by E. A. Copen
“What’s the matter?”
My arm tugged tight as Sal stopped walking, his forehead wrinkled with concern. I offered a weak smile and shook my head. “Nothing.”
We walked on in amicable silence for two more steps.
“This spell we’re going to work,” Sal said quietly. “I don’t want to do it.”
“Because I’ll be dead for a few minutes? Come on, Sal. I was already dead for a whole sixty-two seconds earlier today and now look at me. I’ll be fine. You know I’m too stubborn to die.”
He gave a nervous laugh. “No, it’s not just that. It’s…”
Sal trailed off as we reached a set of double doors, reaching out to open them for me. Fat chance I was going to let that happen. I’d rather look like an invalid than be treated like one. I slammed an elbow into the handicap plate that would open the doors instead and flashed him a sly grin that he didn’t return.
“Do you remember when you first came to Paint Rock, and I told you I didn’t start out as a healer?”
I cleared my throat, lowered my voice two octaves to imitate his, and said in an exaggeratedly serious tone, “I began my practice doing other things. I started out hurting people.”
His smile was strained and short-lived. “That was before Chanter taught me the right way. I was on a dark, dangerous path. This spell I have to work, it calls for a lot of the principals I learned before Chanter. It is magick designed to cause suffering. It goes against everything Chanter taught me.”
“Maybe it was designed to hurt people. But you’re going to use it to save people. Any damage you do is only going to be temporary.”
“Maybe,” Sal agreed. “And then maybe not. I’m still not me. I’m still broken.” He rubbed his chest. “I’m afraid I’ll get lost in it. That I’ll like it. Before today, I hadn’t killed in a long time. Today…” He trailed off as both of us thought about the two men he’d shot in the back of the head. “I almost killed my brother today, too. What if…What if I go back to the way I was before Chanter?”
Afraid was not a word I heard Sal use often. In fact, I didn’t hear any werewolves use it except in rare circumstances. Being afraid meant being vulnerable and werewolves hate to admit weakness. The word made me take notice and pay closer attention to the worry lines etched on his face.
I leaned into Sal. “You mean, what if you turn into an evil witch?”
His face darkened. “What if I turn into something dark and evil, and you’re not here to stop me?”
“Guess you’d better make sure I come back then, huh?” I said, squeezing his hand.
After another set of double doors (which I opened using the handicap button), we stepped into the cool, night air. Gasoline, oil, rubber, and other car smells hung in the air, mixing with the special stink all parking garages have. Moths fluttered against the buzzing fluorescent lights, casting strange shadows. There weren’t any walls to lean on, and I didn’t want to set off every car alarm on the way to the truck, so Sal picked me up and carried me the rest of the way. It wasn’t any more effort for him than pulling open a door, but it still made me feel broken. I wanted to walk.
“We’ll get you healed up,” Sal said. With my ear pressed against his chest, I could hear him a lot better, though sound still hurt when it touched my ears. I’d refused more pain medications at Sal’s urging. He promised I wouldn’t need them. “I’ll finish fixing up your ears and anything else that’s bothering you. Then, we’ll both have to get cleaned up. Sunday best clean, Silvia used to say.”
Silvia was Chanter’s wife. Thinking about them together made me happier until I remembered Chanter’s ghost was still hanging around. Once I’d dealt with Emiko, I’d do my best to send him on his way, too. Hopefully, he wouldn’t prove such a difficult customer.
“Dress in something comfortable and then do an aura cleansing. We should both be at our best before we try the spell. Makes the chances that something will go wrong just a little less. Then, if you’ve got affairs to get in order, I want you to do it just in case. While you’re doing that, I’ll get the things we need.”
“What kinds of things do you need for this one?”
The muscles of his chest shifted as he shrugged. “Candles, good incense, and I’ll have to go out to Chanter’s and see if I can find his recipe for the right medicine. That will take a while. He had a weird system of cataloging things to keep people out. Silvia’s idea once I moved in. She didn’t want me accidentally turning people into toads.” He laughed. The sound hurt, but it was also comforting. “He took to transcribing the spells as recipes.”
“Like in a cookbook?”
“Yeah,” Sal said, nodding. “Had a whole system and codes and everything.”
I sat up in Sal’s arms. Well, technically, I wiggled a little, twisted my head, and fought to get my hand down into my jeans pocket. My fingers settled on the folded bit of paper and fumbled to pull it out. “Does this mean anything to you?” I held the recipe I’d found in the envelope with my name on it out to Sal awkwardly. Inside, I was beaming that I’d finally gotten one of four limbs back under complete control.
Sal walked a few more paces and put me down next to Chanter’s truck, helping me get my other hand on the bed where I could hold myself up. Then, he plucked the folded paper out of my hand, unfolded it, and frowned.
“How did you… Never mind. It might work, provided we also get a piece of Emiko’s remains. To be honest, all the weed is going to do is get you stoned. It’s not a good medium. For this, you’d need something stronger,” He lowered the page and added, “Not that I’d know anything about that. I can get something. Chanter probably had some around if he was reading up on it.” He folded the paper back up and held it out to me. “But maybe I shouldn’t be talking about where Chanter’s stash might be in front of a cop.”
I smiled and laughed. “This whole case has been off the books and stinks of illegal activity, Sal. If the spell works, I don’t care how illegal the ingredients are.”
“It’s not my spell,” Sal said defensively and opened the passenger door for me. “And I’m not the one who has to eat the stuff. If I were you, I’d avoid telling this story at the water cooler, though.”
He helped me into the truck and then went around and got in on the driver’s side. The truck purred to life and the air conditioning with it. Outside, it was a cool night. If we’d been in my Firebird, I would have run the heat. But werewolves run a high core temperature. They like the cold, which naturally meant that I had to endure frigid temps if I wanted to ride with Sal. I made it halfway to the highway before I reached out and switched off the cool air.
“Would you be against having Reed present?” I asked.
Reed and I may not have seen eye-to-eye on everything since I’d come to Paint Rock, but he had wanted to be there. If shit hit the fan and I needed someone else to jump in, Reed was as good a backup as any. Never go in without backup. Sal would be busy performing his spell, and I’d be dead. Someone had to watch over my body so I could come back to it safe and sound. Reed wouldn’t hurt me. Besides, he deserved to have some resolution. Marcus had played him, too, and for that, Mia had suffered. I owed him one for saving my bacon with LeDuc. Letting him sit in would make us square.
“So long as he doesn’t try to interfere with the ceremony,” Sal said with a shrug. “As far as magick power on the rez goes, you, me, and him are the heavy-hitters now. It’ll be good to have back up.”
I fished my cell out of my jeans pocket (with some help from Sal, who somehow managed it without swerving) and dialed Reed.
“Judah,” the priest said after a brief greeting. He sounded exasperated. “I heard something happened at the hospital and rushed back to see you, but by the time I got there, you were already gone. I would have been there sooner, but the hospital snagged me to do a confession and last rites. Please tell me Marcus is fine?”
“He’s up and moving. As much of a pain in the ass as ever.”
“Thank God.” He yawned in m
y ear.
“Listen, Reed, there’s been a change in plans.”
I told him everything, or at least the important parts. The signal kept cutting in and out like it does in the stretch of desert between Eden and Paint Rock, so we eventually resorted to text messages. Sal communicated through me the things he needed, minus the body parts, since we both agreed Reed would be morally opposed to collecting any of Emiko’s remains. For those, we’d call on Marcus. If anyone should be disturbing her grave, it was him. I didn’t mention the drugs either. Reed was a good man and a priest. I did my best to keep priests out of Hell if I could help it, even though I wasn’t religious myself.
We pulled into Sal’s driveway long before I finished furiously texting Reed. Sal spent the time on the phone with one of Marcus’ lackeys, trying to leave a message. Whoever he was on the line with was intentionally cryptic and vague concerning his master’s whereabouts and whether he could be reached.
“It’s probably because Cynthia is still out there,” I reminded Sal when he hung up and finished cussing out the idiot on the other end. “She did try to kill him today.”
“And before,” Sal agreed. I’d brought him up to speed along with Reed. “When she shows up again, I get to kill her. She’s the one who made Mia sick.” He gripped the steering wheel tighter.
“Hey,” I said, reaching over to pat his leg. “We’ll get her.”
He released some of the tension with a sigh and lowered his head. After a moment, he leaned on the steering wheel, looking at me. It was dark. On his face was the dim light of the nearly full moon. “You seem to be moving around better.”
“Still a little light-headed, but I don’t feel like I’m made of Jell-O. More like dough, now. That’s a little better.”
He got out of the truck, stretched, and came around to get me. I swayed a little when I put my feet down, but I was mostly able to support myself. The stairs were still difficult but I managed.
The house was dark and cool. The faint, sugary scent of cupcakes had faded, and instead, the kitchen and living room smelled of dish soap and dust. Sal ushered me to the sofa, where he sat me down and then sat down next to me. “First, your ears,” he said, placing his fingertips on either side of my head, just below the earlobes.
The faint but pleasant hum of his magick worked its way into my aching head like a massage. The tension I was carrying on my shoulders and neck relaxed, and I closed my eyes. I must have gone to sleep because I woke up groggy a minute later to the sound of Sal’s chuckling.
“What?” I said, rubbing my eyes.
“You snore,” he said with a playful wink.
“I do not.”
“Yes, you do. And you snore better than you sing.”
I gave him my best pouting face when he stood and offered me a hand. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. You feel well enough to stand?”
He pulled me up, and I almost fell back down. “Why am I still like this?” I growled at him. “What the hell is happening to me?” Sal helped brush some hair out of my face so it wasn’t in my eyes and mouth. Usually, his healing left me feeling better and stronger, not weaker.
“Whatever you did to the ghost, you powered it with your aura, Judah,” he said gently. “You might as well have tackled a grizzly bear or thrown yourself at an oncoming train in no more than football pads for all the damage you’ve done to yourself. If you could see it, you’d know that.”
“Well, I can’t do magick tomorrow like this. I need to be better.”
Sal nodded and brushed his thumb along my chin. “I can help with that, but it’s not a quick thing. It takes time and…” He trailed off, his eyes traveling down my body. After a long moment, he closed his eyes and whispered, “I don’t know if I can do this.”
“Do what?”
The muscles in his throat worked. “Kill you.”
I reached up to touch his face. At least, I meant to. My arm didn’t want to cooperate once it got to shoulder level, so I just brushed his bicep instead. “Hey, it’s not like you’re putting me on an altar and stabbing me with an obsidian dagger, Montezuma. I’m coming back.”
“But what if you don’t? I can’t do all of this alone.” Sal sank to the sofa, which meant I did too because I still couldn’t stand unsupported. He put his hands over his face and breathed into them. “Jesus Christ. I’m a father. I’ve got a daughter. How do I do that? And the pack, they need me to have my shit together. I don’t. I’m so far from having my shit together, it’s like I left it on another continent. I can’t do it alone.”
“Sal, you’re not alone,” I said, forcing my hand onto his knee. “Even without me, you’ve got the whole pack behind you now. You’ve got the Kings. You’ve got friends, people that love you. The world doesn’t end if I don’t come back from this. You’re strong. You’d figure it out just like you always have. But it’s all a moot point. I’m coming back to you.”
He took a deep breath and lowered his hands, and his gaze drifted to the window. I followed it. The sky was a deep, bruised black with glittering stars. From where we sat, I couldn’t see the moon, but its light pooled on the small patch of cheap linoleum just inside the door.
This might be my last night on Earth, I thought. I hadn’t wanted to subscribe to Sal’s way of thinking, but there was a very real possibility that I wouldn’t come back from what we were planning. I didn’t know what would be waiting for me once my spirit left my body, or how long I would have to find Emiko and beat her. Even if I won the battle, I could lose the war if I took too long. Without oxygen, my brain would shut down. Sal had enlisted Doctor Han to help keep my body alive, but there were never any guarantees. Once Sal gave me the powder and spoke the words, I would be dead. The only thing tying my soul to my body would be a thread of the finest spider silk, and even that relied on Sal doing some amazing magick work with a spell he’d never used before. Chances were good that I wouldn’t come back.
I put my hand in his. “Help me up.”
He did, and I leaned into him. “Where we going?” he asked.
“Take me to the bathroom.” He shifted as if to make for the bathroom down the hall, but I pulled back. “Not that one. The one with the big shower.”
Sal gave me a doubtful look. “How are you going to stand in the shower? It’ll be easier in the tub.”
“I guess you’re going to have to help me.”
He studied me for a minute, unsure until I wrapped my fingers around his and pulled on him. I wobbled but managed to stay upright rather than going down.
The bathroom next to Sal’s bedroom was the bigger of the two, done up in rustic brown and pine green. The countertop was a deep shade of slate gray with intersecting white lines that were meant to look like cracks. It was littered with all the trappings of the private, mundane parts of Sal’s life: shaving cream, razors, aftershave, nail clippers, toothbrush, toothpaste. Any other day, I would have passed it all by and not cared, but that day, those moments, everything felt important.
I stood, leaning against the sink, studying my face in the mirror while Sal went to turn on the shower. I didn’t look like the person I felt like inside. Inside, I was fierce and strong, a slayer of ice giants and wendigos. I was proud of my strength, even if all it ever bought me was trouble. On the outside, I wore a face of tiny scars and broken capillaries. The yellow halo of a healing bruise on my chin framed the left side of my mouth. In the milky light filtering through the dust-covered lightbulbs above the sink, it looked a dingy shade of brown. Half rings of purplish-black highlighted bloodshot eyes. I was the most unattractive I’d ever been.
Sal’s face appeared in the mirror behind mine. We didn’t speak as we looked at each other in the mirror. His fingers reached up to brush against my ears. Magick lit up under his fingers, a barely noticeable light of pale blue. It felt like sunlight on a cool afternoon, and I closed my eyes to enjoy the sensation. The pressure in my ears changed as they knitted back together, but it didn’t hurt.
He touched his finger
s lightly under each of my eyes and pressed his nose into the mangled mess that was my hair. The dark lines faded under my eyes, too.
Sal kissed my head. “Where else?”
I turned away from the mirror to face him, which took less effort than I thought it would. The steam filling the room made everything hurt less. He moved closer, holding me up with the weight of his body, even though I was sure I didn’t need for him to do that anymore.
In answer, I reached down and pulled my shirt over my head, dropping it to the floor beside us. My bra had gotten lost in transit or maybe ruined at the hospital when they pulled everything off me, leaving me to stand there bare-chested against him. Cold air swept in through the open bathroom door and my skin prickled at it. Sal kept his eyes locked with mine, and I watched as gold streaked into his honey-brown irises. I lifted the hand he’d been using for healing and pressed it to the sore spot on my ribs that he’d been working on before. His fingers trembled. “Here,” I said.
The magick in him was a little slower to respond, probably because so much of his attention was focused elsewhere. I didn’t need any enhanced senses to tell me how his body was responding to the touch. He leaned down and pulled my mouth to his.
It started out gentle, hesitant, fingers brushing skin, searching exposed flesh for scars and bruises. Both of us had them. The bite marks Hunter had left on Sal’s arm were still tender, almost as sore as the pain he found in the back of my neck. When we realized that both of us were already broken and that anything we did together would be more healing than hurting, the pain became its own form of primal pleasure.
I bit down on his lip and he responded with a growl, sliding his hands under my butt and lifting me onto the sink. Half of the items that had been there clattered to the floor. With an angry swipe of his arm, Sal pushed the rest aside and pressed against me, biting back. The back of my head hit the mirror on the medicine cabinet just right and it broke, sending glittering shards of silver glass raining down all around me.