He lifted the coffeemaker reservoir, turned on the tap, the water scudding into the bottom. We all waited. Silent. He replaced it and slid the coffeepot on the coffeemaker. Placed both hands on the counter, steady but paler than normal. He bent forward and his hair swung over his jaws, hiding more of his face.
JoJo said softly, “I’m guessing that the unfinished binding merged with werewolf saliva, fighting the black leopard were-taint.”
Rick nodded once. “The combination damaged my were-magic. Kept me from shifting. Then Paka came, supposedly to help me.”
He punched a button on the coffeemaker and turned to face us. His voice sounded stronger. “My tattoos were tested by a witch in Spook School. There was no breach, magical or otherwise, in them. Soul keeps an eye on them. No breach.”
“That they noticed,” T. Laine said. “Once there’s a fissure, there’s always a weak spot. And Soul isn’t here now.”
Rick nodded. “I’ve been feeling... odd. Restless. For the last few months, during the waning moon.” He reached up and touched the scarred tats, his fingers uncertain. Then he smiled, his lips quirked up on one side, and he looked younger, less harried, and wry. “We’ll assume for now that I’m a security risk.” Rick’s job, his career, was on the line. “Meanwhile”—he turned his dark gaze to me—“were the local vamps attacked by this spell?”
My mouth opened in an O and I punched my cell on again. There was nothing from the vampires on e-mail or text so I dialed Yummy.
“Maggot,” she said by way of greeting. She was trying to be mean and I’d had just about enough of it.
“Yeah, Fanghead,” I said.
Yummy laughed, a human kind of laugh, the kind that meant they were not thinking as blood-suckers but as the people they had once been.
“Did you guys get spell-called today?” I asked.
“No.” Her tone sharpened and took on that faint Louisiana accent I heard from time to time. “Why? Did you all?”
“One of our cats, yes.” I dragged the paper map to me and traced my finger across it. “And the spell was likely cast within two miles of your lair.”
“Nothing. Not a thing. But if it was in daytime, we wouldn’t have felt it once we were asleep.”
“Okay. We’ll talk later.” I ended the call and reached for T. Laine’s map. “The spell site was closer to the vamps than the night they were called. So either proximity wasn’t a factor or daylight changed it. I think this is still a spell in the planning and designing stage.”
“I agree. It feels different each time, but planning for what?” Rick asked. He drummed his fingers on the table and then said, “I’m not taking any chances. I’ll be sleeping in HQ for the duration of the case.”
“Good.” JoJo pointed at a view from an outside camera and T. Laine power-walked to the door at the top of the stairs. “Margot’s here and needs an update on Ming of Glass, the fact that we’ve made a report to the governor’s office, Rick’s new amulets, and his likelihood of being a security risk. All of which I can handle.”
T. Laine called back to us, “I’ll get her security codes and an ID for the doors.”
“Great,” JoJo yelled. Margot followed our witch inside, T. Laine giving her what she called a down-and-dirty debrief. She finished with, “If you’re taking the night shift, we need someone to visit the scene of the spell casting and see if there are common areas, overlapping places where the witch might be staying.”
Margot, dressed in business pants and jacket, settled into an empty chair at the conference table and when JoJo finished the recap, Margot said to the group, “Okay. I’m up to speed. I have additional info that falls under the umbrella of PsyLED, if it’s true. The FBI just heard rumors that a small group of rogue vampires have established a hidden lair here in theKnoxville vicinity. They want me with your unit until we determine what the vamps want and if the local witches and the vampires are working together.”
“Local?” Rick asked softly. “The FBI thinks thelocalcoven is involved? Vamps and witches generally hate each other andwehave evidence of only one witch at the circles. And rogue vamps do not lair together. Ever. What evidence?”
Margot lifted her left hand and inspected her nails. They were painted green with sparkles in the polish. “Evidence? Not a damn thing.”
“So why suggest that there might be a collusion of para activity against Knoxville citizens and PsyLED itself?” T. Laine asked, censure in her voice.
“Not me. The acting head drew all the conclusions and made the decision. I’m just passing along supposed CI info that might or might not be true.”
The table went silent and still as we all processed her words. CI meant confidential informant. But it sounded as if Margot didn’t believe it was true information so much as a big ol’ lie.
Margot showed teeth in a smile worthy of any were-creature. “New vamps in town? That part’s confirmed. My bosses are determined to make this a witch hunt. They don’t know I come from witches. I am the perfect person to liaise because my agenda won’t match theirs.”
“Ohhh... ,” I said, my disappointment easing away. “You’re protecting the witches. And us too. That’s why you were so insistent on being part of this team.”
Margot flashed me a smile, brilliant in her dark-skinned face. “Witch hunts piss me off and I’ve been watching this one brewing for quite a while.”
T. Laine said slowly, “You sneaky thing you. Humans are paranoid and nutso. And human law enforcement are even worse.”
“Hey, human FBI agent here,” Margot said.
