Magic Binds (13 page)

Just my luck.

“However, I, being an experienced member of law enforcement, sent one of my deputies to check out their story and collect their clothes, and she recovered some evidence from the scene. Evidence that may be of interest to you.”

Why did I get the sudden feeling that this would cost me? “May I see that evidence?”

“I need a favor,” Beau said.

Of course. “Shoot.”

“There is an elderly woman. Jene Boudreaux.”

He pronounced “Jene” as
Zhe-nay
.

“She is in her eighties, lives alone, and her neighbors have been reporting odd things. Weird noises, disconcerting smells, and one of them swears he saw her pick up a dead pigeon his cat didn't finish off the lawn and take it into her house. So I had my people do a health and welfare check. If she was starving and resorting to picking up dead pigeons, we have a moral obligation to do something about it. My deputy went out there. She was muttering under her breath and then out of nowhere she lunged at him and bit him on the shoulder hard enough to draw blood. He took her in after that.”

“Did you check her teeth?” I asked. The teeth were one of the first parts to show signs of a human turning into something else.

“Yes. Normal human teeth. I had a chat with her. We didn't get anywhere. So we put her in a cell and called down to the psychiatric unit in the city to come and evaluate her. She was in that cell for about an hour. When Connie went to do her rounds, she found the cell door open and the old lady was gone.”

Better and better. “Nobody saw her leave?”

Beau shook his head. “And the cameras weren't running, since the magic was up. A group of kids walking home from school saw her take off for the woods. We tried to follow her with bloodhounds, but the dogs refused to track. She's been gone about ten hours. Since you have not one but two members of the Pack at your disposal, here's the deal. You track down Jene Boudreaux, and I'll let you examine the evidence you need.”

Even if the evidence was crap, I still owed Beau. “I'll take that deal, but I want to see her house. I'd like to know what I'm walking into.”

“Fine by me.” Beau raised his voice. “Robby!”

A lanky blond deputy materialized in the doorway.

“This is Robert Holland,” Beau said. “Robert will go with you and provide assistance and legal authority.”

“Folks,” Holland nodded at us.

“Mrs. Boudreaux has been a part of our community for all of her life,” Beau said. “Her husband drove my sons to school in his armored bus when
he was alive. She is known to people. I want it to be understood that even if Mrs. Boudreaux isn't herself, Deputy Holland is the one who gives the all clear. If violence is inevitable, it must be authorized by one of us.”

Fine by me.

•   •   •

J
ENE
B
OUDREAUX LIVED
in a small older house typical of the pre-Shift Georgia suburbs: one story, about twelve hundred square feet, a wooden fence and an abundance of plants and hedges up front. The plants had seen better days and the hedges were blocking the windows.

Twenty feet from the house, Derek and Ascanio stopped in unison.

“Odd smell?” I guessed.

“Mm-hm.” Derek inhaled and grimaced. “Smells like hot iron.”

A few feet from the door I smelled it too, a thick, sharp odor. It didn't smell like anything in particular; it was its own ugly scent that cut across my senses like a knife. Something bad lived here.

Robert Holland put the key into the lock and opened the door. “We confiscated the keys when we arrested her.”

“Did you get to see her at all during any of this?”

He shook his head. “Shannon made the arrest. I do know her. My mother used to run a crafting club, where the older ladies would gather together, socialize, and knit or quilt.”

The knitting circle. More and more of those were springing up, as machine-knit clothes became harder to come by.

“Old ladies come in two flavors: sweet or mean. She was the mean kind. But my momma always tried to include her, until she flat-out refused to come about three years ago.”

The inside of the house was dark. Thick curtains blocked the light. I pulled them aside, letting the day in through the glass patio door. No bars on the frame. Odd. Apparently Jene wasn't afraid of whatever the magic-fueled night could spawn.

A layer of dust coated the old furniture. Derek tried it with his fingers. “Sticky.”

Not dust, grime. The kind of grime that accumulated after years of willful neglect.

“When did she go weird?” Ascanio asked.

“She was always an odd bird,” Holland said. “She had a real glare on her. I checked the log. We'd been called out before about a year ago. Some kids were playing on the street and being loud. They said she came out of the house and clicked her teeth at them. Scared them half to death. Parents filed a complaint. There were probably incidents before that, but most folks here live and let live, so it's hard to say.”

Great. Kate Daniels, tracker of old ladies with a biting fetish. And me without my armor.

Derek pulled the glass door open and stepped out into the yard.

No pictures on the walls. No dishes in the sink. Dust on the sink's edges. Not cleaning is one thing, but when you ran water, inevitably some splashed on the counter. No splash marks disturbed the dust. Ascanio opened the fridge.

“Empty.”

I didn't have a good feeling about this.

“Kate?” Derek called.

I stepped outside. The yard looked perfectly ordinary. Green grass, shrubs, and bird feeders. Many, many bird feeders in every shape and size. I could see at least two baited cage traps under the bushes.

Derek stepped closer to me.

“I smell one of Roland's people.”

Great. “Which one?”

“I don't know. But this scent was at his base when we went to talk to him. Now it's here.”

I went back inside and moved to the first bedroom. Dark stains marked the round doorknob. I reached into my pocket, drew a length of gauze, wrapped it around the handle, and swung it open.

The stench hit me then, like a slap to the face. Bones tumbled toward me, and I jumped back as they rolled onto the filthy carpet.

“Holy crap,” Holland said.

If the bedroom had carpet at one point, there was no way to tell what color it was. At least six or seven inches' worth of small animal bones covered the floor. A lot of bird carcasses. A few raccoon skeletons, some cat bones. They probably had a problem with missing pets in this neighborhood. All the bones were clean and smooth. I reached down with my gauze and picked up a small dog's femur. The marrow had been sucked out.

“Picked clean,” Ascanio said.

She must've been throwing them in through the window, because there was no way she could've opened the door without all of them falling out.

The bones reeked. Decomposition didn't smell like that and there was nothing here to decompose anyway. No, this was the sharp odor of the spit she deposited as she licked the bones clean. No wonder the bloodhounds didn't follow her. This stench made my hair stand on end.

I glanced at Derek. “Can you follow her trail?”

“Sure. Following isn't a problem,” he said.

“Let's do that.” I didn't want her running around unsupervised in my land, especially if my father's people were involved, although I had no clue why he was interested in her. This wasn't my father's magic, structured, almost scientific in its precision. This was something old and dark that crept about in the night.

“What is she, Kate?” Ascanio asked, as we left the house.

“I have no idea.”

CHAPTER

W
E CLIMBED DEEP
into the Blue River woods. The trees took the brunt of the sun's assault, but still, the heat baked us. Sweat collected in my armpits despite the deodorant. Another half hour in this heat, and nobody would have trouble tracking us. We'd leave a scent trail a mile wide.

The river cut through the forest from north to south, flowing through a narrow valley bordered by hills. It had formed during a flare years ago, streaming from the now massive Bryon Lake. Nearly all storm drainage in the area ended up in the Blue River through the tiny creeks and swales, and when it rained, the river rebelled and roared. Right now it lay calm, beckoning me with its nice cold water as we crossed the narrow wooden bridge, heading north, deeper into the woods.

I wished I could take a dip. Ten minutes and I would be ready to go hunt old ladies again. Sadly, no dipping would be happening.

The path turned west, climbing up a slope.

Derek grimaced again. He would never complain, but the scent had to be driving him nuts. Ascanio was equally stoic. Neither of them had belittled the other's wits, fighting ability, or sexual prowess in the last half hour. If I were less badass, I'd be worried.

We'd been walking for another fifteen minutes when Derek paused. Ascanio came to stand next to him. They stared through the trees where light indicated a clearing. We'd reached the top of a low hill.

“Is she close?”

They both nodded.

“The scent is so . . . wrong,” Ascanio said.

I pulled Sarrat out of my sheath. Holland pulled a sword out of the scabbard on his hip. Dark, with a no-nonsense epoxy and leather grip, the blade ran about nineteen inches long and at least an inch and a half wide, with a profile that fell somewhere between a falchion and a Collins machete. Holland held it like he'd gotten it dirty before.

If we got Beau's deputy injured, we could kiss the sheriff's cooperation good-bye.

I moved toward the light, walking nice and slow, careful where I put my feet. The two shapeshifters glided on both sides of me. I could barely hear Holland behind me. It wasn't his first time in the woods either.

The trees parted. A clearing spread before us, unnaturally circular, as if some giant had dropped a huge coin in the middle of the woods and forgotten about it for a decade or two. The grass covered the ground, but no trees had managed to encroach on the clearing. The growth around us was new too, the trees tall but thinner than those half a mile back by the river. Must've been a fire a few years back.

I walked to the edge of the clearing. An old woman stood in the light with her right side to me. She wore a pair of beige pants, a white collared blouse with matching beige polka dots, and a white knitted cardigan. It had to be ninety-five degrees, I was sweating like a pig, and here she was, wrapped in wool.

Holland shouldered his way to the front. “Mrs. Boudreaux? I'm Deputy Holland. I need you to come with me.”

No reaction.

“Mrs. Boudreaux!”

She didn't even turn.

I walked toward her, sword in hand. Holland caught up to me, while Ascanio and Derek fanned out to the sides.

“Mrs. Boudreaux?” I asked.

She turned to me. The whites of her eyes had yellowed and the red veins stood out, fat with blood. She stared at me.

Holland smiled at her. “Mrs. Boudreaux, it's me, Robby Holland. I'm Gladys Holland's son. You used to knit together, remember?”

She peered at him, swiveling her neck at an angle, like a puzzled dog.

“We were all very worried when you walked off. You didn't even say where you were going.” His voice was slightly chiding. “And it's hot out here. Let's get you off this mountain and into some nice cool shade. What do you say?”

Jene opened her mouth. “Little prick.”

Nice.

“There is no cause for strong language,” Holland said. “I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to insist you come with me.”

The old lady turned to me. “You're her. You're
his
bitch daughter.”

Thanks for the reputation bump, Dad.
“Yes, I am.”

She stared at me, her gaze unsettling.

Try me and see how bitchy I can be.

“I could serve you,” she said. “I'm powerful. I have magic. I can blight things. Look, I made this.” She pointed to the clearing. “Ten years and nothing except grass grows. I'm quiet and hard to kill.”

Wow.

She was trying to peer at me over Holland's shoulder and her eyes, wide open and unblinking, made her face deranged. A darker yellow, like the color of a rotten citrus, was flooding her irises.

“I can do things for you. Magic things. But I need food. You feed me and I do things for you.” She nodded. “Bring me children. The poor ones. Nobody cares about the poor ones.”

Next to me Derek tensed. Holland stared at her, openmouthed.

“How many?” I asked.

“Not many. One or two a month. Children are easier. Soft bones.”

“Alpha?” Ascanio's voice held a note of warning.

“Have you eaten many children?” I asked. “I need to know if their parents will cause problems.”

“Only two,” she said. “Years ago. No problems. I threw the bones in the
trash. You own the land. I'm the land's creature, so I will serve you and you'll bring me food and guard me from the bigger creatures. It's a good bargain.”

“No,” I told her.

Derek pulled off his shoes. On the other side of me Ascanio did the same.

I shook my head. “You're an evil thing that eats children. There is no place for you here.”

“You can't pick and choose,” she said. “I'm part of the land. I was born here. All my people were born here, many generations. I belong here.”

“You should've stuck to birds,” I said.

“You can't have the good without the bad,” she said. “Some creatures eat grass and some creatures eat the grass eaters. We are all born for a reason. You must have monsters to protect your land, and I will protect it well. If you need something, I will do it. I won't even eat humans, only the ones you bring me.”

“No.”

“You must have servants to do things for you. I can be one. It's a good bargain. This is your land and I'm your creature.”

A part of me, the deep dark part that felt the magic pulse last night, puzzled over it and decided that she wasn't unreasonable. The land spawned this monster and I guarded the land, so she was one of mine, too. They were all mine and I could use her.

There it was. Small decisions. Kate Daniels, Queen of the Monsters.

“You are right. You are mine. If you hadn't harmed anyone, I could have let you find a place of your own away from everyone. But you've eaten human children and you want to do it again. There are rules in my lands and you broke them. I'm not here to make bargains. I'm here to punish.”

She stared at me, unblinking. Hatred twisted her face.

“You think you can stop him. You can't. All of you will die.”

I flicked Sarrat, warming up my wrist. I'd promised Beau I'd let his deputy make the call, and I would keep my word. “Holland, I need that go-ahead.”

“I can take you in,” Holland said. “She'll kill you, but Milton County will protect you. There is due process.”

She was past saving, but I had to give it to him, he did try.

Bulges rolled under Jene's skin, like billiard balls moving through her body.

Ascanio pulled two vicious-looking knives from the sheaths on his belt.

“Holland!” Damn it.

She swayed, an eerie sad smile on her face, reached out, and brushed Holland's face with her fingertips, caressing his skin with gentle tenderness.

“Gladys's son.”

“That's right.” Holland nodded. “Come with me. Let me take you in . . .”

“When he comes through with his soldiers and fire, I'll follow him.”

She took several steps back. “And I'll feed. I'll wait until he kills you, Gladys's son, and then I'll suck your bones dry.”

Her whole body jerked and shot upward. Her clothes ruptured, and a huge body spilled out, growing bigger and bigger. She fell straight down and gripped the dirt with her hands, her elbows up, as if she were about to do a push-up.

“What the hell . . .” Holland breathed out.

Her legs turned within their sockets with a vomit-inducing crunch, until her knees stuck straight up, like the legs of a spider. Her neck lengthened, thickening, the skin dripping down to form a pouch on her throat. Her white hair fell loose around her giant head, her wrinkled breasts sagged to the forest floor, and a thin strip of gray fur sprouted on her spine. Yellowed claws curved from her fingers and toes. She was the size of a bus.

“Hungry!” She screeched, clicking sharp conical teeth. “I'm hungry!”

Beau could take his instructions and shove them where the sun didn't shine. “Hit her!”

The two shapeshifters charged in from the sides. The thing that was Jene Boudreaux dashed forward with cockroach quickness, straight at me.

I shoved Holland aside and sliced across her face with my sword. A bloody line swelled across her skin, severing her lip. She slapped me. I flew back, landed on the grass, and rolled to my feet in time to see her kick Derek with her right foot. He hurtled through the air and vanished into the brush. She must've knocked him down the slope.

I sprinted to her.

Ascanio sank both of his knives into her side. She howled and rolled sideways, right over him. He went down, pinned under her massive body.

I slashed at her shoulder.
Move off my bouda, you bitch.

She snapped her teeth at me, trying to bat me aside with her giant clawed hand, and dug in, crushing Ascanio beneath her bulk. I sliced at her hand, carving at it with precise strikes. She screeched in pain.

Lots of nerves in the hand.
Hurts like hell, doesn't it? Get off the boy.

A dark gray shape burst out of the brush and landed on the creature's back. Derek thrust his claws into her spine. Jene rolled the other way, trying to pin him with her weight. He jumped off and landed on my right. Ascanio darted over to us, free. His body twisted into a nightmarish blend of hyena and human. His hackles rose and he cackled.

Jene rolled to her feet and hands. Her side bled, carved like a side of beef—Ascanio had been busy with his knife.

I flicked the blood off my sword.

Jene glanced at the three of us on her right and the stretch of woods to the left, and dashed toward freedom. Holland thrust himself into her path and swung his sword. She jerked her head up, quick like a snake, dove, and gulped him down whole.

Dear gods, she ate Beau's deputy.

A bulge landed in her throat sac and flailed, kicking. She sprinted through the woods, heading west, blindingly fast, scrambling through the forest like some monstrous pallid lizard.

Holland had seconds to live. We'd never catch up and kill her in time. We had to make her turn toward us. To the right, a slope dropped toward the river. When you fled, you naturally ran downhill.

“Derek, herd her! Make her turn southeast along the river.”

Derek's eyes flashed yellow. He raised his head and let out a long wolf howl announcing the hunt. The tiny hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. The werewolf and werehyena shot into the woods.

I dashed down the south slope and almost ran into a narrow tree. Nice going. Maybe I'd break my neck and save everyone the trouble.

To the left of me Derek howled nonstop, Ascanio's eerie laughter a bloodcurdling drumbeat to the wolf song.

I caught myself on a tree and paused, surveying the woods. The river lay to my right. A couple hundred yards behind me, a bridge spanned the deep water. In front of me, an old bike path, overgrown but still visible, snaked
through the woods, playing hide-and-seek with the shore. If she came from the west, she'd take it.

A huge oak towered to the left of the path. Perfect.