Kitty Raises Hell (12 page)

“It’s rare finding someone who can read anything through a Ouija board. It’s not the most efficient tool.”

And I’d been worried that he’d make fun of me for going along with it. Grant seemed to take everything seriously.

“What
is
an efficient tool?” I said.

“Oh, this and that.”

The trouble with the real-deal psychics and magicians is they didn’t like to talk about what they could do. Like Tina covering
it up because she wanted her colleagues to take her seriously.

“What does something like this?”

“I’m starting to get some ideas,” he said.

“What are we supposed to do in the meantime? This thing is getting more violent. I don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”

“What do you know about protective magic?”

“You can crush St. John’s Wort pills and scatter them with breadcrumbs to get rid of a fairy,” I said.

After a pause, he said, “I didn’t know that. Interesting.”

Hey, my side gets a point on supernatural
Jeopardy.
That was a switch.

“But that’s probably not going to be useful here,” Grant said.

Oh well.

“Try this instead.” Grant gave me directions: “Take the dust from a ruin—”

“Ruin? Like old temple, Roman aqueduct? How am I going to get—”

“You live in a city—what’s been knocked down recently? An abandoned shed going to weed will work just as well. Mix it with
blood—”

“How much blood? Human blood? I’m trying
not
to kill people here—”

“Cow, sheep, pig, chicken. Special order it from a butcher shop. Not human.”

Grant was being very patient with me. “Oh. That makes sense.”

“Mix the dust and blood, then sprinkle the mixture around whatever you need protected. Probably the homes of everyone who’s
involved. Any other structures. You can even carry a jar of it with you, to use in a pinch.”

Kind of gross. But I wasn’t going to question it. “What kind of spell is that?”

“I adapted it from an old Egyptian potion. Ideally, it’ll form a protective barrier.”

“And it works?”

“In at least one case it did, yes.”

Now, there was a story I needed to get. But later, when this was over and we were all still alive.

“Thanks. We’ll give it a try.”

“This still won’t stop it,” he said. “This isn’t an ideal solution. I’ll try to come up with something better.”

“I appreciate the help.”

“I took it upon myself to keep that group from causing trouble. Much of this is my responsibility.”

Grant was usually calm, emotionless, a good guy to have at your back. But he was sounding downright frustrated.

“There’s only one of you and like a dozen of them. Just think how much damage they’d be doing if you weren’t there.”

“It’s kind of you to say so.”

I tried to sound cheerful. “Let me know when you come up with anything else. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Until then.”

We clicked off and I felt better, because now I had something I could do. I started thinking about taking a shower.

By this time Ben had gotten up and was making phone calls of his own, in bed, a pen and notepad beside him.

I said, “Grant has this protection spell I want to try, but I have to get ingredients. Do you want to come?”

He glanced up. “Do you need me to?”

“No, I guess not.” We were married, after all. Not attached at the hip.

“I still have to call the insurance company and try to figure out what we’re going to do about New Moon. I called the fire
department a little while ago. They’re going to inspect the building for structural and gas-line damage, but if it checks
out we should be able to make repairs and open back up in a couple of weeks.”

Which was good news. We were still in the game.

“Call me if anything happens,” I said.

“You too. Be careful.”

Which, when Ben said it, also sounded like “I love you.”

I
t turned out you really could go to the butcher shop and get blood. It wasn’t easy—I had to call all over town to find one
that could special order it from their slaughterhouse. But I found one that was willing—and they were certainly willing to
charge me for it. I also got a couple of steaks to go along with the blood. Any excuse.

For the ruin, I went to where a set of 1920s townhouses was being—tragically, in my opinion—torn down to make way for high-priced
lofts. I had always wondered what made a place a loft rather than an apartment or condo. I figured it had to be the outrageous
price. Around back, the crews weren’t watching, so I was able to get to the roofless, half-knocked-in building and scoop up
a bucketful of dirt and debris.

When I mixed the two ingredients, I ended up with a dark, sticky, smelly paste. Plaster of Paris from hell. The stuff reeked.
I separated it out into a dozen mason jars, hoping it would be enough. I hadn’t realized how much I had to protect.

The first place I anointed was New Moon. The building was still intact, after all, even though the doors had yellow tape sealing
them off and a sign from the fire department declaring that the building was awaiting inspection. I stared at the facade a
long time. From the outside, no damage was visible. Lycanthropic vision was pretty good for seeing in the dark, so I peered
through the window of the front door, searching the shadows. Tables and chairs were scattered. Puddles spotted the floor.
Scorch marks streaked from the kitchen. I could smell soot, sulfur, brimstone. The Ouija board still lay there, abandoned.

I didn’t want to think about it any more than that.

I walked around the building clockwise, because for some reason these things were always done clockwise, using a spoon to
dribble out spots of Egyptian blood potion. If this didn’t work, I’d look really silly. And if it did, how would I know? What
if the thing didn’t attack us here again? Would the potion have protected us, or would it be a coincidence? I could begin
to see how superstitions like this got started. If you got a hot date the one day you happened to be carrying a rabbit’s foot—well,
why not?

But at least I was doing
something.

Ben pulled up in his car just as I was finishing the bloody circle. He wore his “threw it on as I was leaving the house” look:
rumpled trousers, rumpled shirt, brown jacket, hair brushed back from his face, obviously with his fingers. He smelled clean
and showered.

“Hey!” I grinned at him as he came to meet me.

“Hey—oh, my God, what
is
that? Did you put that around the whole building?” His nose wrinkled, and he glared with disgust at the jar of bloody goo.

“It’s the dust of a ruin mixed with blood. Odysseus Grant’s protection spell. It’s supposed to keep nasty spirits away,” I
said.

“I can see why—it’ll keep anything away. Gah!”

Sensitive werewolf noses. By this time, I’d gotten used to the reek.

“What brings you out here?” I said.

“I’m supposed to meet the investigator and insurance adjuster in half an hour. I have a feeling the insurance company is going
to want to call it arson and fraud.”

“Arson! Are they kidding?”

He shrugged. “We were there when the fire started. And in a way, ‘weird-ass supernatural attack’ might be classified as arson.”

I groaned. “Great. That’s just great.”

“Don’t worry, I think we have the investigator on our side. He’s talking something about a gas leak igniting particulate matter
in the air. A big
whoosh
with no outright
boom.
If the insurance company buys the explanation, we’re set.”

Another car, an old, small-size pickup, pulled up to the curb and parked behind Ben’s. My poor little burned-out building
sure had a lot of visitors.

“Is that your investigator?” I said, even as I knew I was wrong, because I recognized the truck. It was Mick’s. Sure enough,
Mick and Shaun got out. Both were frowning, walking with their shoulders bunched up, surly.

“Oh, this can’t be good,” I murmured. These were two of the pack’s strongest wolves, apart from me and Ben. In fact, in a
straight-up fight, they were probably stronger. We were the alphas because they let us be. Because they trusted us.

“Hi, Shaun,” I said. “You’re in time to walk through with Ben and the investigator. You can see exactly what the damage is.”

He pressed his lips, nodded. Peered in through the front door like I had, searching, and I hoped the fact that not much was
visible from here made him feel better. Shaun loved the place as much as I did. He’d picked out the name.

Mick didn’t stop staring at me. When Ben edged up to me, he stared at both of us. He had to know what that stare meant to
our wolf sides.

“Is something wrong?” I said, my voice steady. I rounded my shoulders and stood straight. I didn’t want to have to do something
as gauche as growl at him.

He shrugged, offhand, like nothing was wrong. “I just want to find out what you’re going to do to take care of this.”

I held up the jar of blood goo. “Protective spell. I’ve got extras in the car. I’ll give you some to take home with you.”

He and Shaun regarded it with the same disgusted, puckered expressions Ben had. The stuff did smell pretty vile. But once
it was spread around the place, it wasn’t noticeable. Much.

“Are you kidding me?” Mick said, obviously not impressed. “I’m not smearing that crap anywhere near me.”

“I’m open to other suggestions,” I said.

Mick and Shaun glanced at each other, which made me even more nervous, because it meant they’d been talking about this beforehand.
I was way too new at this alpha thing to be facing dissension in the ranks already. I wasn’t sure it would work, but I’d have
to handle this the way I handled most everything in my life: brazen it out and act like I knew what I was doing.

I crossed my arms and waited for an answer.

“We go to Vegas,” Shaun said. He was fidgeting, just a little. Hands picking at the seams on his jeans, eyes darting, unable
to look right at me. It made me think this was all Mick’s idea. “Go to the source. Take care of that pack directly.”

“Did you two come out here to tag-team me or what?” I said.

Shaun looked away at that, because I was right. Mick didn’t. He said, “Well? How about it?”

“I thought of going back to Vegas. Did you consider that they may want us to do exactly that? That it’s a trap? This is a
cult that sacrifices werewolves. I don’t want any of us going within a hundred miles of there.”

Mick started in with more confidence, still staring at me like this was a challenge. “Then we hire someone to go there for
us. Or we call the police.”

“And prove to the cops what’s happening, how?”

“I don’t know—you think of something, you know so much.”

“What, you don’t like my icky blood spell?” I dipped my finger into the mixture and pointed it at him. Maybe I could obnoxious
him into submission.

“I’m worried, Kitty. I’m worried that you can’t handle this,” Mick said.

“You think someone else could handle it better?”

“I think if it wasn’t for you, this wouldn’t be happening.”

Ben, who had been standing behind my shoulder the whole time, studying the pair of them, sprang. Surprised the hell out of
me. Out of all of us. Ben grabbed Mick’s T-shirt at the shoulders, wrapped it in his fists, spun him around, and shoved him
to the brick wall of the building. Held them there. It was over before I could blink.

Ben’s teeth were bared. Mick’s eyes were wide, his feet working to try and scramble away. All his bravado vanished. Now he
was scared. Ben was close enough—and seemed angry enough—to take a bite out of him.

I stared. “Wow. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Neither did I,” Ben said, his voice hoarse. His expression was taut, his whole body tense, and his wolf glared out of his
eyes. He gave Mick one last shove, then stepped away, rolling his shoulders back, shivering almost. His breathing slowed.
Mick backed away to stand next to Shaun.

I moved to Ben and squeezed his hand.
Come back to me,
I thought at him. I wanted him to be human, not wolf, right now. I wanted to work this out as human beings.

“I was really hoping we could have a pack where this sort of thing wouldn’t happen,” I said, sighing. New Moon was supposed
to be the symbol of that. Peaceful cooperation. It was damaged, and look what happened.

“I’m sorry,” Mick said, not meeting my gaze, only glancing warily at Ben. “I didn’t mean for this to look like a challenge.
But I’m worried.”

“Yeah,” I admitted, my voice soft. “But we’re working on it. We’ll figure this out. Tell everyone we’ll figure this out.”

Again, they glanced at each other. My hunch had been correct. They’d been talking to everyone in the pack. They, the toughest
nonalpha males, had been appointed spokeswolves. And now they were backing down. Maybe I could do this job.

Shaun said, “How did you know we’ve been talking?”

“Female intuition,” I said. “I have to go meet with some paranormal investigators about this whole brouhaha. Will you guys
be okay if I leave you alone?”

“Paranormal investigators?” Shaun said. Finally, he was smiling, at least a little. “So you really are working on this.”

“Yeah, I am.”

“We’ll be fine,” Ben said. I was confident he was right.

Ben walked me to my car.

“You okay?” I asked. I didn’t know how close we’d come to a fight back there. I didn’t really want to know. Ben was still
tense.

“Yeah. It just came out of nowhere. I just couldn’t let them talk anymore. Or the wolf side couldn’t. Hard to explain.”

“Well, thanks,” I said. “I’m sure they’ll go back and tell everyone you’re way tougher than you look. They’ll be absolutely
cringing around you from now on.”

“Funny. I’ve come to rely on your fast-talking us out of these situations. Talk faster next time, okay?”

I grinned. “Sure.”

We exchanged a kiss—a warm, comfortable, all’s-well-with-the-world kiss—before I zoomed off to my next appointment.

As I was getting in my car, the grumble of a motorcycle engine revving caught my attention. The bike was at the end of the
block. The rider looked around quickly, then set off with enough speed that his tires squealed. He took the corner at a steep
angle and was gone. I caught only a glimpse; the rider wore a helmet, but I recognized the canvas army jacket.