Witches, Voids, and Other Sanity Suckers
Chapter 27

Ifold my fingers over Az’s extended hand. I really want to wrap both handsaround her neck. She’s calling Olivet? The man who has orchestrated two attackson our pack? The man indirectly responsible for her broken nose and the bruiseblossoming on her cheek?

Iam going to kill her. It’s the only way I’ll be able to hold on to my sanity. Atthe very least, we’ll have to change her number. And teach her not to hand itout like Halloween candy.

“Hello?”Olivet’s smarmy voice, made tinny by the connection, fills our corner of theroom.

“Hi!”Az greets brightly. She leans against the wall and crosses her ankles. Stillholding her hand, I sit on the edge of the desk and box in her muddy shoes. “Isthis Mr. Olivet?”

“Ihave listened to recordings of this lovely voice, but those snippets ofconversation did not do it justice. Ms. Vardan, it is truly pleasure to hearfrom you. I had hoped to convey my apologies for drawing you in to the uglinessthis afternoon.” Olivet pauses for a moment. “I applaud your ingenuity inacquiring my number.”

“Itwasn’t particularly difficult. We have a mutual acquaintance,” Az says.

“Oh,”Olivet chuckles, “I believe we have more than one mutual acquaintance, my dearMs. Vardan.”

“Inthe magical community, everybody is a friend-of-a-friend.” Az’s lips curl intoan amused smile. She tilts her head back and closes her eyes. Perfectly relaxed.

“Howvery true, Ms. Vardan.”

“Please,call me Astraea. I believe we’re well beyond the point of formality. May I useyour given name?”

“Ofcourse, my dear.”

Idon’t freakin’ believe this. Not an hourago, one of Olivet’s minions had Az dangling in the air by her neck and nowthey’re chatting like old friends. Maybe I’m the one with the concussion. MaybeI’m still unconscious and this is a nightmare.

MaybeI’m hallucinating this entire afternoon.

Wouldn’tthat be a relief?

“Iam very sorry that you were harmed during today’s scuffle. I have instructed mysoldiers that you are off-limits, but I am afraid that their mental capacityisn’t quite what I had estimated. I will emphasize this point so that we do nothave a repeat of this unpleasantness,” Olivet says.

SoOlivet has a hands-off-the-blonde policy. That should be reassuring, but it’snot. I don’t, for one second, suppose that he’s keeping her safe out of thegoodness of his black, brimstone-filled heart. If he wants her safe, it’sbecause he needs her for something. And since he’s labeled her a witch in hisbook of creepiness, the list of possibilities my mind creates does not incitewarm, fuzzy feelings. I’ve seen what he does to witches.

Azwaves a hand as if dismissing Olivet’s apology. “You’re a peach, but to befair, it is partially my fault. I put myself in the line of fire.”

“Nevertheless,there will not be a repeat of suchinexcusable behavior.”

I’mnot stupid enough to think that Olivet means there won’t be another attack. Infact, he’s all but announced that there will be a fourth attack. Judging by thecrease between her eyebrows, Az has come to the same conclusion. The hand inmine is noticeably cooler than it was before. The adrenaline and magic thatkept her bolstered have to be fading. She’s going to crash if I’m not careful. Allit takes is a sharp tug to pull her forward so I can wrap an arm around herwaist. Her head immediately settles over my heart.

“Thankyou for your consideration,” she says. “Although a cessation of hostilitieswould be the best way to prevent another occurrence. I’m not fond of having mynose broken.”

“Andsuch a shame it is to have marred your exquisite face.”

Igag. Az’s eyes narrow but there is no heat behind her glare. What does she wantfrom me? Sure, she’s pretty. Charming. Adorable. Whatever. She’s also wellaware of how much leeway that pretty face can earn her. No need to give hermore rope to hang me with.

“Soyou won’t attack the pack again?” Az asks, though both of us know what theanswer is going to be.

“Iam sorry,” Olivet says. The bastard actually sounds apologetic. “They are inthe way of progress and must be eliminated without delay.”

Agrowl rumbles in my chest. Az raises her head to shush me. The man on the otherend of her phone call sputters.

“Astraea?Are you in need of assistance?”

“I’mfine.”

“Iunderstand that you are in a precarious situation. I applaud your fortitude. Ifyou require my help breaking free from your captors, all you have to do is saythe word.”

Thecorners of Az’s lips curl down. She mouths the word pawn. Whoever is pulling Olivet’s strings has turned Az into theweak, fairy princess imprisoned by monsters. Perhaps Olivet isn’t the one whohas plans for Az. Maybe she’s the prize dangling in front of him – the damsel inneed of rescue - and the puppet master is the one who wants to use her. Giventhat our suspect list is down to the two Mages who know exactly what she is andwhat she can do, that’s not out of the realm of possibility.

“I am not a captive. I am exactly where I want to be,” she states firmly, more warriorprincess than delicate fairy. I just hope that she doesn’t mention she tried totake out one of his minions. I don’t know how that would alter hisno-touching-Astraea policy.

Herwords spark a rush of warmth that makes my head spin. Her hand slips into theback pocket of my jeans as she tries to snuggle even closer to me. The gapingwound in my side becomes little more than a dull ache as my attention narrowsto the palm sliding across my ass, the slender legs tucked between mine, andthe breasts – okay, the nipples – pressed against my chest.

“And,”Az continues, oblivious to what she’s doing to me, “I really wish that peoplewould stop trying to pull me from my home!”

“Iapologize for any offense inferred from my statement.”

Shehuffs. Clearly she’s grown bored with their conversation. About damn time. “Don’tlie to me.”

Olivetsquawks at the brusqueness of Az’s tone. “Astraea, I deeply regret -.”

“No.Don’t lie to me. Shifters disgust you. You’re a warlock. That’s to be expected.Lying about it insults my intelligence and thatI won’t forgive.” She shifts restlessly against me. Maybe not so obliviousafter all. “Who are your mother’s people?”

“M-mymother?” The abrupt subject change throws him for another loop. Good to knowthat not even wannabe Mages can keep up with Az.

“Dubois.Mary-Reinette Dubois.” She settles into story-telling mode. Her voice softens;traces of Cajun French linger in her vowels. “The family stayed pretty insularfor centuries – inbreeding insular – but eventually they moved away from thefamily seat. Now, there are three main branches of the Dubois family. HenriMerlin Dubois emigrated from Paris to Louisiana in the early 1700s. Henri’sbrother Étienne moved his wife and son to Avignon. His descendants control thatarea. Baby brother Bertrand wandered from Limoges to Brussels then Lyon beforefollowing his eldest brother to the US. Which of these esteemed gentlemen doyou call great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great grand-père?”

“Idon’t know.”

“Liar.”Az hums to herself. I can practically see the gears turning in her head. Thefingers in my pocket tap out an irregular rhythm. “Not Henri, then. EveryDubois brags about having that blowhard as an ancestor. Étienne or Bertrand. Easymoney says it’s Bertrand.”

“Iam in awe of your wisdom, Astraea.”

Shepreens a little under the praise. “A word of advice, Mr. Olivet: beware ofcousins bearing offers of territory and power. Mages don’t like to share.”

Shehangs up before he can respond. The phone lands on the desk with a loud thunk. Her other hand replaces its way intomy pocket. “My brain needs a shower,” she groans.

“Youshouldn’t have called him. Now he has your phone number. Now he thinks he hasrapport with you.” I stop myself before I can really get into the rant. She’simpulsive and foolish and it’s going to bite her in the ass one day. Whichmeans that it’s going to bite me inthe ass one day, too.

“Hewants me.”

Thegrowl comes without warning. She chuckles and lightly kisses my throat as ifthat is all it takes to soothe my anger. The growl dies down to an irritatedhuff.

Okay,so maybe it is enough.

“Hecan’t have you.” The rest of that statement remains unsaid but hangs in theair. She kisses me again. “I can’t trust him not to break his toys. Please tellme we learned something from that conversation.”

“Hedoesn’t want to hurt me,” she says.

“Morethan that, Princess.”

“He’sbeing used by a Mage.”

“Iwas hoping for something that we didn’t already know.”

Sheshrugs as best she can with both arms locked around my waist. “Then we’re outof luck.”

“Whatabout all that Dubois bullshit? Didn’t that tell you something?”

“He’sdescended from Bertrand Dubois. Weakest of the branches but still respectable. They’respread like ants across the country, though. Not as close-knit as HenriMerlin’s or Étienne’s branches. Fertile, though. That part of the family isthick with cousins.”

“Andone of his cousins is pulling his strings.”

“Yes,but that doesn’t help. Aunt Evelyn is from the Bertrand branch, but there’sDubois blood on Dad’s side. Dad was an only child, but his mother had a sisterwho married a Dubois. The guy was supposedly one of Henri’s descendants but hismagic was crap so that was probably a lie.”

“Itcould still be your father or your uncle, then.” I give in to the devil on myshoulder and drop a quick kiss onto the top of her head before moving out ofher embrace. “Don’t call him again. If he calls, don’t answer.”

“Notreal eager to repeat this experience,” she assures me. “You might as well giveme the pages I’m supposed to look at. I can focus again, so I won’t need atranslator.”

Idig the file with the pages of Az’s crazy predictions out of a desk drawer andhand them over. She promptly claims thedesk chair, pulls her knees to her chest, and snatches a pen off the desk. Fortunately,the pen has blue ink so that new notes won’t get lost in black-inked craziness.I slide a steno pad toward her, but she ignores it.

“Whoo,” she sighs, using her finger tomark her place halfway down the first page. “I must have really been on thegood stuff. Most of it rhymes, though some of the rhymes are a stretch.”

“Areyou going to join us for dinner?”

“Nah.Save me a slice or two of the pizza not saturated with meat. I need to work onthis.”

Iopen my mouth to argue. A glint in her eyes – something that could be panic –stops my words. She’s pale. Bruised. Her lips are pressed together into a thin,bloodless line. She needs to stay busy. I get that. It’ll distract her fromremembering how close she came to having her neck snapped.

“Fine.If you need me, you know where I’ll be.”

OnlyQuinn and Uriah are seated at the kitchen table. Two empty pizza boxes arepiled up on the counter. The teens are steadily working their way through athird pizza. I lift open the top of a fourth box. The ratio of veggies versusmeat is higher on the uneaten pizza than on the one being devoured.

“Savesome of this one for Az,” I instruct as I make my way to the back porch.

Everyoneelse, including Greta, has already Shifted. The porch is covered with platters of meat sorare I’d give Hank half a chance at resuscitating it. The porch looks like thescene of a massacre. Blood and bits of meat are scattered like confetti. Ikeslaps a paw across a thick, raw steak when I near.

“I’mnot going to steal your dinner, you big baby.”

Gretalooks up from her dinner. She licks the blood off her muzzle and lowers herhead until I tap her ears. “So nowyou want to be submissive,” I grouse. Her lips pull back into a grotesquesmile. “You have gristle between your teeth.”

Thefox smile disappears. I nod at her, visually assess each of my people. I wantto join them. It’s an actual ache right between my shoulder blades, but Ican’t. Someone needs to stand watch; Az isn’t my first candidate for securityguard.

Beforethe longing makes me even grouchier, I return to the house. One of the teenshas put three slices of supreme pizza on a plate. I stuff a can of diet cherrycola in the back pocket of my jeans, tuck a bottle of Tylenol in my frontpocket, and carry the plate and an icepack into the study.

“Letme have a look at your nose,” I say.

Azjumps as if electrocuted. She flattens a hand over her heart and glares at me. “Couldyou make a little noise next time, please?”

“No.”

“Meanie.”

Shesets the pages on the desk and wheels the chair back so that there’s justenough space for me to stand in front of her. Her knees, scratched andgrass-stained, bang against mine. The front of her dress is stained with blood.Even if she hadn’t ripped off half of the skirt, the dress would beunsalvageable. Maybe this will teach her to wear more practical clothes.

Andmaybe I’ll take up ballet.

“Thisis going to hurt,” I warn.

Shenods sharply and braces her hands on the arm of the chair. Straightening hernose elicits a pained whimper. I kiss her forehead before handing her the sodaand a dose of pain-killer. She takes the icepack from me and gently holds itagainst her nose.

“Theboys saved you some pizza.” I wave a hand at the pages. “Did you get anythingout of those?”

“Afew things. Unfortunately, at this point it is mostly stuff we already know:someone’s killing witches and trying to take over the city. Pretty grimpredictions, too. Blood and death and decapitation. Something about it all endingwhere the Ursidae meet the river.”

“Fuckingbears, now?”

“Bears,”she agrees solemnly. She adjusts the ice pack. “Then again, there are sixparagraphs on the evils of butter cream frosting, so I wouldn’t take much ofthis literally.”

Sheretreats to the couch to eat her pizza while I print out the information Greeremailed as promised. I finally access the Register of Witches and download alist of witches recently evicted from their covens. All of the dead witches areon the list.

Myphone call to the Patriarch of the Herd is twenty minutes longer than I’danticipated. All that formality and talking in circles makes my head ache. Inthe end, though, he agrees to give me statistics on centaur murders. I warn himto keep his people alert. Olivet is short four of his not-Shifters and willundoubtedly be looking to fill the gap. I agree to meet him in the morning tohelp him make sense of the perdition that has descended upon the paranormalcommunity.

Hiswords. Not mine.

Theclick of nails on the laminate in thekitchen perks Az up. She cranes her neck to peer out the door. A fluffy foxtail passes by the study.

“Haseveryone Shifted?” she asks.

“Allexcept Uriah and Quinn, though I expect they’ll do so once they’ve finishedtheir pizza. And their homework.”

Afurrow forms between her brows. She gestures at me with a sweep of her hand. “Whyare you still here, then?”

“Someonehas to stay human.”

“I’mnot likely to grow fur or a tail.”

“Someoneother than you.”

“Ithink that’s an insult.” She taps her chin. Her gaze narrows. “No, I’m sure that’s an insult.”

“Youhave a concussion, Az.”

“Prettysure I don’t, but that’s a weak excuse and you know it. The wards have beenrecharged. Olivet’s army took a beating. He won’t attack tonight.”

“Andif he does?”

“Thenyou all will be Shifted and ready to fight.” She inclines her head toward thedoor. “They’ll need you. Especially the boys. You can communicate better whenyou’re wolfy.”

I’mconcerned by how much sense she makes. It is easier to check on my pack whenthe communication goes both ways. Uriahand Quinn are likely to be the most unsettled by this second attack. Bonding asa pack will go a long way to reassuring them. It won’t be the same as being atthe ranch, but it’ll be enough.

“Whatare you going to do?”

Sheshrugs. “I’ve done all I can with this mess,” she says, pointing at the pagesnear her feet. “I’d like to take a shower and then join the slumber party,unless you think that’s going to be a problem.”

“No,that’s a good idea.” I want her where I can keep an eye on her just in case thehead injury is worse than we assume. “We could watch a movie, too. Somethinglight to distract everyone.”

“101 Dalmatians?” she teases, rising toher feet.

“One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest,” Icounter.

“Dr. Doolittle.” She hands me her plateas we step into the hallway. She heads for the stairs. I trail behind her.

“American Psycho.”

Shelaughs and waggles her finger at me. “Not nice, Ricky. Not nice.” Halfway upthe stairs, she stops and pirouettes. Her face is glowing. “I’ve got it! Dances with Wolves!”