“Ethan,” she said.
His eyes flashed open, unfocused. “Zinnia?”
“It's me.”
“Please be real,” he chanted. “Please be real. Please be real.”
“Look at me, Ethan. I'm right here.”
“I can't see anything. Zinnia? Are you really here?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
He cleared his throat. “I'm sorry if this makes me a jerk, but I'm really glad you're here.”
“We are quite the pair of jerks, then, because I'm glad you're here.” She looked over his dimly lit body, which was as bound as hers. “Though it would be better if you weren't tied up.”
“Please tell me you're not tied up, too.”
“Good news: I'm not tied up. Technically, I'm taped up. With duct tape.”
Fung chuckled until he wheezed and then coughed. “Don't make me laugh. Do some magic and get us out of here.”
Ah, if only. She quickly tried the spell she had recently used on Margaret to make her packing tape cocoon lose its stickiness. The spell didn't work. Oh, the pain of knowing the perfect spell for a sticky situation and being unable to use it.
“I can't,” she said glumly. “I can't do any magic right now.”
“Why not? Did he dose you with witchbane or something?”
Zinnia said nothing.
Fung cursed in the darkness. “Why does witchbane even exist? Why can't you witches get rid of every last bit in existence?”
Zinnia snorted. “Why doesn't Superman get rid of all the kryptonite? Or at least keep it away from the supervillains?”
“Because it comes from another planet,” he said, as though the reason was obvious to anyone with eyes.
They were quiet for a moment, then Zinnia said, “I'm glad you're here, because you'll have to hold me back. As soon as I get myself un-mummified, I'm going to kill someone.”
Fung wheezed wetly. “This is where I'm supposed to tell you not to kill anyone because it would be wrong.” He coughed. “Or at least make sure I'm not looking when you do it.”
“How did he get you?”
“This person we're talking about, is it Jesse Berman?”
“Yes. We're in his basement. Don't you remember? Did you get hit on the head?”
“No and yes. I mean, yes and yes. The last thing I remember is leaning over a gravestone at the cemetery. I went there to check the name of Jesse's father. I guess someone got the jump on me.”
“Did he drug you, too?”
“Judging by the throbbing on the back of my head, he went caveman and hit me with a rock. Or a stick. Or maybe a whole tree.”
“You were alone? No backup?”
“You know I work alone. And I didn't think I'd need backup to check a gravestone in the middle of the day.”
“I should have anticipated you'd go there. Jesse visits his father's grave on Saturday afternoons. Why didn't I warn you?”
“You did enough by calling me today. You did more than enough. I'm the one who got sloppy. It's my fault we're both down here.”
She didn't argue with him, which she supposed was cruel, but she was feeling bitter.
After a moment, he asked, “How did you know it was him?”
“A few things started adding up. When Margaret and I cast that location spell—the one that led us to the swamp last night—the spell didn't work until we asked for anyone connected to Villobek. In spellwork, connected can also mean related. That's why the map showed us Villobek's son.”
“How did the map know that Villobek was another name for Viktor Oliver?”
“Magic has a mind of its own.”
“Like artificial intelligence?”
“Sure, except the exact opposite of artificial. It also has a weird sense of humor.” They lay still in the darkness for a moment. The floor above them squeaked. “Jesse and I were dating.”
“Tell me something I don't know.”
“That's how I knew he was the cougar. On Friday morning, Carrot told the whole office she thought she'd seen me naked. She also said she saw Jesse flexing for someone. Those must have been visions she was having, through Jesse's eyes. When she saw him, he was looking in a mirror.”
“Yeah, Zinnia. I know. You told me most of that when you phoned me today. It's too bad you didn't figure it out a bit sooner, like last night.”
“But I couldn't have known until after the attack in the swamp.”
Fung asked with a hopeful tone, “Does anyone else know you're here? Gavin? Margaret?”
Zinnia regretted not calling Margaret. She hadn't called the other witch because Margaret would have tried to talk her out of doing something stupid. Something that could get her injured and tied up in a dank basement.
“No,” Zinnia said. “Nobody knows I'm here. Except...”
Fung waited expectantly, unmoving in the darkness.
“I did call the Department of Water and Magic when I got here.”
Fung pursed his lips. “I don't know of any such department.”
“Sure, you don't.” She winked, even though he wouldn't see it. “Unfortunately, I don't think they'll be coming to our rescue. I told them it was just a test call to make sure the number worked.”
“Did you talk to Wakeful? She's been working the case with me.”
“No. It was some guy. Chet Moore. Her sister's fiancé. The wolf shifter.”
“Ugh,” Fung groaned. “That guy won't care about a cop and a witch in trouble.” He wriggled pointlessly on the concrete. “It's a crying shame I lost those five pounds for my New Year's resolution. It made me too easy to kidnap.”
Suddenly, light flooded the basement as the door at the top of the stairs opened.
Zinnia craned her neck to look, hopeful to see Charlize, or Chet Moore, or one of the other shadow people.
But it was Jesse.
He kicked something down the stairs. It was the cardboard box containing Annette's ashes.
“There you go, Annette,” he said. “Join your friends.”
And then he slammed the door shut.
The box took its time thumping down the stairs before landing a few feet from Zinnia's head.
Fung said, “Please tell me that's a box full of scissors. I think I've got one pinkie free.”
“No scissors,” she said. “It's Annette Scholem's ashes.”
Fung muttered something Zinnia couldn't understand.
She said, “Pardon me?”
“I was just saying that two's company and three's a crowd.”
Zinnia groaned. “We need to get you to the hospital. That bump on the head has made your sense of humor even worse.”
“The bump on my head isn't nearly as bad as the compound fracture on my leg. It busted when your boyfriend threw me down here like a sack of potatoes. But the good news is, I probably have another hour left before I bleed to death. You can tell me the story about when you found out you were a witch.”
“Stop trying to make me laugh. It's not helping the situation.”
“I'm not joking.” He coughed and wriggled backward. The tiny amount of light in the basement revealed a pool of blood where he'd been lying. His movement also afforded Zinnia a glimpse of something white. His bone. Sticking out through the tape.
Chapter 28
Zinnia screamed. She screamed until she was hoarse, and then she kept going. It was partly to summon her captor and partly because what she was doing to her hand hurt so bad.
Eventually, the door creaked open again. Jesse's familiar shape formed a shadow. He said nothing. He just stood there.
“Please. You've got to help Ethan,” she said. The hoarseness from screaming had made her voice extra scratchy. All the better for pleading.
“Why? He doesn't care for the accommodations? This is the best I could offer on short notice.”
“He's bleeding out from a broken leg. You broke it when you threw him down here. It's a compound fracture.”
Jesse didn't respond.
With her scrat
chy voice, she pleaded, “We need to get him to a hospital right away. We need to do something.”
“What's this we nonsense? You and I are not a we, Zinnia.”
“You, then. Do you really want another person's blood on your hands? That's not the Jesse I know.”
Jesse sighed. “Don't freak out. As soon as I'm on my way out of this hellhole of a town, I'll call someone to come check the basement.”
“There's no time for that. He's already lost consciousness.”
The shadowy form shrugged. “Then he's as good as dead. There's not much the hospital could do for him anyway.” Jesse took a step back but didn't close the door. “Them's the breaks. He knew what he signed up for when he became a cop.” He didn't move from the doorway.
Zinnia decided to try another tactic. “Are you really that insecure, Jesse? Are you that jealous of my friendship with Ethan? If I didn't know any better, I'd think I was talking to Gavin right now.”
Jesse snorted. “That greedy goblin? Yeah, right.”
Gavin was a greedy gnome, not a goblin, but Zinnia didn't correct Jesse.
“You're just like Gavin,” Zinnia said. “You should know, back when I started at the department, I liked both of you equally. Did I ever tell you that? You were just the first one who happened to make a move.”
“Don't say that. I'm twice the man Gavin is. Anyone can see that.”
Not from where I'm lying on your basement floor. “Gavin wouldn't leave someone to die,” she said.
“Oh, well,” Jesse said tiredly. “I guess the little goblin has a few good qualities.” He started to close the door.
“Wait!” It was time for the real ploy. “Don't you want to meet your mother?”
He paused. “You're trying to trick me, witch.”
“Jesse, your mother didn't die when you were little, but you already suspected that, didn't you?”
He didn't argue.
“She left your father, and she hid from him,” Zinnia said. She knew the details, thanks to the handwritten version of Annette's book. “She hid away until she knew he was dead. Until she knew that the big bad man who'd held her captive, Viktor Oliver Berman, was dead.”
Still Jesse said nothing.
She continued. “Don't you get it? Your mother was trying to make contact with you, through Annette.”
“What? That's crazy.”
“Think about it. Annette was asking you those questions about your childhood, not for her book, but because she wanted to be sure you were the right person.”
“She was?”
“Doesn't it all match up? You read the same book I did.” But not both versions. “I know where your mother is.”
Jesse took one step down the stairs. “How do you know where my mother is?”
“We witches have our ways.”
“But how could you know? I never even told you her name.”
“Doesn't matter. She changed her name. To hide from your father.”
He growled. “You're lying. I know it's a trick.”
“It's not a trick. I can tell you everything, Jesse. I swear.”
“Do it. Swear.” He took another step down. “Swear by your word, witch.”
“My word is my bond,” she said solemnly. The word bond would take effect even without her magic functioning. “I shall give you your mother's name, but you have to swear you'll call the paramedics for Ethan.”
“Tell me first.”
“You have to swear.”
His growl turned to a groan, and then he spat out the words. “My word is my bond. If you give me my mother, I'll see that your boyfriend gets help right away. But I can't guarantee he's going to make it.” Jesse took three more steps down the stairs. “Now tell me.”
“I need my purse. There are supplies in it. I don't know your mother's name, but I didn't lie. I can get it for you, right now.”
“Liar! How can you do any spells if you've got no powers?”
“The potions will work, because the magic is in them already.”
He growled again. He didn't quite believe her, but he wanted to. He wanted to have his mother's identity.
He disappeared and returned a few minutes later. He flicked on a light. It was blinding, and it illuminated Ethan Fung, lying unconscious in his blood. Zinnia only looked at Fung long enough to determine that he was still alive. If only she could get him some of the supplies from her purse. She would certainly try, but she wouldn't have long.
Jesse stayed at the top of the stairs, and then he melted. He shifted into another shape. A cougar.
The cougar picked up Zinnia's purse in its powerful jaws and crept silently down the stairs on padded paws.
Each step the cat took sent a shiver of emotion down Zinnia's spine. Fear mixed with rage. She'd trusted the man inside that cat, once upon a time. She'd cared about him. True, she had never loved him, and maybe she'd even used him, but she sure didn't deserve this.
The cougar padded up to her face. The big cat didn't seem so menacing, now that he was down in the damp, cold basement with her.
“Impressive,” she said. She knew a compliment was what he wanted to hear. Jesse was that kind of guy. He craved attention, which was why he was always making jokes, and why he'd been attracted to her. Few men can resist the admiration of a witch in her prime years.
She went on, gushing. “Even with the cut on your arm and the burn on your face, you were able to shift form.”
He dropped the purse with a thud and shifted back to human form. “You barely scratched me,” he said.
She dropped her gaze to her purse. If only she had magic, she'd smash him in the face with everything she had. She'd show him how she could scratch. Jesse Berman wouldn't shift again when she was done with him.
“Thanks for getting my supplies,” she said sweetly. “I suppose you'll be acting as my hands? Unless you'd prefer to untie me?”
“I don't think so, dear,” he said in a singsong voice. “But I have brought you some more of that herb you don't like.”
He pulled from his pocket a handful of crushed witchbane. It had no scent, yet it made Zinnia's nostrils burn.
“No,” she said, pulling her head back as much as she could. “No more. Too much will kill me.”
He shoved it into her mouth anyway. “Be a good girl,” he said. “Chew it up. Now say ahh.”
She wanted to spit it in his face. Bide your time, Zinnia. Ball up that rage and use its power as your own. Be a good girl. She chewed, said ahh, and showed him her mouth was clear.
“Now tell me how we find my mother.”
“First, unzip my purse and take out the three vials with the corks.”
“I'm not an idiot,” he said as he dug out the vials. “I'm not going to drink anything you have me mix up, so don't waste my time.”
“I won't poison you. I promise. My word is my bond. I shall not poison you.”
That reassured him enough to get started.
For the next fifteen minutes, Zinnia walked her cougar shifter ex-boyfriend through the complicated procedure of creating what she called Tracing Ink.
When it was ready, he said, “Now what? Do I need paper?”
“We need something connected to your mother.”
“I'm connected. I'm her son. What more can you want?”
“Something else. Do you have anything of hers? A lock of hair? A favorite article of clothing?”
He stared down at her with a murderous haze in his pale blue eyes. “You know I don't. I have nothing of my mother's. I never have. My father threw everything away. Is this part of your trick?” He started getting to his feet. “Never trust a witch.”
“Wait,” she said. “We can use Annette.”
They both looked over at the cardboard box lying near Fung's head.
“Her ashes,” Zinnia explained. “Gather a handful. That will work.”
“I'm not touching Annette Scholem's cremated remains. No way.”
“Then untie me, you big chicken,” she teased. “
I'm not afraid of a few ashes.”
He stared at her, his expression no less furious than when they'd started the potion.
Finally, he grabbed the box. He ripped off the packing tape, lifted out the urn, and opened the lid. The cremated ashes were packed in a vacuum-sealed plastic bag. It was a thick bag, designed to not spill easily. Jesse picked at the seams ineffectively. Zinnia noted that he hadn't learned all the shifter tricks that others like him knew. If he had been taught by a better man than his father, he would have known how to turn his nails into cougar claws without fully shifting form.
“Those vacuum-sealed bags can be tricky,” Zinnia said.
He growled.
“There's a small knife in my purse,” she said. “It's on my keychain.”
He pointed a finger at her. “This had better not be a trick.”
“There is no trick to having a small knife on my keychain, I assure you.” She met his gaze with grace, with her chin raised—or so she hoped. It was hard to have dignity while trussed up on a cold cement floor. “My word is my bond.”
He used her tiny knife to open the bag of ashes.
“Now what?” He looked down with disgust at the gray chunks and flakes.
“Pick up a handful and toss it into the air so it spreads evenly on the floor, then sprinkle the Tracing Ink over it to spell out your mother's name.”
He did as she directed. The dark drops puddled on the ashes randomly. Nothing magical happened.
He kicked at the dusty, inky mess in frustration. “I knew it! You're just wasting my time, as usual.”
“I forgot one thing. Oops. Sorry about that. Of course it didn't work, not without the key ingredient.”
He glared at her. “What did you leave out?”
“The ashes need to be awakened. They need a bit of life force.”
“Blood?”
“No,” she said carefully. “Good thinking, but blood would sour the ink. Hmm.” She looked around the basement. “It's too bad we're not at my house. I have everything there.”
Jesse snorted. “We're not going to your house. Forget it.” He started to get up.
“Wait,” she said. “I have the perfect thing, and I have it with me at all times. We can awaken the ashes with a few drops of my saliva.”
Wolves of Wisteria Page 25