Witches, Voids, and Other Sanity Suckers
Chapter 8

"Play itagain."

The barked order lingersin the air like smoke. Beside me, Greer nods at the tech at the computercontrols. Az's lips are pinched. Censure shimmers in her eyes. I don't care ifI'm being rude. I don't give a shit about the tech's feelings or Greer'sauthority.

Claire Eras diedwithin seconds of Princess setting off the trap at Claire's apartment. Do youknow what I'm not a big believer in? Coincidence. Not when magic's involved.

The tech replaces herspine. Her fingers hover over but don't tap the keys. "As I have told youtwice, sir, the feed cuts out shortly before Ms. Eras hangs herself. It ispossible she was able to direct enough magic at the camera to cause amalfunction."

I arch an eyebrow at Az.Was it possible she'd left Claire enough magic to do such a thing? Princess shakesher head. No dice, then.

"She hungherself, Rick," Greer says, tone indicating that he's down to an ounce ofpatience. "She made it through the 72 hour pysch lockdown, but sometimessuspects do that. They wait until they're off suicide watch to off themselves."

"She didn't killherself." There aren't many facts I can cling to in this clusterfuck of acase, but I trust my gut. I always have and I always will.

"Forensicevidence says she did."

"Human naturesays she didn't." I stand, grab for Az's arm. "She was completelydevoted to her puppeteer. She wouldn't have taken a piss without priorapproval. Why take the initiative now?"

"To protecthim," Princess chimes in, skipping to keep up with me. I hope she's notsqueamish about crime scenes because we're about to enter one. "She knowsshe's the weak link so she killed herself to keep from giving us any moreinformation."

It sounds reasonable,but the explanation doesn't sit right. Nothing about any of this sits right.One sharpened claw tears through the yellow crime scene tape across the frontof Claire's cell like it's crepe paper. Az hesitates for only a second beforefollowing me into the cell.

"What are youdoing?" Greer screeches, hands fisted at his sides. "Get out ofthere."

"Make me."

The good little humanbacks down. I'm dropping matches on bridges, but Greer has to remember who thetop dog is in our little relationship. His precious tin badge won't protect himfrom a Shifter rampage.

I drop Az's arm. Shedoesn't move from my side. She just blinks up at me with impossibly wide, blueeyes.

"Stopstalling."

She blinks again."I'm sorry, what was it you were expecting me to do?"

"Find themagic." I wave my hand around the cell just in case she's lost a dozen IQpoints or so. "Find what killed Claire."

"Yeah, okay.Because I'm your personal magic bloodhound." Those pretty blue eyesnarrow. Her fists settle on her hips. "I'm not entirely sure I like youropinion of my abilities or how this partnership is starting."

Sure. There's nothingpressing going on. We have all the time in the world to stroke her preciousego. It's not like anyone's been killed or anything. Growling doesn't make Azmove any faster, but it sure as hell helps my rising blood pressure."Find. The. Magic."

"I'm going tolick things."

I don't want to touchanything in this room with a gloved finger. "That's disgusting."

She manages to lookboth insulted and disheartened. "It's not your tongue taking a tourof holding cell hell."

With a sniff and tossof her hair, she spins around and starts with the cot. Though she'd takenoffense to being treated like a bloodhound, it is exactly how she acts. Sheruns her fingers over everything. Takes her time. Covers every inch of space.

The blank spot ofcinderblock wall opposite the sink receives the most attention. She places herpalms flat on two blocks and closes her eyes as if meditating. After a moment,she leans in and licks the space between her hands.

"Why is shedoing that?" Greer asks, sounding as horrified as I feel.

Actually, I have ananswer for Greer. I did a bit of research while Princess was off communing withthe fish or whatever she did in Galveston. "The receptors in the tongueare highly sensitive and are able to pick up even the smallest traces of magicenergy."

"They're alsobetter at discerning the type of magic. Sometimes even the origin," Azadds. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. "I need to garglewith hydrofluoric acid."

I offer up an Altoid.She pops it in her mouth. Gasps at the intense flavor. Eyes watering, she movesto leave the cell. A hand on her wrist stops her.

"Claire Erasdidn't kill herself. Can we go now?" she asks.

"What? Just likethat?" Greer demands. "You know just like that?"

"Yes."

Az tries to tug herarm out of my grasp. I'm afraid to tighten my hold for fear of leaving bruisesand incurring Greta's wrath, but I don't want her to leave the room yet. Notuntil Detective Impatient and I get our answers.

"Can we havethis discussion somewhere that is not here?" She cranes her neck to stareat the bit of wall she'd licked. Beneath my fingers, her pulse thunders. Fainttinges of panic waft off her. If she were a dog or a wolf, her tail would bebetween her legs.

"What's wrongwith here?" Detective Oblivious asks, moving to block our exit. Never agood move. I don't like cages, and given her past I highly doubt that Az willtake kindly to being held captive.

The glare she sendshim is hot enough to melt iron. "Because here is where someone gotpast your pathetic excuse for a protection ward and killed a woman. Withmagic."

"He got into herhead and made her do it? The chick was a little cracked. Kept going on and onabout her master."

Az shakes her head sothat her braid bounces off my shoulder. Her hair smells of smoke and singedends. "Nope." She even pops the 'p'. "He's not the type to leaveanything to chance. Control freak. He wrapped the sheet around her neck andstrung her up like a chicken. With magic."

Greer moves out ofthe way. Smart man. I don't release Az's arm until we're in the hallway. Shesticks to my side, making sure that Greer and I are between her and the cell.I've seen her face down her father, take on a crazed witch, and sass the headof a coven. Whatever happened in that cell has to be some weird, dangerousshit.

"How did he doit?" Greer asks. He whips his tablet out of his jacket pocket and taps thescreen.

Az hesitates for justa moment. Cold, delicate fingers dance across my wrist. "I couldn't tellyou the exact spell."

"How close washe? Would he be on our security cameras?"

"I don'tknow." Her sigh is rich with frustration. "I don't – maybe. I'venever seen magic like this. I need to talk to an expert."

Greer's gaze narrowssuspiciously. "I thought you were an expert."

I expect her tostraighten and blast him. Possibly even set his hair on fire. It sure wouldmake my day. Naturally, she doesn't meet my expectations. She sags against meand hangs her head. Just what did she lick in that damn cell?

"I can detectmagic. I don't know every spell. And there are many that are so similar. Iwould hate to give you wrong information and waste the police department'svaluable time." Her eyelashes flutter when she peers back up at thedetective. Ah. Okay. I get it.

Greer buys her act.His glare softens. He reaches for her. She whimpers and presses against me. Ifanything, that makes her appear even more pathetic.

"You'll let meknow as soon as you hear from your expert?"

"Of course,Detective Greer," she promises fervently. "I'll contact him rightaway. I'll make sure he understands that this is urgent."

Greer walks us up tothe lobby. Princess manages to rebuff his dinner invitation without hurting thepoor baby's feelings. I'm glad she's displaying tact. I just want to get to thetruck and get the two of us as far from here as possible.

She keeps up thefragile flower act until we reach the parking garage. With Greer nowherearound, she drops my arm and skips ahead. Naive little void. The garage is darkand open and we have no idea if Claire's master is in the area. She's askipping, humming target.

"He's nothere," she mutters, slowing down so that I can catch up. "He was faraway when he killed Claire. Safe and comfortable in his fortress of evil."

"Where?"

She rolls her eyes atme. "Do I look like a GPS system to you?"

"I don't knowwhat you are." The bit of honesty comes out harsher than I intended. Ishould apologize for it, but I am not sure anything else I say will sound anybetter.

Fortunately, shedoesn't take offense. She flashes a tired smile that is far older than someoneher age should wear. It matches the ancient light that fills her eyes at theoddest times.

"Neither doI." She winks and suddenly she's young again. "It'll be fun replaceingout, won't it?"

"Hell no."

"Spoilsport."

"You're going todrive me insane, Princess."

"Well," shesays, shrugging. "That'll be fun, too."

I don't breathe easyuntil we are on the freeway heading for the pack house. I glance over at thewoman fiddling with the burner phone Greta bought her. "Hold up. No phonecalls without my permission. "

Her ability to lookboth exasperated and amused is infuriating. "I'm texting Jose."

Of course she is. Atthis rate, I will have lost all control of my pack within a week. She'll havethem all wrapped around her magic-sucking finger. Nothing I say will rate somuch as a 'yes sir.' It will be as futile as talking to the wall.

"What expert doyou plan on contacting? You're supposed to stay off your father's radar,remember?" I don't want Council representatives in my area. Mages justpiss me off and warlocks are like tits on a bull. It’s better for everyone if Idon’t have to think about their damn lawyers.

"Well," shedrags the word out to four syllables. Impressive. And annoying. "Doeshaving a conversation with myself constitute contacting an expert?"

"No." Wait.She's practically a split-personality. There's crazy hopped-up-on-magicPrincess and there's crazy magic-detecting Princess. Sometimes it's hard totell the difference between the two, but it has to count for something."Yes."

"Okay."

She turns her head tostare out the window. The fingers of her left hand tap her knee. Her lips movebut there's no sound.

"Care to sharewith the class, Az?"

"Could be astralprojection, but I couldn't taste any mistletoe. There was iron in the cell,too." The tapping speeds up. "He wouldn't have sent anyone in. No,no. He'd need to do it himself. Feel the life drain out of her. Lap it up likespilled champagne." She laughs. The frosty, brittle sound sends a chilldown my spine. "Well, given Claire had no magic at the end it was morelike a puddle of dirty tap water."

"It was a smartidea, that act you put on for Greer. I would like to limit the number of peoplewho know about your abilities," I say, hoping to break her out of whateverdaze she's in. She's starting to sound a little too much like crazyhopped-up-on-magic Princess.

"Of course.Can't have the good detective knowing what I can do. Loose lips, and all. He'seager to please his bosses. Wants out of the freak unit," she responds,still tapping her leg.

Yeah. I like Greer –sometimes – but it's clear that he sees his current position as penance forsomething. A punishment. He understands but doesn't like those who aren't fullyhuman. He doesn't respect magic, either. That's a dangerous mistake to make.

"I won't betheir lapdog. No beck and call. I'll help you because you -," she breaksoff with a sigh. The tapping stops as she massages her temples. She murmurssomething that sounds like dreams and visions and future."Because you're pack. And pack is everything."

"Pack is everything,"I echo. It is. I'm glad she's learned that lesson, at least. It's usually thehardest to teach.

She nods. Snaps herfingers. "He had to use the Rite of Yulaga."

Yeah. Like that meansanything to me. "Princess…"

"Sorry. It'slike astral projection but not."

"Nothelping."

She sighs, pressesher face against the window. "The Rite of Yulaga splits off a part of you.It creates an avatar. One you can control just like you control your body. Yousend it out to do your dirty work. It can remain invisible. You can change thesolidness – make it go through a wall and then use it to commit murder."

"How common isthis Rite?"

"It's draining.Prohibitively so. It was banned by the Mages' Council in 1745. Anyone caughtusing it will be punished to the fullest extent of Council law."

Being banned doesn'tmean it's not used. There are plenty of banned spells witches use. Hell, a damnMatron was growing wolfsbane knowing full well it was illegal.

Az jerks away fromthe window and flops back against the seat. She's paler than she was before.Uneasy. "It's only in a few books. Those should all be locked up in thevaults. I know there are copies in St. Louis, New Orleans, Madrid, Cork, andVenice. There might be one in Cairo."

"Who would teachit to this Master?"

"Only someonewilling to risk being burned at the stake." She pales even more. "Orvery, very sure they won't be caught. There had to be trust. Security."

Meaning someone witha Council in. Lovely. "How far would someone have to be to perform therite?"

"Depends on howmuch magic they have at their disposal. The average witch or warlock wouldn'thave enough energy to perform it. Someone like Sally would only have a range offive miles or so."

That's a relief.Maybe Greer can get something off the security cameras in the area. There aresensors that are supposed to detect magic spikes. If we're lucky, one of thempicked up something.

She starts tappingagain. "If he's draining his lackeys like we think he is, he could have arange of a hundred miles."

Well, shit.