Witches Protection Program (8 page)

Scarlett stood behind Bernadette, who was watching the fleeting image of her niece escaping the building.

“Is she flying?”

Bernadette made a negative sound that turned into a chuckle. “No, Morgan doesn’t fly, but apparently she knows how to slide really fast.” She shook her head. “Naughty Morgan, what are you up to?” She turned to Scarlett. “Get Wu and Vincenza on it. Bring her back.” She looked at the younger woman’s vicious expression. “Scarlett, I don’t want her harmed.”

Scarlett smiled, and Bernadette wondered what she found amusing.

* * *

Morgan sprinted through the lobby, darting between the milling crowd. She heard someone shout, “Shut down the front entrance!”

Alarms blared, startling the crowd so that it went wild with fear. People made a mad dash for the exits, pushing to escape the building. Nobody knew what was going on, so they rushed the doorways. Breathing hard, Morgan slipped, her feet sliding out from under her on the polished marble floor. Pushing to her feet, she scrambled toward the revolving door, feeling it seize just before she felt the cool outside air hit her face. Half in, she squeezed through the opening, losing her jacket to the door. Her arm was scraped raw from wrist to elbow, but she was free. Breathing heavily, she looked about wildly to see if she was being followed.

“Here she comes,” Alastair said patiently.

Wes turned to see Morgan struggling to thrust herself from the jammed revolving door. He unbuckled his seat belt.

“Where do you think you are going?” Alastair asked.

“I’m going to help her.”

“Not so fast, Galahad,” Alastair cautioned him.

“She’s in trouble!” Wes started to leave the car, but Alastair’s hand restrained him.

“She’s got to come to us.”

“They’re never going to let her go. Look.” Wes motioned to the groups of security rounding the block to intercept.

Morgan knew they were behind her. She raced out of the building, skirting through the crowds. Glancing back, she saw Wu and Vincenza in the lobby. Wu pointed, and they rushed the revolving door, pushing people out of the way. As they emerged, the two split up. Morgan looked back, panicking for a moment. Three guards were headed up the street from the opposite direction. She was trapped.

“Holy shit,” Wes whispered. Watching the glass door, he felt chills erupt on his spine as two women burst through the entrance. One was Asian, the other very dark. Both wore black pantsuits. The air trembled before them. The Asian female wavered, then shimmered, transforming into a hawk. The other woman dropped to all fours, her movements feline, as a black panther leaped onto the sidewalk. People were shouting. Pandemonium broke out. It was chaos. Screams filled the air. Bystanders grappled with their cellphones, filming the hawk’s giant wingspan and the panther’s loping stride.

“Did you see what happened?” Wes yelled.

“Looks like a hostile work environment,” Alastair replied, flooring the accelerator and propelling the SUV over the curb to jump in front of Morgan. “Crap! By the evening news, everybody is going to be talking about witches. Get in, Morgan!” Alastair shouted.

Wes jumped out, the hawk attacking his shoulders with its sharp beak. He grabbed Morgan’s arm, lifting her off the pavement. The girl looked stunned. Wes turned at the sound of a growl in time to see the huge panther leap at him. Wes twisted, hauling Morgan in so her body was in the SUV. He felt Alastair grab the girl, relieving him of his burden. He kicked the panther squarely in the face, feeling its teeth catch on his shoe. The big cat bit hard. Wes cursed, feeling his shoe fill with blood. He grabbed Alastair’s umbrella from where it rested in the front, hitting the panther squarely on the head. The hawk shrieked loudly in his ear, its
razor
-sharp beak trying to get him from above. Wes pointed upward and pressed the lever. The umbrella sprang open, smacking the hawk so that it was propelled backward into an oncoming taxi’s front hood. The cab careened across four lanes, horns blaring. It plowed into a bus, bounced out, and landed on a fire hydrant, causing it to burst, releasing a geyser of water that would put Old Faithful to shame.

“Do something!” Morgan screamed, landing on the console between the two seats. Wes kicked at the panther, trying to dislodge its hold. Sirens blared. Wes heard a roar but wasn’t sure if it was the animal or inside his head. The hawk was back, pounding the windshield until it was pocked with several
spider
-webs of broken glass. There was a sonic blast; a stream of hot steam flew past him. Alastair held his
strange
-looking gun at the cat’s head, letting loose a steady fountain of a green foamy liquid that forced the beast to release his foot with a howl of pain. The panther fell on her backside, transforming into a swarthy woman with torn pants and blood dripping from her feral lips.

Wes landed in the truck, gasping, “Punch it!” He slammed the door. Morgan was sprawled on top of him, both of them panting.

The hawk was
spread
-eagled across the windshield, its pointy beak chipping away at the glass.

“Put on the wipers!” Wes yelled.

The wipers released the same foamy liquid that was in the gun. The hawk screamed as it relinquished its hold, falling to the side. Morgan glanced back to see Wu sprawled on the street, wiping the goo from her furious face.

“I hope you’re insured.” Wes pointed to the shattered windshield. “What was that all about?”

“Shapeshifting,” Alastair told him as he observed the woman who had been helped into the backseat.

“Take me to Queens,” Morgan demanded. She’d lose them when she’d jump into the subway, she thought quickly.

“What, do you think I’m Uber?” Alastair asked.

Morgan stared angrily out the window. “I don’t care what you do. I’m not answering any questions.”

Sirens blared as cop cars raced toward the building behind them. They moved toward the east side, the traffic thinning. Here and there, another cop car raced past them.

They slowed down. The danger had passed. Wes looked backward, confirming they weren’t being followed. He looked at Morgan, her hair streaming in her face, her clothes in disarray. She looked at him, her complexion drained of color.

“What were you doing that caused all that?” he asked.

Alastair watched the two younger people closely. He’d noticed the girl only had eyes for his partner. He stayed quiet.

“I didn’t ask for your help,” she told them rudely.

“You didn’t have to,” Wes responded hotly. “I don’t know where those things came from, but they could have killed you.”

Morgan swallowed hard, then shook her head. Alistair could see the gleam of unshed tears on her lashes. “No, they wouldn’t. You don’t know the first thing about them. They wanted something…They just wanted to take something back from me. They would never hurt me.”

Wes looked to Alistair for confirmation. The older man shrugged. He looked back at Morgan as if Alistair’s doubt confirmed his own feelings. “It didn’t look that way to me.”

Morgan ignored him, staring angrily out the window.

“You’re not going to let her go?” Wes demanded.

“Not right here and now, but as soon as we are safe, I will,” Alastair told him.

“This makes no sense! She’s in danger. They attacked me and would have torn her to ribbons if I didn’t step in the way.”

“You can’t protect a witch that doesn’t want interference. Right, Morgan?” Alastair looked at her in the rearview mirror, their eyes meeting. “It’s one of the tenets of their belief; it is based on freedom.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“I know,” Alastair said quietly, but his eyes never left the girl’s.

They approached the
Fifty
-Ninth Street bridge, easing between buses and sleek limousines. Morgan perked up. They were heading for Queens.

“Don’t get too excited. We’re not stopping there. This is to make sure we’re not followed.” Alastair turned to Wes, who was examining his foot. “How bad?”

“A puncture wound. Do you think I need a rabies shot?”

“Nah,” Alastair responded. “She was harmless, right, Morgan? You should see what Bernadette can do.”

“My aunt doesn’t shapeshift.” She handed Wes a rag she found on the backseat. Their fingers touched. A sizzle jumped from his fingertip to hers. Morgan pulled back her hand, noticing there was blood. She wiped it on the seat, but it didn’t come off.

“Yeah,” Wes said hotly. “I’ll bet she’s a Davina too.”

Morgan turned to the window, ignoring him.

“We want to know about Pendragon Glow,” Wes demanded. “You owe us that.”

“
Get in line at Macy’s,” Morgan said flatly. While she didn’t agree with her aunt, she would handle this on her own.

They stopped at a light. The car was silent, and the entrance to the bridge yawned before them. A cop lazily waved her arms, admitting the cars one at a time. Morgan sat up, feeling her back pocket for her phone. She gasped, searching her front pockets. It must have been in her jacket. The jacket caught by the revolving door.

“Lose something?” Wes asked calmly.

“None of your business.”

Before he could respond, the back window was hit, rocking the car with force. The hawk slammed its head against the glass, breaking though. Morgan screamed. Alistair looked for room to move forward fast. There was none. The hawk battered the back window, the tinkle of breaking glass filling the interior. Wes turned with the rifle, screaming, “Get down!” Morgan threw herself on the floor as a stream of the green liquid flew over her. Drops of condensation from the trigger leaked, and Wes heard Morgan gasp as they plopped onto her shoulder, burning her shirt. The hawk screamed like its raptor ancestor and moved so its body hung over the rear window, away from the frothing weapon. Wes smelled the sizzle of burning feathers. He pressed on, half out of his seat, but the hawk was now above them, gripping the shattered window frame with its fierce talons. Alastair pressed the accelerator, making the car jerk forward, then slammed hard on the brakes, forcing the hawk to lose its hold. It flew up and over the front of the truck, smashing into the police woman, taking them both down to the pavement in a frenzy of smoking feathers. Alastair careened past them, taking the outer bridge crossing and making it across in record time. He pulled into a parking garage on the other side of the bridge, entering what seemed to be a black hole. They drove five levels down. Alastair moved the car into a space in the corner. Exiting, he looked back into the darkened interior, saying, “Well, come on. We haven’t got all day.”

“Where are we going?” Morgan asked, following him to a small
four
-door Fiat.

“I’m taking you home,” Alastair told her.

Morgan shook her head. “It won’t be safe. I’ll find my way back on my own.”

Wes held her arm, a frisson going through the two of them. He shook his head. “Come with us.”

“No, no thanks,” she said grudgingly. “I have a safe place. Take me to Ninth Avenue.”

Alastair nodded, opening the door to the little black car. In thirty minutes, Wes watched Morgan get out of the car. She moved to the front window, looking deeply at them both. She opened her mouth to say something, then appeared to change her mind. Wes glanced at Alastair, and when he turned back to her, she was gone.

“This isn’t police work. This isn’t protection!” he shouted to Alastair.

“It certainly looks that way, but looks can be deceiving,” Alastair said calmly. “Every journey takes you somewhere. You won’t see your destination until you get there.”

Wes shook his head, his foot throbbing like a sore tooth, and muttered, “First I’m a chew toy, and now I’m stuck with Gandalf and Yoda’s prison child as a partner. Help.”

“Indeed. I’m taking you to Baby Fat to fix that foot of yours,” Alastair told him.

Wes leaned his hot head against the window, wordlessly mouthing, “Help…”

CHAPTER TEN

B
ernadette stalked her office, Jasmine looking small in the chair opposite her. Scarlett walked in, her face tight. “They’ve lost her.”

Bernadette spun, her face twisted. “How could you have let this happen?” She pointed to a monitor over the seating area. “Look, you idiot. I told you no shapeshifting! It’s going to be all over the news.”

Jasmine’s
tear
-stained face turned up to the two women as she repeated, “Shapeshifting?” in a hushed tone.

Scarlett looked at her, sneering. “Oh, shut up.” She turned to her seething boss. “I told them to be discreet!” she said defensively. “Don’t blame me. Blame your precious niece; she’s working with the feds.”

“Morgan is not working with them,” Bernadette told her firmly. “She wouldn’t betray me.”

“Yeah, sure,” Scarlett responded. She looked at the quaking assistant with disdain. “She shouldn’t be hearing any of this.”

“Like it’s going to make a difference now,” Bernadette said, her gray eyes glued on the news broadcast of the images of animals attacking the SUV. “It looks like they missed the transition.”

“It probably happened too fast. Nobody will believe the few that did see it.”

“No thanks to you. I need just a few more weeks. Is that too much to ask? First Morgan, then Washington, now this…” She sighed, sitting down. “And Jasmine, what am I going to do about you? Where did you put the papers I asked for?”

“I…I…” Jasmine stuttered.

“Out with it. Where are the papers Morgan signed?”

“She didn’t,” Jasmine blurted. “She was there, and then…I don’t know. She was gone, and so were the files. I’m so sorry, Bernadette.”

“I detest tears, Jasmine,” Bernadette said icily.

“Fire her.” Scarlett shrugged.

“I put too much training into her.”

Jasmine fearfully watched the two women talk about her as though she wasn’t there.

“At this point, she knows too much,” Scarlett offered. “You could kill her.”

Jasmine’s quick intake of breath alerted them to her rush for the door. Scarlett stayed her by raising her hand and squeezing her thumb and forefinger together. Energy shot from her fingertips to the girl, freezing her in her tracks. Jasmine rose off the floor, immobile and encased in a green fog. Her eyes were closed, her face relaxed.

Bernadette looked up at her floating assistant, dismissing her. “Oh, go do something with her already,” she told Scarlett. “Wipe her memory away. Make her as simple as she was before.” She threw her a look of warning. “I want her in working condition, Scarlett. Nothing devastating.”

“I’ll give her something else to think about,” Scarlett said silkily, touching the fine skin of Jasmine’s face. “When I suck her memory dry.”

Wu and Vincenza entered the door, interrupting the women. Vincenza was attracted to Scarlett and made no bones about it. Her smoky eyes took in Scarlett’s lush figure, and she purred like the panther she was not fifteen minutes ago.

Wu sneered, still blaming Scarlett for her broken nail.

“Where’s my niece?” Bernadette demanded.

“She got away,” Wu said through gritted teeth.

“You incompetent morons.” Bernadette leaned over the desk, her face white with rage. “You shapeshifted in public!” She pointed to the screen with fury. “By tonight, this place will be crawling with police and FBI, and every other agency will be breathing down our necks. If you’ve jeopardized the release of this cream, I will send you both back to the
two
-bit villages you came from!”

Vincenza threw a cell phone onto the stone top of the table.

“We found this,” Wu said with a triumphant sneer at Scarlett.

Bernadette picked up Morgan’s phone, scrolling down the messages. “Who’s this Gabby?”

Scarlett walked over. “Her best friend. Her only friend. Poor Morgan. Poor little witch girl,” she taunted.

“I don’t think you’re funny. She says here that she’s on her way.” Bernadette tossed the phone to Wu, who caught it deftly. “Think you can bring her back?” she asked snidely.

“I may have to shapeshift.”

Bernadette nodded, her face closed. “Don’t screw it up this time.” With a wave, she dismissed her, then turned her gimlet eye on Scarlett. “You’re still here?” She looked Jasmine, considering her. “She has such pretty skin. Do something that will keep her occupied so she won’t be thinking about what happened tonight.”

Scarlett nodded as she walked toward the exit. “Lovely skin, gone on a whim, and in its place, a
pus
-filled crater face.” She added as she left the room, “When you wake, we’ll commiserate, and in the end, you’ll see me as your only friend.”

Bernadette smiled. She could trust Scarlett. She always followed orders.

She held out a paper for Vincenza. “Go to public relations. I want a story of a photo shoot gone awry. Hire a bird and a cat.”

Vincenza growled, earning her a
tight
-lipped look from her boss. “Stop it already. It may be fun for you, but the cleanup is a bitch. I don’t want to keep having these issues.”

Vincenza slipped soundlessly from the room. Bernadette sat down, drained. Picking up the middle stone, she laid it on her chest, feeling the heat radiate into her cold heart.

With a heavy sigh, she pulled out the ancient book from her bottom drawer. It had a metal clasp that fell open with a touch of her finger. Wetting her pointer finger, she fluttered the fragile parchment. Her lips moved rapidly, and she made a sound of disapproval. Holding her finger in that spot, she turned a few more pages, smiling with satisfaction. Her whispered words were fast and in a language not many could comprehend. Satisfied, she picked up the phone, took a deep breath, and punched in a number. “There’s been a problem,” she told the person on the other end softly. Her gray eyes never left the book.

* * *

Scarlett walked out of the office. Jasmine floated after her, her smooth, caramel skin breaking out in ulcerated pockmarks. Jasmine slept on, unaware of her changing appearance. Scarlett watched the two other women enter the outer elevators to search for Morgan. Twirling her blond locks, she whispered, “Make Morgan disappear, I don’t care, so that I’m the one and
only
—Bernadette’s heir.” Snickering, she snapped her fingers, bringing Jasmine back to herself.

“Whew.” Jasmine smiled. “That was close. Thanks for saving my job.”