by Celia Kyle
“We’ll see.”
I grunted and turned on my side so she could get to the wound. She wiped away the dried remains of the last poultice. I glanced at the wound while she worked. At least it wasn’t bleeding anymore and the cut appeared to be nearly closed. Unfortunately, the sickly blue light remained. Ick.
She smeared the new mixture across the wound and a spear of cold spread through my body. It crept into every inch of me and I tensed while I waited to see how the different parts of my soul would react.
Five fathers, remember? Mom had some sort of magical something or other (not a gang bang even though that’s the obvious explanation) which meant I had five Papa’s. It was the only way she could counter all the evil inherent in being Satan’s sister.
Other than Papa Letholdus and Papa Al, there was Papa Percy the pixie king, Papa Finn the unicorn and Papa Eron who was Father Earth. (Papa Eron was all about fertilizing the world.)
I breathed a sigh of relief when my body simply absorbed the mystical cold, and soon my wound turned numb.
Sorsha covered the wound with another bandage of woven leaves. “If this works, you’ll be able to go home, but you’ll need to reapply this poultice three times a day. I’ll also give you a potion you need to drink with each meal. It should help cleanse your blood and aura.”
Should.
“Awesome.” I already felt better, and I was more than ready to get the hell out of this bed.
An hour later Sorsha checked me over again. I managed to stand without falling over and while I remained weak and woozy, it wasn’t enough for her to stop me from leaving. A quick call to Jezze had the witch on the way and I was glad to finally be heading home.
“Call me if your symptoms worsen.” Sorsha glared.
“Will do.” I might be a stubborn bitch, but I wasn’t dumb enough to ignore this.
Jezze drove me home and we discussed the increase in deaths around the city. Her locator spells had helped to uncover some pockets of the undead, which the wolf pack had eliminated, but there were some drawbacks to her abilities.
“My spell has a limited range.” Jezze’s shoulders slumped. “I can’t cover the whole city at once, and it seems like the problem is spreading faster than I can track. I don’t know what to do, Caith. I feel like I’m swatting flies without finding the eggs. There’s gonna be more buzzing around tomorrow if we don’t find the source.”
“Any leads on the source?” Even if I wasn’t feeling one hundred percent, I could still bust out my bat and smash some magic-wielding heads. I’d been racking my brain for the past day, but I hadn’t exactly been lucid the whole time and I still hadn’t come up with any possible leads.
“Nothing. Whoever it is, they’re playing it smart. They’ll stay out of sight and let their undead minions do the heavy lifting.”
“What’s the end game?” I rubbed my chin. “I mean, are the ghouls sucking out the manna to send it to the Big Bad? Like through some sort of psychic link or something? Or is it all just for shits and giggles to cause some trouble in the tween?”
“The link is a good possibility. Which sucks, because even if we kill every ghoul we find, whoever is controlling them will keep getting stronger off the stolen energy. Which means…”
I mentally groaned. “By the time we find them, they’ll already be pumped on all the juice.”
Fuck, I wanted to end this quickly. Not just to save lives. I wanted to stop this asshole before he became too powerful to defeat.
When we got home, I found Bry laying in the middle of the living room watching cartoons while Esmeralda sat nearby, working on a Sudoku puzzle. Jezze had given her the book in an attempt to make friends with the ice queen. I wasn’t sure how that whole thing was going, but Esmeralda hadn’t burned the book so it couldn’t be all bad.
“Mom!” Bry’s shout came as he scrambled from the floor and ran to me. He threw his arms around my legs and hugged me tightly. “Are you okay? Jezze said you’re sick.”
I crouched. “I’m doing lots better now.” I brushed the hair from his eyes. I needed to get the kid a haircut. Another thing for my to-do list.
1. Kill ghouls.
2. Kill ghoul creator.
3. Get Bry a haircut.
Maybe I should do the easy stuff first and start with the haircut.
“Sorsha took really good care of me.”
He frowned, his too-knowing gaze searching my own. He was a bright kid, dammit. I had no doubt he knew there was more going on than I revealed. I hated keeping things from him, but the kid had been through enough. I didn’t want him worrying I was going to die on him. He didn’t need that kind of stress.
“So you’re still coming to my play tomorrow?”
My eyebrows rose and I fought to suppress the surprise and guilt that flooded me. With all the bullshit swirling around me, I’d forgotten about Bryony’s school play. I tousled my kid’s hair and put what I hoped was a reassuring smile on my face. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
“Good.” He hugged me again. “I missed you.”
“Missed you, too.” I pressed a kiss to his forehead before Esmeralda shooed him away. It was bath time and he’d soon be carted off to bed.
I pushed myself to my feet, bracing myself on the wall as I waited for my lingering exhaustion to subside. Thank Hell for nannies. I couldn’t handle wrangling the rambunctious tyke tonight.
While Esmeralda corralled Bry, I trudged up the stairs toward my own bedroom. I stripped and padded toward the bed, clutching one of the bottles Sorsha had given me. It was the size of one of those energy drink shots found at convenience store cash registers, and it amazed me that something so small could pack such a big healing punch, but it worked. I swallowed it down in one quick gulp, coughing as the thick liquid slithered down my throat with that familiar burn.
The taste and scent triggered memories from my youth. Herbs always did that—dragged me back to hundreds of years ago. The first time I’d gone out on my own to wander the European countryside. I’d spent the summer running with another wolf named Keller. He’d been an apprentice healer at the time.
He’d begun his training in search for a cure to his lycanthropy. Thanks to Papa Al, I was a born wolf, but Keller had been human. Since then he’d become a powerful healer and the last I heard, he’d given up on curing his lycanthropy. From what I remembered, he had settled in the Louisiana bayou near New Orleans, and was studying voodoo magic with the locals in search of non-traditional healing methods.
He’d always been an odd duck—er—werewolf.
The lingering flavor of those herbs kept my mind returning to Keller. It had been a while since I’d seen him. We’d lost touch for centuries only to bump into each other ten years ago. It had been… awkward. But if Sorsha’s magic didn’t do the trick, maybe he could help. He’d always loved a challenge.
But that meant assuming he was willing to try. I’d sort of… broken his heart.
Chapter Four
I managed to drag myself to Hell’s Chapel the following day. Slinging beers and busting heads in the bar waited for no man—er, woman.
I was still exhausted and shuffling around rather than walking, but I was alive. That had to count for something. When I changed my bandage and reapplied Sorsha’s poultice, I noticed that the sickly blue energy still flickered around the edges of my wound. But between the poultice and potion, I felt well enough to get through the day.
I hoped.
I let Jezze drive me to work, my one concession to my health. Although, letting her drive felt like I was taking my life into my own hands. Downtown Orlando traffic during tourist season was bad enough, but pair that with an immortal witch who’d been born long before the automobile was invented and… yeah.
Imagine grandma driving if grandma still had the energy and temper of a woman in her early twenties.
“Get off the fucking road, ya geezer!” Jezze shouted out the window at a man centuries younger than her but who looked three times her age. She swerved in front o
f the poor old man, nearly launching into opposing traffic. I grasped the Oh Shit Bar overhead and wondered if Uncle Luc would be mad if I prayed to On High.
“Hey, hey, hey,” I glared at my friend. “Sick person in the car, remember?”
“Heh. Right.” Jezze eased her foot off the gas. A little.
By the time we got to Hell’s Chapel I was wishing Sorsha had given me an anti-nausea potion as well. Losing my lunch in the alley next to my bar—and the center of dem, gel, and tween happenings in Orlando—wasn’t something on the day’s to-do list.
I crawled from the SUV and into the building, not stopping until I reached my office. I settled into the chair behind my desk and hauled a stack of papers toward me. Since me and standing weren’t on friendly terms, I’d have to stick with inventory and payroll work instead.
Jezze began opening the bar for the day, working alongside Bergamot—a half-brownie hottie I’d hired a few years back—and Pepper, the new trainee we were grooming for an assistant manager position.
With all the times Jezze and I were called away from the bar to battle evil and save the day, we needed someone we could trust to run the bar. Berg did well with customers, but he wasn’t big on counting tills and closing paperwork.
I loved looking at the guy, but I needed him to do more than look pretty.
I was still in the back working on the books when the afternoon crowd slowly wandered in. Most were regulars, though we always got a few stray tweens wandering in when they passed through Orlando for one reason or another.
It was common knowledge that Orlando was my town by virtue of having the sharpest teeth, biggest bat, and a body full of “fuck off.” That made the bar more than just a place to kick back and have a few drinks. If someone in the area had heard something that might help us track down the source of the ghoul attacks, I wanted to be there to hear every word.
Around mid-afternoon my vision failed me and my surroundings blurred as I stared at the numbers on the page in front of me. Then the hallucinations took over, strange images flashing across my sight. It was almost as if I was seeing through someone else’s eyes, though the brief visions were too blurry to make out clearly. Except, for a second I thought I saw a bar mug and bowl of peanuts in front of me.
Was my subconscious telling me it was time for a snack and a drink?
I left my office and peered into the bar. Several regulars sat at various tables around the room and one surly old troll sat at the bar staring into his drink. I wandered over to him and slid onto the stool at his side. My legs were a bit numb and threatening to give out.
He looked up at me, took a drink, and then wiped his tusks with a paper napkin. “Sup?”
I shook my head and tried to clear my vision. A flash of white drew my gaze and I realized there were pale bandages along the troll’s arms.
“You okay?” I eyed the wrappings.
He followed my gaze and snorted. “Yeah. I heal fast. They probably stopped bleeding already.”
I nodded. Trolls had fast metabolisms like me. Most tweens had some kick ass healing abilities. It was why they were still in existence. Humans would attack and think their target was dead, allowing the tweener would get up and walk away while their backs were turned.
Except with this troll, I noticed fresh blood stains marring the bandages, the dark wetness spreading beneath my gaze. Something that should not be happening.
“So…” I raised my eyebrows. “You didn’t get attacked by a DayGlo ghoul, did you?”
His eyes widened. “How did you…?”
The troll swayed on his stool and I reached for him, my hands wrapping tightly around his wrists. I fought to keep him on the stool, but in my weakened state, his weight was more than I could handle and we crashed to the ground together, the troll’s beer splashing over us both as the mug rolled across the bar’s hardwood floor.
I struggled to sit up and leaned over the troll. I carefully peeled away one of his bandages and cursed at what I found.
His wounds flickered with a familiar blue light.
“Jezze!” I yelled for the bar witch. “Get Sorsha on the phone!”
I dug in my pocket and yanked out one of the healer’s potions. I forced the troll’s mouth open and poured the contents in, hoping it would make it down. He coughed and sputtered, and I held his jaw closed to get him to swallow what remained.
Bergamot shoved the first aid kit toward me and I worked on cleaning the troll’s wounds, applying Sorsha’s poultice to them. The troll’s body shook, and the blue glow spread through his veins, lighting him from inside out. The color snaked across his body, crawled up his neck and stretched across his face in a sickening spider web of infection.
He coughed blood and I backed away, not sure what else I could do for him. Splatters of blood flicked onto the wooden floor, and it shimmered with blue light from within.
Fuck.
I reached behind my back and wrapped my fingers around that dagger I always kept within reach. I hoped I wouldn’t have to use it, but the troll wasn’t dying. He was being transformed. His nails extended into sharp claws and his eyes snapped open, revealing a deep shimmering glow. His skin lightened and turned as pale as maggots.
The infection throbbed within his lumpy body, turning him into the same kind of ghoul that had attacked him. If it spread much further I’d have no choice but to put him out of his misery before he rose again, craving flesh.
Jezze whipped a small packet out of her bag and stood over the troll. She sprinkled sparkling dust over the man, whispering words of magic as she pulled on her inner power.
But it was too late.
Sorsha rushed into the bar, her bag slung across her body and ready to work, but the troll…
Stopped breathing.
I raised my dagger, my grip tightening as I prepared to cut off the troll’s head to keep him from rising again.
Only Sorsha’s voice stilled my hand. “Wait!”
She knelt opposite me just as she had the other day. She pulled out a pale crystal and placed it on the troll’s forehead before focusing on her healing. Her hands glowed so brightly I couldn’t look directly at the white light. Whatever the strange blue energy was, it had saturated his body completely.
I glanced at the other patrons. They’d gathered around in a loose circle, eyes on the troll while he transformed and died. I held the dagger tightly. I didn’t want to do this with an audience, but it didn’t look like I’d have a choice.
Sorsha snared my wrist and gave a small shake of her head. She whispered. “There’s another way to keep him from rising.”
I nodded but kept my dagger in hand. I trusted Sorsha, but I didn’t trust the person behind this chaos.
She returned to her healing and sprinkled herbs over the troll’s body. The blue energy suffusing the troll slowly vanished, draining away into the crystal. When it had fully faded, Sorsha took out a leather pouch and used it to retrieve the crystal without touching it. She tucked the small rock and pouch into a clay jar and then sealed the lid.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t get here in time to save him.” The healer’s shoulders slumped.
I wiped my mouth on my sleeve. “It wouldn’t have mattered. He was too far gone.”
Berg helped me drag the troll’s body out of the bar. I’d call for disposal later, and I was almost thankful trolls weren’t big on families. I wouldn’t have to worry about a bunch of grieving relatives showing up on my doorstep demanding retribution. No proper funeral. Just an off the books cremation.
Like most tween deaths.
Most of the other customers left, too sickened by the troll’s death to stick around and finish their drinks. The only ones that remained were the true alcoholics that drowned their disgust in the bottom of a bottle.
I poured myself a glass of scotch. Sometimes the drunks had the right idea.
Chapter Five
Later that day I sat in the back row of the auditorium at Bry’s school watching his—rather bad, though I’d n
ever say that out loud—school play. Honestly, being in the dark, eyes on my kid, all I could think about was the darkness that surrounded that troll now.
I’d just watched a tween die and I knew there were more that would die before this was over. But I’d made a promise to my son and I kept my promises, dead bodies or not.
Besides, there wasn’t much I could do at the moment. We had no leads. I’d called my contacts across the city and asked the regulars to keep their ears to the ground. The pack patrolled to prevent more attacks. Until I could figure out my next move, I could at least try to make Bryony happy.
I fought to focus on the play. The kids kept fumbling their lines while other parents laughed and cooed about how cute they were. I was just annoyed.
If they hadn’t given Bry some crappy bit part, he could have carried the play. He was wicked smart and amazing. He deserved more than two lines and a spot in the background like an extra.
I rubbed my forehead, a headache was creeping forward and my head throbbed. My vision flickered, dark spots dancing through the air as if I was about to pass out. Except those blurs didn’t always look like random flickers, they looked like… people.
“You okay?” My cousin Ellie leaned close and whispered so she wouldn’t interrupt the play.
“Bad week,” I whispered back.
“Want to talk about it?” Her eyes widened with innocent concern. Pixies were like that. Innocent and carefree, and always ready to talk about their emotions.
They had, like, ‘Feelings Circles’ and shit. When they weren’t playing pranks on each other, of course.
That was probably why I didn’t hang with the pixie side of my family. I didn’t do feelings, and when I got annoyed, my feelings were definitely too volatile for a ‘Feelings Circle.’
The only reason I had sat with Ellie in the first place was because Bryony’s brownie school and the local pixie school had teamed up for the play. Neither of them was large enough to have a play with a full cast on their own, so they also tended to get together for other events, like the local brownie/pixie little league Bryony wanted to join.