Witches, Voids, and Other Sanity Suckers
Chapter 12

Given Az's warningabout something magical following me during my run, I'd like to cancel hershopping trip and focus on beefing up our wards. That's not practical, though.All she has is the small duffel of clothes Greta picked up for her a weekearlier. No identification, either. So much for letting her and Jose run wildwith the pack credit card and maintaining my sanity.

When I emerge from myfreshly bleached shower, she's waiting cross-legged on my bed with the box fromClaire's apartment. Three crystals and a bundle of dried black weeds are spreadout on my duvet. Fine. If she won't bother to respect boundaries, then whyshould I?

I drop my towel andpad the few feet to the dresser. She doesn't look up from the small wire-boundnotebook in her hands. That's… well, I'm not sure how I feel about that, to behonest. And I'm paying way too much attention to our resident pain-in-the-ass.Besides, it's too cold to be standing naked under an air vent. If she does lookup right now, let's just say it'll be a less-than-impressive experience forher.

"You should wearthe blue shirt," she says, flicking notebook pages and still not lookingat me.

I pull out a redHenley. I haven't let a woman dress me since I was six. I'm not about to startnow. Dressed, I toss a pair of socks on the bed and sit on the edge to put themon. One of the crystals rolls toward me and jabs me in the small of the back.Damn pointy crystals.

"Don't throw itacross the room. It'll just make a hole in the wall and piss you off," shewarns, finally glancing up from the notebook. "I think that I've beenthinking about this all wrong."

Well, there's astatement that could mean just about anything. I arch an eyebrow. She huffs androlls her eyes. We're getting this nonverbal thing down fairly quickly. If onlyI could trust her to follow my direction when we're in public.

"Claire writesabout the things her Master – her capitalization, not mine – has had her do.They're little things like stealing and performing surveillance spells. Shedoes mention working with a L.U. from another coven."

"We suspected hehad other minions that he was using."

"They killed agyrfalcon." Her nose crinkles. She turns the page. Her eyes flit acrossthe paper. "She suspected that someone she calls L.U. killed a youngcentaur."

A serious mistrust ofthe "human" justice system runs deep in the centaur community. Thesame can be said for most of the PC – the Paranormal Community. If a centaurwas killed, no one would report it to the authorities. The Herd would deal withthe threat on their own. I worked a missing leprechaun case once. Asking aroundfor information was a lot like banging my head against the wall and expectingan epiphany.

"Killed thecentaur because he/she was ordered to do so?"

"Yeah." Shetosses the book back in the box and wipes her hands on her jeans as if actuallytainted by the dead witch's writing. "He wouldn't kill the centaurhimself. There are lines witches can't cross."

I know this. It's whySally has often called me in to deal with a few nastier details. "If thebalance is upset, they may not be able to do certain things like healing orreading auras. Magical karma or some bullshit like that."

Az leans back on herelbows and crosses her ankles. Neon pink socks press against my hip. At leastshe doesn't have her muddy shoes on my bed. "It's not bullshit. It has todo with the type of energy you can draw on and a bunch of things you reallydon't care about."

She's learning. Hopefullythat means I won’t have to suffer through many unnecessary magic lessons. "Sohe has his minions kill for him so that his karma stays lily white."

"Well, if heordered them to kill it would cause a small stain, but nothing near the levelof actually doing the deed. Still, a centaur. That's harsh. They're loners.They avoid witches like the plague."

"Because witchescaused the Centaur Plague of 1883."

Her mouth falls open.What? I paid attention in my history classes. My degree isn't from a fancy IvyLeague school, but I majored in paranormal politics. She may know finer pointsof magical theory, but I know people – and that's a term I use veryloosely.

"We'll thinkabout it while we shop." I slap her ankles. "Let's get this overwith."

I have to remind herto pack up the box and bring it with us. I don't want to crawl into my bedtonight and jab myself with another crystal. Or crumble up the dried weeds. Forall I know, they're the key ingredients in an impotency spell.

Jose appears at thebottom of the stairs as soon as Az's foot hits the floor. He's grinning widerthan I've ever seen him smile before. She has a matching expression on herface. They look deranged. No way in hell I'm riding with the two of them in thefront of my truck.

"Find hershoes," I instruct Jose. "Meet me in the garage. We'll take Ike'sSUV."

I've had someoneworking on setting up an identity for Az. Her father hasn't sent anything ofhers, and I'm not entirely sure she wants to run around as Astraea Vardan. Shecan't hide from people who already know who she is or who can smell her bloodor whatever the hell it was Sally did. She can have some anonymity, though.Just one more layer protection the pack offers.

The guy I use isgood. He's the PC's version of witness protection. He will have already startedsetting up school records, old email addresses, and anything else a personneeds to have an established history. She won't have a driver's license becauseI'm not about to unleash her on unsuspecting (though deserving) Houstondrivers. A state id, pack membership id, bank account, and handful of creditcards should be enough.

"Can I be Jose'ssister?" she asks after I describe the nature of our first stop.

I glance away fromthe road long enough to peer in the rearview mirror at the duo seatedside-by-side. Jose's dark hair and skin, as well as his square jaw, are a sharpcontrast to Az's pale and elfin features. No one would believe they'resiblings. Besides, both of Jose’s parents are Shifters, so it’s impossible fora non-Shifter to be Jose’s sister. The key to a false identity is plausibility.

"Jose grew up inHouston. People will be surprised if a mystery sister pops up. You're Ike'slittle sister. He's from Shreveport. He doesn't talk about his past."

For good reason.Ike's a hereditary Shifter – the mutation is passed down through the father'sgenes and is recessive in females unless both parents are Shifters - and hisDaddy's never shown the slightest hint of fur or fang. Only Greta and I knowwhat Ike endured after his first transformation. Let's just say that I'mstarting to wonder if there's something in the water in Louisiana that makesfathers turn on their children.

"Okay," sheagrees. As if she has a choice.

It takes twentyminutes to get Az's identity sorted. Fifteen of those are wasted retakingpictures because they don't meet Jose's ridiculous standards. It's an id card,not the cover of People. Identification photos are supposed to lookshitty.

"You got mybirthday right," she says once we're in the SUV. All her cards are tuckedin the pink leather wallet Ike had purchased for his new 'sister'. She won'tstop staring at her pack membership id.

Yeah. It was realhard to look up a twenty-five year old birth announcement. Took a whole threeminutes on Google. "We're changing your name and your history, Princess,there are some things you get to keep."

Jose explains thebasics of video calls while I drive to Harold's Hallowed Emporium. I can't keepa straight face when I say the name, and the tiny store doesn't fit thedescription of 'emporium', but Harry stocks quality stuff. Unlike a few othershops in the area, he doesn't openly discriminate against Shifters.

Princess stays in thecar with Jose's phone – I make a note to get her something better than theburner – while Jose and I head into the store. This is going to be a disaster.I can feel it. It makes my teeth itch.

Jose's in charge ofthe list. I'm in charge of holding the phone up to the items for visualconfirmation from Az. She is in charge of getting on every one of my nerves.

"Could you holdthe phone steadier? All that wobbling is making my head hurt."

"No, no, tilt itto the left. My left. Okay. Now back. Closer. Whoa! Whoa! Too close."

"We want thenot-blue one. No. That's blue. I said not-blue. Yes. Green. That's what I said,isn't it?"

"Yean Finger.It's not an actual finger. It's a root that looks like a finger – not a humanfinger, though. It was named by the -." A moment of blessed silence. EvenJose looks a little frazzled. The phone rings. "Did you hang up onme?"

"Stop!" Hervoice echoes off the shelves. There's only one item left on the list. I sure ashell hope she's not making additions. "Turn around. Slowly."

Growling, I comply.This is the last time – and I mean the absolute last time – that I am doingthis with her. Any magic supplies she needs, she can order off the internet."What?"

She presses her faceagainst the phone as if that's going to make the image any clearer. "Iwant to see what's on the fourth shelf. The Gravita Inker. The – the copperthing that looks like a pitcher with an eyedropper in the handle."

I see it. It's toohigh for me to hold the phone up without looking like a dumbass. I reach for itto pull it down, but she stops me.

"No! Don't touchthat. Just… don't move!"

This time she hangsup on me. I call back. She doesn't answer. When I hit the redial button asecond time, I can hear Jose's phone ringing from behind me. A warm, solidweight slams into my side and wraps its arms around my waist. Two hot handswriggle under my shirt and clamp onto my flesh.

"The hell,Az?"

"If I absorb energyfrom you, I'm less likely to take enough from the items in here to negate theircharges. And, it's possible that the sheer amount of magic in the room won'toverwhelm me because I'm using your energy to block it out."

"It'll make youless crazy."

She tilts her headback to blink up at me. "Yes."

That's all I need tohear. "What's so special about the pitcher? We have a ton of pitchers athome."

"It's for blood.Not many rituals use blood – not anymore – but there are a few that do. TheGravita Inker has an inscription that keeps the blood fresh for up to twodays."

"So why couldn'tRick touch it?" Jose asks, shuffling closer to Az.

"Because it'sonly used in rituals that use Shifter blood. The rite that keeps the bloodfresh also keeps the Inker full. If a Shifter touches it while it's empty,it'll take blood from the Shifter." She scowls at the innocuous lookingdevice of doom. "And it's not friendly about it."

All the items on thatshelf are covered with a thin layer of dust except for the Inker. Someone'stouched it recently. Replaced a sold one, perhaps? Why in the hell is anyoneselling something that uses Shifter blood?

I send Jose off toreplace the last item on the list and check out. Princess and I need to have aconversation with Harry. A friend of the pack, indeed. With friends like Harryand Sally, why bother with enemies?

Harry's an agedhippie beanpole. He smiles congenially when I approach the counter. He evenoffers a wave to my void-turned-octopus. Az gives him a fairly impressivegrowl.

"Find everythingyou need, Rick?"

"I have aquestion about the pitcher in aisle eight. Top shelf. Copper. Weirdhandle."

Harry's cheeks flush.I can hear the changes in his heart rate and the hitch in his breathing.Busted. He licks his lips twice and swallows. Long, tapered fingers drum on thecountertop. "You don't want that, Rick. If it's a pitcher you need, I havea nice Waterford one behind the counter. Beautiful craftsmanship. It'll make agreat gift for a special little lady."

The special littlelady at my side starts to peel herself off me. I clamp a hand on her shoulder.Jose has just finished checking out and is moving toward us. I don't want herto drain the voodoo out of everything we just purchased. That would only meanhaving to repeat this exercise in patience.

"Here," Isay as I pluck the keys out of Az's pocket and toss them to Jose. "Runthose ingredients home. Greta's waiting on them. Pick us up at the ice creamplace around the corner. I promised Az a treat."

Jose doesn't argueover the change of plans. He flashes Az a worried smile before scurrying out ofthe store. I wait until I hear the roar of the SUV's engine to turn back toHarry.

"GravitaInker," Az mutters. Her fingernails have dug furrows into my skin."You have one."

"Oh, that old thing?"Harry's nervous laughter fools no one. The hair on the back of my neck standson end. I hate being lied to. Especially about things that threaten my pack.

"That 'oldthing' is the only object on that damn shelf not coated with dust." I takeparticular delight in the pounding of Harry's pulse. His fear is potent. Not awitch or anything other than human, Harry is fragile. So breakable.

"Rick, I'd never-."

"Who did yousell one to?"

"Mostrecently?"

I don't like thatquestion. It implies that there have been multiple sales of that damn device.My Shifters haven't been safe for a long time. How could I have missed it?

"All sales. Iwant to see the records."

Harry rushes tocomply with the demand. Fangs often translate the urgency of a request. Azslides her arms off my waist. The chill left in their absence only ratchets upmy anger. All it would take is one more lie out of Harry's mouth to send mestraight into a Shift.

Having a snarlingwerewolf in the middle of your store is bound to be bad for business.

"I doubt he'dtaste very good," Az remarks, hopping up on the counter. Her bouncingheels make the glass in front of the case shake ominously.

"Duplicity ishell on the digestion," I agree.

She grins as shespins then hops down on the other side of the counter. Normally, I'd stop herfrom being nosy, but Harry isn't my friend. Not anymore. He deserves whatever damageshe does to his inventory.

She runs a fingeracross every item on his 'private' shelves. A few objects require a bit morecontact. I let her run amok in Harry's shop because it's kinder than lettingmyself loose. She'll just ruin him financially. I'm more likely to make it apersonal attack.

At the first gigglethat erupts from her mouth, I leap over the counter. She's cradling a sapphireorb and cooing at it like it's a baby. Before she can lick it or stick it inher pocket, I grab her by the waist and tuck her up against me. The orb, now amuddy gray, goes back on the shelf.

"Okay, Princess.That's enough. Need a clear head for all the shopping we have left to do, don'tyou?"

"Just one more.Please?"

"No."

"Prettyplease?"

"No."

Her smile shifts fromsilly to sultry. Her eyelids droop. She melts against me. "I'll make itworth your while."

"You not beingbatshit is worth my while, Az."

And, just like that,she goes from seductress to pouting five-year-old. "You're no fun."

"Something youshould remember. Besides, I have a feeling you're going to regret this in a fewhours." At least I hope she does. If overloading on magic is like bingedrinking, then she's due for a hell of a hangover. That'd make a nice deterrentfrom running wild in magic stores every time someone pisses her off.

Harry's hands shakeas he hands over a pile of handwritten receipts. Most of the names don't meananything to me, but Az perks up at one. Lucretia Updike. L.U. The L.U. Clairesuspected of killing a centaur?

Centaurs are like Shifters.We don't consider each other family, but there are deep genetic similarities.Would a Gravita Inker work with centaur blood?

"Yes," Azmurmurs. "Whatever you're imagining, the answer is yes."

"Your pack issmall." When he was back retrieving receipts, Harry must have alsoretrieved his balls. "I can't deny customer requests because of your pack.You don't buy much, and the witches -."

"Stoptalking."

My arms and backtingle with the need to Shift. I have to get out of the store and away fromHarry before I do something I'll regret. Shoving the receipts in mypocket, I hop over the counter and then drag Az over.

"Sell one ofthese again, and it'll be the last buck you make." They're shitty lastwords, but it's hard to talk when you're fighting a Shift.

Az gives the door ahearty slam behind us. Two glass panes break. Harry's shouts of protest followus down the street.

Centaurs are like Shifters.The magic is different. So are the energy signatures. Since they're stuck in amid-Shift form, some people view them as half-Shifters. They're less violent,too. If you wanted to experiment on something like a Shifter without actuallyhaving to use a Shifter, then a centaur would be a good place to start.

Az slides a hand intomine. Her short legs have to work twice as hard to keep up with me, but shedoesn't complain. "Did you know that once upon a time, there were almostas many witches as trees in the Black Forest?"

"No." And Idon't see the point to this little story. I don't want to hear about anything involvingfucking witches. If she's trying to calm me down, she's doing a terrible job.

"It's an exaggeration,but there were over three thousand witches living in camps. They said the smokefrom all the cauldrons was so thick it was like fog. But there was a pack ofwerewolves in the heart of the forest. A medium-sized pack of about two hundredShifters. The witches crept closer and closer to the pack. They wanted all ofthe forest to themselves."

"Fuckingwitches."

"Fucking witchesindeed." She squeezes my hand. "Eventually, the witches attacked thewerewolves with silver weapons and arrows laced with wolfsbane."

I growl. She laughs."The wolves won. Two hundred Shifters versus three thousand witches. Onlytwo witches survived. The Shifters sent them out of the forest to spread awarning. There haven't been witches in the Black Forest since."

"I've neverheard that story."

Az shrugs. "It'snot something the Council wants spread around. The Tragedy of 1546 is what it'scalled."

Now that soundsfamiliar. "That was a plague."

"It was amassacre." She waves a hand dismissively. "Not the point."

"Oh? There was apoint?"

"Irritant,"she accuses with a chuckle. "The point is that witches fear Shifters.You may not have the magical capability, but you're stronger. Nearly impossibleto kill. Bursting with energy."

"We're athreat."

Her beaming, proudsmile burns away the urge to Shift. "To anyone looking to build a powerbase. Your pack is tiny, but you're well-known in the area. You're loyal.Smart. You have ties to the community. If someone tries to take over, it's agood bet you'll stand in their way."

"How do witcheskill Shifters?"

"With other Shifters."

Shifters will fightover territory or over anything, really, but we don't follow orders from anyoneoutside our hierarchy. Especially not from witches or the Council. Something Azwrote after the confrontation with Claire makes sense now. It would explain whysomeone would need centaur blood and why Claire spouted all that crap aboutdirty Shifters.

"Test tube Shifters."

Az frowns as sheconsiders it and then nods. "All of the strength and energy. None of thefree will. Perfect."

Perfectly shitty.

Az tugs on my hand tokeep me moving. "C'mon. I see Jose parked down the street. We need tofinish shopping. There's a store he told me about that sells amazing shoes. Nothingbut shoes. Doesn't that sound like fun?"

Is it too much to askfor the apocalypse to hit before the shopping marathon begins?