Heat of the Moment (33 page)

“No!” I shouted.

Chief Deb was here to save me.

“Die, wi—!” Mary shrieked.

Boom!

Mary jerked. Blood blossomed on her shirt in almost the same pattern it had made on Mistress June's. The knife tumbled to the ground. Mary followed.

Chief Deb turned, gun still in her hands. I waited for her to shoot Jeremy. Instead, she put the gun back in her holster.

“About damn time you got here,” Jeremy said.

 

Chapter 27

“Do you know where a stone like that might be located?” Franklin asked.

Owen shook his head. Panic threatened. Becca had been kidnapped. Cassandra had scried for her location and seen an altar. One and one equaled—

“Someone's going to sacrifice Becca to raise Roland McHugh.”

When no one argued with him, Owen sat on the bed because his legs couldn't support him any more. Reggie laid his head on Owen's knee. Owen didn't have the energy to pet him and the dog whined, concerned.

“The wolves,” Raye said.

“What about them?”

“I heard them when we scried for Becca's location, which makes me think they're near her. And they would be, because animals, especially wolves, are drawn to her.”

“Go on,” Franklin said.

“So far I share with Henry the ability to see, hear, communicate with ghosts, as well as his power of telekinesis. Becca, like Pru, has an affinity for animals. But Pru could also call the wolves.” Her gaze went to the wolf, which already stood at the motel room door.

“Let her out,” Owen said.

Cassandra, who was the closest, did. The instant Pru was outside, the long, lonely, chilling howl of a lone wolf lifted toward the sky. The faint outline of a moon occupied the horizon. Owen had always thought the days when both the moon and the sun were visible kind of creepy—as if they lived on a different planet altogether.

“I thought we had more time.” Raye's gaze remained on the spooky daytime moon.

“What are you talking about?”

“Sacrifice of a witch by a
Venatores Mali
with the most kills, while the worthy believers chant, skyclad, beneath the moon. I thought that meant night.” She pointed at the watery, silver orb. “But apparently not.”

Owen's chest tightened. “We need to hurry.”

Pru howled again. A moment later, what sounded like a dozen wolves, maybe more, maybe less, hard to tell, answered from a distance.

“How are we going to find them?” Owen asked.

Raye held up a hand as Pru howled a third time. When the wolves answered, they were a lot closer.

“We should probably head in their direction,” Bobby said. “A pack of wolves running down the street is going to cause more trouble than we need right now and waste far too much time.”

“Henry,” Raye snapped. “Tell Pru to hold them at the edge of town.”

The wolf loped in the direction of the woods at the opposite end of the street from Becca's clinic. Reggie took one step after her.

“Bly'b.”

The dog glanced at Owen, then back at the figure of Pru in the distance. His expression was so melancholy Owen would have been amused if it wasn't for … everything.

“She might be okay with you, pal, but her friends won't be.” Reggie still belonged to the Marines. If Owen brought him back in several pieces there'd not only be hell to pay, but a lot of money. The dog was worth more than Owen was.
“Hier.”

Reggie came, but he wasn't happy about it.

Owen looked around for his pickup, then cursed when he remembered it was at the clinic, along with his Beretta. He glanced back at the motel room, missing the rifle he'd confiscated, and saw that Franklin had brought it along. Good man.

Owen flicked a finger at the cars in the lot. “Which one?”

Franklin headed for the dark sedan. Why had Owen even asked?

“I have a bigger car.” Bobby pointed at a Suburban, which barely fit into a single parking space. Everyone piled in, including Reggie, and they trolled after Pru. The ghost would have to get there on his own.

“I wish Edward was still here.” Franklin gave a half shrug at the incredulous glances thrown his way. “The guy's damn good in a fight.”

“Problem is…” Cassandra jabbed a finger at the windshield. “It would be damn hard to keep him from fighting that.”

Spread across the road that led from Three Harbors and into the woods were at least twenty wolves.

*   *   *

“Y-y-you,” I managed. My teeth had begun to chatter, whether from shock over the blood loss, cold from the rain that now stung my face like icy needles, or the realization that Deb wasn't my savior, I had no idea. Didn't matter.

Chief Deb
was
one of them, and I was dead.

She ignored me. I hadn't really said anything worth answering.

“Let's get this over with,” she ordered.

“Fine by me.” Jeremy raised the knife again. “You know the chant?”

“I…” Deb's face creased. “You got a cheat sheet?”

“Amateur.” Jeremy lowered the knife.

“It was you,” I blurted. “The animals. You were practicing.”

Deb shrugged.

“Why did you come to me about the ones that were missing if you took them?”

“Figured someone would ask you sooner or later and it would seem suspicious if I hadn't done something about it before that.”

I
had
wondered why it had taken her so long. Hadn't considered she was the one doing the grab and gut. Why would I?

“I didn't think you'd find them. Of all the people in this town to go anywhere near the McAllister place, you were the one I'd bet the farm wouldn't.”

She had a point.

“Like I said,” Jeremy repeated. “Amateur.”

“If you hadn't tried to kill her right in the middle of town, we wouldn't be in this mess,” Deb snapped. “I messed up the crime scene as much as I could, but sheesh. Wearing a ski mask? Why not just wear an ‘I am a serial killer' sign?”

“Fuck you,” Jeremy said. “I saved your ass. Why would you keep your practice kills around? You should have tossed them in the lake. I did.”

“You disposed of evidence?” I asked.

Jeremy rolled his eyes. “You think she's gonna arrest me? She works for me.”

Deb made a soft sound of derision, and Jeremy's eyes narrowed. “I've killed a dozen witches. What have you done?”

“I just killed one now, didn't I?” Deb pointed at Owen's mom.

“She isn't really a witch,” I said.

“She thinks she's one.” Deb glanced at Jeremy. “Doesn't that count?”

“No.”

“She meant to say ‘die, witch hunter,'” I murmured. “Not ‘die, witch.'”

Both times she'd been interrupted—tackled by George, shot by Deb.

“There you go.” Jeremy withdrew a small notebook from a back pocket, flipped it open, and handed it to Deb. “I figured you'd be worthless. Read that.”

“What language is this?”

“Latin.”

“I don't speak Latin.”

“You don't need to. Just read along. Try to keep up.”

He slashed my neck again. From the sharp pain and the incredible head rush, the wound was deeper than the last one.

Jeremy drew his shirt over his head, shucked his pants and everything else. He lifted an eyebrow at Chief Deb. “Skyclad.”

She sighed, but she got naked too.

“Skyclad beneath the moon,” I said. “You gonna stand around until it rises?”

He lifted his gaze to the stormy sky. “Just because we can't see it, doesn't mean it isn't there.”

He began to chant. Chief Deb joined in, lamely but gamely. I struggled against the zip ties. Foolish, since even if I got them off, I doubted that Jeremy or Deb—or his knife and her gun, which she'd kept in her hand even after she'd lost the uniform—would let me go. But I couldn't just lie there.

I was a witch. If I weren't, I wouldn't be here. I should be able to
do
something. But what? Talking to animals wasn't going to help. Neither would the laying on of hands. Not for the first time I wished for a more active—i.e., destructive—power.

In the air above me a face appeared. As if made from the air, or perhaps
behind
it, trying to get out.

I blinked. It was still there. In fact, it was
more
there, and I recognized it.

Roland McHugh was trying to push his way out from wherever he had been the last four hundred years.

Help!
I scream-thought.
I'm at Revelation Point. Please come.

I had no idea who I was talking to, but oddly … it felt right.

The wind, or the wolves, picked up again. They sounded closer. They sounded here.

Though I didn't want to take my eyes off Jeremy and his knife, nor the creepy Roland-face that expanded and retreated from the air above me, I had to see if I was right.

I turned my head just as the first wolf emerged from the trees.

*   *   *

They weren't two miles out of town when a storm descended. Wind and rain slammed into the vehicle. Thunder shook the earth. Lightning split the navy sky, tossing silvery sparkles across the herd of now drenched wolves.

“That's weird,” Cassandra said.

“Storms come up.” Franklin shrugged. “They gotta start somewhere.”

She glanced out the back window. “Huh.”

Everyone but Bobby, who was driving, followed her gaze. Behind them, the sun shone from a cloudless sky. In front of them, the moon played hide-and-seek with the storm.

“Henry,” Raye said. “Knock it off.”

“Henry's doing that?” Owen asked.

“He says no.”

“But he could?” Owen clarified. “If he wanted to?”

“He has the power to influence the weather.”

“But you can't?” Cassandra asked, and Raye shook her head. “Becca?”

“Not that I know of.” Raye faced front. “If she isn't, our other sister must be doing it.”

Bobby glanced at her then back at the road. “What does that mean?”

“No clue.”

“Can we focus on one sister at a time?” Owen pointed ahead as the wolves turned in a graceful sweep onto a dirt road.

Bobby slowed to follow, then slowed even more and switched the car into four-wheel drive to make it up the now-muddy incline.

“This is Revelation Point,” Owen said. “Used to be make-out central.”

“Why would the
Venatores Mali
come here?” Cassandra wondered. “Is there a rock altar?”

“Not that I remember, but—” He shrugged. “I wasn't looking for that the last time I was here.”

The last time he'd been here he'd been looking for the unlock mechanism on Becca's bra. As he recalled, she'd ended up unlocking it for him.

The car shimmied and ground to a halt. Bobbie shifted into four-wheel low. The tires spun and he slammed it into park. “We can try and get unstuck.”

Owen opened the door and stepped into the mud. “Or we can run.”

He didn't wait for them to climb out; he took off on his own. The road was washed out. The trail led uphill. He slid backward nearly as much as he moved forward. Finally he stepped into the woods, where the trees had blocked some of the rain, and the leaves on the ground and the roots and the pine needles gave him some traction.

It seemed like an hour—but was probably only a few minutes—before he reached the edge of the trees and saw two people upright, one on the ground.

His chest tightened when he recognized Becca prostrate, loosened a bit as he identified Chief Deb, then contracted when he saw the athame in Reitman's hand. He and Deb were not only naked but chanting in a foreign language. That couldn't be good.

The wolves formed a semicircle, quivering as if waiting for an order, a signal, a treat. Then the earth shook, the heavens spilled lightning, and the storm stopped as quickly as it had begun. All seemed frozen, shrouded. Each living thing held its breath.

The others burst from the trees behind him. The wolves surged forward. Owen shouted, “Becca!”

Her gaze met his; her lips formed:
Owen.

And the athame plunged into her chest.

 

Chapter 28

In the midst of the darkness there was light, and I went toward it. I was a step away from going into it when someone called my name.

The man who emerged from the gloom to stand with me at the edge of that light was dressed in black, hat to boot. His hair was dark; his eyes were too. I'd seen him once before.

“Henry,” I said.

He had Raye's eyes. Or she had his.

“Mo leanabh,”
he murmured, his voice bringing to mind the misty lochs of a Scotland I'd never seen. Or maybe I had. “Don't go.”

“I—” I turned toward that light, and in the darkness just to the right of it, something slithered.

Henry stepped in front of me as the shadow became a man.

“Roland,” we both said at the same time.

“One down.” McHugh's whisper seemed to swirl in the air, stir my hair, slide across my skin like a slug. “Two to go.”

“I won't let you hurt them,” Henry said.

“You won't be able to stop me any more now than you were able to then.”

“Watch me,” Henry said, and lunged.

*   *   *

Raye screamed, “Becca!” and swung her arm in a wide arc.

Jeremy Reitman flew over the edge of the cliff and disappeared. Unfortunately he left his athame buried in Becca's chest.

She wasn't moving. From here, she didn't appear to be breathing. But that couldn't be right. Owen wouldn't let it be.

He ran across the open grass. He didn't even notice, or maybe he just didn't care, that Chief Deb had whirled in their direction. She might be naked but she still held a gun.