Witches, Voids, and Other Sanity Suckers
Chapter 19

After the attack, Az stays so close tome it’s as if she’s velcroed herself to my side. She hovers while Hank cleansand stitches the wounds on my torso. They’ll heal slower if I’m in human form,but I can’t get much done as a wolf. Someone has to update Greer, after all.

Jose and Greta are currently holed upin the kitchen preparing Greta’s chicken soup. It’s her cure for everythingfrom the sniffles to a broken limb. Judging by the smells wafting down thehallway, the soup will be accompanied by Jose’s flaky garlic biscuits. Theothers are either resting or reviewing the footage from the security camerasaround the house.

“Didyou fall in a ditch, roll around in mold, and then shove some in your ears?” Azasks from where she’s sprawled out on the couch in the study. Passing theenergy on to me relieved her of the need for a temporary break from sanity, butshe’s still prone to spurts of absurdity.

“No.”

“Hmm.” She taps her chin with her indexfinger. “Did you piss off a leprechaun? They’ll curse you for looking at themfunny.” She laughs. “They do look funny, though. Those big ears and that nose. Whew. I’d hate to be the leprechaun whohas to clean the bathroom.”

“There weren’t any leprechauns, Az.”

Her trying to figure out what is “off”about me is likely to drive me around the bend. I’ve told her to wait until she’sback at full capacity, but she doesn’t listen. Surprise, surprise.

“Good. Shifty little creeps. Can’ttrust ‘em.” She rolls off the couch and skips across the room. Her nose is inmy face before I can blink. “Dusty. You smell dusty. And wrong.”

“So you’ve said, Princess. About adozen times.” I push her away. She’s showered and changed, but the scent ofnot-Shifter blood lingers on her skin. It’s just enough to keep me on the edgeof Shifting. “Why’d you kiss me to transfer the magic? Does it always have tobe that way?”

Her wide grin opens the fresh wound onher lower lip. “Nope. Any touch at all will do it.”

“Then we’re back to why.”

“Gee, Ricky, if you have to ask thatquestion, then maybe I’m not doing it right,” she teases with a flirtatiouswink. She shoves aside the reports from the sensors and perches on the edge ofthe desk. She reaches for my phone, but stills before her fingers can closearound it. “Fudgesicles. Take offyour shirt.”

Does she think this is Chippendale’s? Idon’t strip on command. Not for free. Especially not when raising my hands over myhead hurts like a bitch. “No.”

She huffs, rolls her eyes. “Fine.” Shespins my chair around so that my back is to her. Warm hands slip under the hemof my t-shirt and dance up my spine before flattening over the Writ of Anglaistattoo on my shoulder. “It’s hot.”

“You can’t even see it, Princess.”

“Jerkwad,” she accuses without anyfeeling. “I mean it’s hot to the touch. Someone tried to use a memory spell onyou.” She presses her face against the back of my neck. The slide of her tongueacross my skin sends a shiver racing down my spine and through my pulse. “Yep. Memoryspell. It went splat as soon as ithit you. That’s why I smell dust. Shoulda caught it sooner.”

“Are you sure?” I want to take back thequestion as soon as it’s asked. I can’t doubt her knowledge. Not when it’s beenright so far.

She pulls away slowly. There’s a definite chill in the air betweenus. I try to turn, but her knees are keeping me in place. I don’t want to hurther by forcing the issue.

“I can’t do magic. I had to acceptthat. But when Dad told me that I wouldn’t know magic at all, I refused to rollover and give up. All I’ve done my entirelife is study magic. When I say I know it, I don’t just mean that I’m guessingor pulling stuff out of my ass. I knowmagic, Aldric, more than any Mage you’ll ever meet. I don’t know what else to sayor do to make you understand.”

“Okay, then. Memory spell.” I carefullyturn so that I’m facing her again. Her small, bare feet wind up in my lap. Ipull up the pictures I took from the scene and hand her the phone. “This iswhat we found near the spike.”

While she flicks through the photos, Isearch for any information I can replace on Mr. Joel Olivet. The website for MagSens is suspiciously rudimentary for atech company. All the links circle back to the main page as if the site isstill under construction. The contact button opens up a form that goes to theweb administrator’s address, which likely means it goes to no one at all. JoelOlivet is listed as a tech, but there is no contact information for him.

I’mnot in the mood for a conversation with Matt, but I need to know who the countyhas contracted to monitor the sensors. His secretary can’t go to the bathroom withoutasking for Matt’s permission first, so calling her is out of the question. Guessthat means I have to call Greer. Again.

Hedoesn’t remember Olivet. No one who was at the scene remembers the smarmybastard. Greer checks his notes, but there is nothing on Olivet. When hequestions my sanity and my sobriety,I text him the picture of Olivet. Still nothing.

Thepicture does keep Greer from hanging up on me, though. He listens to mydescription of the meeting and looks up information on who the county contracts.MagSense – with the “e” is the name of the company. Their website doesn’t listJoel Olivet anywhere.

When I tell Greer this, he asks who inthe hell Joel Olivet is and why he’s of interest. I disconnect the call. It’snot as satisfying as throwing my phone out the window, but it preserves thecrime scene photos.

“Good news,” Az chirps. “If it’s looping like that it’s not a totalwipe. I can break it, and Detective Greer will remember Mr. Olivet.”

“You don’t have to kiss him, do you?” Idon’t particularly want to envision Greer kissing anyone, but the thought ofhis thin lips anywhere near Az is revolting.

“Nah. Proximity should do it. All Ineed to do is negate the magic.” She retrieves the phone out of my grasp andstudies Olivet’s picture. “Warlock. Definitely. Memory spells, even the simpleones, aren’t for amateurs. They aren’t included in any spell books so they haveto be taught.”

“Is he from one of the old families?” Therehas to be a reason for the memory spell. It could be that Olivet’s hiding fromthe police for any number of reasons, but my gut says otherwise. Olivet’sinvolved in the not-Shifter mess.

“Not the list Uncle Evan gave me. Allof them have been accounted for. None of them are the bad guy.” Her nosecrinkles. “Well, they aren’t the bad guy we’re looking for right now.”

Another thing I’ll need to look forwhen I go through the Register of Witches. If Joel Olivet isn’t the smarmybastard’s real name, then I’ll be out of luck. My only other option at thatpoint would be to pass the picture around the PC community to see if anyonerecognizes him. Fun times.

“Uriah reads two levels below hiscurrent grade,” Az announces as she watches me log on to the RoW. “It’s why hehas a C in history. He works hard, though, and with a little help and tutoringshould do better in all of his classes.”

She doesn’t frame it as an accusation,but it still stings. I’ve tried to do all I can for Uriah, but the pack and mywork take up the majority of my time. The pack takes care of its own, but sometimeslittle things fall through the cracks. Uriah isn’t one to ask for help, either.

“I’m going to help him as much as Ican, and Jose will, too,” she continues. “Quinn wants to sit in on the tutoringsessions.”

“Thank you.”

She laughs. “Don’t thank me too much. Ihave an ulterior motive.”

What possible ulterior motive could shehave for wanting to help a teenager graduate from high school? My confusionmust show on my face because she laughs again. “Jose has a crush on one of thelibrarians. Spending time at the library will help Uriah and give Jose theopportunity to chat up the verydreamy Mr. Lucas Harney.”

Dreamy, huh? I can’t believe there’sanything dreamy about a librarian. Would a pretty-boy librarian be able toprotect her from a pair of not-Shifters? “Remember the rule, Az,” is all I cansay without sounding like a jerk.

“We’ll stay together,” she promises,eyes twinkling as though she’s heard my thoughts.

There is a Joel Olivet listed in theRoW. The address listed is far from where the bodies were found. There had beenno spikes near his Galleria-area house, but that’s not surprising. It’s badform to slay where you sleep.

Princess jots down all of Mr. Olivet’spertinent information. Something about the name of his mother – Mary-ReinetteDubois Olivet – makes her forehead wrinkle. Is it a name she recognizes? When Iask, she launches into a ten-minute ramble on a branch of the Dubois family whotried, but failed, to take the New Orleans region – both the magical andfinancial empires - from her great-great-grandfather in the late 19thcentury. I can keep up when she talks about prostitution, gambling houses, and brothels,but as soon as she starts talking about binding spells and draining wards sheloses me.

Salvation comes in the form of Greer andone uniformed officer. I send the officer with Hank and Ike to survey the damagedone to the neighborhood. Jose and Tommy have already started making a list ofwhat repairs need to be done. I’ll speak with the neighbors before the night isover.

Az shakes Greer’s hand. I can see themoment the memory spells falls apart. He reddens with anger. Veins bulge in hisneck and in his forehead. I fear, for a moment, that he’s going to stroke out inthe middle of my office. Definitely not something I need to cap off a shittyday.

I still don’t tell Greer about thenot-Shifters. He has enough to deal with, and my earlier reason stills stands. TheHPD isn’t equipped to deal with not-Shifters. Even if they were, Greer isn’t myfirst choice to lead the charge.

He grills Az on memory spells. I haveto give her credit for keeping her cool. She explains things in terms even asmall child could understand. Funny how she expects me to already know all themagic jargon, but she treats Greer like a layman.

“He’s not a powerful as he’d like youto think,” she says once her explanation is done. “A complete wipe would havebeen ideal. It’s draining, but doable. Even on the fly. Whatever he did beforehe met y’all killed his reserves. The cover-and-loop was an ugly Band-Aid.”

Greer storms out of the house, ready torain fire down on Olivet’s head for messing with Greer’s memory and hisprecious notebook. I don’t bother asking to be part of the team that searchesOlivet’s house. It’s unlikely he’s there. He’s probably hiding the remainingthe bodies. Or preparing his next round of not-Shifters. Either way, he’sworking away from home.

Over a dinner of heavenly soup andwarm, garlicky biscuits, I lay down the law. No one is to go anywhere withoutat least two other pack members. It means that a few will have to carpool, butit’s been done before. Az and I will drive Uriah and Quinn to school everymorning. Jose and Hank will stay homewith those too wounded to return to work. Had I made my proclamation before theattack, there would have been some grousing. With evidence of the dangerevident in bandages and broken bones, there are no complaints.

Hours later, movement outside mybedroom doorway rouses me from a light doze. I pull open the door expecting toreplace any one of the more nocturnal pack members. Princess, in pink plaid pajamabottoms and a gray t-shirt that looks suspiciously like one that used to be in my drawer, stands in thehallway. She looks shell-shocked.

“What’s wrong, Princess?”

It takes her a moment to turn toward me.Her movements are sluggish. Thoughtful. Her cheeks are flushed, and theknuckles wrapped around her book are white. “I was going to sleep with Gretaand Ike. The chair by their window is comfy, and they said they didn’t mind. Idon’t think they expected me up here this early.”

Ouch. I walked in on Greta and Ike somany times during the early years that I’ve learned to block out anything I mayaccidentally see. Most of the pack has done the same. For the uninitiated, ithas to be a little awkward. I’m not sure anyone ever gave Az the birds-and-beeslecture. If not, then watching a live demonstration has to be startling.

“I’ve never… I mean, I guess I shouldhave expected something like that at some point, but to see it… When you’re notexpecting it. I just….” She frowns, eyes me warily. “Is that something youlike?”

Ah, hell. What exactly did she walk inon? Ike and Greta have been in a relationship for years, and neither isparticularly inhibited. The possibilities are endless. They are, after all, thereason for the soundproofing. I’m notsure this is a conversation we need to have in the middle of the hallway.

Not that the location or thepossibility of being overheard seem to matter to Az. “I like you,” she says. “Really like you. So there are a lot ofthings I’ll do, and I’ll try just about anything once, but I’m going to have toput my foot down on this one. Just thinking about it makes me gag.”

With a hand on her elbow, I drag herinto my room. I pace in front of the closed door while I work through a jumbleof thoughts. “If, and this is a big if, we ever pursue a relationship there aretwo things you need to know. First off, I would never try to make you dosomething you’re uncomfortable with. If it’s no fun for you, it’s no fun for me,sweetheart. Secondly, we don’t have to dive into the deep end of anythingstraight off. We can talk about things. Whatever reservations you have can beworked out.”

“I’m ninety-five percent certain mytongue isn’t designed to work that way,” she interrupts.

Her tongue? She’s concerned about hertongue? The same tongue I’ve seen scrape across the wall of a holding cell? Whatin the hell did she see?

“I get that social grooming is ananimal thing. I’m sure it happens all the time around here. I’m just tellingyou upfront that you’re going to have to go somewhere else to get thatparticular need filled. Hairballs are not a turn on.”

“Grooming!” She caught Greta and Ikegrooming. Of course she did. It’s a comfort thing for foxes. Now I feel like acomplete jackass.

“What did you think I was talking about, Ricky?”

“I thought you walked in on them doing…it.”

Az blinks once. A sly smile stealsacross her face. “It? You mean sex. You thought I caught Greta and Ike havingsex.” She shakes her head and laughs. “It’s just a word. Three letters. S-E-X. Iwon’t swoon from the sound of it. Sex.”

Playful Az is my favorite, but not whenthe jokes come at my expense. And I really wish she’d stop saying sex so often. At midnight. In my room. Inmy t-shirt. At least Greta is spared the embarrassment of having to give her the talk.

I know I’m going to regret this, but Idon’t like surprises. “Have you even had sex, Az?”

“With someone other than myself? Nope.”

Oh. Thanks for that. Good news is I’llsave the pack money by not using as much hot water this month. I keep my eyeson the top of her head and not on herhands. God, those hands on those… hell.

Still smiling like a Sphinx, Az plopson the edge of the bed. “When I was seventeen, I spent seven months at theLibrary of Sheiala near Seattle. Largest collection of books in the PacificNorthwest. The Librarians are big on spreading knowledge and, fortunately forme, not real big on keeping guests locked up. As long as I stayed quiet and didmy chores, I could read anything I wanted.”

I’ve noticed that she’s had access tobooks in every place she’s been. Perhaps that’s why she enjoys reading so much.It’s the only constant she’s ever had. That explains why she was so appalledover Uriah’s reading difficulty.

“So you read about sex,” I say. She wasseventeen. That’s not really surprising.

“Oh, I read everything. Romances. Self-help books. Religious texts. Instructionmanuals.” She waggles her eyebrows. “I even got my hands on a copy of the Kama Sutra.”

“Yeah. Real accurate picture you gotthere, Princess. I’m not sure half those positions are physically possible.”

“I would never try to make you dosomething you’re uncomfortable with,” she deadpans.

Bitch. “Go to bed, Az.”

“Can’t.” She pouts. Drags her knees upto her chest and tries to look as pathetic as humanly possible. She’sdisturbingly good at it. “I washed my hair so Jose’s out of the question. Hanksnores. Ike and Greta are, obviously, unavailable. I’m not cozy enough with theothers to show up on their doorsteps. Besides, most of them are hurt andcranky.”

“Here’s a thought: how about you sleepin your room? You know, that pink monstrosity designed just for you.” The onewith the brand new memory foam mattress and the iron headboard that weighs morethan its appearance would suggest. The bed she has never, as far as I know,spent a single night in.

“You,” she starts softly, pauses tolick her lips, “and the pack are everything I’ve ever dreamed of having. Everything. And dreams don’t come true. Notin the real world - especially not in my world.”

I know where this is going. After yearsof indifferent caregivers and having only herself for companionship, she’sbasking in the novelty of being part of a family and she’s fearful it’ll alldisappear. “If you go to sleep by yourself, you’re afraid you’ll wake up thatway.”

“Yes.”

Okay, Princess. You win. “Get in bed. Leftside. Under the covers.”

“I don’t have to go to sleep rightaway, Rick. I have my book, and there’s a perfectly good chair.”

Knowing her predilection for perchingon my furniture, it’s more likely she’ll camp out on the armoire. “The hellyou’re keeping me awake with that damn booklight. Get in bed.”

When at home, I don’t sleep Shifted. Ineed to be able to do human things like answer the phone, open the door, andfire a gun. Az sleeps with the others intheir animal forms, though, and after the big conversation we just had aboutbeing comfortable I don’t want to screw up before we even get out of the gate.

Az is already tucked in on the leftside of the bed when I emerge from the closet. She snaps off the bedside lampbefore my first paw reaches the mattress. The bed creaks under my weight. I’venever slept in this bed as the wolf. I hope to hell I don’t rip up the sheets.

“G’night, Ricky,” she murmurs into thedarkness.

The scent of magnolias curls around meas she moves. She rolls back and forth six times before heaving a weary sigh. Great.Neither of us is going to get any sleep. This was a terrible idea. I raise myhead to look at her.

“Sorry. Sorry.” She rolls again. Onearm lands across my torso. Az stretches out along my back so that the point ofher chin digs into side of my neck. Warm, even breath stirs the hair on myears.

On pack retreats I sleep alone. I’venever Shifted in the presence of a romantic partner. I’ve never been secureenough with one to expose myself in such a manner. Shifting is personal. Thewolf is vulnerable in ways the human form isn’t.

Az isn’t the only one treading in unchartedterritory.

And she’s not the only one who fears it’llvanish with the rising sun.