And that would be murder. Not self-defense to protect myself. But premeditated, cold-blooded murder. An icy thrill rushed through me like a broken dam of glacial water. My body clenched. Goose bumps flew across my skin, pebbling my arms and legs and up my chest.
I looked out over Soulwood, over land that was almost holy. “I’ll find another way,” I whispered, staring at the sprig of the vampire tree on my ankle. It now had three leaves and was about six inches long. I bent down and plucked the sprig. I carried the vampire twig to the back porch and tucked it into an unused pot of soil.
Today was the total dark of the moon, and though the moon was up now, and would actually be above the horizon all day, it wouldn’t be visible at all. The darkness of the night skywould be brightened only by stars. And whatever curse and demon-summoning Jason had planned.
Inside the house, I showered and crawled into bed. I fell fast asleep. I still didn’t know what I’d do with Mud when I went back to work, but my brain needed sleep and I could problem-solve after some rest.
•••
I dropped Mud off at Esther’s, though I didn’t get to see my older sister. Esther didn’t come to the door when Mud and I knocked. Jed opened the door, a man at home in the daylight, when by church codes he should be working.
“Jed,” I said.
Jed looked tired and angry and had a three-day beard. He didn’t meet my eyes. “Nell.”
I remembered Esther’s fingers at her hairline, so much like mine when my leaves were trying to grow. If being plant-women ran in the family, as I believed, Esther was likely to grow leaves too. But she hadn’t talked to me.
He pushed open the door, but I caught Mud’s shoulder. “If Esther needs my help keeping things trimmed back, you let me know.”
Mud laughed and skipped inside. Jed’s eyes flashed fire and he closed the door in my face.
“Hospitality and peace to you too,” I shouted through the door. I probably shouldn’t have stirred that pot. But if my sister was growing leaves...
I got back in my truck and took off for HQ.
•••
It was just past four, and T. Laine was talking as Tandy put the last pencil traces on the sketch of the smoky fist of the devil trapped in the earth. “The New Orleans coven and I agree. The spell Ethier is likely using to summon his demon is a shared power spell. It can be calledtotality. It’s a bargain type of spell, one where a witch and a demon share witch and demonic strength and power at different times and for different purposes. For instance, the demon might use the witch’s strength and youth to power itself to the surface, in which case, the demon steals years, the witch ages, the demon getsfree. Then the bargain reverses as the demon extracts more power from the deeps along his pathway, which he then gifts to the witch. The witch ages, but he ends up with onemajorpower/working/curse/whatever. That’s the way it’s supposed to work.”
“Except that Jason isn’t aging. Rick is,” I said.
“Jason added levels in a working so complex I may never understand it. Jason sacrifices Rick—maybe from a distance, since Rick’s blood is now mixed with his own—and maybe sacrifices all the vampires in the house with him too. With such a big sacrifice, he survives handling and channeling the evil of a Major Power through his body and his circle. The demon possesses Jason, enacts the curse, and—if Ingram is right—destroys all the vampires everywhere. After that, unaged, healed from the leukemia, healed from vamp-blood-addiction, Jason will have whatever years are left to him, riding a demon—to use Ingram’s term. Perfect spell. And scary as hell.”
Tandy stepped back from his drawing, studying it.
T. Laine took a deep breath, her eyes on Rick. “The last DNA test results came back from the lab. One vial of liquid was your blood. I’m betting Jason has even more, which is how he’s draining you. It’s how he can reach you even inside the null room or a silver cage. Maybe the blood was drawn by Loriann during the inking. Maybe stolen from a hospital lab or something, prior to you being infected with were-taint. Security in hospitals is set up against humans, not witches. But how he got it doesn’t matter. Now he has fresh bloodinsideof him. I’m hypothesizing that with the blood, Jason added an extra layer to the curse. He has Rick’s human DNA. He’s been using Rick’s blood and life force to power the spells. Rick is aging fast. The demon, however, doesn’t know what’s happening. It’s a bait and switch with Rick’s life in the balance, made worse because Jason likely infected himself with Rick’s were-taint. Jason kills Rick and curses the vampires who hurt him in one fell swoop. If he loses his bargain with the demon, then the were-taint might heal his cancer anyway.”
Rick looked out the window at the western horizon. His silvered hair seemed awfully bright, the black strands fewer now, in spite of the were-taint, which was supposed to givehim a much longer life span. Now it made sense. Rick was dying. The pencil drawing of Rick being tattooed was on the table. I spun the paper, studying the depiction. There was something—
T. Laine interrupted my thoughts. “Only after the curse is done will the demon realize that Jason hasn’t aged, isn’t old, and he’s been cheated. Then they live in powerful disharmony until Jason dies.”
Rick murmured, “Jason must really hate me.” He was rubbing his shoulder, the one with the mangled tattoos, tats that he’d accepted, a spelling that he’d suffered, to save Jason, the child. A good deed, horribly punished, proving the old adage that no good deed goes unpunished.
I couldn’t stand watching my boss’s face. I leaned to Tandy and pointed to his drawing. “The arms of theXwere more squished. And there was a little hook right there.” I pointed. “Claws. I forgot the claws. The demon’s claws were hooked, like a cat’s.” Rick and Occam looked up at that. “Retractile.” The hand and the ring were coming to life on the paper, drawn by Tandy’s pencil. It was scary.
Rick asked, “What happens if we miss our deadline and we have to kill Jason after he’s possessed?”
“The last time that happened was December sixteenth, 1811, in New Madrid, Missouri,” T. Laine said. “It resulted in the largest earthquake in the history of the United States. It had an estimated magnitude of eight point six on the Richter scale. The earthquake raised and lowered parts of the Mississippi Valley and changed the course of the Mississippi River. A thirty-thousand-square-mile area was affected, and tremors were felt on the eastern coastline of the United States. Additional earthquakes went on for months. If that happens here? An earthquake that big? The entire river valley will likely suffer a substantial upheaval,” T. Laine said. “The U.S. witch council estimated an eight point five or higher. Every power plant and dam in the valley will be damaged. Some will suffer catastrophic failure. There will be flooding like we’ve never seen. Nell’s house might be safe as long as the hilly ridges don’t fall over. The rest of us will drown.”
“Power plant,” Rick said softly. “The nuclear plant?”
“Is not secure to an eight-point-five earthquake,” T. Laine said.
“So the spell oftotalityis tied to LaFleur’s tattoos,” FireWind said softly.
“Yes,” T. Laine said, just as softly. “I think so.”
“If I’m dead will the spell be broken?” Rick asked.
