CHAPTER 14

Degoba Jones lived a ways out—not exactly in the country, but given the size of Port Townsend, he might as well have been rural. Tonya navigated the dark two-lane road like a champion and we made it there about fifteen minutes later. As we got out of the car, I realized that—had I not known about the town—I wouldn’t have realized Port Townsend existed. A mere fifteen-minute drive had plunged us into the forest.

The lights coming from within the old farmhouse shone with a warm and welcoming glow. I shivered as we followed Tonya up the porch steps. The forest was thick on either side and I really didn’t fancy being out here in the dark alone.

Degoba opened the door as soon as Tonya raised her hand to knock, ushering us in with a gracious smile. He was a tall, thin man, with long black hair that hung sleekly back in a ponytail. His eyes were brown, and his skin naturally tanned, and as I gazed into his face, I had the sense he’d been around a long time, if not in body—then in soul.

Alex and Patrick stood outside. Degoba looked at them closely for a moment, then solemnly touched the door frame. “My house and I welcome you for this evening.” Which meant that he was going to rescind his invitation after we left, not a bad idea given the nature of vampires and that he had never met either of these two men.

The living room was part cowboy style, part . . . something. A golden retriever lay curled in the corner. He looked up, then growled a little as Patrick walked in. Dogs and cats weren’t usually very friendly with vampires, but the dog raced over to Alex and jumped up on him, his front paws bracing against Alex’s shoulders.

“Brother Bear . . . get down.” Degoba snapped his fingers.

The dog whimpered and, after giving Alex a big lick across the face, did as he was told. He returned to his bed in the corner, but he kept looking over as if to say, You really want to pet me, don’t you?

“Brother Bear?” Tonya asked. “I didn’t know you found a new dog.”

“I didn’t till recently. Brother found me—I call him BB for short. He was guarding a bear cub when I found him. A black she-bear had wandered off to forage for food, I guess, and her cub managed to get himself lost. BB was standing there, guarding the cub. I got too close and he growled, but I convinced him that mama bear would be back in a few minutes and guided the dog over to a bluff behind a huckleberry bush.”

“Did the mother bear come back?” Stories like this always captured my interest.

“She sure enough did. Five minutes later, the mother meandered back, found the cub, and gave him a good talking-to. Don’t you think that cubs don’t get scolded. Then she firmly escorted him back to wherever she’d made her lair.” Degoba smiled fondly at BB. “Brother Bear didn’t have a collar and was mighty thin, so I brought him home. Vet said he wasn’t microchipped and that he was a little underweight, so . . . here he is.”

I glanced around. The walls of the house were wood—not like a log cabin with round logs, but they were composed of long slats of what looked like light oak. Open beams reinforced the vaulted ceilings, and in the living room, big bay windows overlooked the yard. The rooms were open and spacious. I could see the kitchen from the living room and the study, as well.

The art on the walls was a mixture of Native American and Celtic, and felt like an eclectic—if appropriate—mix. One entire wall was lined with built-in bookshelves, fashioned around a tall window. A banquette was tucked beneath the glass, cushioned with a rich red upholstery.

The place was cluttered in a tidy, busy way, as if nothing here went unused. A stack of magazines were all marked with Post-it notes throughout their pages, and a notebook sat near them, with pages of handwritten notes neatly printed across the paper.

The smell of beef stew—I could tell it was beef stew because that had become a current favorite meal of mine—hung heavy in the air. My mouth watered as I took a deep breath, inhaling the fragrant aroma.

“You want a bowl, Shimmer?” Degoba’s eyes crinkled with laughter. “I can tell an appreciative sniff, all right. I’ve got stew and fresh-baked rolls in the kitchen. Ralph, Tonya? What about you?” He didn’t bother asking Alex and Patrick, and neither one seemed to take offense. Alex had told me it wasn’t considered bad manners to leave vampires out of food offers, especially given that food made them sick as a dog if they swallowed even a bite.

“I’d love a bowl.” I stood. “Would you like some help?”

“No, sit and be at rest.” He stood and headed for the kitchen. BB raised his head, letting out a hopeful whine. “No, Mr. BB, you may not help yourself to people food. Keep these good folks company while I play host.”

The minute Degoba was out of the room, BB jumped up and launched himself at Alex, wriggling as the vampire laughed and petted him.

“You remind me of my Goldy,” Alex said, ruffling BB’s fur and giving him a good scrubbing on the side. “I miss her, I do.”

“You had a dog?” Tonya glanced up at him. “I didn’t think most vampires kept pets.”

“Most of us don’t. They live such short lives and it hurts to lose so many. Then again, we can give homes to a long string of otherwise orphaned critters.” He held BB’s chin, gazing into the dog’s eyes. “This is a right smart one, tell you that. Goldy, she was my best friend for twelve good years. She was my dog before I was turned. The person who turned me . . . killed her. I never forgave them that. I paid them back, too.”

BB let out a little whimper and nosed Alex’s hand again, licking it, then went back to curl up in his bed. The dog was clearly enchanted. Something about the vampire struck a chord in Brother Bear’s nature.

A few minutes later, Degoba was back, stew in hand. He set the tray down on the coffee table and handed out thick mugs of stew, along with a tray filled with soft rolls and fresh butter. I lost myself in the scent for a moment, then in the taste. Even though we’d eaten, the stress must have gotten to us because I was hungry as hell, and both Tonya and Ralph seemed to be feeling the same way. Degoba waited for us to take the edge off before speaking.

“So, tell me what brings you here? You told me a little on the phone, Tonya, but I want to hear it from their mouths.” He motioned for us to go ahead. Patrick glanced at us, then took the reins. He told Degoba what had happened up until he’d called us, and then we took over. Ralph had brought his laptop and opened it to show Degoba some of the pictures and recordings we’d managed to pick up. I told him about Lacy and discovering her skeleton and everything else we’d found out—including the murder weapon. We also filled him in on the Gypsy curse, and then about what we’d figured out tonight.

When we finished, he motioned for us to be silent while he wandered around the room, picking up first one object, then another. He paused over a rock that he was holding, staring at it as if he were listening to it, then moved on to what looked like a simple wooden wand, still possessing the bark of whatever tree it had been made from.

I polished off my stew and rolls, quietly carrying my plate into the kitchen. Tonya brought in hers and Ralph’s and we rinsed the dishes and set them to dry on the counter. The kitchen was as rustic as the living room but still had a polished feel with up-to-date appliances and the obligatory window overlooking the side yard.

“I like him.” I kept my voice soft so as not to distract him if he could hear us. “I like his thoughtfulness—he’s deliberate. Not hasty.”

“Degoba has been exceptionally helpful to my family and the crowd I hang with over the years.” She frowned. “I think he’s had some pretty rough tragedies in his past, but I doubt he’ll ever tell us. He intrigues me.” She paused, then caught my eye and blushed.

“You like him.”

“He’s old enough to be my father.”

“Does that matter? Age is so inconsequential in the Supe community. Unless someone’s way too young, I don’t think that it should matter among humans either, do you? Look at . . . well, you don’t know her but the receptionist who basically runs our agency? Her name’s Bette and she’s a Melusine.”

“What’s a Melusine? I’m familiar with a lot of Supes but . . .”

“She’s a water-spirit who can change into a snake. She looks like . . . well, Alex calls her a biker grandma, but she’s super-sexual and has a line of lovers a mile long. A lot of them ask her to marry them, too, but she’s a free spirit. She and Alex used to go together until they discovered they made better friends than lovers.” I grinned. “She dates everybody from twenty-two-year-old humans to, hell . . . I guess a thousand-year-old Fae?”

Tonya laughed. “I wish it were that simple among humans. They call women who date men a lot older than themselves gold diggers, and they call women who date younger men cougars—and it’s not used in a complimentary fashion.” Her eyes twinkled as she added, “What about you and Alex? How long have you been together?”

It was my turn to blush. “How did you know?”

“It’s plain as the nose on your face, Shimmer. You and he are constantly giving each other ‘the look.’ You can’t lie to me about your feelings for him.”

I hadn’t been aware of that. “Well, yeah . . . We . . . not long. Not long at all. When I first got here I was dating someone, but he and I weren’t on the same page. We’re friends and want to stay that way. Alex . . . from the start we were noticing each other but there was a complication, recently removed.”

“What about Chai? You and he ever . . . ?” Tonya peeked back in the living room. Apparently Degoba was still meditating.

“Chai’s the older brother I never had. He and I . . .” I shuddered. “Even thinking about kissing him that way feels just wrong. And I know he feels the same way about me.”

“So that’s why he calls you ‘Little Sister’? I get it. I have a couple male friends like that.” She paused as Degoba called for us. “Looks like he’s ready. Let’s go see what he has to say.”

And with that, we headed back into the living room.

•   •   •

Degoba motioned for us to sit down. “I think you’re right. You’re dealing with a forest wight. They’re mean, and nasty, and to be honest, if it weren’t for it taking up residence in Patrick’s house, I’d say leave the hell enough alone. The danger isn’t a joke. But it looks like we have to try something.”

“We?” Tonya asked hopefully. “Does that mean you’ll help us?”

Degoba rolled his eyes. “Oh, child, I really don’t want to take this on, but you’ve come to me for help and the spirits tell me I have to answer. Yes, I will help you. But the first thing we have to do is to break up the hive.”

“Hive?” Alex didn’t sound happy. “The word hive implies swarm. I don’t like that thought.”

“Yes, it does, but it’s not quite so bad as you think. Forest wights hive together in the same area. They may not cluster tightly together, like bees, but they will stake out territory as a unit and strengthen one another that way. To disrupt the hive, you must strike at its heart first—the king bee, so to speak—or you won’t be able to dislodge any of them. We have to find the king of the forest wights and destroy him. Only then will the others be vulnerable, and then we will be able to dislodge the one in Patrick’s house.” He paused, then turned to Tonya. “You know what I’m talking about, don’t you?”

She paled. “Yeah, I do, though I wasn’t altogether sure of the nature of forest wights. I have some old information on them, but it’s not extensive and it doesn’t talk about how to get rid of them.”

“I know about them. They breed out in the forests. They’re born out of the dark hearts of the ancient trees who hate humans, who have seen the mighty woodlands die at the hand of the axe. They can sense and manipulate spirits. Whenever someone dies in the forest, the wights have a good chance of capturing their spirits and making them work for them. They also feed on the energy from the spirit realm, so . . . yes, ghosts are food to them.” Degoba patted BB. “They tend to leave animals alone, you know.”

Alex leaned forward. “How come we don’t hear more about them? I can tell you from being around for a couple hundred years, I’ve never heard of them.”

Degoba laughed then, slapping his leg. “Alex, you’ve heard about them. You just don’t realize it. When logging trucks have accidents? You can bet there’s a good chance a forest wight arranged it. When hikers go missing in the woods, there’s a reason they get turned around and end up dying from exposure. There’s a reason why serial killers are drawn to hide in the forest to wait for their victims. As Tonya has probably told you, the wights can influence behavior, not just of spirits but of living people. They can be terribly cruel. Sometimes, it’s in retaliation for the loss of land—they consider themselves at war. Other times . . . well, it’s their nature.”

We sat in silence, taking in the information. It made me think of the sirens who lured humans into the ocean. They were alien, distanced from humankind, and did not see what they did as anything other than hunting food. The wights were the same way.

Tonya shuddered. “They may see themselves fighting a war, but I think they’re nasty enough to qualify as evil. Toying with others for your own amusement—”

“True. But humans follow the same path. Good and evil aren’t relegated solely to humanity. If you’re talking about hunting and sustenance, well, humans eat meat, they eradicate pests that invade their homes. The wights don’t see themselves doing anything different. To them, we’re a dangerous pest, and spirits are a food source.” Degoba smiled softly at her. “It’s all a matter of perspective. There’s always more than one way to look at a situation. But yes, cruelty exists, and evil.”

“But why would the wight want me out of my house?” Patrick looked confused.

“There could be several reasons. For one, there are a lot of spirits there—a lot of food. If you free the spirits, you basically open the barn doors and there go the provisions. Or perhaps, the wights claimed that area long ago and you happen to be latest in a long line of attempts to reclaim it. Why does a man pick one fishing spot over another? He sees fish there.”

“Great. Okay, then. So you won’t have an ethical problem helping us?” Patrick asked.

Degoba stood, arching his back. He looked like he could run rings around men half his age. No wonder Tonya found him attractive—he had both personality and looks.

“I eat beef, I eat pork. I’ve hunted elk and deer before. I go fishing. None of those animals ever did anything to me—but I still eat them. I’ve spent my life making a study of legend and folklore, not only from my people, but of what is actually out there. Creatures like the forest wights don’t care if you’re white or Native American or black . . . we’re all just human to them. They have no ethical problem with destroying any of us. And spirits are just tools for them. So, will I fight them? Of course I will, to save my house, my friend’s house, my town.”

Chai, who had remained silent, spoke then. “The spiritwalker is right. There are things in the world that view humans as expendable. I come from realms where creatures would consider you a snack. Fast food. A Big Mac on the way to the game.”

“Well, that’s comforting,” I snorted. “They wouldn’t think of me that way once I got done with them.”

“Little Sister, don’t be so quick to consider yourself immune from creatures such as this. You may be a . . .” He paused, looking over at Degoba.

Degoba grinned, sitting back. “I know she’s not human, and she’s not Fae, regardless of what she says. I have no idea what she is, but it’s easy for me to see that the girl is an ancient being compared to the likes of Tonya and me. But I won’t pry.”

I had the sudden desire to tell him. He was not the kind to panic, or to go off the deep end. “Dragon. Water dragon.”

The spiritwalker’s eyes widened, and he let out a whoop. “I knew your kind existed! Tell me—Nessie and others of her kind?”

I laughed and ducked my head. “Yes, water dragons who crossed over here long ago and who’ve forgotten where they came from and forgotten how to shift.”

“We must talk—but first, we take care of this problem.” His enthusiasm was catching.

I grinned. “It’s a deal. But first things first. Where do we go from here?”

“We figure out a plan of action.” Tonya stood and arched her back, wincing. “I’ve been sitting too long. But first, Degoba, for the love of Hecate, I need some fuel. Caffeine, please?”

“How many shots?” He headed for the kitchen.

“Quad, plus milk and sugar, please.” She let out a satisfied little mew.

It was nine o’clock—still early for most of us but probably a little late for Tonya, given she worked during the day. Degoba had a state-of-the-art espresso machine. I’d seen it when Tonya and I were in the kitchen.

He fixed her a latte, and then we all gathered around the table that was crafted out of a slab of cedar. The tree it came from must have been huge. The table was carved from one solid slab, five feet long and three feet wide, sanded to show the silky grain and then polished with polyurethane to seal and protect it.

Degoba brought out a map of Fort Worden. “When Tonya first came to me about the Kinzie Battery, I told her to stay away from it. But, and Tonya doesn’t know this, I’ve been keeping an eye on it ever since. I’m amazed that there aren’t more accidents there, but then again, make the source of power too obvious and you can destroy the hive by calling attention to the core. The king of the hive lives there, deep within the battery. It’s like a man-made cavern for him.”

“Why would he choose there?” Alex frowned at the map. “Why not out in the forest?”

“Simple. To affect a town, you have to have a finger on the pulse of it. And honestly? Fort Worden is the pulse of Port Townsend—it’s the main tourist attraction. Thousands of people come through there each year, not only to visit the fort but to camp there. Open access to the beach is a prized commodity in this state. There’s a lot of privately owned waterfront property and so when you have an area that offers such easy beach access, it’s going to be heavily used.”

Tonya nodded. “He’s right on that. So it’s a great place to tap into energy, to tap into people, and to find a way to use them.”

Degoba motioned to Patrick. “All right, you live across the street from the fort. Tell me, when you started renovations, how long was it before you noticed spiritual activity in the house?”

Patrick rapped his fingers on the table as he thought. “Let me see . . . at first everything seemed rather subtle. I guess it started a week or so after we first began tearing apart the house. A noise here or there, things seeming to move by themselves. Now and then a workman would complain of feeling watched. It wasn’t aggressive, not at first. In fact, more often than not, I remember a melancholy feel to the place. I kind of thought . . . this sounds silly but . . .” He paused, ducking his head.

“Never discount what you have to say before you actually say it.” Degoba stared at him. “You might just toss out the baby with the bathwater that way. So, tell us, what sounds silly?”

Patrick shrugged, a sheepish grin on his face. “I kind of felt like the house just wanted to continue sleeping and we were waking it up. I felt almost guilty for not letting it just decline in peace.”

“That’s not silly.” Ralph had been studying the map, and now he snapped his fingers. “I have a thought . . . hold on for a moment.” He pulled out his laptop. “Degoba, do you have Internet access I can plug into?”

Degoba nodded. “Here, let me give you the guest password. I change it out weekly.” He crossed to his desk and glanced at a Post-it. “X-T-5-9-3-P.”

Ralph tapped away and then flashed him a smile. “I’m in. Okay, give me another minute . . .” His fingers flew over the keys and I marveled at how fast he was. It was as though he’d been born with a keyboard in his hand—the words seemed to bypass his brain and go directly to his fingers.

“Okay, here we go. I thought so! Look at this.” His grin was a mile wide and he looked like he’d just discovered gold. He pushed his laptop over for all of us to see. There was a map of Port Townsend with a series of lines sketched over it. Only they weren’t in any regular pattern, though most of them seemed to radiate out from one point in Fort Worden—the lighthouse where I’d gone swimming.

“What are we looking at?” I leaned in closer, trying to make sense out of what I was seeing.

Ralph pointed to one of the lines. “Look . . . here’s the battery. And see how this same line travels right through Patrick’s house, across the bay, and then out into the forest eventually?”

I nodded but was still clueless on what it meant.

Tonya, however, cocked her head, studying the map for a moment. “Of course! That’s why the forest wights chose your house. Look—if they’re nested out in there in the forest, and they have a hold in the battery . . . see how this line runs through your property from the woods to the battery to the ocean? Ralph picked up on it! You’re right in the middle of a ley line.” She glanced at Ralph. “Am I right?”

He nodded. “Exactly! You got it. One of the great things about the Werewyx search engine is that it offers a lot more refined searches into paranormal websites. This is Ley of the Land—a website devoted to mapping ley lines. And the ley line that runs through the battery and out into the forest is one of the strongest in this area. The next . . . oh hell, over by Crescent Lake it’s really thick but here—this is the one that seems to be the most predominant.”

Degoba clapped him on the shoulder. “Brilliant, man. This is the missing piece. How far does it extend?”

Ralph traced it along. “Well, it crosses Discovery Bay and travels right into the Olympic National Forest. It looks like . . . yes, the Valley of the Silent Men and Lena Lake are right in its path. The ley line eventually runs to the Pacific on the coast.”

“You say the Valley of the Silent Men? No wonder.” Degoba jotted down few notes. He glanced over at Alex and me. We must have looked clueless because he cleared his throat. “People don’t talk a lot in the valley. There seems to be a natural dampening field that cuts off conversation. It’s not impossible, but people are quiet there, almost reverent. There’s a sense of some overwhelming . . . almost sacred energy that fills the area. It’s like being in nature’s church—you can sense the depth of the planet there.”

Ralph frowned. “So could the wights have their home base there?”

“Could easily be. The Olympic National Forest is about as primeval as you can get in this day and age. Oh, the Amazon and some of the jungles in Africa are more remote and wilder, but the Olympics, they have their secrets and they do not give them up easily. It’s a temperate rain forest, you know, and the old growth is older than most of us can really imagine. There are parts of the forest that have never seen human traffic come through. The forest spirits there are ancient and brooding.” Degoba studied the ley line. “Yes, this has to be the missing link as to how the forest wights sensed the spirits in your house.”

A thought occurred to me. “When you said we have to wipe out the king of the forest wights, do you mean of this particular hive? We’re not marching on the most powerful one in existence?” The thought of marching on the supreme lord of forest wights ranked right up there with some of the nightmare horror movies I’d sat through with Bette, who loved the creature features.

But Degoba put my fears to rest. “Right. I have no idea where the godfather of forest wights would even be found. I don’t even know if there is one. I have no clue if they have a god, or a goddess, or an ultimate source of authority. Somehow, I can’t imagine they are that organized. They’re a chaotic bunch, and hives usually work autonomously, I believe. Like hives of anything.”

“Okay, so we have to fight the king of this hive. Then, I take it we have to go after the one in Patrick’s house?” Alex was now focused in on the map as well. He traced a line on the paper with his finger from the Kinzie Battery to Patrick’s home. “Will the one in Patrick’s house be weaker than the one in the battery?”

“Potentially.” Degoba turned to Tonya. “From what I studied, they’re all about the same strength, but when the core of the hive—the center pin—is removed, it weakens the outer arms and makes them vulnerable to being hurt.”

“And we can’t hurt the others without taking out the king, right?” Tonya was writing down notes, as well as Ralph.

“Right. That’s how I think it works. I’ve studied these creatures for quite some time, and while I have no definitive proof to back me up, I am pretty sure that if you take out the king, then you can carve away at the others. But make no mistake: The wight at the battery won’t be invulnerable, but trust me, this isn’t going to be easy.”

I wondered off in my mind as they talked. We had wights in the Dragon Reaches—not this kind in particular, but barrow wights and land wights. Most of the dragons considered them treacherous and killed them at every chance. But I had no clue if my people knew they were hive creatures. That could be useful the next time I talked with the Wing-Liege. Maybe he’d even take a few months off my sentence if I came up with some information that proved helpful enough.

“Shimmer? What do you think?”

I shook my head as Alex tapped me on the arm. “Did you hear me?”

“Sorry, I was off in . . . never mind. What did you ask?” I tried to keep focused.

“We asked if you had any water magic that might be useful? Forest wights are naturally immune to a lot of earth magic. Air—not much it can do to them. Water, we’re not so sure about. And fire is their nemesis.”

“Trees are used to getting rained on. I wouldn’t count on the magic I have left at my disposal being able to help at all. I’m brawn in this situation.” Then I laughed. “But Chai—he’s a djinn! Fire’s his best buddy.”

Chai rolled his eyes. “Nobody say anything. Do not ask me for a favor—I offer my help freely, without a request.”

A spark flickered in Degoba’s eyes. “Djinn!”

“At your service, may I offer you a wish?” It came rolling off Chai’s tongue as smooth as silk. He instantly groaned and slapped his head, but he’d offered and if Degoba took him up on it, there was nothing any of us could do. But we could warn him first.

“Don’t say yes! Don’t accept his offer. The politics of this are tricky—” I stopped, though, when Degoba laughed, slapping his thigh.

“I haven’t enjoyed an evening so much in quite a while. First a dragon, and then a djinn. No, my fair genie, I will not ask for one of your wishes. I know all too well what it would mean. I’d rather . . . you have offered to help and we acknowledge that. Is that good enough?”

“You can say thank you without turning it into a favor, but yes, I understand your caution.” Chai shook his head ruefully. “I really have to watch my mouth, but it’s my nature. This is why more of my kind—the more pleasant-natured ones—stick to our own realm. The danger is too great for those we consider friends.”

I nodded. “We spent a long time figuring out how to circumnavigate the chance of me ending up on the short end of the djinn wand.”

“So back to matters,” Chai said. “I have fire, and I’m not afraid to use it. Just point me in the right direction and I’m all yours. Tell me what to do, though. Don’t ask me. I give you permission to order me around for a bit.”

His laughter was infectious and broke the tension. And with that, we began to plan our attack on the king of the forest wights.