No Crone Unturned

by Amanda M. Lee

  “And yet you haven’t cursed any part of him to fall off. To me that says volumes.”

  To me it said that I was turning into a big wuss — and I didn’t like it. “Why do you have to go to town?” I asked, hoping to give myself a little breathing room to decide what to do.

  “Brandon is having issues. They say he’s sick ... and asking for me. I have to go.”

  That made sense. “You can go. I’ll stick close to our friend here. Something will eventually break him.”

  “I have no doubt. You’re tenacious enough to break him, even if you have to whip out old Hee-Haw episodes.”

  “What’s Hee-Haw?”

  “Something my father used to watch ... and love. It doesn’t matter. I would prefer you come to town with me. Given the previous attack, I think it’s better if you’re not out here alone.”

  “I won’t be alone. I have this idiot.” I jerked my thumb toward Bixby. “We haven’t finished bonding yet.”

  “I’m going to grind your bones into a powder and put it in my pancakes!” Bixby screeched.

  “See. We’re making headway.”

  Gunner’s lips quirked. “This place was attacked. I’m doubtful it will happen again during daylight hours, but I want you with me. It would make me feel better.”

  “But ... .”

  “If you don’t come with me I can’t go. I won’t leave you. If I don’t go to him and something happens to Brandon ... .” He left it hanging, but I could read between the lines.

  “Fine.” I stood. I could see the hints of hope lurking behind Bixby’s eyes. “Don’t get too excited. I’m freezing and gagging you again and making it so anyone who tries to cross the cabin wards immediately goes up in flames. No one is coming to rescue you.”

  Bixby worked his jaw. “I’m going to pull off your big toe and shove it down your throat. Then, when you’re choking on your own bile, I’m going to do the dance of the dead and celebrate as you’re prostrate on the floor. Then I will desecrate your body by hanging it in a tree and allowing the birds to pick your bones clean.”

  I hunkered down and stared into his eyes. “I’m going to make you watch old episodes of Dawson’s Creek and then sing the theme song. We’ll see who outlasts who.”

  GUNNER AND ROOSTER WERE NEAR THE bar when we walked into the Cauldron twenty minutes later.

  “What’s happening?” Gunner asked. I could feel the concern rippling through him. “Your text was kind of vague.”

  “We have a problem,” Rooster replied, grim. “Brandon is sick. Like ... legitimately sick. I think he might be dying.”

  My stomach did a long, slow heave as Gunner immediately headed for the storage room. “What aren’t you saying?” I asked, studying the two grave faces. “You’re leaving something out.”

  “I think ... I think he’s starving,” Rooster replied. “He’s pale and hasn’t eaten a thing since we took him.”

  “So give him a sandwich or something.”

  “He refuses to eat. Besides that, I don’t think he can eat regular food. He’s so pale he’s nearly transparent and he keeps making these noises while smacking his lips. I think he needs blood.”

  My mouth dropped open. This day kept getting worse. “He’s still human.”

  “He is, but what if part of being a half-vampire is keeping him on a blood diet? I mean ... it kind of makes sense. Either way, he’s really sick and I’m afraid.”

  I shifted my gaze to the hallway. “Well ... then we’ll have to feed him.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Whistler arched an eyebrow. “How do you suggest we do that? I don’t know anyone who will let him ... suck blood from them.” The look of distaste on his face was evident.

  “No,” I agreed. “If I have to go and snag another one of those half-vampires from the bluff, then I will. I’m not going to let Brandon starve.” I stalked to the storage room, pulling up short when I found Gunner sitting next to the cot. He looked lost and sad ... and more than a bit terrified.

  Brandon was indeed pale. He was also clammy and breathing in shallow gulps. I stopped by the cot long enough to press my hand to his forehead and frowned.

  “He feels cold,” I muttered.

  “He’s dying,” Gunner volunteered. “You can say it. I can see it happening. We’re going to lose him.”

  I shook my head. “We are most certainly not going to lose him. I won’t let that happen, so you need to chill out.”

  “Look at him!” His eyes flashed. “He’s sick. He’s going to drift away right in front of us.”

  I was afraid enough to start thinking outside the box. Brandon looked as if he had only a few hours left.

  “He’s going to be fine,” I said finally, swallowing hard. “I have an idea.”

  “You have an idea?” Gunner was dubious. “And what’s that?”

  “It’s better that you don’t know.”

  I PLANNED TO TACKLE THE PROBLEM ALONE, but Rooster refused to allow it. Gunner needed someone to stick close to him, so I insisted Rooster stay behind. Whistler couldn’t move fast enough for what I needed, and that meant Marissa was officially my partner in crime for the evening.

  “What are we going to do here?” Marissa looked at the slaughterhouse with dumbfounded disbelief. “You don’t expect me to go in there, do you?”

  “I’m sure you’re having Texas Chainsaw Massacre flashbacks,” I said dryly as I grabbed three plastic containers from my storage bin. I’d stopped at the market long enough to buy a pack of recyclable food storage containers. “You don’t have to worry. That’s not going to happen to us.”

  Marissa was incredulous as she shifted her eyes to me. “Excuse me?”

  “This isn’t Texas,” I reminded her. “I’m pretty sure if there was a family of cannibals hanging around we would’ve heard about them.”

  Marissa stomped her foot as she dismounted. “Why would you tell me that if you didn’t want me to freak out?”

  “I was trying to reassure you that wouldn’t happen.”

  “Well, good job.” She flashed an enthusiastic thumbs-up. “I can’t tell you how thrilled I am now that I know that’s not going to happen.”

  “It is a tremendous relief,” I drawled, bobbing my head. “Let’s go.” I started toward the front door. This wasn’t a task I was looking forward to, but it had to be done. I couldn’t sit back and allow Brandon to die if there was something I could do about it. Unfortunately, this was the best option I’d come up with and I wasn’t exactly happy about it. Still, it was our only shot that didn’t involve someone slicing open a vein ... and that simply wasn’t going to happen.

  “How are we even going to get in here?” Marissa had done nothing but whine since Rooster called her to meet up with me. I was over the sound of her voice. “We should go back to The Cauldron and rethink this.”

  “Brandon needs blood. Well, at least that’s our belief.” I extended my fingers and pulsed a bit of magic toward the lock. “We can’t let him starve while we’re figuring out how to take down the vampires.” And Gunner will forever blame himself if his friend dies, I silently added.

  “Hey, we’re not the ones who fell in with the wrong crowd.” Marissa’s eyes flashed with wild panic as I pushed open the slaughterhouse door. Getting in was ridiculously easy. I mean ... who takes the time to try to keep people out of slaughterhouses? It’s far more likely that nobody would want to remain inside. “This is on Brandon. He fell for Honey.”

  “Yes, and her body is now missing from the morgue.” I slid through the door and ignited my fingertips to illuminate our way. “She’s running around out there right now ... or the vampires took her body for some reason that I can’t quite figure out. I think it’s far more likely that the former is true.”

  “So ... she’s a vampire.” Marissa didn’t look particularly bothered by the statement. “That’s not our problem. We’re not a part of this.”

  I shot her an incredulous look. “Our entire job is to protect the unsuspecting souls of this area from m
onsters. If Honey is a monster she falls under our purview. We can’t just ignore the situation.”

  “No, you can’t ignore the situation. I’m perfectly fine pretending nothing is happening. But I guess that’s just me.”

  “It definitely is.” I took a moment to study the facility map on the wall before continuing down the hallway. “Gunner loves Brandon. They’re friends. I think Brandon did his best to help protect Gunner from his mother when they were kids. Gunner is wrecked over what’s happening. We have to fix this.”

  “And what if we can’t fix it?”

  “I happen to believe this can be overcome.”

  “Because your ego won’t let you lose?”

  “Because I need Gunner to be okay,” I replied. “He needs Brandon. What’s happening isn’t Brandon’s fault. If we take out the vampires, we should be able to fix this ... at least in theory.”

  “Okay, but that doesn’t explain why we’re trying to steal animal blood from a slaughterhouse.”

  “Brandon needs sustenance. It’s not as if I can wrestle down some random person and steal blood from him or her. This is our best option.”

  “Or we could’ve just gone to the blood bank and stolen a few bags of blood. It would’ve already been in containers.”

  I paused. “Oh, well, crap. Why didn’t I think of that?”

  “Probably because I’m the brains of this operation.”

  That was a frightening thought. “Okay, new plan. We’re going to that clinic out on the highway and stealing some bagged blood.”

  “Too bad you couldn’t have decided that before you told me that horrible story about the cannibals.”

  “Yes, well, you only live once, right?” I clapped her hard on the shoulder. “Let’s get going. This was a stupid idea. I can’t believe you came up with it.”

  THE REST OF THE GROUP HAD ARRIVED TO lend Gunner support by the time Marissa and I returned to The Cauldron. Doc sat at a booth, steadily typing on his computer. I had no idea what he was researching, but I figured it would be helpful.

  “Did you get it?” Rooster asked, glancing up from the bar.

  I held up the bags and nodded. “Put two of these in a cooler so they don’t go bad.” I handed them to Whistler, who made a face. “If this works, we’ll probably have to steal more.”

  “And what happens if the state inspectors show up on a whim and look in my coolers?” Whistler challenged.

  “That would suck,” I replied. “If that happens we’re royally screwed. That’s true for a lot of stuff, though, so something tells me we’ll be okay.”

  Whistler mumbled something under his breath that I couldn’t quite make out. I didn’t have time to mess with him, though. I had other things to worry about.

  I carried the remaining bag of blood to the storage room. Gunner remained on the floor, holding his friend’s hand. He looked lost, but his eyes were hopeful when he registered my presence. “Anything?”

  “I certainly hope so.” I flashed a smile for his benefit and dropped to my knees next to Brandon. He didn’t stir. “This is the best I could do.” I held up the blood and then looked around, confused as to how I could get the liquid from the bag to his mouth. “Um ... we need a funnel.”

  Gunner’s eyes went wide. “You’re going to use a funnel to get that in him?”

  “Do you have a better idea? He can’t swallow. I don’t want to waste the blood by dumping it down his throat because it could spill everywhere.”

  “It makes sense.” He rolled to his knees, sliding close enough to press a kiss to my cheek. “Thank you for at least trying. I know this couldn’t have been easy.”

  “It’ll be okay.” I squeezed his wrist. “Get the funnel and we’ll get this in him. I don’t think we should wait much longer.”

  “I’m on it. Um ... thank you.”

  I was never comfortable with gratitude. It made me squirm. This was no different. Still, there was only one thing to say to move this along. “You’re welcome.”

  “I’M NEVER DOING THAT AGAIN!”

  I was beyond talking by the time I finished with the funnel. Brandon revived within seconds of the blood hitting his system and then proceeded to steal the bag from me so he could suck it dry. During the process, blood splattered on my shirt, and I thought there was a genuine possibility that I might throw up.

  “He’s obviously doing better,” Rooster noted as he appeared in the doorway, his eyes appraising as he watched Brandon lick the bag while glaring at me. “His color is back.”

  “It was like magic,” Gunner enthused. “He was back almost right away.”

  “Well, that’s one crisis averted.” Rooster winked at me. “Now we have to decide the best way to end all this.”

  I’d been thinking about that and was at a loss. “I think I’m going to have to torture the minion with actual knives or something,” I admitted, morose. “Under normal circumstances I would be fine with that, but ... he’s tiny. It’s going to feel like torturing a child.”

  “I don’t see where we have much choice,” Rooster pointed out. “We need information and he has it. I can come to the cabin and do it for you. If that’s what you want, I mean. I think you’ve done your duty for one evening.”

  It was a sweet offer, but I couldn’t accept. “No, this is on me. I took him. I have to be the one to break him.”

  “Let us know when you get anything. We’ll be ready to move.”

  I nodded with what I hoped was enthusiasm. “I’m really looking forward to the torturing. Just you wait. It’ll go swimmingly.”

  Gunner slid me a sidelong look. “This is going to turn into a thing, isn’t it?”

  He had no idea.

  Twenty-Four

  I was exhausted by the time we returned to the cabin. All I wanted to do was climb into bed and shut out the world.

  Gunner agreed that torturing Bixby would go smoother after a good night’s sleep, so I at least managed to put that off. But that left us with another issue.

  “I can’t sleep with him in the house.” Gunner was adamant as he folded his arms over his chest and glared at Bixby, who was still frozen in place.

  “It’s not as if he can do anything,” I countered. “He’s frozen to the chair.”

  “I don’t care. He’s right outside the bedroom door.”

  “Well, what do you suggest we do with him? It’s not as if I have another place to stash him. Besides, the wards only protect the cabin. We can’t exactly plant him in the yard. And if he’s out there the birds are likely to crap on him and the scavengers might be bold enough to take a nibble.”

  Bixby whined and his eyes bulged, but he couldn’t move.

  “Scout, I’m exhausted,” Gunner implored. “I cannot sleep with him right outside the door. There must be something we can do with him.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know.” He dragged a hand through his hair, frustration evident. “Wait ... there’s that old shed out back. Can’t we shove him in there? The wards can be extended to cover the shed, right?”

  “I think there are rats in that shed.”

  Bixby made another noise.

  “Well, that will teach him to withhold information from you,” Gunner said pragmatically. “We’ll move the chair out there, leave the spell on him, and take that portable television and plug it in. You can torture him with something truly awful and we can crash for a few hours.”

  It was an enticing option. “Well ... okay.”

  Bixby whined. I almost felt sorry for him.

  “This is your own fault,” I said as I grabbed one side of the chair. “If you would just tell us what we want to know we wouldn’t have to do this.”

  Gunner grunted as he lifted. “If you would just torture him like a good girl we would already have the information we need. Come on. The sun is setting. I want to get him outside before we run the risk of the vampires showing up.”

  I slowed my pace. “Maybe we should keep him with us. You know, just in case.”<
br />
  “I need sleep.”

  “We might not get it anyway. I guarantee the vampires are going to come sniffing around.” I dropped my side of the chair and planted my hands on my hips. “He can’t go in the shed.”

  Gunner threw up his hands. “Well, that’s just great. Every muscle in my body hurts and my brain is tired from the longest day ever.”

  Bixby started making noises again. I took pity on him and removed the gag spell.

  “What?” I barked.

  “I have to go to the bathroom,” he announced.

  I stilled. That was so not what I was expecting ... and something I hadn’t considered. “Oh, no way.”

  “Yes.” He bobbed his head. “As part of the Geneva Convention, you must provide me with acceptable facilities with which I can relieve myself.”

  That sounded like a load of hogwash. “I’m pretty sure the Geneva Convention is for prisoners of war.”

  “What do you think we’re about to embark on?”

  He had a point, but still ... . “You’ll have to handle his bathroom needs.” I pinned Gunner with a no-nonsense look. “He has to remain mostly frozen, which means he’ll need help with his ... you know. It can’t be me.”

  Gunner, who had sleepy bedroom eyes only moments before, was suddenly alert. “Oh no! Not me!”

  “You’re the only option.”

  “How do you figure? There are two people in this room.”

  “But I’m your girlfriend. You shouldn’t want me to ... touch ... another guy’s equipment. I mean ... that has to be a rule or something.”

  “Are you trying to get me to kill you?”

  “No. I’m trying to get you to handle his bathroom needs.”

  “No.”

  “Someone has to do it.”

  “I said no.”

  I jutted out my lower lip. “Please.”

  His expression turned colder. “Oh, no. That’s not going to work on me. That little girl thing is completely out of your wheelhouse. There’s nothing on earth that you could offer to get me to babysit him while he does his business.”

  I pressed the heel of my hand to my forehead and heaved out a sigh. “Fine.” I started toward Bixby, who looked legitimately terrified. “If you tell me what I want to know I’ll let you go to the bathroom yourself. If you don’t ... well ... you won’t like the alternative.”