Witches, Voids, and Other Sanity Suckers
Chapter 31

Az’sear stays glued to her cell phone on the drive to the Patriarch’s River Oakshome. She checks in with Jose and relays my instructions to Greta. Her call toGreer is mercifully brief. She gives him a minimum amount of informationregarding the kidnapping. He doesn’t put up much of a protest when she informshim that HPD support would not be turned away but outright interference wouldnot be tolerated. The PC takes care of its own.

Shemakes one last call as I pull in to the driveway in front of a massivelimestone reproduction French chateau. Who is she calling? Is she checking upon Quinn and Uriah? They didn’t go to school, so an update on them should havebeen included with Jose’s report.

“Heis a child! You should be ashamed of your behavior,” she snaps at the person onthe other end of the call. The knuckles gripping her phone are white and hereyes are incandescent with rage.

“Thereis always collateral damage in war. Do not worry so about one child. You and Iwill build a dynasty.” Olivet’s smooth voice fills the cab of the truck.

“Childrenare to be protected. Cherished. Not used as pawns in a power struggle.” Azsucks in a steadying breath and exhales shakily. Her jaw is so tense I fear forher teeth. “If Daniel is harmed, if he has the slightest scratch, I will takegreat pleasure in burning your entrails for divination. While they are attached.”

Sheends the call and slumps as if all the bones in her body had been turned toliquid. I expect to see tears streaming down her face, but her cheeks are dry. Whenher phone’s case creaks, I pry it out of her clenched fist.

“Itold you not to call Olivet.”

Hereyelids fall shut. A heavy sigh lifts her shoulders. “It’s a good thing I don’tpossess the power my father wishes I did,” she says. “There are days when Ilong for the ability to set the world ablaze and salt the ground so that nolife grows again.”

Well,when she puts it like that, I’m pretty damn glad she doesn’t have that sort of power, too. There isn’t much I can say to makeher feel better. If she needs reassurance, she’s in the truck with the wrongperson. I can commiserate, though.

“Humanity’snot so bad, you know. It’s people that suck.”

Mirthlesslaughter spills from her lips. “People suck,” she echoes. “I should embroiderthat on a pillow.”

Iopen my door. We won’t do Daniel any good if we sit and chat for half an hour. “Youcan embroider?”

“Nope.Never learned. Who would trust me with a needle?”

Excellentpoint. I don’t return her phone, but I let her cut off the circulation in myfingers as we walk up the wide driveway. Blood smears cover the textured porchand gradually form larger pools closer to the house . The forged iron handleson the pair of oversized doors show signs of having been exposed to high heat. Thewood around the back plates is charred.

Stillkeeping her death grip on my hand, Az skirts the largest of the puddles andstops in front of the doors. She swipes a finger through the black residue onthe handles before popping her finger in her mouth.

“InvisibleFire,” she says, wiping her damp finger on her jeans. She tastes the breezewith her tongue before curling it back inside her mouth. “Quiet, but effective.Points to him for subtlety.”

Irefuse to give Olivet points for anything. While she checks the magic, I sniffthe cracked doorframe. The wet-fur scent of not-Shifters is nearlyoverwhelming. They all smell so similar that I can’t tell how many Olivetbrought on his goon squad.

Everythingwent down in the foyer.

Itlooks like a hurricane hit the room. Pieces from a marble table top litter thehardwood floor. The wheel-style crystal chandelier hangs to the ceiling by one ofits three slender chains. The wall is dented in a dozen places and a fichustree is imbedded in the plaster.

“Footprints,”Az says, drawing my attention downward. She tests the limits of my reach bywandering to the fichus. Her tongue scrapes across one of the waxy leaves. “Subduingspell. Weak one. He was in panic mode.”

“Itdidn’t work. I think he got more resistance than he expected.” I drag her alongas I follow the pattern of footprints. Four sets of distinct clawed-and-paddedprints and one set of human shoeprints. Olivet and four not-Shifters. Two setsof centaur hooves. Adult centaur hooves. The kid didn’t leave through the frontdoor.

Azand I walk through my interpretation of the fight. There are no signs ofweapons, but that’s hardly a surprise. Centaurs rely on magic and theirstrength. Not-Shifters are weapons. Thereis a fair amount of blood in the foyer, and we follow a trail of droplets downa wide hallway to the kitchen.

Thecooling body of Katya Liakos, Dowager Matriarch of the Herd, is on display inthe breakfast nook. An entire block of chef’s knives pins her limbs to thetable like a specimen ready for dissection. Her chest cavity has been torn openand her lower jaw is missing.

“I’mnever eating another banana again,” Az gripes as she carefully makes her way tothe corpse. “Check this out, Rick.”

Mostof the blood on the table is the dead Dowager’s. There are three distinct poolsof blood that stand out from the rest, though. They are thinner. They haven’tcongealed yet. If I tilt my head just right, the blood has a faint shimmer.

“It’sthe magic,” Az says when I raise an eyebrow. She grabs my hand and uses it topoint at the closest pool of strange blood. “Olivet’s scared. You’ve handledhis not-Shifters better than he planned. He’s pumping more magic in them. Wastinghis resources.”

“Gettingdesperate?”

“Desperateenough to attack the Patriarch’s home and kidnap a child.”

Inmy experience, a desperate warlock is more dangerous than an unpinned handgrenade. Okay. We can deal with this. I just need a clear picture of oursituation. “Will he burn himself out doing this?”

“No.”Az leans forward so that she’s only a few inches over the blood pool. Shesniffs but doesn’t lick. “He’s stealing from witches, so he has reserves. Plus,the Mage directing him has likely given up a bit of power as a boost.”

“Nochance Olivet is doing this on his own?”

“You’vespoken to him, Rick. What do you think?”

Yeah,we’re not that lucky. So not only will we have to put down Olivet, but we’llhave to take on the Mage pulling his strings. Two bad guys for the price of oneinvasion. Fun times.

“He won’t kill the kid. Not right away, atleast. He’ll use the kid as motivation for the Patriarch.”

Asneer twists Az’s lips. “There was a lot of magic in the foyer, so I’m going tosay that’s where he fought the Patriarch. There were no signs of anythinglethal, though. Is he going to call up the Patriarch and say, ’give me your centaursor I’ll murder your son’?”

“Yes.”

“Bastard.”

“Yes.”Anger’s a good, healthy emotion, but too much of it can cloud your judgment. Witha finger under her chin, I direct her focus back to the body. “Anything else wecan learn from this?”

“Heeither thought she was too old to be of use, or he doesn’t take females. Hegave his not-Shifters free-range with her. She probably pissed him off byfighting back, but he shouldn’t have been surprised. Centaurs are ferociouswhen their children are threatened.”

Thehuman footprints stop at the kitchen island and make a sharp turn toward thenearest staircase. “I doubt he stuck around for the slaughter. He went straightfor the kid. I’ll bet he has a weak stomach.”

“Why do you think there are so many long-rangekilling spells?”

“Pansy-assmotherfuckers.”

Azshoots a quick grin. “Yes.”

Olivet’sbloody footprints take us up a wide, shallow-stepped staircase. Left turn. Pasttwo open doors. The third door on the right has the same burn pattern as thefront door. Az and I linger in the hallway for a moment. I have to centermyself. I have to get a handle on my rage beforeI step into a kidnapped child’s bedroom.

OnceI’m certain I won’t Shift, I lead Az into the room. The mattress on thetrain-shaped bed is overturned. The train-themed curtains are in tatters, andthere’s a lamp-shaped hole in a closet door. The unmistakable odor of urine isconcentrated near the bed. That there is very little blood on the damagedfurniture keeps the nearly overwhelming fury in check.

Azgingerly climbs onto a short, blue table and reaches for the ceiling fan. A redboy’s pajama top dangles from one of the blades. Her fingers barely manage tosnag a corner of the fabric.

Iwrap an arm around her waist to guide her to the floor. The last thing I needis for her to fall off the desk and break her damn neck. Though her feet arefirmly on the floor, my arm remains around her waist. Just in case.

Sheburies her face in the pajama top and inhales deeply. For a moment, everythingis quiet and still. Sputtering and sneezing, she shoves the pajama top at me. “Lethe’sSleep. Makes you unconscious. When you wake up, you won’t remember what knockedyou out.”

“Howdangerous is it for Daniel?”

“Alot of parents use it on their children, especially colicky babies.” Az liftsthe hem of her shirt so that I get a glimpse of the lacy cups of a black bra. Oneline of gray text curls around the left side of her rib cage. “It’s short. Quick.Harmless.”

Sincethere are no not-Shifter footprints upstairs, I have to assume that Olivet usedmagic to carry an unconscious centaur child downstairs. Az confirms that thereare spells that would allow him to do so. By the time we return to the kitchen,Greer and his crime scene unit have set up shop.

Ihave to get out of the house. I can’t stand smelling Katya’s blood orremembering the torn sheets on Daniel’s train bed. I should have talked to thePatriarch about security. I should have gone straight for Olivet as soon as welearned his name. I should have smelled something off during that first meetingand ripped out his throat.

Isqueeze Az’s hand before leaving her to brief Greer. Circling the house doesn’telicit additional information, but the sunshine burns away most of the fog ofself-recrimination. Time to think objectively.

Olivethas Daniel. Olivet won’t kill Daniel because he wants something from thePatriarch. The Patriarch isn’t currently in any condition to give Olivetanything. Olivet’s desperate and dangerous and in command of an unknownquantity of not-Shifters. We don’t where Olivet is holed up or who is pullinghis strings.

Assessmentresult: we’re screwed.

Weneed more information. I wish I’d had a chance to get a list of recent centaurdeaths and abductions from the Patriarch. Then again, if I can’t talk to theman directly, I am in the perfect place to search for answers.

NeitherAz nor Greer pay the slightest attention to me as I hurry past them towards thePatriarch’s home office. I’ve been in the massive, antique-filled room ahandful of times, and I remember watching the Patriarch store files in a smallcabinet near the white marble desk.

Herdpolitics involves a shit ton of paperwork. Apparently, the Patriarch’s secretto keeping his people in line is to bore them to death with forms. Under astack of mediation request forms, I replace an unmarked file folder.

ThePatriarch is too organized for it to be an oversight. All the other files aremarked with the date, name, and type of request. Blank forms are in fileslabeled with the form name. Unnamed files are suspicious.

“Whatchagot?” Az asks, peering over my arm at the file.

Ihadn’t heard her enter, which means she came in alone. She’s stealthy, butGreer is as noisy as a herd of drunken cattle. “Where’s Greer?”

“Upstairswith his techs. Do you know who we need to call from the Herd? Greer shouldn’tbe the one to make the notification. He’s…,” she trails off with a frown.

“Human.”

Awince. “Not quite where I was going, but it’s close enough.”

“Ihave the number for his second-in-command. I’ll call shortly.” I tap a fingeron the first sheet of lined paper in the file. The handwriting is clear and thelist is easy to read. “A list of missing and dead centaurs. The Patriarchstarted it five weeks ago.”

Thereare thirty names on the list. Thirty missing or dead centaurs, and he neversaid a word. While it’s only a single-digit percentage of his Herd, it is stilla staggering number. The centaurs hadbecome more isolated than I’d realized. If he’d said something about it sooner,came to me for help, I could have started an investigation. We could haveprevented Daniel’s kidnapping.

“Thiscan’t happen again,” I say, folding the list and shoving it in my pocket. “Ifno one shares with the class, we’ll only replace out about problems when it’s toolate. Not everything’s going to explode all at once like it did with the Succubae-IncubiWar.”

“TheParanormal Community needs cohesion.”

Know-it-allsmug bitch. “If the next words out of your mouth are ‘I told you so’, I’m goingto gag you.”

“Ooh!Cleave, stuff, or ball?”

Myglare just bounces off her eager grin. “Duct tape.”

“Howunoriginal.”

Shehovers by my side while I call Pernice Sutherland, the Patriarch’ssecond-in-command. After expressing his resentment over no one at the ‘domecalling him, Pernice promises to make arrangements for Katya’s body. Informinghim that I will be investigating Daniel’s kidnapping seems to ease some of hispanic. Once I agree to update him every hour, he withdraws his offer ofassistance. I don’t mind working with centaurs, but too many people bog down aninvestigation.

Azcalls Rachael at the ‘dome. I don’t remember the two of them going from rivalsto bosom buddies, but there isn’t any detectable resentment on either side ofthe phone call. Fucking fickle women. All that Rachel can tell Az is that thePatriarch is stable but comatose.

My promise to keep Greer updated is lesssincere than my promise to the Herd. Greer doesn’t have a personal stake inthis clusterfuck. If Olivet succeeds and a Mage takes over Houston, Greer’s jobwon’t change much. Hell, things’ll probably get easier for him.

Itisn’t until we’re in the truck that Az and I discuss what we know. Thirtymissing or dead Centaurs. We’ve killed seven for sure. That leaves thepotential for twenty-three not-Shifters.

Definitelyvery screwed.