Dead on Delivery (13 page)

 

 

IT WASN’T LIKE PAUL WAS GOING TO GIVE ME A CLEAN LINEN napkin and then let Meredith and I waltz out into the night on our own. I knew him better than that. I was pretty sure Meredith did, too. He might, for whatever reasons, be trying to avoid Meredith, but it was pretty clear how he felt when she was around. I’d seen him terrify men with a glare just for watching the sway of her backside as she sashayed by, and Meredith sashayed pretty much everywhere she went. She was his woman. He just didn’t seem to want her. Or maybe he didn’t want to want her. Any way you colored it, I was confused. I could only imagine how he must be feeling.

I hadn’t been entirely sure how Ted was going to take the proceedings. He always wanted to be my knight in shining armor, but like I said, I do try to keep him out of the more woo-woo things I encounter each day and he’d already been bitten by the spawn of a demonic dog this week. He wasn’t about to be left out, though.

Which was how it ended up with the four of us down at the boat launch in Discovery Park, about where the American River and the Sacramento River meet. The park was closed, but it takes more than a few padlocks and gates to keep a determined werewolf and an irritated Messenger out. Neither of us have the patience for being picklocks. Both of us can snap your average chain while barely breaking a sweat.

Ted had made a little sound of protest when I snapped the first chain we’d encountered, but Paul growled at him. “In or out, Boy Scout?”

He’d gritted his teeth and said, “In.” He looked unhappy, though.

Now we crouched over the doll at the river’s edge. Meredith had used the linen napkin to pick the doll up from the storeroom floor without ever letting it touch her skin, in much the same way I’d seen people picking up after their dogs. It was still wrapped up. I don’t think any of us really wanted to see its nasty little skeletal face.

She’d also brought along a case from the trunk of her car. Out of it, she pulled a set of thick white candles and a long crescent-shaped silver blade. I craned to see what else was in the case, but she gave me a dirty look and turned it away from me. “What?” I asked.

“It’s none of your business.” She angled the top of the case so that I couldn’t see anything inside.

“Do you keep that in your car all the time?” Was it some kind of special witches’ survival kit, like a supernatural version of having blankets and water in your trunk when you drove up into the mountains?

She shook her head. “The candles would be nothing more than a pile of wax in the summertime.”

“So you keep it in there in the winter?” I frowned. It would be seasonal, wouldn’t it? Wicca was tied closely to nature and if nature was about anything, it was about cycles. Seasons turning. Death and birth. Baseball giving way to football.

“Melina. Let it go. I need to concentrate. Stop pestering me.”

Paul grabbed me by the back of my shirt and dragged me back a few feet, as if I were a misbehaving puppy. Ted knocked Paul’s hand off me and the two squared off. I leapt up between them.

“Yo. I’m trying to make a hedge circle here. Could the three of you stop roughhousing for ten seconds so I can think?” Meredith stood with her hands on her hips, her hair already starting to crackle with static. We all muttered apologies and stood quietly, although I noticed that Ted made sure he was standing between Paul and me.

Meredith drew a circle around the doll in the sand, and Paul and I picked up all the stray cigarette butts and bits of candy wrapper that we found within its perimeter. Then she cast her circle again. On her final journey around the edge, as the blue fire trailed behind her, Ted made a funny sound. I took his hand. “It’s okay, Dorothy. She’s a good witch.”

Paul snorted.

Ted shook his head.

Meredith unwrapped the doll and laid it on top of the napkin. She raised her arms in the air. Sparks danced around her fingertips. “That which has been made, let be unmade. From rag and bone, by fingers sewn, let evil fly back to its home.” She picked up one of the bottles she had removed from her case, uncorked it and poured it over the doll. My nose twitched with the sharp scent of vinegar. As the liquid hit the doll, it began to smoke, slowly smoldering down into a pile of ashes.

“So let it be done,” Meredith said as the smoke began to clear. Carefully, folding the cloth away from her and toward the water, she rewrapped the remains of the doll.

Again, she walked her circles backward. Ted’s fingers laced through mine and tightened as the blue lights glowed and dimmed behind her steps. I’d seen Meredith cast a circle or two, and it was still impressive. I wondered what it was like to watch it for the first time, reconciling that it was actually happening with how damn good she was at it all at once. Poor guy. I wondered if he ever regretted knocking on my door and barging into my life.

Once she was done, she carefully picked up the napkin, walked to the edge of the river and cast the doll away into the moving stream. She turned to face us, brushing off her hands, and said, “Well, that’s done. Who’s hungry?”

 

 

TED HAD BEEN LOOKING A LITTLE PALE BY THE TIME MEREDITH had finished getting rid of Neil Bossard’s voodoo doll for me, so we passed on getting an early breakfast with her and Paul, despite Paul’s desperate looks in my direction.

On the way back to the car, I finally worked up the nerve to ask Meredith what was up between the two of them.

She sighed. “Think about it, Melina.”

I thought for a second and still came up empty-handed. “Nope. Got nothing.”

She sighed. “Do you think Paul is a good hunter?”

Paul was powerfully built, both as a man and as a wolf. His senses were sharp and he knew how to stay focused. “Oh, yeah. I think he’s a great hunter.”

“Do you think he’s smart?”

Since I regularly went to him for advice for everything from how to make a really good dry martini to how to get rid of Chinese vampires from beneath the streets of Sacramento, I had to say, “Yeah.”

“What qualities does a Pack look for in an Alpha?”

I slowed down a little. Smarts and strength made for a good Alpha, but the Sierra pack already had an Alpha. Chuck was older than Paul, but not by enough to make him old and toothless yet. Werewolves aged, though not like humans. It took centuries, but they did get old. Chuck hadn’t yet. “Chuck is stepping down?”

“Nope. And he doesn’t want to.”

I digested that for a few minutes. Chuck must be seeing Paul as a threat. “But Paul always stays out of Pack politics.” It was one of the things I loved about him. While his devotion to the Pack was never in question, he clearly saw the absurdities of the intrigues and alliances that were brokered in smoke-filled back dens.

“Doesn’t make him less of a threat. It almost makes him more of one. If there’s a power struggle, he could be seen as a neutral party.” Meredith kept her pace slow so that we were well behind Paul and Ted. “And can you think of something that could make him more of a threat than an alliance with a powerful witch?”

I stopped walking all together and gawked at her. “So they’ve forbidden you and Paul to see each other?” I cast about for an analogy. “You’re like the Romeo and Juliet of the supernatural world?”

Meredith rolled her eyes. “Hardly. The big bad wolf up there isn’t exactly committing suicide over me.”

“He is pretty frustrated, though.”

“Only when he actually lays eyes on me,” Meredith observed wryly. “Which I make sure he does as often as possible.”

We fist-bumped in the dark.

TED AND I WENT BACK TO MY APARTMENT. IT WAS LATE. THERE wasn’t a single decent parking space nearby. We ended up walking about three blocks to get back. By the time we got to the apartment door, Ted was really flagging. Then there were the three flights up. Perspiration dotted his forehead by the time we got to the door. I fished my keys out of my bag, unlocked the door and hit the chain.

I nearly cried. Well, not really. I’m not much of a crier. Norah actually hit me when we watched
Up
and accused me of being made of stone when I didn’t cry during the opening montage. Now, though, I kind of wanted to cry. I wanted to get the man I loved into my apartment and into bed before he fell on the floor. I also wanted to do that without kicking down my own apartment door.

“Norah,” I whispered through the door, trying to wake her but not the neighbors across the landing. The weaselly guy who used to live there had moved out and now there was this nice couple who seemed to do nothing but go to work and come home.

“I could kick it in, if you wanted,” Ted offered. It was a nice offer, but he honestly didn’t look like he could even stand on one leg, much less kick a door with the other. I didn’t want to hurt his pride, though.

“And you think that would make Norah less fearful how?” I didn’t think doors being kicked in during the night was going to make her issues any better. Besides, if I wanted the door kicked in, I could do it myself.

“Norah,” I whisper-shouted more urgently. “Wake up.”

“I’m coming,” she said. “Keep your panties on.”

“Bad advice,” Ted whispered in my ear, making me shiver a little.

“Could you let us in? It’s late.” I called to her.

“I’m coming.” The door shut and then reopened sans chain. Norah scowled at us. “Why are you coming in so late?”

“Why are you trying to keep me out of my apartment?” I shot back, not really feeling like explaining my whereabouts to her for oh so many reasons. First and foremost, it was none of her beeswax. Second, it was likely to freak her out more.

“I’m not trying to keep you out. You know who I’m trying to keep out.” She stalked away from the door and plopped down on a bar stool.

“He’s not so bad. The two of you were fine last night.” I followed her in and then closed and locked the door behind Ted and me.

“That’s part of the problem, Melina. It’s part of why I don’t want to see him.” She slumped down on the counter and pillowed her face on her arms.

“I don’t get it.” I sat down next to her. That made no sense whatsoever. Of course, I was tired and not thinking all that straight.

“Neither do I. He scares me.” She turned her head so she could see me.

I sighed. “He should. He is what he is. It’s important to remember that. He has better control and more of a conscience than any other vampire I’ve ever met, but he’s still a vampire.”

“I know that. I don’t want to have anything to do with that.” She sat up now.

“That’s good. That’s fine. Just forget about him, then.”

“I’ve tried to. I want to. Then why do I dream about him, Melina? Why do I have to fight myself not to run to him when he walks into the room?” Anxiety made her voice rise in pitch.

“Wait a second. You want to run to him? I thought you wanted to run from him?”

“That’s exactly why I want to run from him. When I see him, I feel all hopped up. My heart beats faster. I breathe harder. I can’t take my eyes off him. All I want is for him to touch me, but I know what he is. I know what he’s capable of. I don’t want that, Melina. It scares the hell out of me.” Her eyes were huge and wide in her too-pale face.

“I’ll talk to him. Maybe he’s doing it. Maybe he’s compelling you.” I didn’t have a good feeling about this. The last time I’d accused Alex of invading my dreams on purpose, I’d found out it was my own damn subconscious that was conjuring him up.

“What if he’s not doing it? What if it’s me?” A little bead of sweat formed on her upper lip.

I wasn’t sure what the answer to that was. Keeping one’s blood from going into a vampire was much more within my sphere of capabilities than getting a vampire out of one’s blood.

“Then we’ll figure that one out, too.” I assured her.

Norah hugged me and shambled back to her room.

Ted started rummaging through the cabinets. “Do you have any booze in here? I could use a drink.”

I pulled a bottle of Scotch from the bottom cabinet.

He took it from me and poured two fingers into a short, fat glass. He took a deep drink of it and then asked, “So is that like a normal Monday night for you?”

I considered. “Nearly.”

“How come you need Meredith to do that ... stuff for you?” He set the glass down on the counter.

“I can’t do magic.” It was a little embarrassing, but it was the truth. I can’t cast a spell worth a damn. Ask me to jump over a twelve-foot wall? No problem. Take down a gremlin? I’m your gal. Cast the simplest spell? No freakin’ way.

“Aren’t you kind of magic yourself?” He set the glass of Scotch down.

I didn’t blame him for being confused. It wasn’t like I understood it. It frustrated me to no end. “I’m not really magic. Spells and stuff are their own brand of supernatural spookiness. I don’t have the knack. Some people are just born with it.” I, on the other hand, was born—or reborn, really—with a knack for seeing weird shit. It wasn’t nearly as useful.