She fell asleep, and though she dreamed, when the alarm went off, she couldn’t remember any of them. They left behind a bad taste in her mouth and a residue of unease on her skin.
She swung off the bunk and grimaced as she reached for her night’s uniform. She shimmied into the pants, then began wrestling with the vest. It was like putting on a straitjacket. Finally she got it on right and fiddled with the laces until they were tight enough so that it wouldn’t fall off and would still be loose enough to let her breathe. By the time she was done, she was cursing Giselle in a low, unrelenting string.
She looked down at herself, tugging on the front of the vest, then over her shoulder at the small mirror on the wall. The lacings revealed wide strips of pale skin down her stomach and back, and two more beneath her arms. Her breasts bulged, halfway to falling out of the plunging neckline. What was annoying was the fact that the pants were too tight to let her do a good spin kick, and the vest offered precious little protection from pretty much anything stronger than a cool breeze. Not to mention that it would be incredibly inconvenient if her breasts flopped loose in the middle of a fight. On the other hand, it was pretty obvious that she wasn’t concealing much of anything, least of all weapons. Which of course was the point.
The trouble with Conclaves was that no one was allowed to go in armed. Not that every Shadowblade wasn’t a walking weapon and every single witch as deadly as a taipan snake and ten times as vicious. But that didn’t mean Max was going to the Conclave unprepared for this whole thing to go south and in a hurry. Not after Giselle’s warning.
Max packed a small backpack with her usual black jeans and long-sleeved T-shirt, a hat, her .45, and a half dozen clips loaded with shot shells, and another half dozen clips with hollowpoints. She threw in her knives, a garrote necklace, a handful of powerbars, and a body bag that was charmed against light. She’d put her hiking boots in later. She wasn’t allowed to wear shoes to the Conclave either’that had everything to do with magic and nothing to do with weapons’even the witches went barefoot. She planned to stash the pack near the Conclave site. If and when the shit hit the fan, she wanted to be ready for it.
Now all she had to do was hide the hailstone. It was safer here than with her. She examined her small room, then opened the closet cabinet. She had a jacket hanging inside and a stash of books, powerbars, two bottles of Gatorade, a gallon jug of water, and a few other odds and ends.
Max reached up and pushed the short clothes bar out of its cradle. It was aluminum and hollow and offered the only possible hiding place. She tore the sleeve off one of her T-shirts and wrapped it around the glittering hailstone before shoving the package inside the bar. She settled it back in its cradle and hung her jacket back up. The hailstone wouldn’t roll around and rattle and entice the curious. Besides, no one who wanted to live would come sniffing around, and she didn’t have a roommate’privilege of being Prime.
She shut the closet and slung her backpack over one shoulder before stepping out of her room and closing the door firmly behind her. The back of the forty-five-foot RV was lined on either side with small compartments much like her own, except each of the others held two of the foldaway bunks. The hallway was narrow’barely two feet wide. There were no slideouts in the rear in order to keep the coach light-tight. In the front was the usual galley kitchen and a slide-out that provided a small lounge. The table and two small couches on either side plus the swiveling driver and passenger seats provided all the furniture.
Max grabbed a cherry Gatorade from the refrigerator and guzzled it, tossing the empty bottle into the trash and heading out the door. A quick scan of the warehouse floor told her that Oz had taken one of the RVs and three cars. Niko and Akemi leaned against her pickup, and Tyler sat smoking a cigarette on the hood of her Tahoe. One of her Shadowblades, Tyler was tall and lanky with long, wispy blond hair, hazel eyes, and a close-trimmed mustache and beard. He was loose-jointed like a ballet dancer and rarely spoke unless he had something worthwhile to say. All three of them looked at Max as she came out.
“Who do we have left?” she asked Niko as she tossed her pack onto the passenger seat of her Tahoe.
“Us three, and Oz left four Spears. They are still on patrol.”
“Go get ‘em,” Max ordered, and went to Giselle’s RV. She hammered the door with her fist, then vaulted up inside without waiting for a reply.
Giselle sat in lotus position in her chair, her eyes closed, the fingertips of both hands pressed carefully against her face. She looked very witchy, wearing a sleeveless maroon silk blouse and matching pants, both batiked with a complex pattern that Max assumed had magical properties. Cuffs of silver chased with gold and copper circled her biceps and ankles. They were set with disks of black-veined turquoise and jellow jasper, the stones gleaming with subdued spell fire. A matching, wide, flat collar circled her neck, and twisted wire earrings holding round beads of turquoise and jasper dangled nearly to her shoulders. Her feet were bare but for three toe rings on each. On the right was a copper band set with an oval sunstone, a plain gold band, and one of iron set with amber all the way around. On the left was a silver band set with pearls, a platinum band set with black opal, and a thin band made of jet sandwiched between bloodstone. Each bit of stone and metal enhanced Giselle’s magic.
She opened her eyes slowly and lowered her hands. “You know I could have been in the middle of a spell. If I had been, breaking my concentration would have been fatal to both of us.”
Max shrugged. “And that’s bad because ΓǪ? Besides, you’d be stupid to waste your strength now right before the Conclave. You aren’t that dumb, but if you were, you’d use a proper spell web to contain yourself, and you’d be the only one dead.”
Giselle sighed, unfolding her legs. “You really know how to give me a headache. Your attitude hasn’t improved. Does that mean you are going to keep fighting me?”
“It means I still want you dead.”
“Color me stunned. Should I call CNN?”
Max’s mouth twitched. “Sun’s almost down. Are you ready?”
“What have you planned?”
“I’ll scramble the nest out of here and start them north. They’ll find a shopping center somewhere up on 15 where they can wait for us to catch up. Just in case we need the hospital truck.”
“Sounds good.”
“I can’t tell you how thrilled I am to hear you say so. Now, you’ll ride with Akemi. Niko, Tyler, and I will shadow you in the cars. I’ll drop the Tahoe and stash my gear as near to the Sagrado as I can before meeting you at the parking lot. You’d better pray there’s no trouble. There’s too few of us to handle a major attack.”
“It’s Conclave. The law calls for peace from dusk to dawn.”
“You witch-bitches only obey the laws you can’t get away with breaking,” Max said.
Giselle shrugged. “No one can get away with it at a Conclave.”
“Famous last words. You’ll excuse me if I plan for the worst.”
“That’s what makes you the best.”
“Fuck you. I’ll stir the hive. You’ve got five minutes.” Max didn’t wait for Giselle to reply. She stepped down out of the RV and shut the door hard behind her. Strengthening spells on it kept it from warping in its frame. It wasn’t the first door Max had slammed.
She turned just as enthusiastic clapping broke out, and someone with a death wish gave a low catcall.
“Shut up, Lise.”
“You are so smokin’ hot,” Lise replied with a leer. She and the three other Sunspears had joined Niko, Akemi, and Tyler at the cars. “Can I borrow that outfit when you’re done? You can still be in it if you want.” Her eyebrows waggled suggestively. “I’d never kick you out of my bed.”
Max’s teeth bared. “That’s because you’re a female tomcat. And you’re welcome to it if I don’t burn it first.” She glanced around the group. “You Sunspears will ride with the nest. Tyler is going to take Lise’s car, and Niko, you’re in Kamikani’s El Camino.�
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Kamikani was Hawaiian, with smooth skin the color of aged mahogany and long, curly black hair. He wore a white T-shirt with the arms torn off and a pair of faded blue jeans with ragged white holes in the knees. He was only a couple of inches taller than Niko, and not quite as broad-chested. His 1969 El Camino was his pride and joy. He’d restored it himself and guarded it with his life. But at Max’s order, he swallowed and handed Niko his keys.
“Don’t scratch her,” Kamikani said in his quiet, musical voice. “I will hurt you.”
“Max isn’t Prime because she avoids trouble,” Niko said cheerfully. “Don’t worry. I’ll help you fix the car if anything happens. Or throw a hell of a funeral.”
Kamakani shook his head. “Damned haole.”
“That’s me.” Niko stretched out his arm. “White as alabaster. Beautiful as Michelangelo’s David, aren’t I?”
“Women don’t like corpses,” Kamikani said, shoving the arm away. “Or statues.”
“I manage all right,” Niko said smugly, twirling the keys around his finger. “I don’t need a pretty car to get them to look at me.”
“Baby, neither does he,” Lise said. “He’s gorgeous, he cooks like a pro, and he surfs. And just look at those eyesΓǪ. If I liked men, I’d fuck him every chance I got.”
Kamikani flushed.
Niko feigned hurt. “But not me? No wonder you like girls. Help me out, Max. You like men. Which of us would you curl up next to on a cold night?”
Max eyed him balefully. “I’m too much for either of you two pretty boys to handle. I’d snap you in half. Now, Sunspears’keep your weapons ready and the safeties off. Wear your radios and keep your cells handy. If we need you, you’ll have to come out and play in the dark. Hopefully not so long that it kills you.”
Unlike Shadowblades, who either melted into a pool of liquid carrion or exploded in flame under enemy sunlight, Sunspears could function for a while when exposed to darkness’and it didn’t matter what kind’a cave was just as bad as the night. They could last up to a few hours, depending on how much moonlight there was, how much sunlight they’d been exposed to recently, and how old they were. But eventually all of them would gradually freeze dry and crumble to dust. All of Giselle’s Spears carried flash bombs as part of their emergency gear, and all their bunks were wired with LED lights backed up by magic in case the batteries failed.
“Akemi, you have Giselle. There’s a place to hide the Tahoe up the canyon. I’ll hike back and meet you. Once you park, there’s no leaving until it’s over, so you’ll have to sit and wait in case things go well. If they don’t, you’ll likely be on your own. Don’t let them catch you. They’ll kill you for sure, and painfully.”
The other woman was still a moment, then her neck stiffened and she nodded. Good. Max had been training her for six years. Akemi was better than she knew.
Max grabbed a map from her glove box and spread it out on her hood, pointing at the area. “The Conclave is right around here.” She pointed to a spot east of Balboa Park. “It doesn’t show up on any maps, and there is only one road in. It leads into a box canyon and ends in a gravel parking lot.
“The canyon is one of several others surrounding a broad, lone butte. It’s got a lot of tree cover’it may be the only place in San Diego with a plentiful supply of water, thanks to witchcraft. At the top is the Conclave site’the Sagrado. Niko and Tyler, I want you to wait out here on the public roads.” Max tapped an area between Pershing Drive and Fern Street. “Most of these other streets are residential, and they dead-end above the canyons’stay out of there. If anyone sees you cruising around, they’ll think you’re casing the Mc-Mansions and call the police. Niko, I want you here at Thirtieth and Palm. It’s commercial and no one will look twice at you. Tyler, I want you down here at Juniper and Fern. Do not go to sleep or get distracted. Both are a good mile or more away from the Conclave, and if there’s trouble, you’ll need to haul ass.
“The road into the canyon runs down along the ridge at the edge of the golf course, here.” Max stroked her finger along the green blotch on the map. “It feeds out into Elm Street, though none of you will be able to access it. The veil is thinned tonight for Conclave, but you still need a witch to get through.”
“How are you going to do it alone, then?” Tyler asked.
Max glanced at him. He was smart, which most of the time was a good thing. But she didn’t really want him to know how she was going to get through the veil.
“I’ve got a talent for that sort of thing,” Max replied with a finality that slammed the brakes on following that question any further. “Niko, if we come your way, we’ll be on foot with wolves chewing our heels. Be ready for it. Tyler, if we come to you, it will be a car chase. Any other questions? Everybody know what they have to do?”
“Why don’t I wait up on Elm? It’s only five blocks down,” Tyler said, pointing on the map.
“Because if things go the way I think they will, we’re not coming out Elm Street,” Max said. “We’ll be climbing out on foot somewhere along here or here.” She stabbed the map impatiently, then forced herself to reel in her anger. It was a good question, and Tyler had never been to a Conclave. None of them had. It was like jumping into a pit of lit dynamite. It wasn’t so much a matter of if it would go off, as when. “If we make it back to the Tahoe, I’m more likely to four-wheel it across the golf course to Pershing or Florida Drive, than try for Elm Street. No sense making an easy target out of ourselves by going where we’re expected.”
There were sober nods of understanding and agreement.
Just then Giselle stepped out of her RV. Max waved at everyone to load up. She stepped up on the running board of the Garbage Pit. It would lead the others out. Magpie rolled the window down.
“Head up 15 and find some place reasonably inconspicuous to spend the night. If you don’t hear from us by the time the sun’s been up a couple hours, hit the road and keep going. You won’t be safe until you hit Horngate.”
Magpie nodded. Then suddenly she twitched oddly like someone had shaken her. Her eyelids dropped low and her body went rigid, her head snapping back against the headrest. Her eyes sprang wide and went entirely white. Her lips opened and her voice was guttural when she spoke. “No safety there, not for anyone. Not until you return. Only you can make it safe.”
Before Max could react, Magpie slumped. She pushed her hair from her face with trembling fingers. Her eyes had turned black again.
“What was that? What did you mean?” Max demanded. Her fingers tightened on the side-mirror frame, crushing the fragile metal.
“What did I say?” the other woman asked, then waved her hand sharply. “No, don’t tell me. It wasn’t for me or I would remember. It was meant just for you. But, Max, I warn you’the things that I say are true. Ignore it and you’ll probably regret it.”
With that, Magpie rolled up her window and turned up her radio. Max stepped down, scowling. There will be war. It stands already on the threshold. And Old Home wasn’t answering its phones, and in Julian redcaps had gone hunting a Blue Hag. The Guardians were real and ready to destroy the human race. And now a mystical warning from Magpie. Max tapped her fingers against her thighs. Danger was gathering, coiling in tight knots of unbearable, unstoppable power. Max could feel it like a swelling thunderstorm. When it burst free, there would be death, and a lot of it. She was certain of it.
Only you can make it safe.
A chill unfurled slowly down her spine and ran all the way to her heels. Goose pimples rippled across her skin. How the fuck was she supposed to do that?
She shook her head, clamping her teeth together. That was a problem for tomorrow. Today she had to get through Conclave and keep Giselle alive. Otherwise tomorrow didn’t matter a rat’s ass.
Max finished checking the other rigs, then went to the warehouse entrance and rolled up the two main doors. She motioned Magpie to move out first. The cook didn’t look at Max as she rolled past. The other RVs and the hospital truck f
ollowed, spewing clouds of diesel exhaust.
When they were through, Max slid into her Tahoe. As she pulled out onto Commercial Street, heading north for the Conclave, she thought again of the hailstone and wondered if she shouldn’t have made her wish before it was too late to do so.
5
TRAFFIC, AS USUAL, EVEN AFTER DARK, WAS HEAVY. It was eighty thirty. In Montana, it wouldn’t have been full night for another hour and a half. There were, Max decided, one or two good things about San Diego. She would have liked to swim in the ocean, but this wasn’t a vacation.
Glancing in her mirrors, she saw that Akemi was riding her bumper with Tyler on the left and Niko behind him. Max turned off on Twenty-seventh Street, then wove aimlessly about, making right and left turns with no reason or rhyme. A little after nine, Max pulled off Dale onto Elm. Akemi followed, while Niko and Tyler turned in the other direction. Max speed-dialed Akemi.
“Cut your lights and pull up behind me. Tuck against my bumper and don’t back off until we cross the veil. Once inside, drive as slow as you can. I’ll catch up with you before you reach the parking area.”
She snapped her phone shut on Akemi’s quiet affirmative. A moment later, the red crew cab jolted Max’s bumper. At Granada Avenue, Elm came to a dead end. Ahead was a garden fronted by a pair of crepe myrtles, a cluster of oaks and eucalyptus, an enormous prickly pear cactus, and a low screen of bushes and palms. Between the two myrtles at the curb was a yellow sign with a double-ended arrow helpfully pointing out the dead end and directing traffic to turn. Below it was a red, diamond-shaped sign that said nothing at all. It had nothing to do with guiding traffic. It was there to thin the veil for the Conclave.
Bitter Night: A Horngate Witches Book Page 8