Witches, Voids, and Other Sanity Suckers
Chapter 16

Idon’t want to incite panic in the Paranormal Community by sounding the alarmabout the test tube Shifters. It’ll make my pack a target for the scared andthe trigger-happy. I can’t, in good conscience, leave the PC in the dark,either. Though I don’t attend the monthly mixers or open houses, I am a memberof the community. They are my friends and my clients.

“Idon’t want to go back in there.” Princess digs in her heels outside the club. Shewinds her arms around her waist in a self-hug and curls in her shoulders. Hereyes look wilder than before. She shakes her head sharply enough to rattle herbrain. “I’m not being difficult. Promise. I shouldn’t go in there. There’s toomuch.”

Okay.Okay. I’m not going to push her. Not for this. If this plays out the way Idread it will, I’m going need her at the top of her game. “I can call Jose andhave him pick you up.”

Weshould have brought him, anyway. He’s being paid to be her handler. He can bethe one to hand her mouthwash and water. He can remember to pack the barf bags.He can walk with her around the building when things get too heavy. He can bethe one she uses to limit the amount of magic… no, actually, that’s not toobad. I’ll keep that one. She drains from the most powerful in the room, andthat’s always going to be me.

Shepoints at a café across the street. “I’d rather go have a cup of coffee. Greerwants an update on the Claire thing, and you may need more info for thePatriarch.”

“Doyou have your phone on you?”

Shejangles her purse.

“Sitat one of the tables in the window where I can see you. One cup of coffee. Thenyou come back here and wait outside.”

Becauseshe hasn’t done enough to my blood pressure, Az dashes across the streetwithout looking both ways. Or even one way. She’s damn lucky it’s too early forheavy traffic. I wait until I see her plop down in a chair near a window toreturn to the club.

ThePatriarch and Greer cut off their discussion as soon as I step inside thebloodbath. Greer looks shifty. Then again, he often looks shifty. I’m startingto believe it’s his natural state. The Patriarch looks troubled. Just waituntil he hears what I have to say. But I won’t announce it in front of anaudience.

Greeris responsible for investigating crimes that involve the PC, but he doesn’tunderstand the members of the PC. He doesn’t understand how we think or how weact. He doesn’t know what it’s like to be hunted.

“Whereis Reader Stanton?” The Patriarch asks.

“Sherequired a break.” I need to speak to the Patriarch alone. Hopefully Az won’tbe too pissed at what I’m about to do to her. I catch Greer’s eye and tilt myhead toward the door. “I apologize. She was pretty shook up. I should haveprepped her better. This was her first big crime scene, and she wasn’t readyfor all the gore.”

Likethe good Boy Scout he is, Greer offers to sit with her. The way he pants afterher is nauseating, and on any other day I’d smack him down for it, but today itworks in my favor. He feels the need to play the white knight, and I need himout of my hair.

ThePatriarch strokes his beard as he carefully navigates around the bodies betweenus. Pretty damn impressive considering I have trouble with two legs and he hasfour. Wizened brown eyes hold my gaze. “What is so sensitive as to require suchsecrecy and subterfuge, Alpha?”

“Maywe speak in private?” There are a few cops and a handful of the Patriarch’sguards milling around. I’m not ready for this to go public just yet.

Heleads me to a back room. It’s cluttered and smells like a blend of maraschinocherries and beer. He stands behind the rickety metal desk and gestures at apadded office chair. One of the wheels is missing. The padding smells like abrewery. I think I’ll stand.

“We’reunder attack,” I announce. Despite their preference for flowery speech,centaurs prefer to receive bad news bluntly. It’s just one of those lessons youlearn the hard way.

“Themagic on the victims,” he surmises.

“Yousmelled it.” I should have known. If it was enough for me to smell on the smallbit of fur Az stole, then there must have been enough for the Patriarch to pickup.

“Yes,but I cannot place its origin. It is as familiar as it is foreign. Quite theconundrum.”

Noshit. “Have you heard of a Gravita Inker?”

Hiseyes widen. His nostrils flare. The distinct odor of fear overpowers the scentof stale beer. It’s not much of an improvement. “I have lobbied to have thembanned.”

“Thereis a shop in town that has sold several to local witches. The list of witchesspans covens. There does not seem to be a pattern to the purchases, either.”

“TheInker is as dangerous for you and yours as it is for my kind.” The Patriarchbraces his hands on the desk. “Do you mean to tell me that the Inker wassomehow used to perpetrate these murders?”

Azand I haven’t fully fleshed out our theory, but I explain the basics to thePatriarch. Some jackoff is controlling witches to do his dirty work, the maingist of which seems to be geared toward creating a race of magic-createdShifters he has complete power over. The jackoff uses his fake Shifters to takeout anyone in the area who would stop him so he can fill the void created bythe lack of a Mage in the area.

Itsounds as crazy out loud as it does in my head. It also sounds a lot like acertain Mage I know and despise could be the puppet master. Az said that therewas a battle over territory. There isn’t a Mage alive who doesn’t want morepower. It’s as fundamental as the need for oxygen.

“Has young Astraea Vardan given any indicationthat she knows the name of the architect of this nefarious plan?”

Yeah. Okay. He knows who Az is. Just as Ifigured. “Regretfully, Az Stantondoes not know at this moment, but we are working diligently on it.”

“Youhave incorporated her into your pack?”

Therehasn’t been a formal ritual because I don’t care much about that ceremony crap.I don’t trust the gleam in his eyes. Centaurs are crafty bastards. Most peoplesay it’s because they’ve had a lifetime of being under attack. Shifters don’texactly live on easy street, either. We protect what’s ours even if it meanspissing off the Patriarch of the Herd.

“She’smine.”

ThePatriarch bobs his head in acknowledgement. “I applaud your acquisition of sucha valuable resource. Rest assured, Alpha, that I have no desire to see herremoved from your pack.”

“Thankyou.” I don’t bother telling him that it just sort of worked out this way, orthat he’d change his tune about valuable if he spent more than a handful ofhours with her.

Funnyhow it just worked out that the Mageof New Orleans’s daughter drops into my lap right before all this shit blew up.Funny how she’s exactly the sort thatfits right in with my pack. Funny how she’s crazy and non-threatening and cuteand easily worms her way past my long-held defenses. Having her around is asnatural as breathing.

Funnyhow she’s standing in the room when I told her to wait outside. Okay, so thatpart is not surprising. I’d have been shocked if she actually followedinstructions.

Mygrip on her bicep is just short of punishing. I don’t want to alert thePatriarch to my sudden suspicions about Az. “Please pardon us, Patriarch. Ineed to speak to my reader outside.”

Azdoesn’t protest as I march her out the back door and into the alley. Shedoesn’t try to free her arm either. It isn’t until I look at her face that Irealize she’s mumbling to herself. The fingers of her left hand twitch as ifshe’s counting off something.

“Whyare you here?”

Noanswer.

Ishake her shoulders to get her attention. When she finally looks up at me, shehas to blink to focus. I give her another shake just to make sure I keep herinterest. “Why are you here, Astraea?”

“Righthere in this alley or are you asking for a more existential answer?”

“Beingcute won’t help anything.”

Hergrin stretches from ear to ear. Playful and cheery. It’s infectious. Pity Ihave to ruin her good mood. “It never hurt anything, either. What’s going on?”

“Yourfather is trying to take over my city, and you’re spying for him.”

Hergrin doesn’t falter. “No.”

That’sit? Just no? No outrage? No laughingit off? No trying to plead her case?

“Towhich part, Princess?”

“Toall of it.”

Shestarts to lean against the wall, but stops before her shoulders make contactwith the brick. Probably a good idea. No telling what sort of action that wallhas seen.

“Thisis too sloppy to be a Mage,” she says. “There’s no finesse. It’s blunt. Ugly. Ashow of brute strength. If a Mage wanted to take over your city, you wouldn’tknow it was happening until one day you realize you’ve been paying dues to theCouncil.”

“Soyour father is not behind this? You’re not just saying that because he’sblood?”

Az’sgrin melts like ice cream in August. Her eyes flick down to her shoes beforerising to meet mine. I expect to see shutteredpain, but open honesty shines brightly. This Az – the one who is serious andstraightforward – should be my favorite incarnation of Princess. It’s not. Imiss the playfulness. I’m a masochist, but that’s an internal debate foranother time.

“He’s no saint. Not by a long shot. Andwhatever I feel for him is nothing more than nostalgia. When I tell you thatit’s not him, it’s not out of affection. It’s logic. He wouldn’t have sent mehere if he was performing this type of magic. He taught me this magic. He knows that I would recognize it and could offsetit.”

Itmakes sense, but it doesn’t allay all my doubts. “He expected me to kill you. Heall but ordered me to do so.”

Ifshe’s disturbed by either the thought of me killing or her father ordering herdeath, she gives no indication. “That’s a pretty big risk to take. Shifters don’t obey orders from Mages.”

“Didhe know this was going to happen? You said you’d recognize the magic and could negateit. He trained you. Did he send you here to keep someone from taking over?”

“Noteverything is a grand conspiracy, Ricky.” She shrugs and pauses as ifcontemplating some deep philosophical matter. “Should I tell you why I’m hereand not under lock and key in another hellhole in an M state?”

“Gee.The truth. That’d be nice.”

Thesarcasm goes right over her pretty head. “I’m not supposed to know. No one isbut I’m home so infrequently that he forgets when I’m in the room. There are two warlocks in Dad’s territory –one in Lafayette and one in Tuscaloosa – that are just itching to get out fromunder his thumb. Every time he puts me somewhere, he has to spend an obsceneamount of money bribing people. Then he has to burn a bridge when he wipes memoriesand moves me. He can’t afford the money or the loss of contacts. Not anymore.”

Sobasically Daddy Vardan got off cheap. Well, now I feel used. Judging by herarched eyebrow, I’d say she knows how I interpreted her words. Touché, Princess.

“Andyou aren’t here to spy for him.”

Sherolls her eyes. I suppose that’ll have to do for an answer. Given that all helikely sees is the crazy Az, he wouldn’t consider her a reliable source ofinformation. I won’t apologize for my suspicions. She hasn’t been exactlyforthcoming until now, and I don’t trust convenient situations.

“Whereis Greer?”

“Outsidethe club. There was an… incident… with a motorcycle.”

Idon’t even want to know. “Why weren’t you waiting for me out front like I toldyou to?”

Azperks up. It’s as if our previous conversation never happened. One of these daysshe’s going to give me mental whiplash.

“Weneed to replace the dead witches!” Trembling fingers dig a cheap paper napkin outof her cardigan pocket and thrust it at me. “See. I did the math twice just tobe sure. It adds up.”

Ihold the napkin between two fingers. Nearly every inch is covered with ink. Lettersand numbers blend together in a strange hybrid of calculus, physics and magic. Justglancing at it makes my temples throb.

“Iwasn’t aware there were dead witches.”

“Therehave to be. No one person can handle the amount of magic required to createeven one Shifter.”

Thethings that did this are notShifters. They don’t deserve the appellation. Their obvious loss of control isthe complete opposite of how Shifters are trained. Those mindless beasts wouldn’tlast two minutes in a real pack.

Idon’t realize I’m growling until Az flinches. She shuffles away from me, wrapsherself up like a mummy in that damn cardigan. As if that bit of cotton couldsave her from a Shifter claw.

“Half-assedShifters. Not-Shifters,” she corrects quietly. “The point is, he had to funnelthe magic through several witches. It would have burned them out. Worse thanwhat I did to Claire. Nothing but husks left.”

“Heuses them as conduits.”

Shenods enthusiastically. “Drained and useless as dead batteries.” She blanches, pressesa hand over her lips. “That was rude.”

Rude,but accurate. And potentially useful. That level of magic transfer leavesresidue in the air. Three years ago, the heads of two covens had aspell-casting duel in the middle of Hermann Park. For six days afterwards, thepark was quarantined due to a critically high level of magic.

Thanksto that little incident, there are sensors all over downtown that monitor themagic levels in the atmosphere. Areas outside the beltway aren’t monitored asclosely, but several neighborhoods have independent monitoring systems. All arehackable. If we don’t pick anything upthrough the sensors, I have my own magic detector handy.

“Youhave a plan, don’t you?” Az asks, peering up at me through her lashes.

“Wereplace the dead witches.”

“Goodplan.” She loops an arm around my waist. Apparently I am forgiven for frightening her. “Justso long as I don’t have to lick anything.”