No Humans Involved (6 page)

Comedy Of Errors

THERE WAS NO WAY TO REFUSE without making Molly suspicious, so I stepped inside.

"Did I hear something about you serving on the council now?" Molly said as she led me into her living room. "I suppose that's what you're here about? Council business?"

Damn. Another detail I'd been hoping to keep to myself. If Molly didn't want to deal with Paige and Lucas, she might not be so keen to speak to another council member.

I took the chair nearest the hall doorway. "Not so much council business as delegate business. Helping a fellow necromancer with a minor problem—one too small to warrant the council's attention. More of a research issue, actually. A puzzle I'm trying to solve so we can document it."

"Oh?" Intrigued, but not suspicious. "So what brings you to me?"

Another smile, this one wry. "Well, I'd say you came recommended as the top witch of the dark arts and I couldn't even
imagine
asking anyone else, but blatant flattery doesn't work so well on people outside of Hollywood."

She laughed, relaxing now. "We have our egos, but they don't impede brain function."

"Truth is that, yes, you came highly recommended, but when I

took a close look at the possibilities, you seemed the most—" a mock throat clearing, "—approachable."

She laughed hard at that. "Now, that I believe. Between the weirdos and the recluses, it can be hard finding a viable contact among our bunch."

"I was also told that there might be something I can offer you in return. Which is what I want to do. I'm not asking for favors."

"Oh? Now I
am
intrigued. Can I get you something to drink before you satisfy my curiosity? Coffee? Tea? Soda? Bottled water?"

I opted for the water. There are too many things a witch can do with a brewed beverage.

When she came back, I gave her a version of the story, with this fellow necromancer being bothered by spirits who couldn't make contact. So far, I said, my investigation suggested a magical explanation.

When I finished, Molly nodded, thoughtful, then said, "I'm sure you've been told that doesn't sound like the results of normal ritual sacrifice."

"I have."

"Perhaps I can help but—" She met my gaze, eyes deceptively mild. "You offered an exchange?"

"I've heard you lost someone this year," I said. "Your common-law partner, I believe. A half-demon."

She hesitated, gaze down, then nodded slowly. "Mike. Yes."

I switched to my "dealing with the grief-stricken" voice. "If you'd like to make contact with him, I could try. With articles belonging to him plus access to his grave site, there's a good chance I can do it. Not perfect. But maybe a… ninety percent chance."

Molly said nothing, just stared down into the glass cupped in her hands. Still grieving, as Savannah had said. Or maybe wondering if I was trying to con her.

I hurried on. "If I don't make contact, I'll owe you. I
will
contact someone for you. Guaranteed."

Still she stared into her glass, her thumbs now caressing the sides.

Unlike humans, supernaturals know there's an afterlife. There must be, or there couldn't be necromancers. Through us, they also know that most ghosts are happy enough. If you know this, then perhaps contacting a loved one isn't such a wise idea. What if he's stopped grieving for his lost life, and you only rip open those wounds? What if you rip the scabs off your own grief?

"If you'd rather not contact him, maybe there's something else—" Her head snapped up. "Why wouldn't I want to contact him?"

"I just meant— I'm not trying to renege on the offer. I certainly will try, if that's what you want. But if
this
isn't what you want, then I'd completely understand—"

"Would you?"

Molly's voice had gone cold. She set her drink aside, deliberately. My gaze swung to the door. She followed it and gave a brittle smile. "Thinking of leaving already, Jaime? And why might that be?" I laughed. "Leaving? No. I was just wondering—" I leapt from the chair. Her hand flew up, lips moving in a sorcerer's knockback spell. I tried to duck, as Lucas taught me, but wasn't fast enough. Instead of hitting me in the torso, it slammed into my shoulder, whipping me around. My feet flew out. I saw the edge of the coffee table sailing up to meet me. Tried to twist. Too late. Impact. Pain. Darkness.

I AWOKE to the blast of a car horn. Something held me down, tightening around my wrists and ankles when I moved. I opened my mouth to call out, but tasted plastic and glue.

Everything was as dark as when I'd fallen. Blindfolded? I move my head, testing for that pulling sensation against my temples. Sadly, I know what a blindfold feels like. Know what being kidnapped feels like too. For a second, that's all I could think:
Goddamn it, not again
.

But when I moved, instead of a blindfold, I felt something scratchy against my bare hands and face. Like an old blanket. Bound, gagged and covered.

The floor vibrated beneath me. The steady hum of moving tires. I remembered the horn blast that woke me. I was in a vehicle. In the trunk— No, I wouldn't be able to see light in a trunk. I pictured the car in Molly's drive. An SUV.

She'd bound and gagged me, then managed to haul me into the garage, drove in, put me in the back and was now taking me…

Where?

Well, I was pretty sure it wasn't out for daiquiris.

I'd taken self-defense courses. They'd given me more confidence than skill, but one piece of advice I remembered was that if someone tries to get you into a vehicle, you do everything you can to fight it, because you can be damned sure that wherever he's taking you, it's someplace private, to do something you won't like.

I had to get out before Molly—or whoever was driving—got wherever we were going. But how? I was trapped. I had no spells. No demonic powers. No superhuman strength. I was just a necromancer. Defenseless.

Bullshit.

Ordinary women got out of situations like this all the time. Okay, maybe not this
exact
situation, but if you took the black witch out of the equation, it wasn't that much different than any kidnapping. I wasn't sure what the statistics were for escaping a kidnapper, but I told myself they were pretty good.

As I shifted, the blanket scratched my cheek and it made me think of why I was covered in one—because I wasn't in a trunk, meaning someone could look into Molly's SUV, see the rear seat folded down and a bound woman in the luggage compartment. Goal one, then? Remove the blanket.

I'd just moved when a voice stopped me.

"You got home from school okay? And your sister?"

Molly. In the driver's seat. On her cell phone. Talking to her children. I allowed myself a flutter of relief before I started wiggling again, squirming out from under the blanket.

"There's a box of Twinkies in the cupboard over the stove, but don't let Tish see where you found them. They're meant for school. Tell her it's a special treat and Mommy's sorry she wasn't home to see her after school."

A sliver of light appeared above my eyes. I kept wriggling until the edge of the blanket slid down past my nose, then took a deep breath of cool air. In front of me Molly's head was hidden behind the headrest, only her arm visible as she held her cell phone.

"I might be late, but I'll pick up dinner and call you on the way to find out what you want."

The blanket slid down to my neck. There. Finally. Another deep inhale through my nose as I relaxed. Then I looked up… way up…

at the tinted window, and realized the chances of anyone peering in from a passing transport and seeing me here were next to none. I had to get closer to that window.

Using my feet, I pushed toward the side. Then I twisted around so I could use my bound hands to pull myself up—

Molly's gaze met mine in the rearview mirror.

"Hon? I have to go. I'll call you as soon as I can. Look after your sister, okay? Love you."

She disconnected, then, without a word to me, cast a spell. An energy bolt slammed into me, and I dropped into darkness again.

Captive Audience

I WOKE TO MOLLY SLAPPING MY FACE.

At first, I could only moan. Everything hurt, as if I'd been dragged over rocky ground. As I inhaled, that's what I smelled: damp earth. Trees too, that crisp odor of autumn. And another scent, fainter and not nearly so pleasant—rotting vegetation and brackish water.

Quiet. Very quiet. The sigh of rustling leaves yet to fall. The soft, almost tentative call of a bird. The creak of a broken branch in the wind.

Lying on the ground. Damp earth, the ripe smell of it surrounding me. Something digging into my spine—a rock or a twig.

Another smack, harder.

I opened my eyes to see trees, and more trees. No sign of the SUV. Or the road. Or people. Just Molly, crouched in front of me.

She grabbed my hair and wrenched my head to the side, calling my attention to the source of that rotting smell—a swamp visible through the trees. "Who sent you?"

The threat was clear: if I didn't talk, there was a convenient body-disposal site nearby. She ripped the duct tape off my mouth, taking a layer of skin with it. When I gasped and paused to catch my breath, she cuffed me again and I glared at her.

"I don't know what this is about, but—"

She slapped the tape back on, then laid her hands on my forearm and recited a spell. It was like I'd spilled boiling water on my arm— a moment of confusion followed by blinding pain. I screamed behind my gag, more outrage than fear.

When I turned a fresh glare on her, she only smiled. "Didn't like that much, did you? Maybe I should come up with an inducement better suited to the lovely Jaime Vegas."

She backed up on her haunches, looked around and found a twig. Another spell, then she lifted it and put her finger to the end, making it glow like a lit cigarette. She brought the burning end so close to my cheek I could feel the heat.

My heart hammered but I resisted the urge to shut my eyes.

"I'll bet you wouldn't find it so easy to make a living with scars on your pretty face."

She moved the twig even closer. An ember dropped onto my cheek and I jumped, then held firm. Molly wielded the twig like a pen, pretending to write.

"Perhaps a nice big W. Let the world know what the rest of us think of you—a whore who uses her gifts to make a quick buck."

The tip touched my skin. I gritted my teeth and steeled myself. I wouldn't think about what she could do—to me and my career.

"Or maybe that's still not incentive enough…" Molly said.

She lifted the stick until it was level with my right eye. I instinctively tried to close it, but found myself caught in a binding spell, my eyes glued open, that brand coming closer, the end glowing red hot.

My brain went wild with panic.

Molly laughed. "That's better. Now, let's get this over with or you're going to have a hell of a time fumbling your way from this forest blind." She said it as casually as if she were threatening to break my fingernails.

She stood, stretching her legs, and circled me. "The person who sent you here. It was Mike, wasn't it?"

For a second, my brain just whirred. Who was Mike? Then I remembered. Her dead common-law husband.

She made no move to remove my gag, just kept circling me, brandishing the burning twig. For one moment, I felt the almost irresistible urge to giggle, thinking I've seen this scene. Only this wasn't a b movie and, no matter how ridiculous it looked—this suburban mom playing evil interrogator—there was nothing funny about it. She could do exactly what she was threatening, and from the look in her eye, she would. She'd put out my eyes to get the information she wanted, kill me and dispose of my body in the swamp, then call her kids to remind them to finish their homework before she brought dinner.

"Mike contacted you," she continued, "then you decided to come to me with this silly story about needing help with trapped spirits in return for 'contacting' him. What I want to know is why. Did the council send you? Or are you acting on your own, hoping to collect a bribe for
not
going to the council?"

With a jolt, the pieces fit together in the only way that made sense. What could her dead lover tell me that the council would investigate? Or that I could blackmail her with to
avoid
an investigation? Proof that the grieving widow wasn't so heartbroken after all.

"Ready to talk?" Molly said, crouching in front of me.

I nodded. As she ripped off the gag, my brain raced. I could point out that murdered ghosts rarely remember the circumstances of their deaths, but that would only confirm I knew he'd been murdered.

"It's a council investigation," I said. "I was walking past your house scoping it out, waiting for my partner, when you opened the door and I had to approach alone."

From her expression, I knew this was what she'd feared. If it was blackmail, that was easy. Kill me and the situation was resolved. It wouldn't be so simple if others already knew.

She eased back on her haunches. "So Mike told you what happened, and you contacted your delegate partner…"

In other words: please tell me there's only one other person involved.

"I took the problem to the whole council at the last meeting. That's proper procedure and, being new, I always follow protocol. They assigned an investigative partner—the werewolf Pack Alpha—" I added for good measure, "—to accompany me."

Fear, maybe even panic, touched Molly's eyes. Good.

"I don't know what Mike told you," Molly said, "but that bastard earned it. After five years of living in my house, he decides he's tired of me. But he's
not
tired of my money. So he offered me a deal. Give him fifty grand and he'd leave quietly, without telling the council… a few things. I told him I didn't have that kind of money lying around and you know what he told me to do? Empty the girls' college funds."

Flecks of saliva flew from her mouth as she snarled. "He spends five years in our house, winning my girls over, getting them to call him 'Dad,' and then, as his parting shot, he's going to steal their college tuition? Over my dead body." Her snarl twisted into an ugly smile. "Or over his, which was much more to my liking."

I was quiet for a moment, then said, "That's not the story he told, but yours sounds a lot more believable. If you can support that with evidence, we can explain it to the council. You were furious— rightfully so—and you wanted to teach him a lesson about messing with a master of the dark arts. But things went wrong."

Molly nodded. I blinked to hide my relief.

She stepped away, then took her cell phone from her jacket and called her daughter, telling her to pack overnight bags and take her sister to a family friend down the street. Molly would pick her up there.

"They aren't in any danger," I said. "My partner would never touch your girls, not even to find out where I am. It would be totally against council policy. Plus he has little ones of his own—"

"I'm not taking that chance."

"Okay. I understand. Then let me call—" I remembered Jeremy didn't have a cell. "Better yet, take me back and if he's there, we'll settle this right now—"

"I'm not taking you anywhere but there."

She pointed at the swamp. Panic welled up. Before I could protest, she slapped the tape back on.

Molly straightened, then flew backward, knocked off her feet. I looked around wildly, but saw only forest. I rocked, trying to get up without the use of my hands. I had to stand, escape before she—

A binding spell caught Molly in midrise. Then I heard a woman's voice, chanting another spell, somewhere behind me, growing louder as if approaching. A sizzling sound, like the air electrifying.

Then Molly toppled forward, binding spell broken. She scrambled to her feet, took one hard look at me, then ran.

The sounds of pursuit followed, the other witch still out of view in the thick woods. I struggled to my feet. A corner of the overused duct tape gag got caught on a branch, and I managed to rip it off. I opened my mouth to shout for help… then reconsidered. Another witch didn't necessarily mean a helpful one.

Heavy footsteps sounded, each punctuated by a mumbled "fuck." That gave my rescuer away even before her dark head bobbed into view.

Savannah jogged toward me, still cursing as she untied me.

"Hold the binding spell, cast the energy bolt," she muttered. "Easy, right? But no. I try it, I lose the binding spell and the energy bolt flops."

"We have to warn Jeremy," I whispered as I pulled my hands from the loosened rope. "She knows he's heading to her house and she'll—"

"I'm sure Jeremy could handle that bitch, but he won't need to. She isn't going anywhere."

As if on cue, a distant motor ground. Stopped. Tried again, making the same grinding sound.

Savannah grinned and tossed aside the rope from my hands. "Little trick I learned from Lucas. So, did you get what you wanted from her?"

"No, but I'm well beyond caring—"

"She owes you. Sit tight, then. One wicked witch coming up."

Savannah started to leave, then turned. "Maybe you should hide. In case she circles back."

Hide? Like hell.

I didn't argue, though. Just let her run after Molly, then yanked off my pumps and gathered up the pieces of rope Savannah had tossed aside. She'd never think to take them—she was too confident for that. A confidence that had gotten her into trouble before, and while I had no doubt she could handle Molly Crane, I wasn't taking any chance that I'd need to tell Paige and Lucas I'd gotten their ward killed rescuing me. As for telling Eve and Kristof their daughter died because of me? I shivered and picked up my pace.

Heading in the direction of the car, I stuck to the line of tall bushes. Today's fashion choices might not have been ideal "running through the forest" wear, but at least the colors were camouflage friendly.

A metallic bang reverberated through the forest. I envisioned Savannah thrown against a vehicle. Then I recognized the sound. The slam of a car hood.

Molly's voice drifted over. "… need a tow truck out at—"

A yelp. Now I did run, hiking up my skirt, twigs biting into my stockinged feet. Ahead, the woods opened into a sunlit clearing. I could make out the gray side of Molly's SUV, then Molly herself, scooping up her cell phone from the ground.

Another yelp, more anger than surprise now, as the cell phone flew from her grasp. She grabbed the door handle.

"That's not going to help." Savannah's voice rang out across the clearing.

I ducked behind a wide tree.

"Your car's not going anywhere," Savannah said. "And neither are you."

Molly was less than ten feet from me, but facing the other way, head ducked as if squinting into the late-day sun.

"Sav—Savannah?" A shock-stutter of surprise. "What are you-?"

"Did you forget Paige is on the interracial council?" Savannah stopped a few yards from Molly. "That means I have friends on the council. Friends like Jaime. Not a good idea to fuck with my friends, Molly."

Molly gave a short laugh. "Seems you inherited your mom's attitude. Maybe it'll fit in ten years, but right now, you're a little girl with a big opinion of herself."

Savannah's face darkened, her blue eyes blazing, fury palpable enough to make most people hesitate, but Molly only shook her head, as if this was just another rebellious teen, something she was used to handling.

Savannah's lips started to move in a spell. I tensed, ready to run and knock Molly over if she began a cast of her own, but she only sighed, the sound rippling through the clearing.

"For the sake of my friendship with Eve, Savannah, I'm willing to let this interference today pass, and I'll even discuss letting your 'friend' walk out of here alive, but if you cast that spell—"

"You'll what?"

"I don't think you want to test that," Molly said, voice dropping.

Savannah smiled. "Oh, I think I do."

She flung her hands up and shouted a spell so loudly I jumped, almost tumbling from my hiding place. The words boomed through the forest. Molly froze, caught off guard. Savannah's arms flew down. Molly slammed into the side of the SUV so hard she left a dent.

Savannah's hands sailed up again like a conductor hitting the crescendo. Another booming cast, her lips curled back, snarling the words to the sky. Then she convulsed, her arms flying out, her head jerking back. I ran for her. There was a tremendous bang, like a car backfiring. As I stumbled, the sky lit up.

Around us, the trees shook and moaned, dying leaves raining down. A strong wind rushed past me, and I could tell it wasn't a wind at all, but spirits. Not ghosts, but something more primitive, more elemental. Before I could get to Savannah, one knocked me off my feet.

Everything had gone still, and the sky above us was tinged with an eerie red, warning of the calm before the storm. Then the redness seemed to twist over our heads, gathering speed and size like a tornado. It turned blue. Then a greenish yellow. Then it shot down, hitting the earth next to Molly. She screamed and backpedaled. Another hit behind her.

I struggled to my feet. Savannah still stood there, rigid, on her tiptoes, eyes closed. Around us, a strange illuminated mist rose from the earth, then shot into the air. Elemental spirits. I could feel them. They shot up all around now, like geysers, ripping up chunks of earth, raining down dirt and rocks.

"Sav—" I began, but an earsplitting yowl cut me short.

I tried again, but the spirits kept screaming, flying around Molly. Then one shot right up under her, hitting her, and her mouth opened, eyes going wide as she gasped for air. Another veered her way, then another, their howls turning to shrieks as they found their target. Molly dropped to her knees, hands going to her throat, mouth working, trying to get air but only letting the spirits steal her breath. Her eyes bulged.

"Savannah!" I shouted to be heard over the din.

She turned on me, lips pulled back. "I told you to wait!"

I strode forward until I was close enough to see uncertainty flicker in her eyes.

"She's down," I said. "You got her. Now what are you trying to do? Kill her?"