Shaded Vision: An Otherworld Novel (27 page)

“Douglas! Douglas! Are you in there?” Marion was hysterical, fighting to run toward the house, but Menolly was holding her back, her arms tight around Marion’s waist.

As Shamas headed toward the fire, I hurried over to help Menolly with Marion. She was struggling, trying to break free.

“My husband is in there—he took a sleeping pill. He always takes a sleeping pill!” She tried to break free again, but Menolly held on tight.

I shook her by the shoulders. “Where’s your bedroom?”

“Downstairs—toward the back.”

I took a long look at the building. The fire was on one side so far, flames shooting out of the upper floor. I raced over to Shamas and grabbed him.

“Come with me. We’re going in to see if we can rescue her husband.” Ignoring the firefighters who shouted at us, we dodged our way in through the front door, which was standing open.

Shamas turned to me. “Let me go first, I can hold back the flames to a degree and hopefully, if they’re magical, calm them.” He moved into the front as I took the back.

Marion’s house was lovely—walls a pale shade of gold, trim dark brown. Décor was a mix of northwest and southwest Native American, with terra-cotta urns filled with pampas grass, Northwest art—wood burnings of Raven and Salmon, of the Great Trickster Coyote.

The smell of smoke was thick and beginning to drift down the stairs. Shamas motioned for me to move past him, toward the back of the building. He held up his hands and started up the stairs.

I raced down the hall, listening to the roar of the flames from the floor above. The timbers groaned and creaked, and I glanced at the ceiling. I could see soot marks—black. Only a few minutes and the flames would eat through and it would be too late to attempt a rescue.

I slammed open doors as I went and then stopped. A bedroom, and there was Douglas, asleep on the bed. I’d seen him once, at the diner, with Marion. He was sawing logs. And a cat was curled up on his stomach. I shut the door behind me so the cat couldn’t escape and glanced around the room. There was a laundry basket near me, with pillowcases and sheets in it. I grabbed one of the pillowcases and then, as the tabby woke up, I scruffed her and shoved her into the makeshift bag before the princess even knew what hit her. I tied the bag with a loose knot, setting it on the floor, then dragged Douglas out of bed and threw him over one shoulder.

Like most coyote shifters, he was lean. For me, the weight was a burden but not unmanageable. Using my right hand to steady the sleeping man on my shoulder, I opened the door, grabbed the bag in my left hand, and staggered out.

“Shamas! Shamas! Come help me.” The cat was struggling, making it hard to hold on to both bag and man.

As I stumbled forward, Shamas came clambering down the stairs. He took one look at me, grabbed Douglas off my shoulder, and carried him to the door. I followed, the sack-o’-cat in my arms. As we exited the house, an explosion reverberated down the stairs; the shockwave sent me sprawling forward.

I landed chin first but managed not to fall on the cat. Scrambling up, I ran like hell. The flames were engulfing the
bottom floor now, roaring down the stairwell. Shamas laid Douglas down by Marion’s side. The coyote shifter fell to her knees, sobbing into her hands.

“Douglas…Douglas…” She began to cry as he opened his eyes, blurrily shaking his head. “Wake up, Doug.”

As he sat up, coughing, I moved over to her side. “Marion, I rescued your cat.” I held out the struggling feline in the bag.

With tears running down her face, she gathered the sack in her arms, crying even harder. She glanced up at the house, then back at her husband.

“Damn you…damn it…I don’t know what I would have done if you died.” And before she could say another word, he groggily wrapped her in his arms, cat and all, and kissed her.

In the background, the flames lit up the night as they gobbled up what had been Marion’s home and life.

Marion crouched, her arms wrapped around her husband, as we watched the firefighters try to beat back the flames. Shamas had managed to remove the magical energy from the fire, but he couldn’t put it out. The arsonists had also used gasoline. The smell was thick in the air.

I ran over to my Jeep. We always kept a cat carrier in each of our cars, just in case I turned into my Tabby self somewhere and had to be contained until I was ready to change back. I pulled it out and took the pillowcase from Marion, gently easing their cat out of the bag into the carrier and then locking it firmly. I set it down next to her and she smiled, weary and worried, but looking grateful.

“Do you have some place to stay? With one of your children, maybe?”

She shook her head. “No, they’re off at college. At least two of them. The third is grown, married, and living in Canada.” She hung her head. “We can stay in a hotel—”

“You’ll stay at our place. It’s crowded, but you’ll be safe there for now.” I helped her up. Douglas was pretty out of it
still, so Shamas guided him over to the prowl car and I led Marion, along with their cat.

After they were tucked inside, Shamas turned to me. “I’ll drive them back to the house. You’re right—the only place they’ll be safe for now is with us. It’s beginning to sound like some of this crap is directed at Marion—revenge. Kill her sister, burn down her house, try to kill her husband…”

“Yeah, and until we know for sure, I want them safe.”

As the house caved in on itself, the flames beginning to die down, I clenched my fists. Marion and Douglas had just lost all of their memories, their safe haven. Shamas handed a book to me. I looked at it. A photo album. I glanced at him, a question in my eyes.

“I saw it on the way out and grabbed it.”

A glance through it told me that it was their wedding album and had childhood pictures in it of their kids. A gentle smile springing to my lips, I leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

“You’re a good man, Shamas. And I’m proud to have you for my cousin.”

He blushed and turned back to his car, taking the album. “Thanks, cuz. Thanks.”

Menolly headed down to the Wayfarer to make sure everything was okay while Camille and I drove home.

“I feel so helpless—our friends are getting hurt and murdered by these freaks and we’re just running three steps behind, picking up the pieces.” I clenched the steering wheel, my knuckles white with anger. “We need a solid lead and we need it now.”

“Well, we have the Energy Exchange, which we could have checked out tonight if we hadn’t been putting out fires all day. And…Fuck. Fuck me now! I can’t believe I forgot about it!” Camille jerked around, her eyes wide as she smacked her head.

“What?”

“The stripper—he got that potion at a shop. Alchemy for
Lovers. I was positive when I talked to him that the place is a sorcery shop and I totally spaced it. That might give us another lead.” She slammed back in her seat, fuming. “I’m so stupid. We might have been able to stop this if we’d gone there this morning.”

“Stop. Don’t beat yourself up.” I pulled to the side. “We had a quick nap; we’re still good to go despite all the crap we’ve done today. I don’t want to chance the Energy Exchange alone, but what say we take a quick trip down to this shop and check it out? We can at least get a look at what kind of shop it is.”

She grinned at me. “Ten to one it’s a sex shop, but yeah, let’s go. And thanks. I don’t think I could sleep anyway. But I’m calling Morio to meet us there. Meanwhile, Hanna and the guys can help settle Marion and Douglas in the parlor for now.”

“Misty’s going to love the playmate.” Camille’s ghost kitty that I’d given her for Yule was as friendly as they came, and she’d probably run rings around Marion’s cat.

“She’ll go nuts. I hope Hanna’s cat doesn’t mind.”

I laughed. “Ha! I wish I were there to see
that
meeting. Make the call while I pull up the directions for the shop on the GPS.” We’d all splurged and purchased apps on our phones for GPS service. Camille flipped her phone open and put in a call to Hanna, directing Morio to meet us at the sex shop. Or whatever it turned out to be. She spoke in low tones, then held the phone away from her mouth.

“Morio said he and the others made it home. They were wondering what happened to us.”

While she went back to talking to him, I surfed the web for the address on my new smart phone and then plugged it into the GPS app. I’d picked up a leopard-print skin for my phone in honor of my twin, Arial.

When I’d figured out the directions, we headed out. As we drove through the streets, the rain pounded down. In the Pacific Northwest, gray and gloomy were a way of life. We’d grown accustomed to the weather, and actually, I liked it. None of us were much for hot weather. Back in Y’Elestrial,
we’d had moderate temperatures during the summer; spring, crisp autumn days; and chilly, snowy winters. Here, there was less variation.

The windshield wipers swished back and forth, sweeping the rain off the glass. Camille stared out the side window as we sped along. The city was pretty seen through the rainy night. The lights twinkled as we turned onto James Street and edged down the steep hill. Seattle wasn’t known as the miniature San Francisco for nothing—the entire city, as well as a good share of the East Side, was built on a series of rolling hills caused, in part, by a major underlying earthquake fault system that ran through the entire area.

“What if Van and Jaycee are in the shop when we get there?” I didn’t really want to think about the possibility, but if they were there, we’d better be ready.

Camille tugged at her seat belt, readjusting it over her boobs. “You know, maybe I’d better ask Smoky to show up, too.”

“Maybe that would be a good idea.”

As she pulled out her phone and called home again, I changed lanes in order to make a right turn.

“What do you know.” Camille tucked her phone away. “Smoky insisted on going with Morio, so he’s already on the way.”

I laughed. “You aren’t ever going to get out from under his protective wing now. Face it, he’s your permanent bodyguard.”

She snorted. “Yeah…but you have to admit, he’s a good bodyguard to have.”

The traffic was extremely thin and we were making every light. Another five minutes and we pulled into the parking lot of the strip mall. Alchemy for Lovers was the corner shop. And it was the only one that had lights on in it.

“I’m surprised it’s still open. As big as Seattle is, the city closes down fairly early in most parts.” Sometimes it felt like we were living in a smaller town, not a big city.

“I’m not. Think about it. Strippers, probably hookers
come here for that potion and other supplies. They primarily work nights. And if this is a haven for sorcerers, well, it’s a lot easier to escape notice under the cover of darkness.”

I swung around and parked a few spots down from the store. “Might as well keep out of sight until Morio and Smoky get here.”

We watched for anybody coming into or going out of the shop, but it seemed to be a slow night. Five minutes later, a car pulled into the parking lot and eased in next to my Jeep. Morio’s SUV, with Morio and Smoky. We got out of the car and, joining them, headed for the door.

As I pushed open the door, bells jingled, and I found myself facing an array of brightly colored sex toys. A row of vibrators sat on one table, from neon pink to basic black. I raised my eyebrows. They were shaped so lifelike that I couldn’t help but wonder who’d posed for them, especially a couple that looked larger than your average cock. I knew some men came in that size; I’d seen equipment that large before—when Morio shifted into demonic form and was naked. The sight certainly made for fantasy fodder, though I still maintained that Camille was a brave woman.

One wall was covered with various harnesses, leashes, dog collars, cuffs, and other bondage restraints. The smell of leather hung heavy in the air. Another wall was floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with books and DVDs. A large table held a selection of various lotions and creams and a large basket of condoms, but there were no potion bottles in sight.

The clerks, three women, were all muscled, and they looked capable of handling rough customers who might come through. One, wearing a nametag that read Mandy, sat on a high stool behind the counter. The other two—Dona and Marrow—looked like they were just waiting for trouble to erupt. They gave us a thorough once-over. It was obvious we weren’t FBHs, but that didn’t mean
they
were, either. Tregarts were muscled and tough, both the male and the female demons.

Camille leafed through a rack of racy costumes, then
meandered up to the counter. She leaned her hands on the glass top and smiled at Mandy, behind the counter. “I’m looking for a certain oil for my husband.”

The clerk glanced at Camille’s boobs, then up at her face. “What kind oil are you talking about? And for your body or his?”

“It’s a special oil—one you aren’t apt to keep out front. Special blend. A friend told me about it—a stripper. He said he got it here.” She winked at the woman. Smoky stiffened but kept his mouth shut.

Mandy darted a glance at the tallest of the women—Dona—out on the main floor, then turned back to Camille. “You sure you can handle something like that? It’s pretty powerful.”