Demon Accords 10: Rogues (33 page)

“We have to stop in Dover-Foxcroft,” Declan said, sitting up and opening his eyes.

Marcia turned to look back at him, finding the werewolf girl looking as surprised as she was.

“The girl… the last werewolf.  I need to ward her.  You
know
that bitch kept some hair or something.  She’ll kill her just to tidy up loose ends,” he said to Stacia.

The blonde girl met his gaze for a couple of seconds, then turned to Marcia.  “He’s right.  There is a werewolf in custody at the sheriff’s office.  She’s the last one alive and the only one with information on this witch.  Declan will have to protect her or the witch will kill her.”

“The witch that got away into the wilderness will somehow travel all the way to Dover-Foxcroft and kill this girl?” Marcia asked, dubious.

“Doesn’t have to travel anywhere.  She can kill the girl with a spell if she has some of the girl’s hair, like I do,” Declan said, holding up his left wrist.  A thin band that she had taken for a woven man bracelet was, now that she could see it closer, just a twisted length of brown hair.

“You’re telling me that a witch can kill anyone from a distance if they have that person’s hair?” Marcia asked in her professional voice, although inside she was holding her horror and fear separate in a little part of her mind.

“Not every witch, and most would need a full circle at this kind of distance, but this one is pretty strong, very twisted, and her whole skill set revolves around death magic.  The werewolf was in contact with her for a long time and I’d bet your paycheck that she’s got a pre-prepared kill spell set up,” he said, untying the braid of hair from his wrist as he talked.

He pulled a sandwich wrapper from the food bag that had become garbage and flattened it on his lap.  A marker appeared in his hand from one of his pockets and he drew a circle on the paper.

“I can maybe start a ward right now while we drive.  We’re between the witch in the woods around Fetter and the girl in Dover-Foxcroft.  Plus, we’re getting closer to her all the time,” he said matter-of-factly.

The circle he had snapped off was really quite close to what Marcia might have done with a pin and a string.  He’d obviously had a lot of practice. 

The twist of hair went into the circle, held in place with a scrap piece of masking tape from another sandwich wrap.  The marker came back out and he started to draw shapes and strange letters around both the inner and outer edges of the circle, spinning the paper on his lap to follow the arcs.

“You just draw on some paper with a Sharpie and you have a spell?” Marcia asked.  Beside her, the driver, Barry, was going slightly crazy trying to look in his rearview to see what was going on.  Stacia noticed and frowned.  “Pull over for a moment.  That way, you won’t crash us trying to get a look,” she ordered.

Barry glanced at Marcia for direction.  She nodded and he instantly pulled over and off the road on a flat spot.  The car was no sooner in park than he was twisted around to see what was happening.

After giving him a slight frown, Stacia turned to Marcia.  “The answer is that not every witch could do what he’s doing.  In fact, there are very few anywhere that could match his skill.”

“Aunt Ash could, with her eyes closed.  Einin is better than me at this as well,” he said, still drawing.

“Which proves my point.  As I understand it, and correct me if I’m wrong, D, but spells, whether written, spoken, sung, or made from symbolic items, are simply ways of programming magic to do what you want.  A way to give it direction,” Stacia said.  Declan just nodded, still drawing shapes.  “Since magic is hard, most spells are complicated and time-consuming and usually take multiple witches. Declan uses runes to shape his spells, and he makes them up on the fly.  Most witches would need days, if not weeks, to put together a spell he can make up in minutes.  It’s the difference between a master musician and a first-grade music class, or the comedic genius of Robin Williams versus a knock-knock joke,” Stacia said.

“But he’s like what?  Nineteen?” Marcia asked.

“He’s like right here,” Declan muttered, spinning the paper again to fill in another arc.

“How many Olympic athletes are teenagers, Ms. Martin?  How many were born with the right genetics and raised from birth to excel at their sport?  Same thing, if not more so,” Stacia said.

“There,” Declan said, sitting up and capping his Sharpie.  “Okay, that should block her for a bit.  At least until we get to the sheriff’s office,” he said.

Barry and Marcia just looked from him to the paper on his lap.  Marcia almost scoffed until she really looked at the paper.  The almost-perfect circle now looked like something from a book or movie.  The runes were intricate, drawn with clean, precise lines, woven together into unbroken strings around the inner and outer edges of the circle.  The bundle of hair was twisted just so, and the little piece of scavenged masking tape was neat and even.

“That bit of magic would cost you the price of this car if you knew the right circles to commission it,” Stacia said, smiling.

Declan started to disagree, then sat back, thinking about it, before nodding slightly.  “Give or take.”

“Give or take, my ass.  You know I’m right.  I do all the Pack’s liaison work with Mitzy’s circle.  I know the costs pretty well,” she said.

He raised his right eyebrow at her turn of phrase and gave her a bit of leer.  She snorted and turned back to Marcia.  “We also should ask the girl a couple of questions.  There was an… oddity… anomaly?  There was a problem at the end when the witch escaped.  We need some answers.”

“My job is to get you to Bangor soonest.  You’ve as much as said you’ve already protected the girl,” Marcia said, shaking her head.  “We’re not stopping here,” she said firmly.

They were entering Dover-Foxcroft when she said it, and the sheriff’s office was right on the main street.  “
Your
employer will absolutely want the information that girl has,” Stacia said reasonably.

“No.  Barry, keep going,” Marcia said.

In the makeup mirror, she saw the two in the back exchange a nod. The boy reached out and touched the frame of the car.  Barry swore softly almost immediately and then wrestled with the steering wheel, pulling the car out of traffic and to the curb.

“I told you not to stop,” she said mildly, anticipating his anwer.

“Engine quit. Power steering and brakes went too,” he said, bewildered.

“We’ll be right back.  Just a couple of minutes,” Stacia said as she and Declan popped their doors and jumped out.

“Wait, wait,” Barry said.  Marcia reached over and touched his arm, watching the young couple walk briskly across the street and down the block to the front of the sheriff’s building.  They were dirty, disheveled, and Stacia still had bare feet.  They almost caused a traffic jam.  At her worst, Stacia’s lithe, lycra-clad form still captured and held the eye as she wove with athletic grace between cars, parking meters, trees, and pedestrians.  The tall, fit young man by her side may not have been movie star handsome, but Marcia thought his bright blue eyes made up for it.  And his hands.  He had large, strong hands that worked with careful precision.  If a girl liked hands, his got high marks.

“Should I call someone?” Barry asked.

“I have a feeling the car will be fine,” she said with a tight smile.

“You
knew
they’d do that?” Barry accused.

“I tested to see what they would do, Barry.  Like science, much of practicing law is about logic.  I formed a hypothesis and tested it,” she said.

“What’s the other part of law?  The part with the politics, glad handing, improvision, and theatrics?” he asked.

“Apparently it’s a bit like witchcraft,” she said as the kids disappeared into the building.

The deputy at the window buzzed them through, recognizing them both on sight.  Deeper inside, they found it was just the sheriff’s people guarding the prisoner, all of the feds deployed to Fetter.

They started to explain the problem to the two deputies actually guarding the werewolf girl but ended up with the whole station crowded around.

“So what do you need to do?” an older deputy who seemed in charge asked, holding a cell phone to his ear.

“We need to give her this,” Declan said, holding up the hand-drawn paper.  “She needs to have it inside her jumpsuit, touching her skin if possible.”

The older guy nodded and held up one hand, then proceeded to relay the situation to the sheriff on the other end of the phone.

“Grable says do it,” he finally said, nodding to the two by the door, who proceeded to unlock it.

Inside, they found the werewolf girl sitting cross-legged on the floor, a bottle of water by her right hand.

“Hi Karen. The pack is toast but the witch got away,” Stacia said.  The girl sat up straighter, her face going pale.

“We want you to keep this ward on you at all times, preferably touching your skin,” Declan said.  “It’ll block any attacks she sends your way.”

The girl, Karen, didn’t need any convincing or further explanation, reaching out to grab at the paper.

“Don’t tear it,” Declan warned, pulling it back.  Then he folded it up and handed it to her.  She unzipped her jumpsuit, uncaring that she revealed her bare stomach and breasts, and jammed the folded paper against her stomach.  Holding it in place, she zipped back up and looked between them, on the edge of panicking.

“You should be good to go.  That’s high-quality work and the girl is on the run, deep in the woods and with a child.  Which we want to ask you about, by the way.  Is it hers?  What’s the deal?” Stacia asked.

“She was pregnant when I joined up.  I was told it was hers and the Alpha’s.  Tomas’s.  She had it a month later or so.  A boy,” she said, eyes darting around a bit.

“How long ago was that?” Declan asked.

“Two… two and a half months, maybe,” she said.

“No, we’re talking about a kid of five or six who can wolf out and is extremely fast and agile,” Declan said, annoyed.

She nodded.  “That’s him.  Dragan.  He grows noticeably every day.  He walked a week after birth.  Turned at three weeks.  Mastered the third form at a month.  He’s a scary little shit, but he always stayed near
her
.  His eyes… they’re fucked up,” she said with shudder.

“What’s her deal?  Do you know her name or where’s she from?” Stacia asked.

“Her name is Louanna.  She’s from the south somewhere.  The rumor was that the boss man snatched her from wherever she lived.  He was part of a gang,” Karen said.

“Loki’s Spawn,” Stacia said.

“You know of it?” Karen asked.

“Our boss pretty much ended it.  Killed most of the members,” Stacia said.

“Oh,” Karen said, thinking it through.  The light bulb went off behind her eyes.  “Oh!  You work for
him.”

“Chris Gordon?  Yes, we do.  What else can you tell us about Louanna?” Declan asked.

“She’s fucked up.  I mean, her head wasn’t fastened on the same way as most people, and I think she was like that long before Tomas grabbed her.  When we joined the pack, we all thought he was in charge.  Then, after it was too late, we found out that she had him jumping at her beck and call.  And the kid?  Scary little shit.  Always catching birds and biting their heads off.  At like two months old.  What’s that shit gonna be like in a couple of years?  And the smell?  He always smelled like…” Karen trailed off, thinking.

“Sulfer?” Declan prompted.

“Yeah, I guess.  Say, what’s going to happen to me?” Karen asked.

“I think you’ll be a guest of the US government for at least a while,” Stacia said.  “Anything more you can add?”

“Not really. I tried to keep my head down and under the radar, if ya know what I mean,” Karen said.

“We do.  Keep that ward with you and preferably against your skin,” Declan said.

“It’s warm… I mean like really warm all of a sudden,” Karen said, eyes getting wide.  She unzipped again and looked at the paper pressed against her flat stomach.

“Let me touch it,” Declan said, putting his hand out.  Stacia was suddenly right there, eyes narrowed on his hand, and he felt immediately nervous as he lightly touched the paper with one finger.  The girl, Karen, looked at him with scared eyes, while Stacia was tense and watching his expression like a hawk.

He carefully and quickly pulled his finger back, making sure he didn’t brush any body parts, exposed or covered.

“She’s taking a shot at you.  Probably burning your hair in a fire, which would be the easiest spell in the woods.  You’re fine and if you’re lucky, she’ll use up her whole sample,” Declan said.

“She wore bands made from our hair on her arms.  Told us it helped bind the pack together,” Karen said, standing there still unzipped, looking at Declan with desperate hope.  Stacia reached over and yanked the zipper up with a sharp, quick move. 

When the girl jumped and looked at her in surprise, Stacia smiled.  “Don’t want that ward to fall out of your clothes along with the rest of you, now do we?”

“You should be fine with that ward.  We have to go.  Good luck to you,” Declan said, backing quickly away and heading out the door.

The girl watched him go for a second, sighed, and then turned and froze when she saw Stacia’s expression.

“Mine,” the platinum blonde said in a scary, quiet tone.  Karen lowered her eyes immediately, nodded, and backed to her sitting place against the wall.

A few minutes later, they were back in the SUV, which started at Barry’s first turn of the key.

“That what happened to the helicopter?” Marcia asked Declan, unable to stop herself.

“That was a military aircraft with an encrypted avionics package,” he said.  “I’d have to touch it to knock it out.”  He settled in and closed his eyes again.

Marcia, surprised by his answer, turned and looked at Stacia, who just leaned back and returned her gaze with wolfish eyes.  Unsettled, Marcia turned back forward and kept her questions to herself for the remainder of the ride.