Trying to clear my head, I finished placing the stones and sticks, then placed Alberta’s hair in the center of it all and began to chant. The ground surged beneath me. The air thickened and throbbed. I heard Lucien catch his breath and suddenly the energy I held deep inside my core surged forth in a wave.
The path became clear in my mind—as clear as if I’d seen it on a Google map highlighted in red.
“She crossed the deadfall,” I told Lucien, my voice foggy as if in a trance. I scrambled across the branches and deadwood, barely aware of the hand steadying my way. Then I wandered through the trees and marshy land, my shoes becoming thick with coated mud as I walked. In the back of my mind I wondered at Alberta, a troll, crossing such a wet terrain. Trolls were earth-bound—one of the few fae who were. Alberta lost every bit of her power over water, and would have suffered a reduction of her abilities in such wet land. Dry ground and stone were a troll’s strength. This wet land…it didn’t make sense. Unless Alberta was really serious about hiding whatever treasures she had from other earthbound supernatural creatures like ogres and goblins.
About fifty yards through the damp forest I realized something. The trail I was following was thick. Fat. Wide. Alberta wasn’t a svelte woman, but even in her natural troll form, this seemed to be more of a magical swath than she should have been creating. The realization made me catch my breath. And hurry.
Lucien followed me, silent, intent, his arousal like a caress on my skin. I tried to ignore him and concentrated on the magical pathway weaving its way along the trees and brush. Finally we came to a cliff face, a sheer rock wall that rose a good thirty feet straight up before angling off into a stony terrain of pine. I looked upward, wondering how Alberta could have managed something that should have required ropes and skilled climbing technique.
“Fae,” Lucien whispered. “Think like a fae.”
Glamour. Fae were all about glamour. Outside of Accident, trolls relied on it the most, making their appearance more acceptable to humans and hiding their dwellings from the rest of the world. Alberta would use the same in concealing her special hiding place. Concentrating, I closed my eyes and centered. And when I opened them, I saw the entrance.
With a word I’d dispelled the illusion, and before us was a two-foot opening through the rock.
I swayed and Lucien took my arm. “You okay?”
I nodded, feeling far from okay. I’d spent the last fifteen years of my life actively not practicing magic. I had power. I had skill. And I was woefully out of practice. There was a deep well of energy within me, but tapping it made me feel weak and shaky. Out here alone, I would have probably headed back, but with Lucien by my side, I felt as if I could continue. He would help me. He would protect me. He’d make sure I made it out of here even if I passed out.
Lucien helped me scramble up the rocky path to the opening, then he hovered nearby as I knelt down to crawl through the opening. Inside was pitch black, so I hesitated and dug my cell phone out of my pocket, clicking on the flashlight app. Ahead of me was a two-foot pathway ending in what looked to be a cavern. I crawled forward, shining my light upward. The cavern was about four feet high, and six by eight feet wide. Along the walls were strings of beads, pictures and paintings, statues and pottery. All the sorts of things I’d expected a troll might consider her treasures. And laying on the ground beneath it all was a very pale werewolf.
“Lucien!” I shouted. “Help me!”
The demon was right behind me, but the passage was narrow and he had to practically knock me over to get past me into the cavern. Once there, he sucked in his breath upon seeing the werewolf illuminated by the faint light of my flashlight app.
He knelt down beside Clinton and ripped the duct tape off the werewolf’s mouth. Clinton moaned, his head lolling to the side.
“Hold the flashlight steady,” Lucien commanded as he tore through the excessive amount of tape and rope used to bind the werewolf. Well, excessive for a human. I guess for a werewolf, it was probably a prudent amount.
The beam of my flashlight revealed that Clinton hadn’t just lost a ton of blood and been bound, he’d had the crap beat out of him. And I was thinking all these wounds weren’t from his run in with Lucien outside of the tavern last night.
“Can you get him out of here? He’ll heal quicker outside.”
Lucien knelt down and pulled the werewolf across his shoulders, army crawling his way through the entrance to keep from smashing the comatose werewolf against the stone roof. Once outside, he laid him down on the mossy ground while I came out of the cavern.
“Damn Alberta,” I raged staring down at the pale, bloodied, unconscious werewolf. “She lied.”
“Technically, she didn’t.” Lucien’s voice was droll.
I scampered over to Clinton, checked his vitals, relieved to feel a steady pulse. “We need to get him out of here.” I glanced down the wet muddy trail to where the deadfall was. Even if I could get my car over the deadfall, I’d never make it through this mud. But clearly Clinton wasn’t walking on his own two feet out of here.
“I got this.” Huge wings snapped out from Lucien’s back. “I can’t carry you both, so I’ll fly him out to your car.”
“I’ll meet you there,” I told him, jumping up and getting a head start. As much as I wanted the experience of being flown around in a demon’s arms, I didn’t want Clinton being unattended until I was sure he was okay—and until I was sure no one would come by and finish him off.
I was out of breath and covered in mud by the time I made it back over the deadfall to see Lucien standing next to Clinton. He’d laid the werewolf onto the ground next to my car, and I winced thinking that the demon looked rather menacing looming over the werewolf like that.
I checked Clinton’s vitals again and sent Ophelia a text. Normally I’d call Dallas for the werewolves to take care of their own, but until I knew exactly who had done this, I didn’t trust anyone beyond my own sisters. And Lucien.
“You think Alberta did this?” Lucien asked.
I shook my head. “No, I don’t think so. I don’t see her as a killer.”
I did see her as someone who would stash a seriously injured werewolf somewhere out of the way, not thinking that he might possibly die out there. But why? There had to be a good reason for Alberta to want to hide an injured Clinton away where he couldn’t be found.
Because she’d known who did this and had a vested interest in protecting them, but wasn’t so morally depraved that she really wanted Clinton to die.
I knelt down beside Clinton, peeling away his tattered clothes and assessing his injuries. There were bruises and cuts whose level of healing lead me to believe they’d occurred around twenty-four hours ago. There were some broken bones that had begun to knit—probably a half hour to two hours before his last devastating injury depending on how bad those injuries had been. Then there was a puncture wound that probably should have killed him.
The werewolf’s eyes popped open and I caught my breath.
“Bitch,” he breathed, pink liquid bubbling from his lips.
“Alberta?” I asked. “Who did this, Clinton? Who did this to you?”
His eyes wandered to Lucien, then widened when he saw the demon’s wings. “I repent. I repent. Don’t take me. Don’t. Done some bad things, but not that bad. Want to repent.”
Lucien rolled his eyes. “Oh, the deathbed confession. Screw you, dude. Much to my regret, you’re going to make it this time.”
“I repent,” Clinton insisted.
“Not my call,” Lucien informed him. “I just deal out the punishment, I don’t decide who deserves it.”
Clinton gasped and I shot Lucien a warning glance. “Who did this?” I asked the werewolf. “Clinton. Stay with me. Who did this?”
“Got jumped.”
“After the fight with Lucien at the tavern?” I asked. “Where did you go? Do you know who attacked you?”
He frowned. “Walked down the road a bit. Something with claws. And
magic.”
I exchanged a puzzled glance with Lucien. “Claws and magic?”
“Claws stabbed. Something hit me. One attacker I think. Then nothing. Magic and nothing.” He winced and coughed, spitting some blood onto the ground. “I think a magic spell knocked me out, ‘cause I don’t remember fighting, just getting attacked, then nothing until just now.”
He closed his eyes and his head lolled to the side. I wasn’t alarmed since already the werewolf was breathing easier, a bit of color beginning to return to this skin. The power of the full moon. Even in the daylight, this time of the month, a werewolf would heal just about any injury. Must be nice.
“Magic,” Lucien mused. “The attacker used magic to subdue him.”
“Which means whoever attacked him didn’t have enough strength to take Clinton down solo without a spell.” I held up my hands. “That could be just about anyone in town. Clinton has pissed off most of the residents of Accident at one time or another.”
“But which of those have access to magic?” Lucien prodded.
I frowned in thought. “Bronwyn is pretty selective about who gets her enchanted devices. I really doubt this is her, and none of my sisters outside of Bronwyn and I could enchant something with a long-lasting sleep spell like this. So that leaves…”
“Fae.” Lucien completed my thought.
“Fae,” I agreed. “It seems Alberta assisted in this assault as well as taking Clinton and stashing him with her treasure. But was Clinton supposed to die and no one find the body? Or maybe he was just supposed to be hidden away until after the full moon?”
“To keep him from fighting with Dallas for pack alpha?” Lucien asked. “There’s someone who doesn’t want Clinton as pack alpha?”
“That would only delay things for a month.” I shook my head. “No, I really think Clinton was supposed to die last night.”
The demon looked down at the werewolf. “We should consider that Alberta’s the reason he’s still alive. I get the impression she stashed him to keep whoever from finishing him off.”
“She thought the assault was only to teach Clinton a lesson, but got alarmed when the assailant took it too far,” I mused, thinking this was very much in keeping with the Alberta I knew. “Instead of disposing of a body where no one could find it, she ties and duct-tapes Clinton and hauls him out with her treasure.”
“But to do what?” Lucien laughed. “Was she planning on keeping him there forever? She must have known that eventually she’d either have to kill him or let him go.”
I smiled. “That’s Alberta. She doesn’t always think ahead. I’m sure she was hoping she could smooth things over with the assailant then set Clinton free.”
“And why would she think that?”
“Because the assailant is her lover,” I told Lucien. “Alberta would do a lot for her friends, but she’ll do anything for a romantic partner—anything except murder evidently.”
“And she’s made it quite clear she’s not going to tell you who that lover is.”
I smiled. “She doesn’t have to. I already know who her lover is. And I intend on confronting the pair of them.”
“And punishing them?” Lucien purred, clearly excited about that idea.
“No.” I hated to disappoint the demon, but this town had seen enough violence. And if things had gone down the way I was thinking, then Alberta and her lover had good reason for wanting Clinton dead.
It was something pretty darned close to self-defense. And self-defense against a werewolf, or even a pack alpha, sometimes involved murder.
Chapter 17
Cassandra
Ophelia showed up with an ambulance and her crew from the firehouse to haul Clinton off to what passed for a hospital in Accident. We didn’t often have need for things like surgery or long-term medical care, but even supernaturals had the occasional emergency. With the full moon tonight, Clinton would most likely be up and out harassing everyone by tomorrow morning. In fact, now that he was out of Alberta’s cave and free from whatever sedation spell she’d most likely cast on him, he was clearly doing better.
Heck, he might even be out at the bars tonight. One thing he didn’t have, though, was a memory of who or what attacked him. In fact, his memory of the events prior to his attack were still fuzzy. I wasn’t sure if he’d get those back or not.
I hoped not.
We drove up to the werewolf compound. For once, Dallas didn’t answer the door. This time it was just the werewolf I wanted to see—Shelby.
“Why don’t the three of us take a walk?” I told her. “Away from other ears.”
She glanced back, then nodded. We passed my car and were about two hundred yards from the main house when she turned to face me.
“Yes, I killed him. Alberta knows nothing about any of this. It has nothing to do with her. It was a fight, and I killed Clinton. And I’ll face pack law for it.”
Her chin came up with the last statement. Pack law would have meant no punishment if it had been a fair challenge.
But it hadn’t been a fair challenge.
“I’m not going to argue about whether you should face pack or human law for this right now,” I told her. “I just want you to know that we found Clinton. He’s not dead, he’s injured. And Sheriff Oakes will be arresting Alberta for assault if not attempted murder. We found Clinton in the place where she hides her treasures, sedated, injured, bound, and duct taped.”
Shelby paled. “No! She had nothing to do with it. It was me. I…I put Clinton there. She didn’t know anything about this.”
“But she did,” I said as gently as I could. “Alberta was there when you attacked Clinton. She cast that sleep spell on him. Then she hid him away.”
“Pack law.” Shelby’s chin came up. “Any repercussions I face over my…my challenge to Clinton falls under pack law.”
“It wasn’t a challenge. And Alberta doesn’t fall under pack law.” I put my hand on her shoulder. “And if what I think is true, then you might not want to find justice under pack law either.”
She began to cry. It was a much more subdued sorrow than what Alberta had shown, but there were quite a few tears. And I didn’t have any more tissues.
“Either way I’m in trouble,” she sniffed. “I might be dead.”
“No one is going to be dead,” I declared. “Now stop dancing around the truth here and tell me what happened so maybe I can actually help you. And help Alberta.”
She gave me a watery smile. “I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with a troll, you know. It was a couple of months ago. I’d lost out to Clinton in my bid for pack second, and Dallas had given me this horrible speech about how bitches needed to know their place and maybe if I had a pup or two I’d settle down and not be trying to run things in the pack. That shithead of a minotaur had just left Alberta. We were both at Pistol Pete’s, drinking and complaining. One thing led to another.”
“And female werewolves aren’t allowed to mate outside of their species,” I added softly.
She nodded. “If it had just been the one time, no one would have cared. I mean, I might have gotten my ass beat or confined to the compound for a moon or two, but that would have been it. But it wasn’t just once. And Alberta and I… I love her. I know you’re probably wondering how someone could love a troll, but she’s smart and kind, and wow is she amazing in the sack.”
I so didn’t need the visual that was running through my head right now. Everyone deserved love. And if it was between a werewolf and a troll…well, more power to them.
“Someone found out and told?” I asked, remembering what Dallas had said about Shelby. He hadn’t just been annoyed at her challenging Clinton, he’d been pissed at her more than that.
Shelby sighed. “Yes, someone told. I lied and said it was only the one time. Took my punishment. Swore not to do it again. And I tried. Dallas is mating me off to another wolf next moon. I knew if I got caught again, I’d never be allowed to leave the compound ever. Maybe I’d even be killed. But I could
n’t help myself. I love her. And she loves me.”
“So ditch the compound and your asshole of an alpha and move in with your troll,” Lucien suggested.
“Werewolves don’t quit the pack,” she told Lucien. “There are no lone wolves here. None. Dallas would never allow it.”
“Well, Dallas doesn’t run things in this town,” I told her. “Tell me what happened last night, and we’ll think about what we can do to fix this.”
She shook her head. “I’m not sure there’s anything anyone can do for me, but here’s the truth. Your demon hottie here got into it again with Clinton outside the tavern. I dusted him off. He left and I waited for Alberta to come back out. Clinton must have come back for round two because he caught the two of us making out. He grabbed me, was going to haul me back here to Dallas for punishment…”
“So you whacked him,” Lucien finished for the wolf.
“Actually, it was Alberta that whacked him. Then I clawed him. And bit him. And Alberta was worried he was getting the upper hand, so she knocked him out with her magic. He was bleeding all over the place, and I didn’t have any idea what she’d done. I thought she’d killed him, so I told her to hide the body somewhere that no one would ever find it, took as much of Clinton’s blood as I could manage to get out of him, and dumped it in the demon’s hotel room.” She looked over at Lucien. “Sorry about that.”
He shrugged. “Apology accepted.”
“Clinton is alive, and he’s going to be okay,” I told her. “So right now you’re looking at assault and Alberta is looking at kidnapping and accessory, even before we get to what you did to Hollister’s hotel room.”
“Doesn’t matter,” she countered with a wave of her hand. “Because I’m thinking I’ll probably be dead as soon as Clinton tells Dallas I’m sleeping with Alberta.”
“Here’s your choice.” I held up a finger. “Go through our witch-modified human justice system in Accident. Take whatever punishment you get. Break free from the pack and live happily ever after with Alberta. Or avoid any punishment for what happened to Clinton and submit to your alpha and pack law.”
Brimstone and Broomsticks: Accidental Witches Book 1 Page 15