Page 13

Chapter

Twelve

M ason Hartman. Great.

The guy’s like a burrowing snake in the woodpile that is my life.

I locked the back door of Wicked and started jogging to Ronan’s Pub. I needed a vehicle, and he had a truck. I only hoped it was there and not wherever he was.

Wherever he was.

Margaux’s feet made a crisp clicking sound as she strode to Desmond’s front door. In order to see where I was going, I’d had to minimize her in my vision, but I was listening.

“Pay close attention to every word,” she said. “Don’t miss a thing. The spell will stay active as long as I’m alive, but will go dark if I’m knocked unconscious.”

“Gods above and below, Margaux,” I said under my breath as I picked up speed. “Hold on.”

“Don’t you dare barge in here half-cocked. I made my choice,” she said. “Listen, learn, and before you come after this witch, make sure your magic is as strong as you can possibly make it. If Desmond’s been abusing the blood magic spells in the Weret-hekau Maleficium , he doesn’t care about the state of his soul anymore. He’ll be reckless and vicious. Ten mucho cuidado.”

“You be careful, too, Margaux,” I said.

She raised her fist to the door.

Desmond Mace opened it before she could knock. He appeared crazed—his hair was greasy with sweat and his white complexion was sallow. He looked like an addict a few hours into detox. “What did you do with her?”

“Funny you should ask that, because I came to ask the same thing.” Margaux had conjured up her cold, evil stepmother voice, the one she’d used on me the day I showed up at her house.

“Where’s Maya?” he demanded.

“Where’s Bronwyn?” she countered.

I looked both ways before crossing Main Street then sprinted past Beau’s Oddities and El Rancho Grande Taco Shop. I took a shortcut down an alley, spilled out onto the street in front of the pub, and burst through the front door.

“I could kill you where you stand, witch, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Likewise,” Margaux said. “So, let’s talk.”

“ Betty ?” Gladys clomped around the bar and met me at the door. She wore a pub T-shirt, a skintight skirt, black tights, and rhinestone-studded black cowboy boots. Her hair was shellacked into an updo. “What’s wrong, hon? Is it Ronan?”

I wanted to cry. Yes, it was Ronan. And it was Bronwyn. And now it was Margaux.

“You should’ve run when you could,” Desmond said. “If you’re smart, you’ll do what Bronwyn wouldn’t. Tell me where my wife is.”

“And if you’ve got half the intelligence I once credited you with, you’ll tell me where Bronwyn Jonas is. Now.”

Gladys put a hand on my cheek, pulling me out of the vision. “Talk to me.”

“Office,” I managed.

She faced the room. “I’ll be back in a jiff. Keep track of your refills, please. Charlie Hannigan, if you lay one claw on that tap while I’m gone, I’ll bite it off at the knuckle.”

Charlie’s eyes went wide with fear and what looked like admiration. “Yes, ma’am.”

An older man on a barstool piped up with, “We’ll keep an eye on things, Gladys. Do what ya need to.”

She wrapped an arm around my back and ushered me into the short hall that led to Ronan’s office.

“He still hasn’t shown up.”

“No.” She guided me to a chair. “His truck is parked out front, but he’s gone. If he’s taken his wolf out for a run, he’s done it at the worst possible time.”

“Speaking of, I need to borrow his truck.”

“…better tell me where the bitch is, ex -coven mother.”

“W-Why?” Margaux gasped then coughed.

Desmond’s face was so close to hers it looked like he might kiss her. “Because she took something from me. A book.”

“Book?” Margaux asked, as if we didn’t both know exactly what he was asking about. “Who cares about a stupid book? Where’s Bronwyn?”

“Alive, which is more than I’ll be able to say for you in a few minutes.”

“I might surprise you,” she retorted in that tone even I wanted to pop her for using.

Damn it, Margaux, shut up.

Desmond held out his hands as if receiving a message from Heaven. I could practically feel him drawing power. “ Mother Earth, lend me your magic .”

“He’s grounding himself, which means he’s about to cast. Get out of there,” I said.

Gladys glanced over her shoulder. “Betty, who are you talking to?”

I ignored her. “ Move , Margaux.”

“Betty?” Gladys perched on the desk and studied me .

“Where is Bronwyn?” Margaux sounded like she was cold. Teeth-chattering freezing. “What have you done with her?”

Desmond cackled. Literally. There was simply no other way to describe the sound that came out of his mouth. “She’s where they all go once Alpha Pallás decides they’ve outlived their usefulness. Don’t know what I’m talking about? You soon will, Coven Mother .”

His face wrenched left. Or, rather, Margaux’s head twisted right. My stomach flipped over as the world went sideways, and she went down. I caught a glimpse of Desmond’s bare feet as her head slammed into the wooden floor once, twice. He hadn’t moved an inch; he was doing it all with magic.

“ Margaux !”

Blood speckled then gushed onto the light oak. A third slam, and blood flowed until I couldn’t see anything else.

And then I couldn’t see anything at all. The connection had been brutally, painfully severed.

Gladys tucked a tissue into my hand. “I’m assuming you’re under some kind of spell right now. I don’t understand it, but I want to help you. Tell me what I can do.”

I sniffed, pressed the tissue to my eyes, and drew it away. It was soaked.

“R-Ronan’s truck.”

She took a ring of keys from her skirt pocket and went around the desk. “He keeps a spare set in here in case we need to move his truck when he’s out on a run. It only happened once, but that’s how he is. Always thinking about our convenience.”

That sounded like him.

Ronan .

She unlocked a bottom drawer and pulled out a keyring. “This big one is to that old Ford truck and these,” she indicated two silver keys marked with the letter F in permanent marker, “are for the front door of his apartment. I don’t believe he’d mind if you took them.”

I sat back in my chair, trying to catch my breath. The tears had stopped, and rage was setting in .

“In case you were wondering, I went upstairs to see if he was there right after you called. I got worried.” She shut the drawer and relocked it. “His scent is at least a day old. He hasn’t been there all night. Karen was the last person to see him, and that was around midnight. No one has seen or heard from him since.”

The pit that had formed in my gut when I lost communication with Margaux widened until it was a gaping hole filled with roiling lava.

Gladys stood very still. “Are you going to find the boss?”

“Yes,” I managed. And Margaux and Bronwyn.

“Do you think the alpha leader is responsible?” she asked in a small voice.

“Do you want the answer to that?” I fired back. “Because you’ll have to face the truth about the wolf you serve, if so.”

She stared at the floor, her head bobbing up and down. A nod, but also a shrug and a head shake. I wasn’t sure how to interpret it.

“I’ve planned for this day.” She lifted her face, and her eyes glowed with her wolf. “It’s been years . We’ve waited for someone like Ronan to come along, someone strong enough… You can damn sure bet I want the truth, and I’m not the only one. Ronan has supporters. Not only the elderly and betas, either. A rebellion has been brewing in this pack for some time.”

“Alpha Floyd asked the coven to kill Ronan,” I said. “When the old coven leader refused, he found a way to get rid of her and appointed someone who would. So, yes. I think Alpha Floyd is responsible. And not only for Ronan, either. Two witches, Margaux Ramirez and Bronwyn Jonas are missing.”

Gladys handed me the keys. “You’re saying the coven is compromised.”

“Yes.” To be fair, I’d been saying it all along. Now, however, I was saying it with irrefutable proof.

“I’m going to put the word out,” she said. “Watch for Alpha’s loyalists. You’re not safe around them.”

“Uh, okay.” I had zero idea what to do with this information .

I already didn’t trust any Pallás wolves except Gladys and Ronan, and I watched my step around Gladys. Not that she’d willingly sell me out, but because of her low placement in the pack, she could be forced to by a wolf more alpha than she was.

“Let’s get every wolf in the community out there looking for Ronan,” I said. “Don’t make a big show about it, but we need all paws on deck. Trusted paws, that is.”

“I’ll send Charlie Hannigan out to search where Ronan runs. Charlie’s a drunk, but he’s also an alpha, and he was once the best long-distance runner in the pack. The wolf’s no slouch in the snout department, either. If there’s something to sniff out, he’ll find it. Give you a call when I know anything.”

“Thank you.” I came around the desk and hugged her.

Then I ran out of the pub and straight to Ronan’s truck. I jammed the keys in the ignition and gunned the engine. A flash of purple in the cupholder caught my attention. My breath hitched and tears stung the backs of my eyes.

“ Ronan .”

It was the lavender flower I’d given him in the garden room yesterday. He’d laid the wilted head on a folded paper napkin. Carefully. Like it meant something to him.

An image of Floyd popped into my head unbidden. Fury erupted in me then slowed, like lava flow oozing from an angry volcano.

If you’ve hurt him, I’m going to kill you.

I fished my phone out of my bag and called Ida. “Tell the boys to get ready. I’m about to start a war.”

When I arrived home, my partners—all three of them—were waiting for me. Ida had talked Maya into taking a nap since she was still recovering from her ordeal with Desmond then had taken the Weret-hekau Maleficium into the garden room because she said being in the house with it “creeped her out. ”

Alarmingly, Cecil had been poring over the text. Fennel, too, but that was less alarming. I trusted Fennel’s judgment. Cecil was a wild card.

I filled them in on everything.

“Starting to feel a little claustrophobic around here,” Ida said. “Like they’re coming at us from all sides.”

She’d perched on my chaise by the lavender plants.

“Yeah. From the outside, this looks like three separate disappearances, but we already know Margaux’s is related to Bronwyn’s because that’s how she planned it. I can’t help but think Ronan’s disappearance is, too. In fact, I think it’s the catalyst.”

“Do we still believe everyone is alive?” she asked in a careful tone.

“I’m going to operate like they are until I know different.”

The thought of Ronan being dead made my head and body ache. It made me feel disconnected from my very soul.

Cecil chittered and jabbed a tiny, chubby finger at the book. Fennel sniffed the page he was referring to and instantly backed away, his mouth open in that peculiar way cats have when they pick up an intriguing scent.

I peered over Cecil’s tiny shoulder. The book was written in a mix of languages, but someone had translated this particular spell into English on a piece of notepaper and tucked it between the pages as a bookmark.

“Death-sleep spell. Whatever that is.” I looked from the note to Ida, who frowned and indicated for me to continue reading. “The translation includes instructions for the chant, but not the magic. Or what the spell does.”

“What do you mean it doesn’t include instructions for the magic?”

“It’s an elemental spell. A learned witch couldn’t cast it because there are no instructions about how to power the spell from the light or dark side of the magical spectrum.” When she looked confused, I said, “Learned witches power spells with the magic that exists all around us. That’s why you’ll generally find them on, or near, a ley line. But elementals can be nearly anywhere as long as we’re near our element.”

“Huh. I thought witches could cast anywhere.”

“We can. But for spells this strong, we need to continuously draw power. And that requires a source.”

“Does that mean it’s not dark magic, after all?”

“Oh no. It’s definitely dark. Any spell that uses blood is dark. Dark doesn’t always equate to evil, but when it uses nonconsensual blood it most certainly does.”

Ida made an ick face at the book.

I ran my finger over the words of the chant. “This seems specially crafted for my kind of elemental—and possibly Fennel’s kind, since he pulls power from sources that are a mystery even to me. Cecil might be able to pull it off if he taps into Faery.”

He shook his head, dislodging his purple hat.

“Or not,” I said.

“Desmond Mace is your kind of elemental,” Ida pointed out.

“Yeah.” Don’t remind me. “I’ll have to ask Maya if this is his handwriting, but I’d be willing to bet it is.” I stuck the paper back into the book with a trembling hand. I really didn’t like the looks of that spell. “I was wondering how he’d been able to grab Bronwyn—she’s twice the witch he is. And Margaux? She’s got moves he doesn’t have words for.”

“Do you think he has Ronan, too?”

“If you’d asked me that before Margaux said Floyd wanted him dead, I’d have said no. But, now? It’s a possibility.”

What I thought, what I was terrified of, was that Desmond had done what Margaux had refused to do. That I was too late already.

No. I couldn’t think like that. If I thought he was really gone, I wouldn’t be able to handle what I needed to do next.

“Pack up everything we’ve got,” I said to the boys. “Cecil, make sure your stuff is stabilized. I don’t want to blow up the car on the way there. I’ll be right back. ”

Ida trailed me to Red’s grave. “What are you doing?”

I stared down at the smooth stones surrounding his resting place.

“When you’re at full strength, you have to expel and destroy the hex bags then anchor the roots of the largest saguaro to your own lifeforce. I don’t know how long it’ll take, but you have to do it to connect with the soil.”

“Margaux said I needed to anchor Red’s roots to myself. Apparently, Mom told her that’s what I had to do to fully connect with the soil.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I’m not sure. Time me, okay? In case I can’t pull out on my own.”

“How long?”

“No more than five minutes.”

I knelt in the center of the stones, placing my palms flat on the soil. My hands disappeared into the earth, followed by my wrists and forearms.

“Do you think the soil misses you?” Ida asked gently. “It always seems to hold onto you so tightly—like it’s afraid of losing you.”

Her words rang in my ears as I closed my eyes and reached for Red’s delicate roots. They were so thin I had difficulty finding them. I was dangerously close to losing him forever.

Magic sparked from my fingertips. I sent as much as I dared into the dry, wispy ends. I’d need to conserve magic if I intended to confront Desmond today, but I gave as much as I could spare to Red.

And I felt it instantly. The barest hint of a connection. I built on that connection, concentrating on the power flowing out of me and into the roots.

“Betty? Betty, wake up. It’s been almost fifteen minutes now.” Ida’s voice brought me back to the present.

“Felt like seconds.” I withdrew my hands and opened my eyes.

My partners stared at me. Fennel had a backpack strap in his teeth. Cecil’s purple hat was packed so full the tip stood up straight instead of slouching, as it usually did. Ida was on her knees beside me. All three looked worried.

Ida and I helped each other to our feet. I shook the earth off my clothing and watched with a fascination that never got old as the soil on my hands and arms vaporized and sank hotly into my body, sending frissons of power boiling through my veins.

I scooped up another handful and refilled the pouch I kept in my jeans pocket. The soil and I might not be fully connected, but it had saved my life before. I sent a supplication to the goddesses that it would do it again.

Three deep lines appeared between Ida’s eyes. “Take me with you. You’re going to need backup.”

“You’re right. I do need backup.” I indicated the house with a nod. “Please keep watch over Maya. Because if Desmond takes me down, you’re her last line of defense. The protection spell on the park should hold steady for another two months. You’ll be safe for that long. I recommend getting out of town way before then, though.”

“I hate it when you say stuff like that,” she muttered.

“Yeah. Me, too.”

The boys and I piled into Ida’s LTD. Ronan’s truck was too noticeable. Ida’s boat-sized sedan was the sort of car you should notice but almost never did.

“Guys, we’re going in half-panicked with the barest hint of a plan. It’s dumb, and if anyone else suggested it, I’d laugh in their face. But that’s how we’re rolling today.” I stared down at Fennel and Cecil, who’d belted themselves into the front passenger seat. “You are under no obligation to help. This is going to get dangerous. If you want to bail, now’s the time to do it. No hard feelings.”

My partners gave me the same offended expression. Maybe I should’ve been worried they were starting to react alike, but I’d used up most of my worry on whatever Cecil had loaded into his hat and Fennel’s knapsack.

I only hoped whatever it was, it wouldn’t go off in the car.

“All right then. Let’s do this. ”

I pulled out of the lot and headed for the farm roads that would lead us into the back side of La Paloma. For once, I didn’t get stuck behind a tractor or combine, for which I was grateful.

“We need to make sure there aren’t any innocents around before you bust out the explosives, Cecil. And you’re wearing your protect charm, right, Fennel? The hex bags are still in the house. I’m susceptible and you might be, too.” I glanced over at Cecil, who was playing a game on my cell phone. Without looking away from the screen, he flicked a small, pressed-glass charm hanging from Fennel’s collar.

“Okay. Right.” I returned my full attention to the rutted, old road as we zoomed past a sugar beet field. “Your first job is to clear the bags out. I’ve got a null bag in my tote.”

Cecil chittered a response I understood.

“You’ve got one under your hat, too? Nice. You can never bring too many null bags to a witch’s house.” I forced a smile. “Maybe I should have that embroidered on a pillow.”

Fennel shimmied out of the seatbelt and slapped a paw on the radio knob. KLXX played E.L.O’s “Mr. Blue Sky.” It was such a happy song.

Why did it make me feel like crying?

“Stay with me, okay, Fennel? I need your skills to help me find the witches and Ronan.” I forced myself not to add the words, dead or alive, to the sentence. It was implied, though.

Fennel head bumped me.

“Thanks. That death sleep spell is bothering me. I really don’t like the idea of going in without knowing more about what it does.”

“ Meow ,” Fennel agreed.

“Good thing we have a resource to tap. Cecil, shut down Angry Birds. I need to use my phone.”