“Ask Alex to get our research vamps to do a deep digin the histories and find out if there’s a reason that either of the Ming twins might want to get involved in angel-trapping or demon-calling. And put video security monitoring on Long-Knife.”
There was a slight pause as Wrassler either processed the demon part of the request or the Long-Knife part of the request, or he typed in something.
Long-Knife had come from one of the Ming twins; both women were masters of their own clans, and both put self before the cities and humans where they lived.
“I asked for Thema or Kojo to bleed and read him. Do we have an update?”
“According to Alex’s report, Thema undertook that. Nothing to report. No secrets.”
“Yeah? Crap. It would have been so easy if he had been the traitor.” I remembered how little time it had taken Mainet to bind Leo even deeper. One forced bite. “Just in case, get Koun to do it again. I want a deep probe and if he ends up being bound—” I stopped. Koun was not the sort to take on blood-servants he didn’t like. I rubbed my face, thinking, wishing I’d gotten more sleep. I dropped my hand and lowered my voice, speaking within my office, not my heart. “If Long-Knife has to be bound, we will come, and we will bind him to us.” Everyone knew how much I hated that, but I couldn’t ask my people to do something I wasn’t willing to do myself.
“Yes, ma’am. Consider it done,” he said quietly.
“Update on thehedge of thornsaround HQ?”
“Ready to be activated. Currently, security receives a warning signal when someone crosses a boundary, and we’re approving each time a signal sounds, but we can come and go as needed.”
“Good.”
“Anything else, My Queen?”
The Legs part didn’t last long. Too much weirdness in my requests for simple friendship. “No,” I said, feeling tired. “I’m good. Later, Wrassler.” I ended the call to see an incoming call from Molly.
“Big Cat, we got problems. Get your furry ass to the prison.”
***
The street in front of the null prison house was a circus, and not the fun kind with jugglers, trapeze artists, and clown cars. Instead, it was the kind with media vans, scooters, and walking lookie-loos taking pictures, trying to cross the crime scene tape, and no cops around to keep the public safe and away from an active witches’ circle.
Bruiser and I watched as a young reporter leaned over the crime scene tape, trying to get a good shot of the inside of the witch circle with her cell phone. The cell phone started smoking and burst into flame. The reporter squealed, tossed the flaming cell away to the street.Idiot. She could have lost an arm.
Bruiser sighed softly, a concerned look on his face.
Quint, standing behind me, muttered, “Idiot,” echoing my thought.
Things here were not going to get better on their own. There was no privacy for the Everhart witches to work in the street. And I had a heart growing under a too-small null circle in my closet, a heart that needed to be returned to the people best able to care for it. As soon as the null prison was actually working again.
I dialed Molly, who was standing on the null house’s front porch. “Hey, BFF,” I said when she answered. “You got a working that stinks like tear gas?”
Molly laughed. “I have one called askunkyworking. It gets caught in clothes and hair. Only direct sunlight for a minimum of four hours will clear the stench away. No soap, no water, nothing else will touch it. And you willnotwant to be around if it goes off. But I don’t have permission to release one.”
“If you set it off, will it keep lookie-loos away?”
“For hours. Trust me on that.”
“Hang on.” I muted the call. To Bruiser, I said, “Thoughts?”
Bruiser called the chief of police. The chief’s reply to a request for assistance was short and pointed. The chief had men out sick and if we wanted the street cleared, we would have to do it ourselves. Bruiser said, “I see. Of course the Dark Queen doesn’t wish to demand too muchof local law enforcement.” There was faint undertone of sarcasm to his words and I grinned out at the street as Bruiser continued. “The media is out in force. I will be certain to let the reporters know that law enforcement was warned but couldn’t be bothered to protect the public from a spell that might be about to go off.”
The chief was silent. I could imagine the man rubbing his face in exhaustion. I wondered what kind of blood pressure meds he took. “What do you want, Mr. Dumas? Specifically.”
“The bare minimum. Please send a single officer, in a marked car, with lights and sirens, to the null prison. With his loudspeaker please have said officer address bystanders to clear the street, and residents to close windows and doors. Have him inform them that the witches need to determine if the witch circle is safe. The working to determine its safety will be intensely and foully aromatic. And perhaps dangerous. People need to move back two blocks, minimum.”
The chief said, “Fine. Ten minutes.” He disconnected.
Beast though,Mate. Good strong mate.
Yeah. He trips my trigger too.
