Shadow Rites: A Jane Yellowrock Novel (22 page)

The fog heralded cooler air, the first hint of real fall, and promised rain soon. No surprise there. New Orleans got an average of sixty-four inches of sky juice a year, and had no rainy season. Or, rather, it was rainy season all year long. In the distance, I heard a tugboat sound, long and low, and the fainter roar of traffic starting. Not even dawn and it was starting up.

My cell tinkled. Bruiser handed it to me and I answered, “Morning, Molly.”

“It’s Angie,” she said, tears in her voice. “Something’s wrong, Aunt Jane.” And then she dropped the phone. I heard it clatter.

“Angie,” I whispered. “Angie!” I shouted.

Bruiser was already moving. I whipped my entire body through the long narrow doors and inside, gathering up my clothes and weapons in one arm. In a single lunge, I leaped for the gallery and landed on the street three stories below. Bruiser hesitated a fraction of a second before he threw a satchel at me. I caught it one-handed, hearing the clank of weapons and gear. He gripped the railing on his gallery and swung to the railing one floor below him, then leaped to the ground. He beeped his car open while he was still in the air.

I was still dressing when a half-naked Bruiser peeled us out of his parking space and made a tire-screeching turn the wrong way up a one-way street. I had only two vamp-killers, a few stakes, and the two matching Walther PK .380s, loaded with standard ammo. No silver. None of Molly’s preset spells. And, “How did someone get through the wards?”

“What’s new at your place?” he asked as he took a turn too fast.

“People. Witches, a nonfamiliar cat, a vamp, a werewolf, and a grindylow. Pretty much everything,” I said, pulling on last night’s pants under Bruiser’s too-big shirt. I slid my arms through the shoulder holster, which was permanently sized to me, handmade of nylon and leather, the grips turned out, for a fast two-hand draw. I didn’t bother with the jacket. “Oh. Wait. Crap. Leo gave us the brooches to have Molly and Evan look at them, check out the spells on them. Eli would have taken them inside, but it was too late to wake the Truebloods. If it’s the same two attackers—”

“They got in with a
Trojan horse
spell.” Bruiser braked hard and the antilock brakes stuttered on the wet pavement two blocks from my house. The fog was thicker here, the SUV’s lights vanishing into it only inches from the front bumper. The streetlights were off the length of the street. So was the electricity. I remembered the scan spell. The entire street hadn’t lost power, then. Bruiser pulled into a parking space and killed the motor. “Can you see the wards?” he asked, opening the door and dressing fast while standing in the street.

“Yes.” In mixed human and Beast-vision I could make out the wards, the overlapping color stamp of an Everhart Trueblood working, red and blue and bright emerald green, sparking through with rainbow-hued motes of power. “I can’t tell much through the fog. They look fine, but . . .”

“But you know they aren’t,” he said, stamping into combat boots. “The ward is keyed to you. I won’t be able to get inside.”

“If it’s the same two witches, they took up places under two streetlights across the street from my house.”

“Got it.”

I got out and we closed the doors softly, simultaneously, though the sound of them slamming would have been swallowed by the fog. A form swept at us through the night and Bruiser was suddenly standing in front of me, a sword I hadn’t seen him strap on in his hand and held to the intruder’s throat.

The man made a small “Eeep” of sound, his arms out to the sides to indicate a lack of weapons, before saying, formally, “It is Edmund Killian Sebastian Hartley, the Enforcer’s primo.”

Bruiser dropped the point of his blade and Edmund moved to me. He was fully vamped out, fangs, talons, and the blown black pupils in scarlet sclera, but he was in complete control, calm, which was something I seldom saw a vamp do. His power sparked along my skin, frigid as sleet. “There are two witches, under strong multiple wards, obfuscation workings, keep-away workings, and something I have never seen before, which strikes fire and burns hot. I saw a rat incinerated and I backed away.”

“Did they see you?” I asked.

“No. They do not know any of us are here. But their workings are attacking
inside
the wards, and the Truebloods have not keyed their protections to me,” he added with a snarl. “I may only enter when they permit.”

“I’m going in.” I heard the men talking as I dashed to my house, but their voices were swallowed by the mist. I raced ahead, nearly tripping when a curb appeared where I hadn’t expected one. I ran through the ward, a heated zip of power. Silently I opened the front door. A pale greenish
liquidlike gas roiled at my feet and out the door. I left the door open and it poured into the street. I slipped inside, and the smell hit on my first attempted breath. Something bitter and so pungent it stole my breath.

Poison? A magical equivalent of poison? I left the door open and the spell flowed into the street. Forcing my lungs not to cough and therefore inhale a deeper breath, I raced up the steps and into the kids’ room. I threw open the windows in their room, grabbed both of my godchildren up, Angie off the floor and Little Evan off his bed. Molly’s cell phone clattered to the floor. As it hit, I saw something in the shadows that didn’t belong there, but there wasn’t time to examine it. I raced back down the stairs, lungs burning, oxygen starved, fighting to take a breath. Desperate for air, I lowered a shoulder and shoved through the side door, banging it open, hearing wood splinter and snap. Through the ward again, I stumbled into the backyard, where I started coughing and sucking fresh air. The sound was dry and rough and I wanted to throw up, feeling weird, as if I couldn’t get enough air, though I was hyperventilating. I pulled on Beast to make it to Edmund’s car. I opened the driver door and laid the kids on the seats.

Edmund dropped from the air to my side, having leaped over the tall brick fence. As I practically coughed up my diaphragm, he said, “Poison gas. I have notified Leo, who is calling in Lachish Dutillet and a magical Haz Mat team to deal with the gas flowing into the streets. We have to get them all out, strip off their clothes, get them oxygenated, and wash their bodies.” While speaking, he had been stripping Little Evan and laid the child in the grass. He leaned over and began artificial respiration on the little boy while scooping Angie to him and starting to strip her as well. Part of me wanted to stop him—it felt wrong to see the adult stripping the kids, but he worked with almost military precision and there was no yuck factor. And I was pretty busy, hacking up my lungs, coughing with an awful tearing, wet sound, pulling on Beast for healing. It was surreal and awful and— “Jane!” Edmund barked. “You can breathe later. Get the others. Now!”

“I’ll drop them down to you,” I said. Turning, I raced
back through the ward, inside, forcing myself to hold my breath.
Breathe later. Right.
Tears streamed down my face as the poison magic stung my eyes. My lungs burned as if they were melting, but I held the coughing in.

The wards were air-permeable. Therefore they were gas-permeable. Open to any spell that used air to attack, and with the brooches here, the witches had a focus to use to set the spell. Stupid, stupid,
stupid
, each and every one of us.

Licked Alex’s Head

Halfway up the stairs, I had to breathe and sucked the gas into me. Beast threw herself at me in a panic, her claws ripping at me. “Fine,” I said to her between coughs. The Gray Between erupted out of me, my skinwalker energies started healing me, and I slid into the place where time slowed. The poison mist around me developed visible layers, much more pale and gauzy at the top of the stairway where the concentration of the heavier-than-air mist was beginning to clear. I managed not to breathe until I reached the second story, but I still went light-headed when I sucked in the breath.

I stumbled into Molly and Big Evan’s room, opened the windows here too, and grabbed Mol’s arm, rolling her into a fireman’s carry, to stagger across the hallway, through Alex’s room. Once again, I rammed the door with my shoulder, breaking the window glass, which started to fall as I shoved past, then hung in the air, as the Gray Between followed me through the broken door, between the striating energies of the wards, and out onto the second-floor gallery. If we survived this, there would be a lot of repairs.

I let go of the time change and alerted Edmund, by coughing, that Molly was on the way down. When he looked up from where he was washing the children’s bodies with the garden hose, I tossed Molly through her own ward. In a pop of displaced air, Edmund was suddenly below her and caught Molly. She was not going to be happy when she woke up naked in the backyard, but I could live with her anger as long as they all lived.

“More coming,” I managed, and bubbled time again, as I staggered back, into Alex’s room. The taste of acid and cooked blood was instantly nauseating, but I bent and pulled him over my shoulder too. I stood and carried the heavier-than-expected teenager out to the gallery and threw him off. He hung in midair just as Edmund started to look up and I knew the vamp would catch the Kid. Fangheads are fast.

I staggered across the porch to Eli’s room and tried the door handle. It was unlocked and why not? Why worry about security? The wards were up. I pulled the elder Younger up and over my shoulder and out to the gallery, where I propped him over the railing. I let go of the time bubble and focused on Edmund below me as he caught Alex and laid him on the ground beside Molly.

“Next,” I said, and let Eli go.

Eli windmilled, arms and legs flailing limply, but Edmund caught the much heavier man like a baby and laid him on the grass, but Edmund didn’t have to strip him. Eli slept commando. Who knew? Beside him on the grass, Angie Baby and EJ were coughing and shivering, waking up, cold and crying.

I pulled the Gray Between of no time back over me and nearly hit the floor as pain cut through me like a dozen blades all at once. Limping back inside, I coughed so deep I thought my intestines might be involved. The pain of bending time started there, low in my belly, that hot, churning misery and the taste of my own blood rose up my throat. I had never gone back and forth between real time and no time so many times in succession, and it wasn’t helping my digestion. The pain sliced deeper, and I was having trouble drawing a breath.

I pulled on Beast and she flooded my system with adrenaline and pain-relieving endorphins as I made it back to Molly and Big Evan’s room. The big guy was six feet six inches tall and weighed in at an easy three fifty. I was strong, but . . . I bent my knees, grabbed his left arm, and put my shoulder into his middle. I let his own weight roll him over me as I squatted low to the floor and took his mass onto my back and shoulder. I barely made it to my feet and when I did, I felt something tear in me, a long, linear pain down my abdomen, from the bottom of my ribs, down along the right side of my navel. Acid rose in my throat, tasting of sour, cooked meat, of blood seared in stomach acids. I staggered across the wide hallway, seeing a glimpse of someone near the front door. I made it to the gallery before letting the Gray Between snap away. I rolled Evan’s butt to the top of the railing and was absurdly happy he slept in boxers as I let time go and watched him fall toward Edmund.

The vampire grunted as he halfway caught the much bigger man, but momentum allowed Evan’s leg to whack on the ground hard, twisting his knee. He’d have an injury. I caught my belly, feeling the twisted agony of torn abdominal muscles beneath my fingers as I turned to go back inside and Edmund called up, “That’s all of them.”

“I don’t think so,” I said, and returned to house.

“Jane!” he shouted. But he was outside the ward.

There was a slow breeze blowing through from the opened windows and doors, and the gas was nearly gone on the upper floor. I was coughing but I could breathe.

Sick and trying to die, I went back to the children’s bedroom and the strange thing that shouldn’t have been there. Brute and the grindylow, stretched out on the floor near EJ’s bed. There were claw marks in the wood of the floor between the doorway and where the werewolf lay. The werewolf had been trying to claw his way to the bed. To save the kids? Yeah. He had waked Angie and sent her to get the cell phone and then had come back for EJ, Angie following, talking to me.

I tucked the neon-green baby grindylow beneath an arm, grabbed Brute by his back paws, and dragged him down the
stairs. His head bumped each time I took a step, and I knew he’d have a headache, but no way could I lift another three-hundred-plus-pound anything over the railing.

I plucked the cat off the back of the sofa, hoping her nonfamiliar magics had kept her alive in the heavier, denser poison, and pulled Brute to the side door, which was hanging off its hinges, and out onto the side porch. “More,” I said, my voice breathless.

“I am not giving mouth-to-snout resusitation,” Edmund said, sounding prudish.

I managed a laugh, two syllables of amusement that ended up in a cough so deep it sounded as if my lungs were coming up in chunks. And I threw up. Blood went everywhere. I fell, the wooden porch floor rising to meet me with a wallop. I succeeded in saying, “Yes. You will. Dog and cat both. Your word.” And everything went sparkling gray as Beast reached into me and forced me into the change. My tendons snapped, my bones popped and broke. Pain cut through me like razors flaying sinew from joints. All I could think was
It’s about dang time
. Because if this wasn’t changing in extremis, nothing was.

The change was swift, but I caught a glance of Angie Baby, standing in the grass, wrapped in a silk sheet. She reached a hand out to Edmund and placed her fingers in the gash on his wrist, taking away bloody fingertips. “As you have sworn, so I swear to you, fanghead. I’ll take care of you for as long as I live.”

No! No!
But the words didn’t come. And the shift took me as the wards fell.

*   *   *

It was daylight.
I am Beast. I am Beast all day.

“I am done,” Edmund growled from the shadows of the gallery porch. “They will all live.”

I, Beast, yawned, showing killing teeth to Edmund as he raced inside, his skin smoking with the rising sun.
Stinking vampire skin smoke. Does not smell like food. Smells of rotten meet from old kill.
I followed vampire to see where he would lair.

Edmund shoved open the shelf door, rushed into weapons room, and pulled it closed behind him. He did not take
lower entrance to vamp-lair as Jane had ordered. Jane would be mad. But he had saved witches and humans. Vampire had earned access through inside of house, through weapons room bookshelf door. Vampire had become litter mate. Litter mate would make Jane mad too. Beast chuffed with humor.

Beast stretched, from front paws, along front legs and with deep dip of spine, through hips and back legs to back paws, scratching with claws on wooden floor. I shook pelt, feeling it slide over bones and muscle. Beast padded outside to Brute. Brute was on ground, licking vampire blood off jaw. Smell of Edmund was strong in yard. Vampire had fed each of them. Vampire had given much blood.
Vampire is good hunter and good mother to kits.

Inside us, Jane laughed.
I’ll be sure to tell him that.

Beast walked to face Brute and reached out with front paw. Patted dog on nose. Leaned in, nose to nose, and breathed his breath. Shared breath with Brute. Breathing. Breathing. Bonding. Brute made sniffing noise. And licked Beast nose. Tongue tasted of vampire blood. Stupid dog. I sneezed, sharing snot with dog. Dog licked Beast snout. Not dog.
Wolf
. Brute was good . . .
wolf
. He licked cat snot off his nose and licked Beast nose again. Brute tried to save EJ. Was part of litter mates now. Did not like werewolf being part of litter mates. Would have to think of this.

Lay down on wet grass beside Brute and stared at Molly. All litter mates were wearing sheets, sheets that smelled of Edmund. Looked to Edmund’s car. Trunk was open.

Edmund used his sheets. Silk sheets,
Jane thought.
Very
expensive
silk sheets, to cover them. To give them a sense of privacy
.

Better to have pelt,
Beast thought.

Grindylow crawled from Brute to Beast and groomed Beast’s back. Felt good. Needed cow meat to eat, but grooming felt good. Looked at car. Wanted to hunt cow in car, but Edmund would not wake until dark.

Molly said words and ward fell in shower of sparks. Molly said other words under breath so kits did not hear, but Beast heard, and chuffed with laughter. Molly turned to kits and saw Angie with blood on her face, blood on her
hands. Hissed like mother big-cat. “What have you done?” Ran to Angie, holding sheet under arms. “Angie. What did you do?” Molly turned Angie face to light of morning sun. “Son of a witch on a switch,” she said.

Beast studied Angie Baby. Angie had blood across face in lines. Beast could count to five. Angie had five lines of blood. Vampire blood.
Angie swore to vampire
.

A blood vow. Holy crap in a bucket,
Jane thought.
Molly is gonna kill me.

*   *   *

When all humans and witches were awake, Beast was more than hungry. Was dying of hunger. Eli was thawing cow meat in little noisy box that made meat run in circles like stupid cow-prey, around and around. Big Evan, still wrapped in sheet, went to front of house and out into street. Beast followed Evan, to watch from front porch. Fog stretched in long streamers, moving like water in street, hiding Beast from human eyes. Evan went to far side of street and bent down, big butt in air. Looked like prey, backside of bull, but was litter mate. Remembered litter mate. But was hungry. Smelled cow on air.

Bruiser was with Evan. Both looking at ground.

Walked out of house to Evan and Bruiser. Not stalking. Not stalking. Not stalking big not-cow-butt. Walking. Sat near Bruiser’s feet and looked at ground where Evan looked. “What do you think, Jane? These small patches of ground that have been disturbed. Shall I dig in it?”

Beast sneezed.
Am not Jane.

I’m here. And I see it too.
Jane lifted paw and placed it over spot in ground where grass had died. Magic stung Beast like bee. Jumped back. Beast growled at bee that was not bee. Was dirt. And magic. Shook paw.
Hurt!

“Be careful,” Bruiser said. “I smell magics still working.”

Jane thought,
I forgot about Bruiser when I went through the ward. Molly needs to cue them to him so he can get through, though I guess he might be dead now from poison if he had gotten inside. There is that
.

Beast ignored Jane, watching Big Evan dig in stinging ground. Smell of magic grew, like smoke from white man’s fire that got away, into woods, into downed trees. Big Evan
jumped. Was saying words Jane did not like, but Jane laughed.
Yeah. It hurt us too,
she thought.

“I think these might have been here since the first attack, the scan Janie told us about. The magic is still active, painfully so.
Arrrg!
” He cursed and swore and Jane laughed again. Bruiser stepped away from the digging. Bruiser was smart. “Yeah,” Evan said. “These have been here awhile. They were buried several days ago. Which means for certain that the attack tonight was brought about by the two women who scanned you earlier, Jane.” He pulled something green from the dirt. It looked like leaves, but it smelled like iron. Iron and salt.

Evan shouted to Molly and she came into street. Was dressed in Molly clothes, but still smelled of Edmund blood and stink of poison. “What in heaven’s name are you doing in the street in a sheet? Wait. What’s that? It looks . . . It looks dangerous.”

“It is. And if I’m guessing right there will be another one down there,” Evan said.

Beast trotted down street, nose to ground like stupid dog. Found witch magic stink and sat, front feet together.

“Yeah. Good girl, Janie,” Big Evan said.

Snarled at Big Evan.
Am not Jane. Am Beast. Am hungry.

Big Evan dug in earth and pulled another iron magic thing from ground near Beast feet. This one was green, and stank like blood. Like blood of human. Evan made strange noise, like kitten. Dropped sheet. It slid to the earth, leaving Big Evan standing naked.

“Evan?” Molly said running over. “What—” She saw what Big Evan was holding. Molly raised doubled fists into air. Hit blood-magic iron and it fell from Evan’s hands. She pushed Evan away. Wrapped sheet around him.

Evan touched blood-magic iron,
Beast thought.

He’s spelled,
Jane thought.
Not good.
Big Evan dropped to ground and head bounced on grass. Molly shouted for Eli. Jane and Beast trotted close and sniffed iron thing.
They’re shaped like ovals—carved like scarabs, like the center gem of the brooches.

Destroy iron things and spell will stop?
Beast thought.

They are focal icons—things that carry witch power—that can be used to harness energy and power for spells,
Jane thought, trying to make sense of it all.
Iron is abnormal for a spell-power focal item, but . . . I don’t know. Something’s hinky here. These have been used in ways similar to a permanent witch circle.
Jane looked up and down street.

Beast thought,
Sun is rising. Want cow meat.