Deader Vampire
I whipped my body back and busted him in the mouth with my elbow. Not the best way to strike an opponent, but at close quarters it was all I had. The blow slammed his lips against his teeth and fangs. Ripped the inside of my elbow on a fang, mixing our blood. Magic wrenched through us both. His eyes went wider. He snarled.
Still moving, I threw Edmund away from me, my hands in his blood and mine. He slid from the bubble of time, into the night, hanging in thin air. I tumbled forward, beneath him, and came up on my hands and knees. Vomited blood in a scarlet gush. Nothing new there, not with Gray Between and its nasty during-effects and aftereffects. My belly cramped in a molten fist of agony. Normal. Dying again . . .
I pushed to my feet and wiped my bloody mouth on my wrist. And looked at my left palm. A green eye was glowing in the center of it, the lid open and smeared with vampire blood and my blood. Mixing us together in the dark working. This was bad. But the vampire was now in real time and I wasn’t. The spell was stuck in real time, in Edmund’s time, not whatever bubble of time the rest of me was stuck in.
“Crap.” I had guessed right, in that singular instant before I grabbed my primo. This part of the layered and multipurpose spell was triggered by vamp blood and my blood at the same place and the same time as witches. Though the attacking working had probably been constructed with Leo in mind, not Edmund. Edmund, the only vamp here, had now been spelled to attack me, just as Gee had been.
I staggered back to Evan and looked at the working erupting out of him. Compared it to the working stuck in my palm. Tried to put it all together.
The two enemy witches had . . . what? Gotten a sample of my genetic material and used it to create a watching-working tied to me? Then they scanned my house, using it as a distraction so they could drop a DNA spell into me. Yeah. That felt right. Their initial scan had left a back door entry to my house. Using that, they put a similar watching spell in an air elemental gas spell, sent it inside the hedge of thorns ward that had been protecting the house. The Truebloods had breathed the spelled gasses. Their breath had carried it to their blood, and Edmund had done artificial resuscitation on them, probably getting the spell on him/in him that way. Making it worse, Evan had triggered the magical icons at my house, and then here, and gotten knocked loopy, getting more of the magics on him.
But the working on me, while it wasn’t active when Mol scanned me, was still there. Hiding inside me? Yeah. Like the way a spider hides its eggs in its prey. And the moment my blood and vamp’s blood were in the same place, inside a witch circle—or the remains of one—the main part of the attack was activated.
I leaned into Molly and checked her palms. Yeah. Same green magic crap. Lachish’s hands and Ailis’s hands were erupting green stuff too. So the spell had been transferred from one to the other the way one person with the flu might infect another, by touch or breathing. Or when the focal was tripped.
The spell—or part of it—appeared to be intended for us to turn on each other. It was an amazing spell, intricate, multilayered, specific, targeted on a genetic level and then targeted on a multivictim level.
I didn’t know who the attackers were. I didn’t know how to stop the spell. Except to get away from them all. To get Edmund away from them all.
Nausea flooded my mouth with saliva. The taste of blood and acid rose up my esophagus. I vomited again, but this time I felt something different. Something warm near my ear. Cold dripping down my neck. I touched the soft tissue of my throat, in front of and below my ear, and my fingers came away cold and sticky. Blood. Just a trickle.
Right at the place where Leo had bitten me when he tried to force a binding on me. Blood welling in the two spots where his fangs had bitten me. “Well, joy,” I said. I didn’t know if the blood was the effect of entering no time one time too many, or the effect of the attack spell, or some other mumbo-jumbo paranormal crapola. But whatever the reason, it wasn’t going to be good.
I propped my hands on my knees to hold myself up. An unexpected shiver raced through me, raising the hair on my arms and legs in reaction to the cold. I would never be able to defeat Edmund in real time, not as sick as I was. So I pulled a pure wooden stake out of my bun, one with no trace of silver on it, and crab-walked over to him. I shoved it through his shirt into the sweet spot where his ribs came together, where the descending aorta—in both humans and vamps—was. His flesh in no time was rubbery and difficult to puncture. But I leaned into the strike, putting my weight behind it until the stake was buried deep. It wasn’t a heart stick, so he should survive it.
I stood there, cramping like a son of a gun, until I saw his eyelids flicker. When I was able to stand upright against the cramps again, I rammed a shoulder into his belly, below the stake, and rolled him up into a fireman’s carry. I was doing a lot of that lately. Maybe I needed to add more weights to my squat lifts.
Fighting nausea and vertigo, I carried the now-comatose and paralyzed vampire off the property, down Eighth Street to St. Charles Avenue, where cars and people were unmoving, caught in no time. I trudged across the streetcar rails into the Garden District, and hooked a left onto Pryatania Street. My intent was to zigzag to the empty and former Clan Mearkanis Home. But my strength was draining away fast.
Stumbling, two blocks later, I turned again and made my way into the street to avoid a romantic couple frozen arm in arm, laughing, sightseeing along the white walls encircling Lafayette Cemetery Number One. The limestone and marble and whitewashed cement glowed in the night like a beacon. A sound that might have been humor rumbled within me. I was far enough away from the Elms to feel a bit safer and the irony was too much to ignore. I hobbled to the iron gate, which, strangely, was still open, and into the cemetery.
I passed what might have once been a guardhouse, but was now derelict, the roof never replaced after Katrina. The hurricane had left the city bankrupt and unrepaired, and the many cemeteries and their mausoleums and crypts and vaults open to vandalism. The concrete path was cracked and busted. Gang graffiti marked the resting places of the dead. But the family mausoleums still managed to impart that distinctly New Orleans flavor, standing cheek by jowl, with crosses and arched roofs and sun-faded silk flowers at the sealed entrances.
Near the middle of the burial grounds, I stepped off the path and into the narrow space between two humpbacked family crypts and dumped Edmund off my shoulder. And nearly fell on top of him as he left the no time of the Gray Between and almost landed. He was caught by normal time just above the ground, his white dress shirt stained scarlet, the stake buried in his lower chest. I dropped to the dirt-covered cement near him and placed a hand between his head and the cement riser. When I touched him, his body landed with a thump, his head in my hand. I laid it on the cracked and broken ground.
I let myself slide out of no time, into real time. The smell of lime and urine and old, old, old death, combined with Edmund’s blood-scent. I had bubbled time far too much in the last few days. I wondered what the repercussions to that were, and if I might reach the point someday very soon when I could no longer access no time. Well, I had lived without the ability once. I could do it again. Or it could kill me outright. There was that.
A bat flitted down between the crypts, did a little ungraceful, unballetic pirouette and flew back out. If I had felt a little more alive, I might have laughed again. Instead I let the Gray Between go, rolled to the side, and vomited. More blood fell from the spots in my neck, and this time when I put my fingers there, I felt small slits, the kind that fangs might leave if vamp blood didn’t constrict the pierced blood vessels and close off bite wounds.
I pulled my cell, which was working again, and called Leo. His new secretary answered and I said, “Hey, Scrappy. Tell Leo to send help to the Lafayette Cemetery Number One. My new primo has been staked and I’m pretty sure I’m about to pass out.” She tried to say something, but I interrupted, gave the mausoleum family name, and ended the call. Then I reached again for my powers and Beast shoved through me in a blinding rage. It was a tearing, stabbing, slicing, flesh-being-flayed-from-my-bones shift. I rolled away from the vampire, hearing my own rough scream in the night. And I was gone.
* * *
Claws tore through Jane clothes. Pushed out of Jane shoes. Pawpawpaw to darker shadow. Gathered paws beneath body, tight. Curled tail around body. Panting for breath. Heart racing away from big predator Beast could not see.
Beast was safe in space between human-dead-places. But felt wrong. Cold. Hungered.
Looked at vampire. Edmund. Was dead. Did not breathe. Heart did not beat.
Beast stretched out neck and sniffed vampire. Blood smelled fresh. Meat smelled good. But cold. Like meat from white box refrigerator. Sniffed again, lips pulled back to show killing teeth. Sucking in air over tongue and scent sacs in roof of mouth. Scree of sound. What Jane called flehmen response. Smells rushed in. Mouth watered. Smelled good.
Was hungry.
But . . . was wrong to eat Edmund.
But Edmund was dead. Was good to eat dead. But not all dead. Jane would be mad if Beast ate Edmund. But Beast was cold. Felt wrong. Breath did not feel right. Heart did not feel right. Coldcoldcold. Heart rushing like rabbit into hole, with Beast chasing after.
Looked up at sky. Did not know what to do.
Bat flew into small space, chasing small biting things, too small to eat. Mosquitoes. Hate mosquitoes. Edmund smelled good to eat.
Pawed closer to Edmund body. Sniffed in small bursts of breath. Smelled so good. Could . . . just taste . . .
Thought about taste. About taste of vampire blood. Jane ate vampire blood. Made her well when she was sick. Made her strong when she was weak. Beast should be able to taste vampire blood too. But not eat meat. Thought about tasting and not eating. Was human way to think. Was hard to think human. Thoughts of right and wrong for humans. For Jane, though Jane was not human. Was confusing.
Pawed closer, until Beast side touched vampire side. Cold meat vampire. Cold Beast body. Stretched out neck and sniffed blood. Goodgoodgood blood. Cold, strong blood could fix cold Beast. Touched edge of lips to blood. And licked. Blood so good. Licked and licked. Licked all blood from wound. Tongue found tip of stake. Stopped. Thinking again. Wood in vampire blood stopped vampire from being . . . alive. Undead. But wood did not kill old vampires, only young vampires. Old vampires could live if wood came out.
Thought. Licked wound, pressing deep with tongue, until all blood was gone. Stake was still there. Rose on haunches and pressed jaw to Edmund belly. Gripped stake in killing teeth. Pulled stake. Dead flesh made sucking sound, as if trying to hold stake. Stake came free and Beast backed away, teeth in wood. Stake had Edmund blood on it. Good blood. Sat and held bloody stake in paws, licked. Was good. Beast shivered and was no longer cold. Licked all blood off stake.
Looked up at new smell of vampires. Shadows walked and stopped at opening between human-dead-place-buildings. Knew shadows of vampires. Snarled. My stake!
“Allors,” Leo said. “Jusqu’à present. Je ne le crois pas.”
“Is that a stake?” Grégoire asked, pointing killing claw, what Jane called sword, at Beast.
Beast snarled again and let stake fall. But did not attack vampires. Felt good. Felt warm.
“Indeed it is,” Leo said. “Was she eating him?”
Grégoire waved tip of sword at Beast and walked nearer.
Beast showed killing teeth. Growled. But vampire was not afraid. Laughed at Beast. Was bigger predator. Pressed Beast belly to ground. Beast backed slowly into darkness. Stayed down, smelling blood. Was blood on paws and pelt. When vampires did not follow, Beast stopped. Groomed paws with tongue. Was good blood. Beast felt warmer and warmer.
Watched as small, paler vampire knelt at side of Edmund, dead vampire. Deader vampire. Beast chuffed with amusement. Deader vampire.
“This shall be an interesting story, no doubt,” said Grégoire.
Beast chuffed again. Felt good. Liked good vampire blood. Wanted more.
“We need to feed him, my friend.”
“His master should feed him.”
“His master is a puma.” Grégoire made sound like laughter. “I fear she is more inclined to eat him than to save him.”
Good vampire blood. Dead vampire meat.
Jane came awake inside Beast, beta to Beast’s alpha. Holy crap, Jane thought. Are you . . . drunk?
Am warm. Can eat vampire meat?
No!
Snarled. Jane is not good to Beast. Will not let Beast hunt cow in Edmund car. Will not let Beast eat Edmund.
What? Never mind. Back away.
Beast snorted in disgust. Backed deep into darker shadows.
“Merci, Jane,” Leo said.
Not Jane. Beast. Like vampire blood. Made Beast warm.
You were cold?
Was sick.
Jane went silent, thinking hard human thoughts. Beast did not listen. Jane was beta.
Leo dropped to knees beside Edmund. Held out wrist to Grégoire sword. Small pale vampire flicked point of steel over Leo skin in fast, killing strike with steel killing-claw. But cut only wrist. Sword pointed back at Beast. Good smell of vampire blood filled small space. Leo dribbled blood into Edmund mouth. Dribbled blood over stake wound. Smeared blood onto wound with fingers and stuck finger into wound.
Mosquitoes flew into space between small human-dead-places. Bats flew in. Leo made Grégoire cut wrist again and fed Edmund. Beast wanted to taste Leo blood, but Grégoire sword was pointed at Beast. Big steel killing claw. Was good hunter.
I don’t have my gobag, Jane thought.
Beast sent Jane vision of Jane waking up in mud, smell of catfish all over her.
Not funny. And not happening in front of Leo and Grégoire. Let’s get home.
Using darkness to hide movements, Beast slowly gathered self and shifted all weight to paws. Leaped from ground. Landed on top of rounded human-dead-place. Below, Grégoire and Leo were shouting but not in Jane language. Beast leaped to next roof and next and many more than five. Vampires followed, calling to Jane. Am not Jane! Am Beast! Stupid foolish vampires. Did not feed Beast! screamed into night.
Gathered big-cat power and leaped over three small human-dead-places at one time, and then over wall. Landed in limb of tree over street. Jumped to top of car Jane called limo and then onto truck going past. Settled onto truck top, claws spread and belly down for balance.
Jumped to more trucks, moving downstream near big flowing river. Smelled water from river, strong and fast. Jumped to street into darkest shadows and padded slowly to Jane house. Wards were up, bright and silver and green, and, in Jane eyes, red. Walked to front door and stood up on hind legs. Extruded claw, rang bell. Heard Angie Baby and Little Evan and smelled wolf. Alex opened door.
Beast leaped inside. Landed on wolf back. Sank claws into white wolf. Bit down on wolf haunches. Wolf yelped, growled, and rolled over, trapping Beast. Beast chuffed with laughter and bit wolf. Play bite. Did not taste blood. Wolf rolled again, making dog sounds of laughter and joy. Wolf was heavy. Beast scratched and bit and rolled from under wolf. Wolf coat was thick, good weapon against big-cat killing teeth.
Played with wolf for long time, dodging Angie Baby and EJ, who squealed and ran, feet making thumping noises on wooden floor. Until Beast and wolf were panting and lying, looking at each other. Wolf tongue hanging out of mouth, dripping drool to floor. Stupid wolf. Thought for a moment. Beast likes stupid wolf.
I like him too, Jane thought. How weird is my life?
Alex said, “If you two are finished roughhousing, I need to get the kids to bed and tell you what I discovered. Get out of the way, Kit-Kit. Jeez. It’s a zoo in here.” The boy went upstairs, tugging witch kits with each hand. Beast looked away from wolf and rested head on paws, heated belly on wooden floor. Panting. Wolf still panting too. Kit-Kit sat at wolf mouth near drool and curled up on wolf paws. Closed eyes. Went to sleep.
Beast sighed heavy breath and closed eyes. Vampire blood is good blood.
* * *
“Wake up, you two,” Alex said. I need to update you.”
Beast opened eyes. Wolf opened one eye. Like Leo raised one eyebrow.
“Jane, are you alert enough to listen?”
I/we nodded Beast’s head. Was stupid human movement.
“Okay,” Alex said. “I’m not sure where I left Jane on the search for Reach. I tracked the cell he used to City Grounds Coffee Bar on West Dickens Avenue in Chicago. It was behind the counter where the staff put it because they assumed a customer would be back for it. No cameras on the doors, no vid of Reach. Coffee bar is near Oz Park, not too far from the lake, so lots of ways in and out. Dead end.” Alex toed wolf. “Wake up, dog. I’m talking here.”
Is not dog. Is wolf.
Wolf snorted and showed killing teeth to Alex.
Beast saw cell phone was glowing. Jane thought, Alex is on speakerphone. Stand up and see who’s on the other end.
Beast stood and looked at cell. Was picture of man.
Captain America, Jane thought. So Eli’s on speaker. We’re good. Beast lay down again.
Alex said, “I’ve been studying about the Mings, trying to find what Ming of Mearkanis being alive might mean to the current political situation, the Witch Conclave, and the arrival of the European Vamps. I have a feeling that whoever is behind all this had no idea she would be found, and her discovery is throwing a monkey wrench into the plans.”
“Roger that,” Eli said.
“I’ve been looking at how the Mings got to this continent, and according to Reach’s database, there’s no record of the twin Ming sisters first arriving in the Americas. At some point they were owned by a Creole family of vamps by the name of Bondaille. Other than that, the records never existed or have been lost.
“There’s no record of how Ming Zhane rose to Blood Master of Clan Glass. Ming Zoya became Blood Master of Clan Mearkanis, and that one is well documented.”
Alex’s words have no blood, Beast thought.
Boring, Jane agreed.
Wolf snuffled and rolled over to lie on back, belly in air, eyes on Kit-Kit, pawing at little cat. Beast wondered if wolf meat was good to eat. Jane thought, Only if you want to turn me into a werewolf. I survived two bites and have no desire to risk it again. And his name is Brute.
Like name Wolf better, Beast thought. Wolf is Wolf like Beast is Beast.
“The remains of the humans at the pit where Ming of Mearkanis was found have received official, legal, forensic autopsies and have been identified by comparing missing persons reports and dental records.”
Beast’s ear tabs twitched in interest and Jane moved into Beast eyes to stare out at Alex.
“Their names are Onus Rebarius Brown,” he said, “age twenty-four when he went missing, and his girlfriend, Jesimine Ladasha Pirrie, age nineteen. No firm COD or TOD has been established, but the bone scarring and healing around wrists and ankles suggest they were shackled and alive for some time in the pit. Scavenger depredation,” he emphasized, “took place postmortem, and may be interfering with the COD determination. Changing water tables are interfering with TOD.”
Jane thought, COD and TOD. Cause of death and time of death.
“Local LEOs are not saying who or what they think killed the couple, but the chains suggest that they were kidnapped, possibly tortured, leaving mostly soft tissue damage, then drowned. And then the water table dropped, and animals got in somehow, and then the water table went back up. Maybe several times.”
“But they think vampires?” Eli asked over the cell connection.
“They think weres of some sort.”
Wolf snorted at words. Still upside down, he batted house cat with oversized paws. Kit-Kit batted back.
“Hmm,” Eli said.
“Yeah. Anyway, I started researching the brooches and found the style was based on Egyptian history, in European and American revival jewelry and art from several decades in modern history. There’s a maker’s mark, and they were signed by an artist, so we know they were made by a local New Orleans jeweler, but there’s no documented tie-in with the Mings, or with any of the witches or the vamps, and I don’t think I’ll find any.”
“Copy,” Eli said. “Jane, I’m not sure what happened with Edmund, with you doing that whole—” He stopped. “With you taking off that way.”
Beast chuffed at Jane’s amusement. Eli was about to say things on cell that might be overheard by ambush hunters.
“Lachish is at Tulane, surrounded by witches and cops and a doctor named Robere. Sound familiar?”
Beast yawned.
“She needs surgery on her leg and arm, and the good doctor has privileges there, so he’ll be scrubbing in to assist, gratis. The MOC has offered his blood to help in healing, especially so that she can show up at the big wingding. I’ve already secured a wheelchair and ramps for the Elms, and the staff and family at the Elms are suddenly more agreeable to allowing cameras in-site. They want a price from YS for security upgrades. Evan is fine. Edmund donated enough blood that Molly and Ailis were able to finish his healing. He’s a little tender, but he and Molly are on the way home.”
“But the Witch Conclave is still on?” Alex asked.
“Roger that. But I think we should get a bloodhound and walk the grounds of the Elms. See if we can get a scent.”
Beast’s head went up. Snorted. Eli meant Beast to let Jane become ugly dog with good nose. Beast growled. Wolf turned over and tilted head, watching Beast. Could use Wolf? Beast asked Jane.
No. I think we need to shift and do it ourselves.
Beast snorted in disgust. Was good word, disgust. Is stupid. Is prey move.
Okay. It isn’t smart. But we’ve done it before. Once. We survived.
Stupid, foolish, kit thing to do. But nodded head as humans would.
“She’s in,” Alex said. “I’ll get her box of bones and put a steak on to sear.”
“I’ll be there in fifteen.” The connection ended.
Beast and Jane followed Alex to Jane’s room and stood in doorway, watching as Alex got chair and stood on it, feeling around on top shelf for box of bones and teeth. When he set it on floor he paused and looked at Beast. “I don’t guess I could watch this ti—”
Beast snarled and growled, vibration loud in warning. Showed killing teeth.
“Right. Never mind. Forget I asked.”
Beast growled again and Alex stink changed with fear. Good fear smell. Beast chuffed. Alex walked fast out of Jane room, closing door. Beast pushed on door with nose to make sure it was shut. Pushed small lock with nose. And went to bed, jumped on top. Jane’s den was good den. Soft den. Good place for kittens. Jane did not reply, so Beast opened box with teeth. Picked out necklace of bloodhound teeth and bones. Do not like ugly dog. But good nose. Settled on bed and let Jane reach into bones and teeth and into snake at heart of all things.
Jane shifted, first into Jane, and then into ugly, hungry dog.
* * *
When Eli knocked on the bedroom door, I gave a friendly woof.
“You locked it,” he said, the faint click telling me that the latch had been no concern for the Ranger. Eli stepped inside, and though I couldn’t see well in this species’ form, I smelled his exhaustion, tart and marginally sour. With the long ears and folds of loose skin, it was hard to see anything, and I shook myself, the flesh slapping, rippling, and sliding over deeper tissue. Eli held a leash and a Canine Service dog vest, and Beast crinkled up our nose at the smell of it, but I stepped off the mattress and sat, like a good dog.
Brute pushed into the room and stopped short. His head whipped back and forth, his nose scenting the air. He growled. A werewolf growl was much louder than Beast’s, a vibration that swept into the walls and floor and made the house judder under me. I went utterly still.
Eli grabbed Brute by the ear and yanked back. The wolf snapped in the air and the Ranger made a move taught by Uncle Sam’s army. Brute yelped and ended up halfway back into the living room. Eli followed and shut the door with force, if quietly enough not to wake the kiddos. I heard him say, “You do not snap, were. That’s a death sentence for your kind.”
I walked to the leash and sniffed it. It smelled like me, and like another dog, a not me-dog. I remembered other dogs and a lone wolf werewolf we had hunted with. The dog part of my brain associated the memories and I lay down beside the harness, remembering the smells of that hunt.
Hunger pulled my mind away from the past. More hungry than usual, my having shifted twice without eating.
Want cow.
I know. I smell meat. I’m sure they fixed us a nice meal.
Ten minutes went by, according to my unreliable internal clock, before Eli walked back into the room. I snuffled at him for the scent of blood or werewolf saliva. I got nothing, which was good. If Brute bit Eli, it would have meant Eli and the Mercy Blade in bed together for a few days of magical healing, which would surely not sit well with Eli’s überhetero tendencies. Even just a platonic, no-touch, no-tongue time in bed might send him over the edge. And Brute . . . As Eli had said. Brute would have been dead. There was no leniency for a were who bit a human. None at all. Automatic death sentence at the steel claws of the grindylows in the nation, and they had second sense when a human suffered a bite.
I whined softly as Eli knelt next to me.
He chuckled, the sound evil, and said, “He’s fine. But he’ll think twice about snapping around humans again.” I whined again.
“He’s okay. I’m okay. You’re okay. Step in,” he said, holding the harness out. I stepped into the harness and let him adjust the straps. “Let’s go, Fido.”
I butted him behind the knee and chuffed when his leg buckled. He laughed and led me to my steak dinner. The steak was cooked, but just enough to get the juices flowing, and it was so much more delicious and savory and smelled so much better than when I was Beast. I loved steak. I licked the dish and raised my head, licking my drooping jowls and the floor. I licked Eli’s hand.
“Yeah,” he said, cleaning his hand on his pants. “Right. Let’s go.”
* * *
I leaped from the SUV to the ground at the Elms and instantly stuck my nose in the air. And wanted to fall down and roll on the ground from the intensity of it all. The first time I shifted into a bloodhound, it had been like being blindsided by an odoriferous Mack truck, and this time was no different. Magic, blood, magic, anger, blood, magic, Evan, Molly . . . I whined and Eli scratched behind my ears. I leaned into him, sorry now that I’d tried to trip him. He said something, but with my long ears flopping down over my ear canals, my hearing was affected.
He scratched me again and I snuffled him. Eli smelled good. Like litter mate, Beast thought. Eli jiggled the lead and led me/us along the sidewalk and around behind the house, where the scents were . . . intense. Amazing. I took breaths in little chuffs.
A bloodhound’s nose is more sensitive than any other dog’s in the canine kingdom, and, as with the first time I took this form, it made my brain go into overdrive, identifying every scent and its breakdown components, cataloging everything, noting associations and differences, calculating, parsing it all out into chemicals and pheromones and—
“Fido? Let’s go, girl.”
“Fido is a male name,” Nunez said. He smelled of spices and coffee and sugar from donuts, and peanuts and chocolate from Snickers bars. He smelled good. I lifted my head and snuffled his crotch. Nunez jumped back. Eli pulled me away with a sharp flick of the lead. “Fido. Bad girl.” I chuffed and turned my head to him, remembering that my nose wasn’t supposed to take over. I was Jane. Jane Yellowrock. Not a dog. Right. A skinwalker. But Nunez still smelled good.
Eli led me through the backyard and to the first of the exploded focal items. It smelled like magic and Evan and vampire and blood and . . . And like Ming. I stopped, my nose to the ground, snuffling and searching through the scent signatures. Ming. Ming’s scent was here. Ming was a twin. Was I certain that it was Ming of Mearkanis? And why? I snuffled to the site and buried my nose in the ground. Sniffing, snuffling, analyzing. Remembering the stench of Ming in the small cage. Yes. Ming of Mearkanis. Her blood had been used in the creating of the iron icons. Iron and magic didn’t mix, but if combined with vampire blood . . . Yeah. That changed everything. The dark magic was beginning to make sense.
I pulled to the next icon and snuffled it too. This one had no Evan smell, but scented of Lachish’s sweat and urine and pain. The witch smell was strong here, a witch smell that had nothing to do with the witches I knew. It smelled of vampire, of Ming, and of the unknown witches. But I knew them now, the mother and daughter witches. The daughter was by far the most powerful of the two. The daughter was alpha of the pack. I followed the scent around the yard, to another place that smelled of gunfire and lead.
I remembered, in some odd part of my mind, that Eli had shot three of the places. Why did he shoot them? They couldn’t die.
And then I remembered again. I was Jane. Eli was my partner. Eli shot the icons to disrupt the magics. Jane. I held to myself, pulling memories to me, memories of Brenda, one of my favorite house mothers. Memories of Eli and Alex, my family. Memories of Bruiser. Yes. I had myself now.
I found two more sites shot by Eli. They smelled the same, set by the same two stranger witches, women I would know instantly now, even in human form. I followed the scent of an enemy witch across the lawn to the side yard and found a place that smelled of witch and iron but no gunfire and no lead. I sat and looked up at Eli. And whined. He had a flashlight and shone it on the grass. “Got it,” he muttered, and he pushed a small plastic army soldier, taped to a stick, into the grass.
I chuffed softly, spittle flying, and led the way to the next site, where I sat again. There were three unexploded magical focals altogether, one in each narrow side garden and one in front. That seemed important, but I couldn’t remember why. I was Jane, but . . . I caught the scent again, on the sidewalk, and pulled Eli into a lope, tracking the scent down the street. Witches. Witches and vampire blood.
Nose to the sidewalk, I pulled hard, knowing, knowing, knowing the witches. One older, with bad bones, who ate too much fat, who smelled of sugar and sickness, and one younger who . . . smelled like Ming. Like Ming’s blood and . . . Crazy woman, I thought. Like a crazy woman. And Almost like an Onorio.
I was Jane.
I snuffled to Eli. I had no way to tell him what I had discovered, and there was more I needed to learn, so I pulled harder. I needed to shift back while I still knew who I was, but . . . the smells pulled me forward. Along the sidewalk to an apartment building. I stopped and looked up at Eli.
“They came here?” he asked.
I woofed.
“We’re on St. Charles and Second Street. The apartment building is eight stories.”
I snuffled to the entrance and sat.
“The women went inside,” he said.
I gave a human nod and it brought me back from an edge I hadn’t known I was near. Back from bloodhound-nose-brain to human thoughts. I was Jane. I needed to shift. Fast. I had been a bloodhound before and, each time, my brain adjusted faster to the scent-brain. I realized that I could easily get stuck here, in a place with so many smells, in dog form.
“Just once or many times?”
I struggled to remember what we were talking about. I patted my right paw one time.
“Okay. So the witches came through here to throw us off. Let’s go around the block. See if they came back out somewhere.”
I needed to shift, but I also needed to follow the scents. They were rich and full and intense and amazing, and I put my nose to the ground and snuffled all around the building. The witches never came out.
“They got in a car here?” Eli asked. I snuffled and I didn’t look up. Eli said same words, but I pulled on lead, searching through smells. Eli talked as I snuffled down the sidewalk. Searching. Searching. Learning. Someone had dropped chili here. Someone had bled here. Two humans had mated at this tree. Someone had peed here. A squirrel had run here. I tried to follow the squirrel, but Eli forced me into the SUV. Nunez was driving. Wanted to smell Nunez’s crotch, but Eli held me still. I chuffed and lay down. Memory of smells was wonderful, but Eli put burger in front of me. Burger smelling of pickles and ketchup and melted cheese. I wolfed it down. Was sooooo good.