Something to Curse About (Discord Jones)

by Gayla Drummond

  I wondered if anyone else noticed Thorandryll’s squinty glare aimed in Alleryn’s direction. The mahogany-haired elf pretended he didn’t, but I saw him flinch. Someone was going to be in big trouble later.

  “It’s what led to the Sundering. The dark elves did the same thing over two thousand years ago, and the power they gained from sacrificing those they trapped led to their taking over the entire southern hemisphere.” She tapped a page. “It’s all right here. All those allied against the dark elves decided the only way to save the non-combatants—humans—was to separate the realms. They continued to fight until they finally won a few centuries ago.”

  Wells snorted. “Fairytales. Historians would’ve uncovered…”

  “The Sundering had layers. Separating the realms wasn’t all it did. It also altered the memories of all those left behind.” A tiny smirk appeared on Thorandryll’s face. “It’s amusing how humanity has filled some of the historical gaps the spell left.”

  I spoke before the two of them began arguing. “Why did he pick Santo Trueno? Las Vegas would’ve been a better choice. They have highest suicide rate in the US, and no one would’ve realized what was going on until it was too late. Oh, wait.” I’d remembered Alleryn’s remark after he’d busted in my hospital room, the eavesdropper. “It’s personal, isn’t it? He came here because you’re here. What did you do to him?”

  Thorandryll’s smirk had faded, and he didn’t respond immediately. After a moment, he sighed. “I slew his lover. My wife.”

  Oh. Well, that put an entirely new spin on the situation. Or it seemed to for Mayor Wells, who sank down into a chair, propped his elbows on the table’s edge, and dropped his head in his hands. Nick, on the other hand, couldn’t resist the chance to try and draw blood. Metaphorically speaking. “You murdered your own wife? Before or after you found out she fu…Ow!”

  I’d hit him with my good elbow as hard as I could. For a second, I’d felt the chasm of grief the elf held inside open. “Shut up.”

  Nick’s teeth clicked as he obeyed. No one said anything for a couple of minutes, though Ronnie slid the book a bit farther down the table from the elves, the mayor lifted his head, and Logan turned to lean his shoulder against the wall, almost completely hiding Terra from sight. She peeked over his shoulder, her gaze on Thorandryll. Under the table, Leglin laid his head on my feet.

  I took a deep breath. “All right, we need a plan since we don’t have time to wander around looking for Dalsarin. How can we find him fast?”

  Logan cleared his throat. When we all looked at him, he pulled a folded-over rubber glove from his jacket pocket. “I have a few strands of his hair.”

  TWENTY-NINE

  I sat on the couch in David’s workroom, and couldn’t resist reminding the few present, “This is so wrong.”

  “Yes, you’ve said it seven times now.” Thorandryll continued chalking symbols inside the circle. “I apologize if my methods are making you uncomfortable, but as you pointed out, speed is necessary.”

  None of my witch buddies were present except David. The sight of the poor little dog corpses had briefly turned him a pale green, but he’d swallowed hard and stayed when Ronnie, Kate, and Jo had vacated the workroom.

  Damian hadn’t shown yet, and Schumacher wasn’t pleased by being the police delegate. Deputy Martin tapped his pencil against the notepad he held. Short and compactly built, with a golden-blonde buzz cut and dark brown eyes, he’d been delegated too. I’d been answering his questions for twenty minutes about what had happened out at the gulley.

  Nick sat beside me, small waves of disgust and anger gusting across my mind every time his arm touched mine. Leglin lay on my other side, his head in my lap. Logan sat in one of the chairs. Terra had gone with Mr. Whitehaven. I’d seen my boss for exactly thirty-five seconds after leaving the conference room before he escorted the young Queen to his SUV.

  Alleryn assisted his prince. For all their warnings about how badass Dalsarin was, neither had called in more elfy reinforcements. Well, they hadn’t yet.

  Right then, they were creating a tracking spell using the hairs Logan had had the foresight to save from when he’d attacked the dark elf. The dog corpses were part of it. They were the part I didn’t like and felt deep down in my bones to be so very, very wrong.

  Ignoring Deputy Martin’s attempt to regain my attention, I said, “They died horrible deaths. Why do you have to…”

  Mr. Snooty Pants the Elf Prince sat back on his heels with a sigh. “They’re beyond pain now, but their spirits will focus on the one who caused their deaths, especially since we have a physical representation of him,” he gave Logan a slight nod. “And will lead us to Dalsarin.”

  “But you said he used the dog deaths to gather power to fuel his human-intended curses.” David frowned, pushing up his glasses with a forefinger. “Their spirits won’t be available.”

  “Yes, they will in this case, since Miss Jones disrupted his working by distracting him with her attack on the gathering.” I received one of his slight nods. Thorandryll continued. “You didn’t mention why he left rather than finish the task of killing you.”

  I wasn’t about to tell the elf I had a fairy godfather who’d chosen to be a dog for a while. “Logan got him pretty good then one of the dogs attacked him, and the law got there. I guess he decided not to try his luck against bullets too.”

  Logan not only kept his mouth closed, he didn’t look at me. Nice to have someone around who didn’t make it obvious I might be skirting the truth a little. Of course, he didn’t trust elves any more than I did. Since I had the chance, I brought up one of the things that had me truly puzzled. “What I want to know is why he’s taken three stabs at me. He clearly made the curse for Chapman so that it’d jump to someone, and it didn’t jump to just anyone, but me. And he sent Chapman to my little brother’s school, had him pick Sean out of all the kids there. Then he made a potion specifically for me, and did whatever it was so that my tracking sense led me right into a trap.”

  “Yeah, he really has it in for you,” Nick said, glaring at the elves. “I wonder why.”

  Alleryn proved not to be as good as Logan at not giving anything away by his quick glance at Thorandryll, who frowned. The healer raised an eyebrow, leading to the prince’s lips thinning. “We have no idea how long Dalsarin’s been in the city, or what he may have heard or witnessed while here. You handled the matter of the book for me, Miss Jones, linking the two of us.”

  “Strike two!” Percy squawked, from his perch on top of a bookshelf. “Three and you’re out!”

  Deputy Martin, who’d been present though silent during the meeting with the mayor, closed his little notepad. “Let me get this straight: This Dalsarin fellow, aside from being a power-hungry serial killer, wants revenge on you because you killed his girlfriend, who happened to be your wife, and he’s decided you have you something going with the lady here, so he’s been trying to kill her?”

  He tucked the notepad into the front pocket of his uniform, shaking his head, and met Nick’s gaze. “Think I get where you’re coming from now.”

  “Glad someone finally does.” Nick dropped his hand to my thigh. “Once again, he’s put you right smack in the middle of danger.”

  “I guess.”

  My boyfriend huffed. “What the hell do you mean, ‘I guess’?”

  “I saved Rose at the fair. No one knew we’d be there until we showed up, since we didn’t know whether or not we’d have to work either case that day.” Which meant no one could’ve planned things to make certain I’d become involved then. “As far as I know, no one knew we were on the case until Wells and Stannett came to the off…oh.”

  “Oh? Oh, what?” David asked, pulling off his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose.

  I turned to Schumacher. “What happened to Chapman?”

  “The gunman? He’s under observation. Has been since,” the detective paused, his lips forming an O. “But then who did it come from?”

  “Chief
Stannett.” Everyone stared at us like we’d both sprouted second heads. “He helped me up from the stairs, and I got dizzy for a second. I think Dad felt dizzy when it passed to him.”

  Beefy or not, Schumacher was on his feet in a blink. “You sure?”

  I nodded, absolutely certain. Something had nagged me about the whole curse-jumping theory. “None of the victims have been kids, and it didn’t jump to Betty when she hugged me, but it did pass to my dad.” I looked at Thorandryll. “Can a curse be, I don’t know, ah, tuned to a person’s blood?”

  “Yes. But where would Dalsarin manage to obtain any of your or your father’s blood? It would have to be from one of you, to have passed between you.”

  “Cordi’s bled all over the damn city, since she won’t step back and let someone else handle the fighting.” Nick’s brow furrowed. “But it has to be fresh, doesn’t it?”

  “Sidetracked, we’re getting it.” I touched my shoulder. The deep ache in it was a sign of faster-than-normal healing. I’d felt it after I’d broken both my legs. “He got it from somewhere and used it. The question is whether or not Stannett’s been helping him or is just a patsy.”

  “A what?” came from three directions: Nick, Thorandryll, and Alleryn.

  Schumacher rubbed his forehead. “Lord, save me. How about scapegoat? You know that one?”

  “Ah. Can’t answering that question wait?” Thorandryll held up the chalk. “We’re in the middle of something.”

  “Yeah, it can wait. The Cursing Corpsicle,” Schumacher grinned at me. “Needs to be taken down first.”

  I returned his grin. “I thought it sounded kind of Sherlock Holmes-y. You know. If he lived in Weird World like we do.”

  “Who’s Sherlock Holmes?”

  Logan answered Nick before one of us could. “Fictional detective. Guy named Arthur Conan Doyle wrote a bunch of stories about him.” He shrugged when I looked at him. “I have a library card. I use it.”

  Thorandryll muttered something, but I chose to ignore what sounded like “Animals shouldn’t read” and said, “Time’s a wastin’. Hop to it, Elfboy.”

  Otherwise, giving into the temptation of knocking him on his snooty elf booty would lead to nothing but more wasted time. We were getting sidetracked again. I glanced at the circle and the two tiny corpses. Thorandryll’s gaze slid from me to them, and he went back to work with the chalk.

  David, for all his wandering about the workroom, appeared to be taking notes. The symbols the elf marked on the polished concrete meant nothing to me. I wondered if they did to David. He hadn’t been exactly happy to learn the elf planned to raise the dead. Well, spirits of the dead.

  I thought of something else. “How are we going to follow them? Won’t they just go through walls and stuff?”

  “It’s covered,” Alleryn said, exchanging gray chalk for red when his prince held up the piece. He seemed to know what Thorandryll needed without any words passing between them. After tucking the red chalk back into the box he held, he pointed at a section of symbols. “Those handle how they’ll track him.”

  “Oh.” We sat around, watching Thorandryll work. Schumacher paced until the elf shot a look at him. The detective dropped back into the chair he’d vacated, fidgeting with a loose thread on the cuff of his shirt.

  After he completed the chalking, the elf rummaged through David’s workbench and shelves, selecting candles, herbs, and other things. It felt as though forever passed before he’d finished mixing and placing all of that where he wanted it around and in the circle, but finally, Thorandryll began to chant.

  The language even sounded wrong, full of sibilants and harsh gutturals that made the hair at the nape of my neck rise to attention. I stifled a yelp when the corpses shuddered as his voice rose to a demanding crescendo, and noticed both Schumacher’s and Deputy Martin’s hands moving to hover over their guns.

  Good to know they were prepared in case of tiny doggy zombies hungry for ankles. It’s not as though they could reach our brains, even if the poor things could walk.

  However, the Zombiepocalypse didn’t begin. A thin grayness began to seep from the shuddering corpses, and swirled above them. By the time the elf fell silent after a last, stern-sounding shout, the grayness had resolved into two smoky canine figures with glowing green eyes.

  “I think you called the wrong spirits,” I said, surveying the two dogs. “Those aren’t Chihuahuas.”

  “They’re the right spirits, Miss Jones.”

  “Dude, that one’s a German Shepherd, and the other’s a Rottweiler.”

  Thorandryll spread his hands. “The forms they’ve taken are how they viewed themselves when alive.”

  Short Man Syndrome, personified in dogs. Yep, my life could get weirder. Not a comforting thought. “Okay. Now what?”

  “Now,” the elf said, touching the toe of his boot to the circle. “We hunt Dalsarin. Follow me.”

  He may have meant the ghost dogs, but we all rose to follow him out of the workroom and through the shop.

  THIRTY

  Shoppers stood on the sidewalks around the cul-de-sac, staring at what could only be described as a hunting party. Two elves waited, already mounted, and another seven horses with empty saddles lined up in the middle of the street and faced the shop’s front. Around them milled eight hounds.

  The spectral dogs led the way to the group, their smoky figures growing more substantial in the sunlight. By the time they joined the hounds, they looked like real dogs, except for the glowing eyes. Deputy Martin paused to glance at the rest of us, before shrugging and ambling over to the waiting horses. One of them stepped forward, lowering its head, and he patted it.

  The horses were tall and gorgeous, their coats shimmering in the sunlight, each one pure white and blue-eyed with long, slender legs. I listened to Thorandryll give commands in Elvish. “I hope you’re telling those hounds not to attack Nick and Logan.”

  He half-bowed with a condescending twist of his lips. “Of course, Miss Jones. No harm will come to either by my hand this day.”

  Deputy Martin mounted, settling his straw cowboy hat more firmly with one hand. From the small smile he wore, he seemed thrilled by the chance to be a part of an old-fashioned posse. I glanced at Schumacher when the older man sighed. He shrugged and walked to the horses, where another one stepped out of line to greet him.

  Pointing at my sling, I said, “I can’t climb on a horse with this.”

  “I’ll help you.” Nick touched the small of my back. “But I really think you should stay here.”

  “Nope.” There were nine horses total. Either one was meant for me, or I was going to ride double with someone. I left the sidewalk. “I’m going.”

  The horse that met me had a blue gem in the center of its bridle’s headband. It matched the color of the one on Leglin’s collar, before we’d been bound to one another by my blood. My teenaged fantasies of horse ownership surged to the forefront of my mind, bringing what felt like a huge, goofy grin to my lips as I petted her. “She’s beautiful. What’s her name?”

  “Talia.” Thorandryll touched her shoulder as he passed to mount his own horse, and the mare gracefully lowered herself into a kneeling position. That made it much easier for Nick to help me onto her, and I held onto the saddle with my good hand when she hopped upward.

  My witch buddies stood in front of the shop, their familiars on their shoulders. I jerked my chin at them. “Where are their rides?”

  “We can’t go, Cordi.” Jo scratched Trixie’s neck. The cat’s ears lay flat, and her eyes weren’t more than slits. “They won’t let us.”

  They who? Their familiars, their personal gods, or the elves? Before I could ask, Thorandryll’s voice boomed. “The Hunt rides!”

  Fortunately, I still had hold of the saddle horn and the reins were looped around it, because the damn elf hadn’t bothered to tell us we wouldn’t be traveling by ground. Talia sat back on her haunches and lunged upward, climbing an invisible staircase and quickly gaining the side of
Thorandryll’s horse. I glanced down to find Leglin at our other side, his huge paws flattening with each downward movement as though they were hitting ground and not air.

  My hound could fly. I began giggling and looked back at a burst of noise. The shoppers were applauding as though we’d put on a show for their entertainment.

  Flying horses and hounds aside, we weren’t out for fun and my giggles faded. Even if things went as we hoped, people were going to get hurt and someone, the dark elf, I hoped, was going to die before we were done.

  I scanned the group, making sure everyone had made the jump from ground to air. Schumacher held onto the horn of his saddle with both hands, his face pale as he stared down. Deputy Martin, Logan, and Nick didn’t seem bothered by our growing altitude. Martin and Nick were whooping like cowboys, each with their reins held in one hand. They even managed to high five each other while I watched.

  Logan noticed Schumacher’s death grip and guided his horse to the side of the detective’s. I turned to face forward again, confident he wouldn’t let the other fall to his death. By then, the horses had leveled out and Talia’s gait smoothed to a gentle rocking motion. I freed my hand to claw my hair out of my face.

  Ahead of us, the two transformed Chihuahua spirits ran across the sky, leaving a trail of faint, green paw prints. Below us, buildings and streets passed. I looked over at Thorandryll. “How are we going to sneak up on him?”

  “No one can see us now.”

  I didn’t ask why. The answer would be “magic” because it was the reason we were riding wingless horses above the city, chasing after two ghost dogs.

  “Enjoying yourself?” The elf had brought his horse closer to mine, our knees almost touching.

  “I’m riding a horse through the sky. Hell, yes.” That hadn’t even been on my bucket list, but I mentally marked it off anyway. “I should be holding the reins, huh?”