Guilty by Association (Judah Black Novels) (27 page)

My throat muscles worked to swallow the growing sense of helpless dread. “No. There's no one. Just you guys.”

“It's as I feared then,” said Chanter with a sigh. He rubbed his hands together, slapped them on his legs and stood. “You brought something of his father's?”

I nodded and reached into my pocket to retrieve the engraved wedding ring I'd brought. I cradled the tiny bit of gold in my fingers a moment and traced my fingers over the name spelled there. It had been eleven years since anyone had called me by that name.
The woman who gave him that ring is dead
, I told myself.
She died with Alex Gale
.
There's no need to hold onto a dead woman's things
. And yet, the name had power. Once Chanter knew my true identity there would be one less layer of protection between he and I. I would be vulnerable in ways I hadn't been for more than a decade.

I closed my eyes and extended it to him. “I suppose I expected no less,” he snorted and collected it with a grimace. “This is something with great sentimental significance?”

“It was his wedding band.”

Chanter nodded but he looked worried. “You can go now.”

“Go? You're joking right? My son is out there. I'm not just going to leave, not until I know he's safe.”

He considered me for a moment and the nodded. “You're the blindest, dumbest, most bull headed human woman I have ever met, Agent Black,” he said and laughed. “My Silvia would have liked you.” Then, he stood and tossed the ring into the fire.

I bolted up. “What the hell do you think you're doing?”

“Don't interrupt,” he said approaching the fire. “It's rude.” Out of what seemed like nowhere, he pulled out a wicked looking curved knife and nonchalantly slit his wrist straight down the highway. For a human, that's a death sentence but werewolves are a lot harder to kill. Silver aside, their preferred method of suicide is to suicide by cop or another werewolf.

A stream of crimson fell from his arm, even though the cut healed almost instantaneously. The fire drank up Chanter's blood as if it were lighter fluid, reaching up and changing colors and substance when the two met. He watched it a moment, a dark shadow passing over his face, before coming to retrieve the bottle of whiskey from beside me. He'd cut too deep, though, and nicked a tendon, making his hands all rubbery so I had to hold the bottle while he took a drink. Instead of swallowing, he walked over and spat it into the fire.

Something changed in the trees. Their shadows became longer, denser, hungrier. The hair on the back of my neck and on my arms stood on end as an electric charge ran through the air, thicker and more potent than lightning. Tiny bits of static discharged themselves against the snow in jaw dropping displays of light battling shadow.

That's what real magick looks like. There aren't always magic words or gestures or even candles and circles. The most powerful spells, the ones that are the most dangerous, are cast with only a handful of easily found ingredients and a whole hell of a lot of willpower. The more experienced someone gets with their own magick, the easier those kinds of things become and the less complex the rituals are. All the hocus pocus mumbo jumbo in the world won't make a spell work. The real power of magick is always, first and foremost, in the heart and mind.

The static discharges climbed up into the air, forming walls around the fire, trapping Chanter inside. Shadows spun but so did Chanter. He moved with a strange fluidity, almost as if he were dancing a waltz to music only he could hear, his partner a shadow just on the other side of flame.

Another loud growl came tumbling through the forest and I turned my head towards it, watching blackness shift at the edge of the tree line
. Fear slipped down my throat and wrapped itself around my spine with a shiver. “Whatever you're going to do, Chanter, you'd better do it fast.” When he didn't answer me, I turned back to the fire and watched his shape moving on the opposite side. “Chanter?” The shadow shifted back my way. I strained my neck and squinted to see through the oddly shifting fog and dissipating static.

But it wasn't Chanter that walked out from behind the wall of fire. It was a dead man.

My heart crawled up into my throat and stopped. “Alex?”

He smiled that stupid smile that could only be his, gave me a wink and pressed a finger to his lips. Then, he strode on past me as if I wasn't even there. I reached for his hand. For eleven years, I'd wanted nothing more than to touch him one more time, to have ten seconds to say goodbye. The chance to apologize for all the stupid shit I'd said, the arguments that could have waited, the truths that never should have been buried...It all passed through my fingers like hot smoke on a cold autumn night. All I could do is watch as he walked off into the woods.

The whole night went silent. Not even a cricket dared to chirp. I held my breath and I waited.

In those minutes that passed, I reviewed every important moment of our time together, Alex and I. I remembered the way he used to leave his socks right beside the laundry hamper, no matter how many times I told him to pick the damn things up; the way he'd chew hard candy instead of just letting it dissolve; how he'd add water to the orange pulp at the bottom of the orange juice and drink it straight out of the carton. I thought about how he stole my blankets in the middle of the night and left me shivering. And then I remembered how cold the bed felt my first night alone. All of those stupid little things that drive you crazy about a person, they're the things you miss the most when they're gone. Funny how that works.

“Mom?”

I turned around at the sound of a tired, tiny and broken voice. Hunter was standing behind me, Alex's leather jacket draped over his shoulders. Hunter was pale, covered in sweat and shivering but he looked unhurt. Alex's shade stood beside him, one hand on his back, waiting. Maybe he was waiting for me to apologize or maybe to yell at him. I did that a lot. Too much. Maybe I should have said something but there weren't any words for that moment. Alex gave me a nod, one that simultaneously told me everything would be okay and that he was leaving. Then, he turned and started to walk back toward the fire.

“Wait.” The word came out no louder than a whisper but Alex stopped, turning back expectantly. I blinked back tears and walked up to him. “Damn you. Damn you for making me miss you like this. For dying, for taking all your secrets with you, for leaving me alone to deal with this...” I trailed off, not because I didn't have anything else to say but because my throat was too tight to continue. Plus, I had to get the dust out of my eyes. Say what you want about me but I wasn't going to cry over his dead ass, not again.

Alex smirked and reached out to touch my cheek. Just like when I tried to touch him, his hand turned to cold smoke when we should have made contact and his face darkened. He glanced back at our son once more before backing toward the fire. “Wait,” I called again but Alex just shook his head and let the flames come between us. His form danced there on the other side of the fire for just a moment before it was lost in a burning shadow. The fire swelled in an impressive show before shrinking back down to a less impressive size.

Hunter was suddenly beside me, hugging the jacket tight, trying to contain his shivers. “So cold.”

I was about to grab my son and start looking for a way out when someone on the other side of the fire groaned. It wasn't until I stepped around the fire altogether and saw him lying there that I even remembered Chanter was in there with us. His mouth and chin were stained with blood though I didn't understand why until he coughed and more came up.

I cursed and dropped to my knees beside him, stripping off my shirt to throw over him as I went down. “Get that fire going,” I yelled at Hunter, adding an insistent, “Now,” when he didn't move. Hunter jumped and went fumbling around, looking for dry wood. I turned back to Chanter, trying to decide what I should do. There weren't any obvious wounds so whatever was wrong had to be on the inside. I wasn't qualified to diagnose or treat anything that serious. I checked my phone, looking for bars of service.

Chanter laughed. “They don't build cell towers here, girl,” he said and turned his head to spit more blood.

“Shut up,” I growled at him and tucked the phone away after realizing he was right. I wouldn't be calling any squads to that scene. Chanter put a hand on his chest and closed his eyes. I panicked. “Chanter!”

“I'm thinking.”

“Think faster. And don't you dare die on me. Sal will kill me if you die under my watch.” I turned to check on Hunter's progress. All those years of living in the city hadn't done him any favors. Without a lighter and a step by step set of instructions, he'd never get that fire burning again. A survivalist my son was not. A small sound drew my attention back to Chanter and I found he'd managed to sit up. He was staring at my chest, wiping a smear of blood away from his chin with the back of his hand. I snatched my shirt back up and pressed it to my chest. “Pervert. Don't think I won't hit you just because you're bleeding.”

Chanter shrugged and grinned. “I usually have to pay girls your age to take their shirts off for me.” He looked around, spat a mouthful of tissue and blood into the snow and grunted as he used a low hanging branch to pull himself up. “Damn, boy. Didn't anyone ever teach you how to build a fire?”

I wriggled back into my t-shirt, cursing myself for getting so worked up.
Werewolves heal, idiot. Of course he's fine. Should have known.

Chanter grabbed some sticks away from Hunter but he didn't use them to build the fire back up. Instead, he stomped out what was left of the coals and went digging through them. “What the hell happened to you anyway? One minute you're spitting blood and the next you're fine? And what the hell was that? You should have warned me about what you were going to do.”

“You of all people should know, Agent Black, how fragile magick like that can be. It isn't easy to channel power from the other side, even in here. I'm surprised it actually worked, considering.”

“Considering what?”

He pulled a charred bit of metal from the ashes, blew on it and rubbed it against his jeans before offering it to Hunter. “Hold onto this for a while, will you? Don't lose it. Don't put it down.”

Hunter wrinkled his nose. “It's
girly
.”

“In your pocket or around your neck,” said Chanter, patting him on the back. Then he turned back to me. “Now, what was it you wanted to talk about?”

I crossed my arms. “Let's start with the illegal necromancy before we jump to the obstruction charge. We can go from there.”

“Necromancy is frowned upon. There aren't any laws expressly forbidding it yet. Besides, your laws don't apply here. BSI has yet to plant a flag here. Give them time. I'm sure the government will try.” He bent over and retrieved a sweat stained white tank top from beside a tree that he threw on. “Second, I didn't tell you about the Ways because I knew the first thing you'd want to do was go poking around in one. That isn't safe. There's no telling where half of them go and the other half...” He shook his head. “Wounded fish shouldn't swim in shark infested waters.”

Hunter frowned and tugged the coat closer to him. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” said Chanter, “things notice when you stumble blindly into their territory. Dangerous things. Even those of us who know about the Ways only use them in emergencies.”

I glanced up and at the forest around us. In the whole time I'd been there, I hadn't sensed any other life besides us. Then again, I hadn't sensed anything at the Summers' either. There were still things out there beyond me. “If it's so dangerous then why did we come here?” asked Hunter. The kid stole the words straight out of my mouth.

Chanter didn't answer him. He just stumbled toward the tree line, rubbing his chest and appearing deep in thought. It was either follow him or get left behind at that point so I grabbed my son and followed.

I let Chanter take the lead, mostly because I had no idea where we were going. That made it slow going. He may have acted like he was fully recovered but, by the way he winced and wheezed every time he had to put aside a branch, I knew he wasn't yet back at full speed. When we came to a particularly big fallen tree blocking our path, I lifted Hunter over first before climbing up on it myself and extending a helping hand back down to Chanter. He stared at my hand, old pride and stubbornness swelling, and tried to pull himself up without my help. Chanter got halfway over before sliding back down with a grunt. I sighed, rolled my eyes and went back to the other side where I could push him rather than pull. That way, Hunter couldn't see him accepting help from me. Werewolves are really funny about looking weak in front of other werewolves.

“What happened to you back there?” I asked, grunting as Chanter used my hands as a step up. “You seemed pretty bad off.”

“The cost of some magick is steep. You ought to know that.” He paused on top of the tree trunk and offered a hand down to me. I refused it and climbed up to join him.

“Don't give me that. If that's all it was, you wouldn't be so hell bent on avoiding my question.” He ignored me and hopped down to join Hunter. “Since you won't answer me, maybe I'll just see what Sal has to say about it, then.” I hopped off the tree and found Chanter's finger in my face.

“You will not mention any of this to him or to any of the others. Not about the ring, not about the fire and not about the state you found me in.”

“I'm not one of your pack,” I said, pushing his finger out of my face. “And the alpha magick you've been using to make me obey you doesn't carry over distance. You want my cooperation? Then give me yours. I'm trusting you with my son's life. I need to know that trust isn't misplaced.”

Chanter stared me down hard. “You have no idea how much I have already given for you and your boy, Judah,” he said sternly. “If you did, you wouldn't push me. But since you're so interested in knowing the weight of the spells I have worked in this place...” He trailed off and went digging around in his pockets for something. A half a moment later, he was offering me a hawk's talon that had been all bound up in a hemp rope that was charred on both ends. The talon itself bore a mess of simple, carved symbols that I didn't recognize and vibrated faintly with a thrum of power. “Then I offer you the chance to experience it for yourself.”