No Humans Involved (7 page)

Savannah hesitated.

"Maybe right now it doesn't seem like such a bad idea. She did kidnap me. She could pose a threat. But can you justify it to Paige?" I paused a beat. "Can you justify it to yourself?"

She flushed, raised her hands and cast again. For a second, nothing happened. She cast again, faster, eyes bright with worry, and I knew the first cast had failed. I held my breath as she finished the second. A seemingly endless pause as Molly clawed the air, face going blue. A second thunderous clap. A second red flare in the sky. And the spirits vanished.

Molly fell forward onto her hands and knees.

"They're just koyut," Savannah said as we ran to Molly. "They'd only have knocked her unconscious."

"Are you sure?"

She flushed and I knew she wasn't.

As Savannah cast a binding spell, I grabbed Molly's hands and tied them behind her back, and while it felt pretty good to be tying
her
up, it was more than revenge. Most of a witch's nasty spells are sorcerer ones, which require hand gestures. Bind their hands, and they're almost helpless. Not completely—they still have witch spells—but I'd rather get hit with a binding spell than an energy bolt any day.

"Good idea," Savannah said, her voice almost apologetic.

"Now we need to take her into the forest to question her, in case anyone drives up."

A smile. "Yes, ma'am."

She grabbed Molly's left arm. I took the right, and we hauled the witch into the woods.

Human Magic

WE FORCED MOLLY TO KNEEL. She wasn't gagged or silenced by a spell, but she hadn't said a word. Hadn't tried to escape. Just watched us warily, tensed for a fight, but making no move to start one.

I waved Savannah back. She hesitated—maybe a reflection of her faith in my interrogation abilities, but more likely just an instinct to take charge—her parents' daughter to the core. After a moment, she backed off with a nod.

I stood over Molly. "You screwed up. You've been on the dark side so long, you think everybody is just as devious and dangerous as you. I was telling you the truth. All I wanted was information, and I was offering a fair deal in return. I had no idea what really happened to Mike until you got paranoid and started confessing."

"I never admitted—"

"True. We can go that route. I take you into custody. You plead your innocence before the council."

Molly's eyes narrowed.

"Or we can leave the council out of this. Killing Mike wasn't the solution I'd have come up with, but from what you've said, it wasn't completely unjustified. You had a good reason—"

"I did. That bastard tried to—"

Savannah cut her off. "Heard it already."

I glanced over at the young witch. She'd settled onto the grass, cross-legged, leaning back on her hands. A cocky pose—as if so un-threatened by Molly she might as well make herself comfortable. Molly's lips pressed into a thin line. I strolled behind Molly and motioned for Savannah to sit up. She did. Molly relaxed.

"The council doesn't know I'm here," I said. "The werewolf is only coming as unofficial backup. Friendship, not duty."

Molly's gaze slid to Savannah.

"I'm the unofficial unofficial backup," she said. "I sent Jaime to see you because I thought you'd help her. Then, after she left, I had second thoughts. So I followed."

"Do
they
know you're here?"

By the contemptuous twist Molly gave "they," she meant Paige and Lucas.

Savannah shook her head. "I said I was driving Jaime to the airport, hanging out until her plane came. By now they're probably figuring I skipped out on my chores, but nothing more than that."

"So, Molly, your secret is safe… if you want it to be," I said. "We can back up and start over. Pretend we're in your living room again. I just told you my problem and you want to help."

"In return for…"

Savannah barked a laugh. "You think you're in any position to bargain?"

"I'll offer the same deal," I said. "If you help me, I'll contact Mike."

Molly scowled.

"In that case, how about this deal: you answer my questions in return for me forgetting who killed him."

I TOLD her the story again.

"First piece of advice?" she said. "Go back and take a hard look at whoever is giving you this cock-and-bull."

"Cock-and-bull?"

"Someone's having you on. Feeding you bullshit."

"I've tried contacting these spirits myself and—" A brittle smile my way. "Step one, then, would be to find a better necromancer. Either there are no spirits or they're in on the game. Whoever came up with this story doesn't know jack shit about magic. They trolled the Internet or maybe checked out a few reference books at the library. What they researched isn't our magic. It's human magic."

"Human magic?"

"In human folk magic, you kill someone to drain his energy, his power, and take it for yourself."

Savannah made a rude noise, summing up her opinion of humans.

"But human magic doesn't work," I said.

Molly pinned me with a withering look. "No kidding, which is why I said someone's pulling your leg."

I looked at Savannah.

"She's right about this not sounding like a sacrificial ritual. Same as Paige and Lucas said. But if you've tried contacting them yourself, then it's not a problem of power."

Molly rolled her eyes.

"Could the ghosts be playing a trick?" Savannah said. "That does happen, doesn't it?"

"A trained necromancer can tell if she's being played."

A sniff from Molly.

"You say it sounds like a human's version of magic," I said. "Could that be what it is? The results of humans sacrificing people in some kind of fake black-magic ritual?"

Molly and Savannah looked at one another. In that exchanged look, all grudges seemed forgotten—sister witches considering an academic question.

"What
does
happen when humans play at ritual sacrifice?" Savannah said, half asking, half musing. "They can't get any powers from it, but does anything happen to the soul of the person they kill?"

Molly said, "If it did, necromancers would have seen this kind of thing before."

"So maybe it doesn't happen every time. But under certain circumstances…"

"Who can tell with humans—the lengths they'll go to in pursuit of magical powers. Sacrificing babies? Children? Torture? We have nothing on them."

So said the woman who, less than an hour ago, had been ready to put out my eyes with a red-hot stick. But I knew even Savannah would agree it wasn't the same thing. I'd been a threat. I'd knowingly walked into the house of a dark which, so one could argue that I'd taken my chances. It wasn't the same as killing a baby in hopes of receiving some magical boon.

Savannah and Molly discussed this further but came to no conclusions. Investigating human magic would be a wise next step, but not something either of them could help with.

When we finished, the sun was setting.

Savannah said to Molly, "Your kids are at a friend's place, right?"

She nodded.

"So they'll be fine if you're later than you expected. Here's what I'm going to do. First, I'm not untying your hands. That's your job. Second, I'm leaving you in a binding spell. When I'm far enough away, it'll snap and you can walk to the parking lot, find your phone, make that tow-truck call. But if you come after us—now or later—you're launching a council investigation into Mike's death."

AS WE drove to Molly's neighborhood to find Jeremy, Savannah explained how she'd followed me, but stayed back until it was obvious I needed help.

"What gave it away?" I said. "When she loaded me bound and gagged into the back of her truck? Or when she actually said 'I am now ready to kill you and throw your body in the swamp'?"

"Hey, for a while there, it looked like you were going to talk your way out of it. I didn't want to interfere."

In other words, she'd been giving me a chance to escape on my own.

"Don't feel bad," she continued. "It's not your fault you don't get the cool superpowers."

"Thanks."

She threw a grin my way.

I picked twigs from my hair, then checked my reflection in the visor mirror. "I do appreciate you coming after me, Savannah. When I tell the story to the council, I'll leave your name out of it."

She hesitated, then shook her head. "No. I'd better come clean now or it'll bite me in the ass later, and I'll get in more shit for making you cover for me. I'll take my licks. But if you could…" A glance my way. "You know, tone it down a bit? Maybe leave out the koyut spell?"

"So long as you tone down the 'I had to rescue Jaime again' part."

A grateful grin. "Agreed."

AS SAVANNAH circled Molly's block, I saw a flash of someone through the slats of Molly's fence.

"There's Jeremy," I said. "In her backyard."

"Where?" she squinted into the near dark. "Ah. There. Good eyes."

She didn't add a sly remark about my uncanny Jeremy radar. I flatter myself that Savannah doesn't know how I feel about him, but if she doesn't, she's the only one.

She pulled over as Jeremy leaped the fence, taking it as easily as a two-foot hurdle.

"I'd better let you out here and hightail it back home before Paige calls out the National Guard."

"Running off before I can tell him what happened?"

"Running as fast as I can, but tell him I said hi and I'll see him at Thanksgiving." She paused. "On second thought, don't mention that part or they're all liable to decide that keeping me from going to Stonehaven is a suitable punishment."

WHEN I crossed the road, Jeremy was gone. Standing in front of Molly's house, I had a strong sense of deja vu… and an even stronger sense that standing here really wasn't a bright idea. I pictured Molly arriving home to find the necromancer who'd escaped her clutches hanging out on her front lawn.

I was looking for a safer place to stand when a voice behind me said, "Hello, Jaime."

I wheeled so fast I tripped over my own feet. Fingers clasped my forearm, steadying me. I looked up into a face with high cheekbones and slightly slanted black eyes. Dark hair fell over his forehead as he leaned forward. I resisted the urge to reach up and push it back… then lift onto my tiptoes, press my lips against his, my body against—

Damn it, was I ever going to see Jeremy and not start blushing like a schoolgirl? It was ridiculous. I'd had erotic fantasies about men right in front of their noses and never batted an eye. With Jeremy, even the thought had me in vapors.

"Jeremy," I managed.

"I'm sorry," he said, still holding my arm. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"We need to bell you, like a cat."

A twitch of his lips. Not much of a smile, but I knew it was one.

"So," I continued, "you
could
follow my trail from the coffee shop."

"Not easy in the daylight, when I can't crouch to sniff the sidewalk. Fortunately, your perfume is distinctive."

"It's worth the price then."

He released my arm and gave me a once-over, and while I'd love to think he was checking out my hot new outfit, I knew the truth— he was trying to figure out what had happened. He plucked a leaf from my hair.

"I ran into some trouble," I said.

"So I see."

His voice and expression were impassive, but he was worried. With Jeremy, the emotional signs were never obvious.

His gaze flitted toward Molly's house.

"She's… tied up for a while. But you're right, talking here probably isn't a wise idea."

"I didn't say that."

"No, but you were thinking it. Come on, then. Let's get someplace safer and I'll explain."

As we walked down the street, I snuck another look at him. Just over six feet, he was lean and athletic, though that side of him rarely showed… unless he was leaping over six-foot fences. Not the kind of maneuver you'd expect from a fifty-eight-year-old, but it was easy to forget how old Jeremy was. Werewolves age slowly and— with silver just starting to thread through his dark hair and shallow lines around his mouth—I'd peg him at my age, if that.

Paige swore Jeremy had Asian blood, presumably from his mother, but there was no use asking him; he knew nothing about the woman. She'd disappeared from his life shortly after his birth. That was the world of werewolves, where mothers and sisters played no role, wives were unheard of, and even lovers came and went quickly. Elena was the exception—the only living female werewolf.

It was a world of men. The Pack and its bonds were everything, and everyone else was an outsider. And this was the man I'd fallen in love with—the leader of a world in which I would always be "the other." My heart, it seemed, could be as feckless as my brain.

"Here," he said, guiding me into a darkened playground.

His fingers rested on my arm as he steered me, and I found myself trying not to read too much into the casual contact that tingled up my arm. Yet it did mean something. Werewolves, while very physical with one another, don't extend that attitude toward others. Clay, the most wolflike of the Pack, avoids even handshakes. Elena's politer about it, but I figured out early on that she wasn't someone I should greet with a hug.

Jeremy doesn't avoid contact, but doesn't initiate it either. In the last year or so, though, that's changed.

I found myself evaluating his touch. Gripping me tighter than usual? Lingering longer? I searched for a sign that something had changed—that something was
about
to change, proof that he'd come here to take that next step. A lot to read into a touch and, of course, I couldn't.

The park was barely half the size of the small surrounding lots, just enough room for the developers to plop down swings, a slide and a bench and say, "Look, we gave you a playground." It was dark now, the equipment deserted.

Jeremy motioned me to the bench. "I'd like to check that blow to your head."

"How—? Oh, you smell the blood."

I pointed to the spot. He brushed my hair aside, then examined it, his touch so light I barely felt it. Then he checked my pupils and asked whether I was feeling nauseous or experiencing any pain other than at the point of impact. I wasn't.

"I'll need to keep an eye on you, to ensure it isn't a concussion, but it seems fine. Now…" He sat beside me on the bench. "What happened?" I told him.

AS WE waited for a taxi, I pulled the jacket tighter against the bitter wind. Jeremy's jacket. He'd offered, and I'd hated taking it, but as the sun dropped so had the temperature.

I looked up at him. "Ghosts do play pranks. I've had it happen. But these ones are breaching the physical barrier. That is different."

"I know. But about this human folk magic business, I'm not sure what to make of it. I don't know enough about magic to give an educated opinion."

"Well, I'm not the best informed supernatural around, but even I know that human magic doesn't work. Robert would be our best source on that."

Jeremy stared down the street, his expression unreadable. "I don't suppose there's any need to follow up with Molly Crane, something we might discover by breaking into her house later or interrogating her further."

I shook my head.

"Did she give you any other contacts? Let a name slip? Another dark-magic practitioner or black-market contact we should investigate?"

"Nothing."

He looked almost disappointed. Then he said, with a soft sigh, "I suppose it's on to Robert, then. I'll call the airport and see when we can get a flight to San Francisco or San Jose."

"One there for you and one to L.A. for me, I'm afraid. I need to be back on the set first thing in the morning."