Blood in Her Veins (Nineteen Stories From the World of Jane Yellowrock) (77 page)

I still refused to go gamble. Repeatedly. Watching his avaricious eyes go blank each time was priceless.

At nine sixteen p.m., I was holding a perfectly awful hand of a pair of threes, but it beat the other players' hands if I was still reading the scents correctly.

A
boom
shook the house. Inside, the lights flickered twice and died. A drawn-out
zzzzzz
sizzled outside, in front. The sound resembled a transformer exploding and sparking. Or a small bomb? In the next second I realized that it couldn't be a bomb, because Eli didn't throw himself on top of the rest of us, but he did draw a weapon and vanish into the shadows. I didn't remember seeing electrical transformers close enough nearby to make the sound we had heard.

I stood in a crouch so I couldn't be seen through the kitchen window. Looked out into the street. The houses across from my house were still lit.

Eli's voice sounded from the living room. “Lights are on at Katie's.” He craned his neck, visible as a silhouette in the window, which was brighter from outside lights. He added, “And both neighbors have light.”

Molly said, “Y'all? We have a problem.” Her voice quavered on the last word. Her body smelled of sudden sweat and the acrid, bitter tang of terror.

The sizzling, slapping
boom
came again, followed by the electrical
zzzzz
.

I pulled on Beast-vision from where I stood at the front window and saw the energies of the ward over the house. It was an older model, one Molly had used before, the spell muted blue, green, and silver, the energies growing up from below ground, as natural as leaves and plants sprouting up from fertile soil, but this time the fertile ground was Molly's earth magic, augmented by her newer, more deadly death magic. The ward was
powerful, self-healing from most mundane (meaning nonmagical) attacks, was resilient, and air permeable, covering the house and most of the grounds. And it was sparking blue and red, like sparklers on the Fourth of July.

“What is it?” I asked her. But she just shivered, her eyes lost in a distance I couldn't see. “We're under attack,” I said to the Youngers, “but I don't see anything. Alex, the exterior cameras have battery backup, right?”

“Yeah, working on seeing what we have now,” he said, his voice distracted, coming from the darkness of the house. “I had to turn on the inverter and get everything going. So far I don't see anything. Bro, get the fridge unplugged.”

Eli moved to the kitchen, following orders.

“Jane,” Molly said, the word garbled as if she was choking.

I raced to her, but I didn't make it in time. The
boom
was massive and the windows rattled as the entire house shook. The ward sent out a shower of sparks, like bloody water falling over a waterfall, the red energies blooming light. Beautiful, but also taking power from the ward. The broken magics smelled of char and burned herbs, sunlight on linen, and the dark of the moon on a winter garden. “What is it?” I asked Molly, slipping an arm around her shoulders. “What's attacking us?”

“Jane?” Alex said. “It's an
arcenciel
. A young one.” He spun the tablet to us. “And this time I can see the scar on its side.”

So could I, though the scar was nothing more than a dark shadow along its snakelike side. She was in the visible range, a rippling of light and shadow, with a human-shaped head, showing small, budding horns. Her mouth was open displaying rows of shark teeth that glinted like pearls. Her transparent wings glimmered in all the colors of the rainbow, and a frill around her head was scintillating shades of copper, brown, and pale white. Her body was snakelike, bigger than the last time I had seen her, with iridescent scales the color of tinted glass and thick smoke and hints of copper. As before, she smelled like green herbs burning over hot coals and the tang of fish and water plants. The shadowy scar ran along her side, healed but a potent reminder that she could be hurt. This was the creature we had wounded in Leo's basement gym. This was the light dragon who had attacked me before, but at least now she had a name.

Did that give us power over her in some way? Could we use her name to defend ourselves? “Her name is Opal,” I said.

“That isn't its real name,” Molly whispered, her eyes faraway as she studied her ward and what was happening to it, “that's just its English name.” She ducked her head and slid from beneath my arm. “I've been doing research. Her real name will be a lot of sibilants and
crack
ing sounds and an explosion of light in the correct wavelength. I can't even recognize it as a name, let alone reproduce it or use it in defense of us.” Yet her hands rose and I saw the power of her magical working—what the mundane and lazy, including myself, called a
spell
—as it sparkled from her fingers and raced to every window and door, building up the ward in the most probable weak places.

“Molly, you don't have a circle,” Alex said softly.

“I'm using the ward where it enters the ground as my circle,” she muttered. Which was news to me. I hadn't known that was possible. Magic was tricky, as tied up in the practitioner's belief system about the practice of magic itself, as it was in the practitioner's actual ability. A witch who believed she had a lot of power probably had a way to access more than she might have otherwise. And a witch who believed she was powerless likely was, regardless of her magical potential. And Molly was a freaky-powerful witch, and had become more so, when, in defense of her life and her sisters', her magics mutated from earth magics with a hint of moon magic thrown in, into death magics, which she couldn't use without killing something. Or someone. She had found her way back to earth magics, but her hold on them was tenuous and delicate.

There was little any of us nonwitch types could do to help her battle to keep the wards in place, but if they faltered, I'd need to have a weapon, and steel hurt even
arcenciels
. I accepted the vamp-killer and the small KA-BAR-style knife Eli handed me and strapped the double sheaths to my left leg. The vamp-killer I adjusted for a right-hand draw, up near my waist, and the smaller knife I set back for a left-hand draw nearer to my left knee. As I worked, nothing more happened—no
boom
s, no house shaking, no nothing. Maybe it had gone away to lick its wounds. Or maybe the
arcenciel
had gone for reinforcements. I'm such glass-half-full-of-blood kinda gal.

I pulled my cell and tried to call Soul, the only other
arcenciel
I knew, but the call didn't go through. I had no bars. The sat system Alex was setting up wasn't working either. I slid the units across the kitchen table, where Alex was tapping. He jumped up and raced to the hardware under
his desk in the living room and switched off some of the gray boxes and then switched them back on. Little green and yellow lights glowed. He ran back to the kitchen to work by the light of two tablets. I hated technology sometimes.

Whatever was happening outside, Molly was using the time to spin reinforcements on the ward. Her feet were shoulder width apart, knees slightly bent, almost like the footing for a martial arts move, rooting her body to the earth beneath the floor, balanced and stable. Her fingers were flicking and snapping and the smell of rosemary grew on the air, a strong, intense scent that seemed to wend down the stairs from her room overhead, mixing with the scent of her fear and that awful perfume. When it came to magic, Molly was a battle witch, standing between her child and danger, and I could see the Celtic warrior women of her genetic history in her stance, fierce and tender and unyielding.

From the corner of my eye I saw a flicker as something leaped out of the shadows. I whirled, Beast fast, and caught it, whipping it out of the air. And got lines of scratches for my mistake. KitKit yowled and hissed and did some kinda ninja move and bit my thumb. I dropped her and she landed with another yowl, a whirling cat move, and a faster-than-sight leap to Molly's feet.

The scent of fear Molly was exuding instantly eased. Her not-familiar had helped her control her death magics. KitKit was a
not-familiar
because familiars didn't exist. They were myth. KitKit's abilities were a big secret, the revelation of which would subject Molly to ridicule and embarrassment. But she couldn't be without the dang cat.

Disgusted with myself for reacting instead of letting the cat reach her mistress, I went to the sink and washed my wounds. My skinwalker metabolism would heal them faster than similar wounds on a human, and they would heal instantly the next time I shifted into Beast. For now, however, they stung like crazy. But unless KitKit was rabid or had cat scratch fever, they weren't life-threatening. I stared out at the night. In battle sometimes the hardest part was waiting for something to happen.

A
boom
shook the house. A
zzzzzzzttttpowpowpow sssssss
sound, ending this time with a slap on the tail end of the sizzle. The
arcenciel
seemed determined to get inside the house and was probably injuring herself on Molly's wards.

Alex muttered, “I guess you already figured out that all coms are down. I don't know what that thing is doing, but it's affecting more than just the power. It's like a mini–electromagnetic blast. I can use the tablets—ah shit. Now the
tablets
are down.”

Eli promptly head-slapped him. In his battlefield-mild tone, he added, “Language.”

Alex cursed again, but I think it was Klingon or Elvish or some fictional language, and no one else reacted. I was worried that the juvenile
arcenciel
's light show would attract the attention of the cops, who would then descend and possibly get hurt. Or worse, attract the attention of a larger, mature creature, not Soul, but a stranger, and that the larger one would think the humans, the witch, and the skinwalker were the aggressors.

The
arcenciel
hit the house again and again; the floor vibrated under my feet. The ward beyond the windows spluttered and shuddered, the energies showing signs of cracking. Molly was sweating now, her perspiration full of adrenaline and its acrid breakdown chemicals. The cat was wrapped around Molly's ankles, purring steadily. The
boom
sounded, harder, deeper. I shook my head and set my feet, oddly reminiscent of Molly's stance.

I wasn't going to have a choice. I was going to have to risk the Gray Between. I was going to have to bend time so I could be fast enough to fight the
arcenciel
.

But the Gray Between would allow all similar creatures to see me working outside of time, and again, that might result in other
arcenciels
showing up to help the juvie rainbow dragon. I hesitated. Eli walked through the living room and into the little-used laundry/storage room on the back of the house, behind my bedroom and bath. He leaned to see out the windows.

And I heard Angie's voice, coming down the stairs. “Hey. You're pretty. All sparkly. Wanna come play with me?”

Before Eli or I could move, Alex was flying up the stairs. His flip-flops came off and bounced down the stairs. Eli and I raced up after him and into his room to see Angie Baby standing outside, on the second-floor gallery, her body outlined in the ward's light, the
arcenciel
's huge head reared back, only inches from her. The light dragon was horned and frilled, its long hair copper and brown, and this time, traced through with red
and a hint of sapphire. Its teeth were longer than my hands, sharp and pearled and glistening like the opals for which it was named.

And Angie was gripping a small steel knife in one hand, holding it behind her back, where the
arcenciel
couldn't see it.

Alex skidded out the long, narrow doors of his own room, out onto the gallery, and grabbed Angie up under his arm. Dragged her back inside, one hand ripping away the knife. Slammed the French doors closed and twisted the finger latch.

Angie struggled in his hands and tore herself away. “No!” she shouted, her face hidden by shadows, her hair standing out in a halo of static power. She snapped her left hand at Alex and screamed,
“Tu dormies!”

The Kid's knees folded, his body dropped, and Alex was instantly asleep. As he fell, Eli snatched the tumbling knife out of the air and glared at Angie. Alex's head bounced on the rug at the foot of his bed.

“Angelina!” I shouted, furious. And frightened. Angie shouldn't be able to do that. At all. Angie was supposed to be bound.

Angie whirled on me, her white nightgown furling around her. “I'll put you all to sleep if you don't let me talk to the shiny lizard!”

“Angie. No,” I said, trying to find a calm tone. If she put us to sleep, she would be all alone with a creature who could kill her in a heartbeat. “Angie. Baby, please don't.”

“I tolded you that the scabertoothed bones was calling to it,” she screeched, her hands fisting in front of her like a boxer.
“You didn't listen.”
Magic coiled out of her fists, not as strong as before, but clear and bright, a blue laced with black that looked scary in ways that magic had never looked scary to me before. She took a step toward me, and her voice lowered. Slowly she said, “And you let Mama and Daddy put me to sleep.” Angie sounded furious and dangerous.

I had never seen her act so badly, not since . . . I stopped, trying to remember. What had I smelled? When Molly first arrived. Flowers and lemongrass and that awful perfume . . . “Oh no,” I whispered.

“Yes!” Angie shouted, raging. “I'm a big girl, not a baby! I can kill my own snakes,” she said, using a phrase Molly used sometimes.

“Angie,” I said, “you can't kill this snake. That's not what that phrase means.”

Angie whirled and beat the bed, her fists pounding into Alex's pillows
and rumpled covers. “No, no, no, no, no!” she screamed, her words muffled in the covers.

The house
boom
ed again, as I tried to figure out what to do. And again. And again. The old timbers were creaking and the windowpanes of the French door behind us shattered. A fireball burned through the door and into the house, the flickering flames momentarily brightening the room. Angie flicked her fingers at it, the way she might if she was flicking water off her hand, and it stopped, the fire snuffed out in a puff of black smoke that stank of flaming rosemary. It all took maybe two seconds. In Beast-vision, Angie's magics floated around her like a diaphanous veil, brighter and hotter than only a moment before.
Holy crap. Just . . . holy crap
.