, but the spell made him appear much thinner. His lack of hair, well, for the night, he could dazzle the ladies with what appeared to be a full head. Of course it was the opposite of his remaining dark strands, but since he didn't even know he had any hair, who was he to complain?

  It was possible that White Feather had seen the bartender before and then again after the spell. If he had, he didn't ask questions. Luckily, spells that were eaten or imbibed were different from the raw power White Feather wielded or the voodoo type. They didn't shout. They blended. Most importantly, they left an aura that didn't belong to me and didn't belong to White Feather.

  I leaned into White Feather and whispered, "I'll explain later." I took the wine glass that the bartender offered and headed off to mingle.

  It had been an hour and a half since I arrived, but Sheila had shown she would misbehave. The safest thing to do was get Harold out of here. He had made his appearance, I had done my duty, and I damn well knew I didn't want to fend off another attack.

  It would have been easiest to give Harold something to make him ill so he could go home sick. Unfortunately, I didn't have the heart to put a spell on a man so badly used.

  I searched out a phone, but the first one I found looked like an old fashioned gilded piece. I didn't want to embarrass myself by picking it up only to find it was an antique decoration. In the bathroom area, I found a normal looking one and used it to call Vi.

  She argued with me, of course. "Is he in danger? What if she uses the page as an excuse to keep him just to show her power?"

  "You need to get him out of here." I tried not to clench my teeth. "Trust me when I tell you that the hold she has on him hasn't diminished one bit. If she does it again, I can't fight it and what's more, I won't bother to try!" I wouldn't let White Feather try either, but I didn't tell her that.

  "Okay, okay." She mumbled something and then, "But make sure he comes home when I page. I'll pay you extra if I have to."

  "If he gets a page, everyone will know, and he can tell whoever he's talking to that he has to go." I hung up.

  Sadly, when I walked back into the main downstairs room, Harold was standing in front of none other than the big, bad witch.

  Chapter 25

  "Drat." I headed for the nearest light switch. Matilda had given me several spells with "atmosphere." All I had to do was insert one into the system somewhere and maybe
it would provide a distraction.

  Finding a switch was easy. They were everywhere. Unfortunately, there were people everywhere too. At home I could have gotten to the wires, but here, there were too many people.

  If only the hostess had hired me for the decorations, I could have set these things up ahead of time. The situation was laughable; a witch unable to find a place to set off a spell.

  One look at Harold's glazed eyes, and I was about as far from laughing as I could get.

  Searching for a way to dispense the spell into the air, I noticed White Feather, his head tilted as though listening. He was staring into the main room from the garden. I shook my head, a silent warning for him to leave well enough alone. From where he was, he might be able to feel the spell, but Harold was already reeled in. The aura was limited, unlike before. I had probably been upstairs when she activated it.

  In desperation, I cornered the flutist. She was sitting off to the side, taking a break. "What is that flute instrument you play?"

  "It's called a recorder," she told me helpfully, leaning over to pick it up and show off the long wooden horn. Between her gauzy green dress and her delicate features, she resembled a fairy.

  "What was that one instrument you were playing before, the one that looks like a, uh, cow horn?"

  She laughed, a soft tinkling that somehow blended with the other musicians playing nearby. "It's a Gemshorn," she said gaily, reaching into another box.

  "Could I touch it?" I asked.

  "Sure." She stepped further from the other players and handed me the horn. "It's from an ox."

  Unfortunately, the end was stuffed with something, no doubt to control the sound. I handed it back and looked again to the recorder. "Can I hold that one?"

  She obliged without any sign of concern.

  Palming the spell, I caressed the wood, pretending to peer closely at it while I dumped the dust into the end.

  "Could I talk you into playing it again?" I asked wistfully. "A request?"

  She nodded happily. "I can play it, but I'm not sure I can play what you ask."

  "Oh, I didn't mean a particular song." I glanced at Harold. Sheila had already done damage, no doubt. He was now talking. I needed to do something quickly.