Perfect Love

A.M. Burns

Published by Mystichawker Press

Copyright 2011: A.M. Burns

Edited by Laura Culley

Smashwords Edition

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Perfect Love

1

Human nature never ceases to amaze me. Take the case I’m working on now. The police

report called it a simple suicide, but the woman's husband is sure it’s foul play. I wish he’d

gotten around to calling me sooner, but between the police and the funeral arrangements, he’d

been rather busy since he discovered the body. Of course if he’d seen fit to call me before they

interred the lovely missus, then I wouldn’t be standing out here in the thick fog currently rolling

off the river and into the cemetery. I could’ve questioned the victim before she lay beneath six

feet of dirt and sod. Most people just don’t understand what all that earth can do to

communication with the dearly departed.

“Well, Ethan, here's the grave,” Tiffany Hedges, my office manager and good right hand,

said. She set my working bag down on the top of the newly-planted headstone.

Dusty Davenport, my werewolf partner, drew a deep sniff of the ground around the

grave. “She hasn't decayed too much.”

“That will make this so much easier.” I tried not to snap at him. They both knew that I

hated calling people up from beyond the grave. It’s one of the problems with being a psychic

detective listed on the Internet. That’d been Tiffany's idea. She said it helped keep us modern. I

don’t have a problem with modern, but it seemed that we got more than our share of fruit loops

from the Internet ad than we did from the Yellow Pages listing. That also meant we spent more

time hanging out in graveyards and old rundown haunted houses than we used to. I’d love to

know why people associate psychics with talking to the dead. Yeah some do. Okay most of us

can, but others are better at it than I am and I don't mind admitting that. But I guess if it pays the

bills it's better than those people who want to have me show up to read tarot cards and tell them

where their dead uncle hid the family jewels.

Dusty laughed, trying to lighten my mood.”Well I know how you hate the ones that come

out all smelly and shit.” Unfortunately even Dusty wasn’t helping my mood tonight.

I resisted the urge to glare at him. “So let's get this laid out, cast and put back in the

ground.”

“Why don't you sit and meditate for a couple of minutes while Dusty and I get the circle

laid out,” Tiffany suggested with an almost motherly tone. It’s the tone she uses every time she

tries to get past the gruff barriers I keep throwing up to keep the world out. Most of the time that

tone worked. I almost hung my head and said, yes Mother. But then she’d probably hit me with

my working bag. When I say that Tiffany is my good right hand, I should probably say she’s the

better part of me, if there is a better part of me. I firmly believe that behind every great person

there is someone like Tiffany who cleans up after them, keeps them in line and makes sure that

they wash behind their ears. In this case, Dusty makes sure I wash behind my ears, but Tiffany

takes care of just about everything else. My business and my life would be a real mess without

Tiffany around to keep it all organized.

As suggested, I walked a little bit away from the grave and sat down under a willow tree

along the bank of the creek that led to the river and ran along the back side of the cemetery. I

thought about what I’d been told of Magee Reyes, from her husband Reynaldo. He’d said he

didn't want to tell me too much since he was afraid it might influence what I picked up from her

spirit. Like most people he thought that I’d be communing with her spirit, not actually calling her

back from the dead for a short time. He told me he’d found her when he came home from work,

dead in the study of their home. I checked the police report and there were no signs of any kind

of struggle or break in at the house. The woman had overdosed on some pain pills that were in

the medicine cabinet along with a large amount of alcohol. They also found some kind of

chemical that the lab couldn’t identify, but since there was no outward sign of foul play, the

coroner ruled the death a suicide. To humor Mr. Reyes, I agreed to take the case with the little

information he’d provided under the condition that he’d meet with me in the morning to answer

any other questions I had.

After running that through my head, I took a series of deep breaths and began to release

the irritability that was building in me. The soft damp earth and the heavy fog closed in around

me, cutting me off from everything else. I let everything else wash away in the soothing energies

of the creek as it babbled behind the willow tree. No matter how often I did it, I was always

amazed at how the relaxing energies of grounding and centering with a tree and moving water

could so drastically change my mood and my energies. I felt like an entirely different man as I

rose and walked back to the grave of Magee Reyes where Tiffany and Dusty finished setting up

the circle to call the woman back to the land of the living.

I moved cautiously to avoid smudging the circle of salt that enclosed the area around the

grave. Tiffany set out the final candle at the north point of the circle. Dusty placed the bowl of

salt on the small altar across the top of the headstone. The fog was now so heavy that we could

just barely make out the southern edge of the circle from the headstone.

“Looks like we’re ready,” Dusty said. He handed me the spellbook I’d use to call the

spirit forth.

In times like these, I wished I were a natural medium and could pull this off without the

use of circles and spells. Hell, I’d settle for being a necromancer. I possess several psychic

talents, but not the ones that help with raising the dead without a big elaborate ceremony, thus

the candles, altar and other associated shit.

I walked over to the headstone and waited while Tiffany cast the circle. Her Latin was

flawless as usual. But then, she’d practiced high magic for several years before she came to work

for me. She’s a natural talent, so good that she could make as a corporate mage if she wanted, but

for some reason, other than our past, she liked hanging out with me. She also plays the stock

market and had made more than a little spare cash that way. So money’s not really that important

to her.

Circle securely in place and ready, I lit the candles on the altar and opened the spellbook.

As often as I’ve done this particular ritual in the past, you’d think I could perform it by heart, but

I’m always worried that I might get one word wrong and the whole thing would go south. In

more than a few spells, all it takes is one wrong word and you end up with the exact opposite

results from what you’re after. One of my earliest instructors in the magical arts drilled it into my

head, “When in doubt read the book.” It’s not worth the risk of a faulty word and a messed up

spell, particularly when dealing with the dead.

The atmosphere of the circle changed as I reached the midpoint of the spell, and by the

time the final word rolled off my tongue, the air was completely free of fog. I saw all the candles.

The fog from the river now stood like a wall outlining the perimeter of the circle.

The earth stirred a couple of feet from the headstone as the wraith of Magee Reyes

pushed her way out of the ground. The trip up through six feet of dirt can wreck havoc with the

flesh that still clung to the bones of a wraith. Most people either summon a zombie or a ghost.

The spell I used for wraiths features a sunrise time limit, so I don’t have to worry about anything

going so wrong that I’ve got a zombie running amok for days on end. Magee stood before us, dirt

clinging to her long blonde hair, her well-manicured nails split and muddied. Scrapes from the

small stones marred her pock-marked face, but her ice-blue eyes were remarkably clear and

focused as she stared at us.

“Magee Reyes?” It’s always a good idea to begin by making any form of dead identify

themselves. Next to me I heard Tiffany's pencil moving across her notebook. Tiffany always

took notes, about everything, and she’s old school. She always used a pencil and notebook. She

said it’s too easy for stray magic or psi energies to disrupt most technologies and she didn’t want

to lose anything important. I could count on her to have the whole session entered into the

computer and waiting before I got to work in the morning.

“Yes. Who are you and why have you disturbed my rest?” she asked in a demanding tone

that was more than a little condescending.

I blinked in surprise. She knew she was dead. That wasn’t unheard of, but it was very

unusual, particularly in cases where the person had committed suicide by pain killers. Most

people who die that way just think they are waking up from a long nap.

“I’m E. S. Peters, Mrs. Reyes,” I said. “So you realize you’re dead?”

“Of course I know I’m dead,” she snapped. “I’ve been enjoying haunting that no good

husband of mine.” She turned and looked around her, as if trying to get her bearings on the

location where we’d called her.

“So Magee, why did you take all the pain killers?” If she wasn’t going to be polite about

my questions, I might as well cut right to the chase and find out what was going on with her.

“I didn't take any pain killers!” She glared at me as she wiped the dirt off her face with a

chubby hand. “I took one of my nerve pills. All the people in my house were making me nervous

so I needed a pill.”

“People in your house? Your husband said he found you when he came home from work.

The police report confirms that. There’s nothing about people in your house.” This was the type

of information I needed.

“That's because Reynaldo didn’t know they were coming over,” she replied with a self-

satisfied tone. “He doesn't like them much and hates it when I have everyone over at the house,

so I’ve started not telling him when everyone’s coming over and I make sure everything’s

cleaned up before he gets home.” Magee ran a hand through her tangled blonde locks, dislodging

a shower of dust and dirt. She started to look more concerned than bitchy.

Spirits, like people, tend to calm down a bit when you force them to stop and analyze a

situation. The calmer she was, the more information I’d get out of her. I was beginning to agree

with her husband, that this might not be a simple suicide.

“So Magee, why were people in your house the night you died?”

She’d turned away from us and wandered over to the edge of the circle, staring at the

yellow candle that sat in the quarter of the East. “You cast a really nice circle considering you

are using such basic tools.” She said almost to herself as her fingers played with the candle’s

flickering flame.

“What do you know about casting a circle?” I struggled to keep the concern out of my

voice as Dusty's large freckled hand closed on my arm in an effort to offer support. He knew as

well as I did how dangerous it was to call up dead people that had anything to do with magic.

They were very adept at finding any flaw in your circle casting and could use that flaw to escape

back into the mortal world.

Magee turned back toward me. From across the circle, I watched dark mischief dancing

across her pale features. “I'm a witch, or was,” she giggled. “Surely Reynaldo told you that. And

that’s who was at the house that night, all my witch friends. It was an open community

meditation. We’re all getting together to send out perfect love and perfect trust to the world

around us. It’s part of why I was here, to send out perfect love to the world.” Her face looked

almost enraptured as she spoke the word perfect.

“Wiccans,” Tiffany all but hissed under her breath. Her training in high magic set her

almost exactly opposite from most Wiccans who believed only in the good in life. Some could

not even understand any other kind of thought. A lot of them were almost as black and white as

Christians and couldn’t see that the whole world was made of shades of grey. But it also made

them easy prey for others posing as things they were not.

“Well Mr. Reyes didn't want to tell me too much until after I spoke to you,” I explained.

“Would any of your witch friends want to do you harm?” I knew the answer as soon as the words

left my mouth and I mentally kicked myself for asking.

Magee Reyes gasped as her hand flew over her mouth in true southern belle shock.

“Great Goddess no! Every one of them knows the Law of Three and would never harm a fly for

fear that the karma would come back to get them. I can't imagine any of them even thinking

about harming me. I was their leader. None of them would have even met, had it not been for

me.”

“So you were the High Priestess of the group?”

“Well, not this group,” she answered, sounding smug. “This was the community group,

but I’m the High Priestess of a small coven. I’m the group leader of the community group. It

wouldn’t exist without me.”

“Then I’m sure the whole community has a lot thank you for.” I tried not to sound snide,

since that might influence any information we might be able to get out of her. Smug people can

be very irritating at the best of times.

“Well of course they do,” she replied. “I might be new to the path, but I’ve been a

wonderful leader and have made great strides to bring the community together. I mean, it amazes

me how fractured the whole thing is, here in the Dallas area. So many of these covens don't even

speak to one another and live in fear of the Christians coming in and causing problems. It’s

things like this that show me that there is a real need for perfect love in the world.” She paused

for second, apparently to gather her thoughts when a look of horror passed over her features.

“You don't suppose that the Christians did something to me do you? Oh my Goddess, I bet they

did. They all believe that they’re saved and their God will forgive anything they do, particularly

if they do something to someone who doesn’t believe in their god.” She began to look frantic. “I

bet one of the new people’s a Christian and decided to do me in to keep the Wiccan community

disorganized.”

I realized this wraith wasn’t going to be of any more use to me tonight as her self-assured

arrogance vanished, replaced by an almost pure panic. The change was so fast if you blinked

you’d miss it. It made me wonder if in life she might not have had some kind of personality

disorder. Then I remembered that she’d mentioned nerve pills. She looked too young to have

nerve issues, so it might’ve been something to stabilize her mental state. I’d have to ask her

husband when we spoke.

She rushed toward the headstone.

Before I could move, I heard Tiffany cast a shielding. Magee hit the shield wall. She

looked almost cartoonish as the ectoplasm that made up her wraith form flattened against the

clear energies of the shield. Her form congealed on the ground and she lay there sobbing.

“Please, Mr. Peters, you have to find the Christian that killed me so I can rest in peace.”

“I'll do what I can, Magee.”

“I doubt we’re going to be able to get anything more out of her tonight.” Dusty said softly

over the sobbing.

“I agree,” said Tiffany, shooting a disdainful look at the wraith of the witch. I nodded and

turned to the next page in the spellbook to send her back to rest. The spell was shorter than the

one to call her out, and within moments after the last word left my lips, the earth beneath her

shifted slightly and the grave reclaimed the witch’s sobbing form.

“Well at least we got something out of her,” Tiffany said. She closed her notebook and

began taking down the circle. I blew out the candles on the altar.

“You know, just once I would like to do one of these things and have the wraith come out

and say, ‘I know who did it' as opposed to 'oh it couldn't have been any of my friends. They all

love me.’” I could only think of one time when I called someone up and they’d been able to tell

me without a doubt who killed them. And that time it’d been a bitter old woman who’d been

stabbed by some gang banger who wanted her purse and hadn’t been afraid to face her to do it.

Too often it happens from behind, while the person is asleep, or the person’s just in denial about

what happened and can't accept the fact they’re dead.

The circle came down and the fog rolled in again. I could have sworn it was thicker. I

glanced at my watch, hoping that it hadn’t lost any time in the circle. Magic tended to do strange

things to watches, cell phones and technology, in general. If it was right we were just shy of one

in the morning. Still an early night for us, but since I needed to get more information from Mr.

Reyes before I could begin an actual investigation and I didn't have any other cases going on

right now, it was a good time to call it a night and head back to the office.

Tiffany placed the candles in the working bag and I laid the folded altar cloth on top, then

glanced around the area. Off to the west, near the creek, I thought I saw a light bobbing along.

“Is there someone over there?” I asked softly nodding in the direction I could see the faint light,

almost too faint to be a flashlight, but brighter than a firefly.

Dusty turned and sniffed in that direction. “Can't smell anything. I see the light, but can't

hear anything, either. But then, fog can play havoc with smell and sound.”

He started to go after it, but I caught his hand. It was hard and warm.

“Don't worry about it, probably just some random apparition drawn in by the magic.”

“You're probably right.” He smiled at me, a soft, but feral smile. “Besides if we go

chasing after something in this fog who knows when we’ll get home.” The gleam in his green

eyes made promises I knew he’d fulfill once we were alone.

Tiffany laughed, breaking the mood for the moment. “Come on you two. I don't know

about you guys but the magic’s given me an appetite and that Waffle House down the street

looks mighty good about now.”

Dusty looked astonished. “Girl, you must be hungry for a Waffle House to look good.

How about Uncle Bob’s place?” Dusty countered. His uncle, also a werewolf, ran the all-night

steakhouse that mostly catered to truckers and creatures of the night when it opened. It had

quickly become one of the places that the bar crowd flocked to at closing time. It was the only

place in town that still served steak rare, but you had to be part of the special crowd and known

to the owner to get that. If the health department ever found out, he’d be closed down. They

served some of the best buffalo steaks in the state.

“Coyote’s place sounds great,” I said. We headed off for a meal before bed.

2

Standing at five foot five, Reynaldo Reyes wasn’t an imposing man. He wasn’t a

handsome man, either. He wasn’t exactly ugly, and I’m sure some people would find him

attractive, but well, he just wasn’t my type. He arrived at the office on time at ten forty a.m. I

couldn’t be positive, but I thought he wore the same clothes as he had during our first meeting.

He hadn’t shaved and his week-or-so beard growth threatened to turn his black goatee into a full

beard. His greasy black hair looked like he had run a comb through it right before he pulled

himself out of his expensive gray sports car, which sat on the curb outside the office. He’d ogled

Tiffany on his way past and pointedly ignored Dusty in his wolf form at my side.

Dusty often spent time in his wolf form when I had clients around, partly because he was

a bit over protective of me, but his keen nose and ears picked up lies from clients less invasively

than I could’ve using telepathy. Plus, it gave me the time to completely focus on the clients and

what they said. Overall, it worked out well. It didn't hurt that it let me keep a hand on Dusty's

head, often scratching his ears, which he loved more than he was willing to admit since he felt it

compromised his dignity. Dusty's wolf form also helped keep the clients from knowing how

many people were actually involved in their case. It caused a slight gray area in client

confidentiality, but I had them sign forms that allowed for partners in the firm and any necessary

personnel in the fine print. Dusty was both a partner and necessary. Besides, no one ever

suspected the dog of being anything other than a dog unless they themselves were a bit more

than human, although we did have a growing not-quite-human clientele.

Reynaldo Reyes was strictly human and not necessarily the best example on the planet.

Dusty already informed me of the overwhelming odor of pot smoke and Jose Cuervo, but I

wanted to cut the man a bit of slack since his wife died less than a week ago.

He listened quietly to my recounting of our encounter with the wraith of Magee the night

before. His eyes betrayed no surprise.

“I thought this might be useful,” he said. He set a slim laptop on the desk in front of him.

“Magee used this all the time. I think there’s a list of the people who were in her groups in there

somewhere, but I just can't bring myself to go through it right now.”

He confirmed that his wife had been taking a series of very strong emotional inhibitors

over the past year and that she’d become very reclusive. He also assured me that while his wife

stylized herself as a witch, she was nothing of the sort, but a good outstanding woman who just

liked to have her friends around even if her friends were a little on the weird side. He didn’t like

those friends and thought they were a bad influence on her.

“Thank you Mr. Reyes, I’ll have my staff go through it to see if there’s anything that

might be useful to the investigation.” I laid the laptop on the side of the desk on top of the case

file. “So, to your knowledge, did your wife have conflicts with any of the people she was

around?”

“Well there were a couple of people that I never felt right about,” Reyes replied. “Barry

Crabtree was around a lot from time to time, but lately he’s been very unstable and Magee was

afraid that he’d hurt her. They got into an argument about one of the girls, Maddie Fort. Barry

had it bad for her, but she wanted nothing to do with his fat, ugly, loser ass. He threatened Magee

about two weeks ago, and after a lot of very nasty emails and voicemails, he finally stopped

bothering her a couple days before she died.” He paused and thought while I caught up with my

notes. “She’s been really upset lately about someone trying to take over the community group

from her. She’s gotten very paranoid about the whole thing, but then I guess if someone’s willing

to kill her for it she might not have been so paranoid after all.”

“Paranoia often has a basis in fact,” I said casually. “Mr. Reyes, can you think of anyone

else that might’ve had a major problem with Mrs. Reyes, enough to kill her over?”

“Well, if I had to point fingers, I’d say Barry first off, then there’s this girl who used to

live with us. She had a real grudge against Maggie ‘cause she wanted in my pants and Maggie

wasn’t willing to share.”

“But he sure was,” said Dusty, speaking up for the first time since letting me know about

the pot smell. Distaste dripped from his mental voice. Werewolves, like their animal cousins,

tended to mate for life. Sure, he’d had sex with other men before me, but he’s my mate now and

would never dream of looking at another man while I’m alive. He’d been a werewolf all his life

and had a low opinion of humans that would even think about having sex with other people

while their husbands or wives were still alive.

“But I know that Terri wouldn’t have killed Magee just to get to me. She knew there’s

always enough of me to go around as long as Magee never found out.” Reynaldo sounded so

smug.

I felt a growl growing in Dusty. In his world only alphas, or betas trying to be alphas, got

to be smug and proud. He felt that the person sitting across from us was far from either. I ran my

hand through the soft thick fur on the top of his head and scratched his right ear a bit to relax

him.

“If you’d give us what information you can on her, that’d be great. We’ll need to speak to

her just in case she might know something that’d be useful.”

“That should all be in Magee's laptop,” he said, glancing at his watch. “She kept a full

address book of everyone she ever knew and Terri's information should be there. Is there

anything else you really need? ‘Cause I need to get on to work. I took an early lunch to stop by

and see how things went last night. I really can't afford to miss more work than I already have.”

“I don't see any reason why you need to stay around any longer. I’ll begin working on

this immediately and check in with you as soon as I have more to go on.” I stood as he did and

reached across the desk to shake his hand. His handshake was small, sweaty and weak.

“I look forward to hearing from you,” he said, then headed for the door.

Tiffany appeared as soon as the bell on the outside door sounded indicating Mr. Reyes

had left the building. “He's guilty, not necessarily of murder, but of something.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Dusty replied after he shifted back to human form. Being a born

wer, he could’ve changed fully clothed and had the clothes come back. But around the

house/office he was a bit of an exhibitionist. I think it’s for my benefit. He paused to pull on a

pair of grey sweat pants he stored in the bottom draw of the desk for when clients showed up,

then sat on the edge of the desk without bothering to slip on the shirt I knew he kept there, too. It

was only practiced will that kept my focus in sight of the gorgeous lines of heavily-sculptured

muscles and thick hair of his chest. I passed the laptop to Tiffany.

“See what you can get from this. You know what I'm looking for.” She smiled with the

knowing look that only passes between people who have worked together for a long time.

“I'll get right on it and Tech’s coming over to make sure that there’s nothing I miss in the

search. We should have something on your desk by two at the latest.”

“Sounds like a plan. So what's next on my morning schedule?”

“Well, you've got about twenty minutes until Mrs. Davidson arrives for you to go over

those pictures of her husband with that floozy from his office, along with the other pictures of

him and the janitor. I particularly like the one with him bent over the trash can. The pictures are

in the folder marked Davidson, on your desk. Oh, and before I forget, that bitch, Carmine, with

the Council called a few minutes ago and wants to speak with you. I told her you'd call her back

when you got time.” Tiffany flashed one of those smiles that got her through almost any door.

You know the type, lots of dimples just a hint of teeth.

“Well so much for a bit of fun before the next client,” Dusty pouted as he slid off the

edge of the desk.

The paranormal community isn’t tight-knit by any stretch of anyone’s imagination. A few

years back, when there started to be more and more of us, someone had the bright idea that there

needed to be some sort of governing council that oversaw the whole community. The Council is

composed of representatives of the various factions in the paranormal world. There’re vampires,

shape-shifters, magic-users, psychics and more than a few other dimensional (ODs for short) that

sit on the council. It’s also a bureaucratic nightmare. Soon after its founding they realized the

need for local, national, global and inter-dimensional offices.

ODs are the politically correct term for demons. They think it feels less threatening. The

reason that they’re covered under the Council’s charter is for their protection and ours. For a

magic user to legally be able to summon an OD, they have to pass a council-sponsored course

and pay a tariff each time. For an OD to be on the acceptable list of summoning, they had to

agree to the terms of the Council in what they can and cannot do while here in this dimension.

Due to past problems with it, they aren’t allowed to do the whole wish thing. And there’s a

whole list of curses that they aren’t allowed to perform without fear of having their licenses

revoked and other things that are too numerous to explain.

Normally, the Council has its own group of enforcers who work directly for them and

make sure that things go smoothly. But every once in a while, something happened. Either they

get too busy, or someone’s trying to sweep something under the rug and they call for help. The

former was the most likely reason for Carmine’s call. Since she bothered to call and not just send

one of her flunkies after me meant that I hadn’t crossed any lines that I was aware of. I did my

best to keep my nose clean and out of their way. The impending client arrival was a good excuse

should the call drag on too long.

Dusty whined and gave me his big-eyed puppy-dog look as I slipped on my blue-tooth

headset. I leaned over, gave him a deep kiss on his firm silky lips and fingered a hard nipple.

“Later my love,” I whispered softly. I slid one hand across the hairy hardness of his pecs as I

pushed the speed dial for Carmine.

“I'll hold you to that,” he smiled lustily.

Carmine picked up on the first ring, and before I could say anything, she said, “Took you

long enough to call me back, Peters.” Caller ID had done wonders for not being able to catch

people off guard anymore when calling them.

“Sorry Carmine, I was with a client.” I knew Dusty heard everything she said as he rolled

his eyes and made mouth-like motions with his hands.

“Yeah, a client that left over five minutes ago,” she snapped

Sometimes talking to psychics could be a real pain, or in Carmine's case, a real bitch. It

was nearly impossible to keep things from her since her sense of clairvoyance was nearly

omnipotent and she didn’t mind lording it over people. Personally, I think her annoying

personality kept her at the Dallas office instead of moving up in the Council.

“So what can I help you with today Carmine?” I replied. “Surely you didn’t call just to

see how long it’d take me to call you back.” No use trying polite excuses with her. Just cut right

to the meat of the issue.

“Oh I don't know, every so often we get a betting pool going around here to see how long

it’ll take you to call back. The interns like to use it to hone their skills. But today we find

ourselves shorthanded and could use your help.” Her tone changed slightly. It always irritated

her to ask for my help after I left the Council's official enforcement team years ago rather than

keep working under her. I just didn’t do well under her heavy-handed management style. She’d

copped an attitude with me ever since.

“Wow Carmine, you need my help?” I didn’t bother keeping the arrogance out of my

voice. “I was pretty sure I hadn't done anything to warrant your call. And since you hadn’t sent

any of the enforcers down here to push me around, I kind of figured you needed something.”

“Yeah, Peters, enjoy your moment here when I ask you for help. You know if you want

to keep your license, you have to help me when I ask and you have to do it at your lowest rate.”

“I know Carmine,” I sighed. “So what’s the problem? Remember I do have paying clients

that take up my time too.” I knew that Tiffany would, in her meticulous fashion, comb over

every angle of Carmine’s job and find some way to bill it back to the Council, if not at full rate,

then at least at the highest possible.

“Right, well instead of chasing ghosts and cheating husbands, I need you to keep an eye

out for an unregistered witch or magician of some sort who’s illegally calling unlicensed ODs

into this plane.” She sounded more than a little concerned and not quite so smug. “So far, we

have at least three instances in the Dallas area. They’ve been very short and haven’t come up in

the same area twice. I figure you can keep your eyes open as you’re out and about in the general

populace. Think of it as just as a favor for old time’s sake.”

“I'll see what I can do.” A buzz on the phone was the signal from Tiffany that my next

client had arrived early. Dusty smiled as he peeled off his clothes and kissed my free ear before

resuming his wolf form and set his head on my knee.

“Well Carmine, not that this hasn't been fun, but I've got to go. I'll keep my eyes open

and let you know if I come across anything out of the ordinary.”

“You see that you do, Peters,” she said curtly, hanging up before I could.

I had just enough time to take my headset off before Tiffany opened the office door and

showed in Mrs. Davidson.

***

A tear-filled hour later, after Mrs. Davidson finally got herself together enough to call her

lawyer and arrange to have the files I had sent over to him, she left. Dusty tried to entice me onto

the couch. Wers have a voracious sex drive and some wolves are worse than others. Not that it’s

a bad thing.

Tiffany ran into the office. “Ethan, you need to get down to the morgue! Barry Crabtree’s

been murdered!”

“Okay, it’s been a busy day,” I said shaking my head. I’d heard the name at some point,

but between Mrs. Davidson’s waterworks at her husband’s infidelities and dealing with Carmine,

I just couldn’t connect it. “Why does that name sound familiar?”

“He’s the one Reynaldo Reyes thinks is most likely to have killed Magee,” Dusty spoke

up before Tiffany could.

“Right,” Tiffany continued. “He was just beaten to death by his girlfriend. When the

police arrived, she was standing over his body with a bloody baseball bat.”

3

The city morgue is not my favorite place in the world. Actually I think the only people

who really enjoy city morgues are the people who work there. It goes without saying that some

of those people are unusual, even in my way of thinking. Dusty and I walked in from the hot

humid air that non-Dallas natives claim is almost as bad as some of the coastal areas, to the

sterile cool dryness that’s almost crisp by comparison. Like a lot of morgues, this one’s in the

basement of the major hospital in town. Luckily for me, it wasn’t far from the office. After a

short call to Diane Thompson, the Council agent at the morgue, to confirm that I could get a look

at the body, we arrived within minutes. Diane met us at the door to the morgue, which was the

last one down a long hall.

“We have to be quick,” she said, rushing us out of the hallway. “Shift change is in about

twenty minutes and you need to be out by then.”

The Council had eyes, ears and hands in the right places. The world as a whole had no

knowledge of the existence of the paranormals and the power we possessed. The Council had a

whole group that took great strides to keep it that way. Diane covered up any unusual deaths that

might occur due to paranormal activity. I knew for a fact she’d cremated the supposedly wrong

body a time or two to cover up a shape-shifter attack and altered a few blood samples to make

sure people didn’t look too closely. Once in a while she smuggled me in to look at a corpse or

two. She’s a nice little empath that liked working with the dead since they didn’t have any

emotions she had to screen out. She tried to be absent when families stopped by to identify

remains.

“Thanks Diane, we owe you one for this.” I flashed her a big smile. “So what do you

know on this one?”

“I'll put it on your tab big guy. Well it is fairly cut and dry, from all angles that the

coroner could find. No drugs, just a bit of nicotine and a trace of alcohol.” She escorted us back

to the room with the body drawers. “Cause of death’s repeated blows to the head with a blunt

instrument. There’re a few splinters in the lacerations fairly consistent with a baseball bat.”

She opened up drawer eleven. The body in the tray was fairly large, and though the blood

had been cleaned up, the damage to the head was obvious. It looked like someone with

remarkable strength had pounded on him enough times to cave in a good part of his skull,

completely disfiguring him. From the odd angle and the bone protruding from the right shoulder,

she missed at least once.

“One interesting thing about him,” Diane said after giving us a minute to stare, “and mind

you, this isn’t something that will show up in the official report. His blood test came back psi

positive.”

“So he’s one of us.” I thought over the implications. “That fits with some of the

information we have from the case we’re investigating.” It was fairly common for a psi to go

their whole lives without hearing about the Council. The recruiters tried to get out and find

everyone they could, but it’s impossible to find them all. The neo-pagan movement attracted the

ones who didn’t know better. Like a lot of others, he ended up in a coven to explore his abilities,

not realizing there were other options available to him that would be a lot less dramatic and give

him access and control of the power he felt within him.

“So what about the girlfriend?” I asked. Then, I realized that Dusty’s sniffing near the

body. “What have you got?”

“Not entirely sure. But I can tell you this, there’s a smell that’s definitely not normal on

him. I’ve never smelled this before.” Dusty looked confused. It made his handsome face just

downright cute. “It smells almost like Denver Eden, but not quite.”

Denver Eden. I sighed. One high-powered lawyer who always seemed to pop up where

he wasn’t wanted or needed. He always had his hand in the wrong cookie jar at the right time to

never get caught with anything. He was officially registered with the council as a resident of

Fairie, but I suspected more. The guy was more than a little bit sleazy and more often than not,

he seemed to skate just on the edge of breaking any number of Council rules about exposing the

paranormal world. And on the cases where some ODs were caught doing something, he was the

lawyer they called. He always got them off.

“So something like an elf?” Diane asked before I could.

“Yes and no,” Dusty replied. “I've meet a couple of elves, Denver included. This is

almost but not quite. It doesn’t have the fresh smell of an elf. I'll have to think on it.”

“So back to the girlfriend,” I said, turning my attention away from the body.

Diane shook her blonde head. “Don't know much there. I know they have her in custody.

She was found standing over the body with the baseball bat. I do know that to have done the

damage we see in the head here, she must either be incredibly strong or incredibly angry, angry

enough that all her focus was on striking him. You know like the ninety-pound woman that lifts

the minivan off her trapped child. If someone had that kind of focus to do that kind of harm to

someone, it would be feasible. The only problem is that normally a person's moral senses kick in

and stops them before it goes as far as killing someone, particularly someone you are supposed

to be fond of.”

I nodded. “I was thinking the same thing. But even hypnosis or mental suggestion

wouldn’t explain this type of reaction.”

“But would mental suggestion let someone take too many of the wrong type of pills?”

Dusty beat me to the thought that just crossed my mind.

“It would but…” Diane's watch beeped.

“Lovely chat guys, but you need to get. Shift change in five.” She started shooing us

toward the door.

“Thanks for the help Diane,” I said as Dusty and I hurried into the hall.

“Let me know what you find out,” she called after us.

I made a quick call to Tiffany to check on any developments. She and Tech were still

working on the computer, so we headed off to the police station where Barry Crabtree's

girlfriend had already been booked and awaited bail.

Tiffany didn’t have a whole lot of information, just what Tech managed to pull out of the

police database from the backdoor he maintained for just such a need.

“The girl's name’s Alexia Rosenbloom, she’s eighteen, lives with her mother, Penelope

Gross, works at a small locally-owned bistro and has no police record,” said Tiffany, clicking off

the information in her usual business-like manner. “Neither she nor her mother shows up on any

of the Council's records. Her mother has a well-documented history of mental illness being in

and out of several institutions over the past fifteen years and associated with several known

habitual criminals over that time as well.”

“Well her mom sounds like a real winner,” Dusty said as he closed the phone after

Tiffany hung up.

“Yeah, but none of it explains how she did the damage we saw to the boyfriend,” I

muttered. “Does this tie in with Magee Reyes? Or is it just coincidence?” The late afternoon

traffic caught up with us and we slowed to a crawl as we entered the heart of downtown Dallas.

The only lucky thing about the timing is that the stopped traffic was the stuff heading out of

downtown. The folks heading into downtown just moved slowly.

Parking at the police station was not as horrible as I feared and we found a parking spot

pretty close to the main doors. With a good working knowledge of the police station, I easily

found the detective in charge of the case.

Detective Steven Pearson was a tall man, and when I say tall, I mean tall. I’m six foot

two and this man was at least six foot seven. He had to duck into most doorways to avoid

scrapping his blond crew cut on the frame. Lean and limber, the black t-shirt he wore under the

gray tweed sports coat was tight enough to show off his broad hard chest and washboard abs. No

donuts and coffee for this cop. He obviously worked out a lot. I knew from PI-to-cop gossip that

he didn’t have a home life as such and spent most of his time at the gym when he wasn’t

working. I often wondered who he kept the body for, but we’d never really made friends to the

point that I would ask. Dusty always said that the man seemed frustrated about something when

we were around. He was never openly hostile, which caused me to wonder, but I just don't probe

into other’s minds for such trivial things. But I do keep my ear out on the gossip line.

“Detective Pearson,” I said, as we approached the desk he bent over. I almost wished we

had come up from behind because I knew his ass was as good as the pecs.

“Peters and Davenport.” The annoyance in his voice said more about him being busy than

us just being there, at least that’s what I hoped. “What do I owe the pleasure of your visit today?”

“I'd like to speak with someone you just brought in. It has to do with a case I am working

on,” I replied in my best neutral voice.

“Hmmmmmm, the Rosenbloom girl?” He sat back in his chair and motioned us to sit in

the chairs opposite him.

“That's her,” I said. I lowered myself into the hard metal chair. I personally thought that

the chairs on the other side of police desks were like the ones in school principal's offices,

designed to keep the inhabitants uncomfortable and off balance so they’re more likely to screw

up.

“What do you need with her?” Pearson took out a pen and began making notes on the

legal pad in front of him.

“I need to know what she knows about Magee Reyes.” No sense in telling too much, but

that was one of the reasons I was there.

“The suicide from last week?” Pearson looked interested now.

Not for the first time, I wished that Paul Ramirez, the Council's inside guy on the police

force, was there but he was out on family leave while his wife had their first child. Paul’s a

werejaguar and would have just eased us in like Diane had at the morgue. “Yeah, the suicide

from last week. We’re checking out some of her friends for her husband.”

“Yeah I heard from the guys working that case that the guy’s a little on the odd side,”

Pearson said. “Actually one of the female officers said he came on to her so hard that she almost

brought him in on charges of inappropriate behavior with a police officer. But they closed the

case real quick. Nothing to it. Just an overdose of pain killers or something like that.” Pearson

sounded almost bored. “So, other than this girl being one of her friends, how’s it tie in?”

“You know they’re all Wiccans, right.”

Pearson looked puzzled and flipped through the file under the legal pad. “Not mentioned

here, says the girl’s Jewish.”

“Well you know a lot of Wiccans are still in the closet like some gay guys.” I knew it was

a cheap shot but I took it anyway.

Pearson blinked, just a slight movement, but nothing else. “Yeah I have heard that,

particularly in this part of the country. So you think she’s a closet Satanist?”

“He didn't say that,” said Dusty, speaking up for the first time. “He he said Wiccan.

Wiccan's don't believe in Satan or Jesus. They have their own Gods,” He has a shorter fuse with

ignorant comments than me. That, and he had an issue with Pearson. I think something happened

between them at some point in the past, but Dusty had never said anything about it. One of these

days I’m going to pin him down and ask him, but not today.

“So you think they’re part of the same cult and that the two deaths are part of some cult

ritual.” Pearson's pen flew across the legal pad.

I stifled a sigh. Steven Pearson always jumped to the wrong conclusion whenever

something out of the ordinary happened. Why do the really handsome guys, other than Dusty,

always have to be as dumb as a box of rocks? However, there are certain advantages to dealing

with slow people. I waited to respond until his pen stopped moving and he looked up. His sky-

blue eyes met mine and I reached out with my mind.

“Steven. There are no cults in the area.” I pushed against his mind as I whispered just

loud enough for him to hear. “You need to let us in to see Alexia Rosenbloom. It’ll need to be a

private room.” Short sentences, easy orders always worked best when using mental

manipulation. I almost felt bad about manipulating him, but he’d made the jump from Wiccan to

cult and I needed to curb that line of thinking. The Council prized itself on keeping things like

that under the rug, so to speak. They wouldn’t be happy if the police suddenly went off looking

for a cult in the middle of Dallas, particularly with Paul Ramirez away from the department

where he could have stopped it cold. And I really wanted to stay on the good side of the Council.

Otherwise things could get sticky.

Steven Pearson blinked as his mind drifted under my gaze. “Give me a moment to get a

clear room for you,” he said. His voice sounded completely different than it had moments before,

softer, almost lusty. He stood and walked across the room.

Dusty cast a quick glance to make sure no one saw anything, and then using a bit of his

werewolf speed, removed the top piece of paper from the legal pad where Pearson had written

his notes about cults. He moved fast enough that even the constant video surveillance wouldn’t

have caught the movement unless they inspected frame by frame.

“Good job.” I smiled at him and patted his knee.

“Thanks.” Dusty smiled back. “Let's just get this over with so we can get out of here. I

never realized Steven had an issue with things, but part of that may be more about what he is

hiding. You know he started sweating when you made the closet crack.”

Trust Dusty's nose to pick up a man’s sweat. I chuckled lightly and nodded as Steven

returned.

“She is being brought to conference room two. The guard will have to wait outside the

door with me.” The detective's eyes were still slightly glazed over from my mental manipulation.

He gestured for us to follow. We got up and trailed behind those large tweed-covered shoulders.

4

Detective Pearson led us to a classic police conference room, furnished in white austerity

with a couple of chairs and a table. Thankfully, he’d listened to my request for a private

conversation, so there weren’t any mirrors or cameras in the room. The table was a bit on the

battered side, but the Dallas Police Department’s budget was tight and new tables were low on

the priority list. I’d have to take measures to ensure our conversation didn’t carry out to the

officer at the door.

“These rooms are always charming.” Dusty chuckled as we pulled up chairs that were

only slightly more comfortable than the chairs at Detective Pearson's desk.

“Your tax dollars at work,” Pearson smiled back as the door reopened. It’s been said

before and will be said many times more, no one looks good in the penal system’s bright orange

jumpsuits. On Alexia Rosenbloom, it leached all the color out of her face, leaving what perhaps

had been a light olive complexion looking drawn and pasty. Her long dark hair was plastered to

her skull and her lifeless brown eyes were puffy and red. She’d obviously been crying. She

wasn’t manacled or restrained in any way, but her head hung down and she shuffled her feet as

she walked across the floor. It didn’t take a telepath to know that this young woman felt

defeated.

“I'll be right outside the door if you need anything,” Pearson said. He motioned the

uniformed officer to follow him out of the room.

“Thanks Steven,” I smiled, pushing him mentally, just a little, not to hear anything that

happened in the room. Dusty made a sealing mark on the door with his right hand, whispering

the spell to prevent anyone from eavesdropping on our conversation, accidentally or otherwise.

“Ms. Rosenbloom, I’m Ethan Peters and this is my partner, Dusty Davenport,” I said,

consciously trying to calm her. “We’re investigating the death of Magee Reyes.”

Alexia looked up, confusion written on her tired features. “Magee's death? But what

about what I just did to poor Barry? Doesn't anyone care about Barry?” Tears spilled down her

cheeks. “Even in death, everything’s still about Magee. I’m sick to death about that bitch!

Everything was always about her and it still is. If she weren’t already dead, I'd fucking kill the

bitch myself.” Her dry voice broke and she collapsed as she covered her face in her hands and

sobbed.

With a question in his eye, Dusty glanced at me. I knew he was asking permission to

console the girl. He knew I held myself distant enough from most things that I’d be of little use

in calming her. He’s the more emotional and comforting of us. Sometimes I think it’s him being

a wer. They’re much more touchy-feely than everyone else. I've always been a bit distant, hiding

behind shields designed to keep people's thoughts and feeling at bay, but while that coping

mechanism protected me from the bad, it also cut me off from the good. That and I just couldn’t

stand a crying woman. Even when it wasn’t an act as in this case, it just got on my nerves

something fierce.

Dusty walked to the other side of the table and put his muscular arm across her heaving

shoulders. I just barely heard his soft words as he stroked her hair and told her it’d be okay. After

several minutes, her sobs subsided and Dusty calmed her enough that we could get back to

interviewing her. Luckily, the room was equipped with a box of tissues so she could dry her

eyes, blow her nose and wipe her face before we continued.

“Okay, let’s talk about Barry,” I suggested after the last tissue dropped on the table.

“Barry’s a great guy. He treated me so great and I’m going to miss him something

awful.” Tears threatened to spill out again and she paused to take a couple of deep breaths.

“Like I told the police, I don't remember what happened with Barry,” she said. “The last

thing I remember we were watching TV at his place. We both had the day off and we were just

hanging out. He’d gone into the kitchen to get us Cokes when someone knocked on the door.

Since he was in the kitchen, I just answered the door. That was around noon. Then the next thing

I know, the police were there putting the handcuffs on me and reading me my rights. The

baseball bat he always kept by the door lay on the floor covered in blood and I had blood all over

my hands and clothes.” Her voice started to crack again.

That gut feeling any good investigator develops told me there was more going on here,

and if I could figure out what, I might have the answer to what happened to Magee Reyes. I

don’t believe in coincidences. This young woman’s missing time and Magee Reyes thinking

she’d taken one nerve pill with water when she really took multiple pain killers with alcohol was

too big a coincidence to be a coincidence in my mind.

“Do you remember anything unusual about the person at the door, anything at all?”

Dusty's soft voice tried to coach a memory out of her.

She started to answer and then looked like there was something or someone standing

behind Dusty. “No Grandma not now,” she whispered then rubbed her head.

“Did you just say Grandma?” I asked. Did I hear her right? Was she speaking to the ghost

of her dead grandmother?

The girl looked a bit sheepish and started to shrink back in on herself.

Dusty patted her arm and nodded a silent approval.

“Yeah, you see, I can see and hear spirits sometimes,” she said in little more than a

whisper. “My Grandma’s with me all the time, well unless my mom’s done something mean to

me and then she’s harassing my mother.”

My mind raced a bit. If this girl were truly a medium, she could provide an investigative

tool I desperately needed. She and the spirits around her might be able to solve the whole thing

for me. “Did your grandmother see anything today while you were with Barry?”

Alexia looked confused for a moment. “Slow down Grandma. I have to translate. She

speaks in a combination of Yiddish and Spanish, when she’s excited like she is now it can be a

bit hard to translate.”

She concentrated again while we sat in silence. “Okay, the best I can make out, she said

when I answered the door, some kind of fog rolled over me. She could barely see me through the

fog, but she could see the bat hitting Barry. She said one of the neighbors came over and saw

what was happening and called the police. After the police arrived the fog blew away.”

“So something covered your spirit for a while?” I’d have to hit the books, or get Tiffany

to do it for me, to see what we could find out about things that covered someone's spirit enough

to cause blackouts.

“That's what it sounds like,” Dusty agreed.

Alexia nodded.

“Alexia, Ms. Rosenbloom, do you have a lawyer yet?” I still wanted to get to the subject

of Magee Reyes, but if she didn’t have a lawyer, I could get the Council to send one over. If she

were a medium, they’d help get her out and cover up as much as possible to keep her safe.

She looked thoughtful. “Mom’s said she’d call the one that her boyfriend uses when he

gets in trouble, but so far not.”

“Give me a sec.” I pulled out my cell phone and called Carmine.

She picked up on the second ring. “Hey Carmine, how soon can you get a good lawyer

over to the downtown police station?”

“Ethan, if you’ve gotten yourself thrown in jail again, you can just sit there. We had

another OD reading a couple of hours ago and Tiffany said you’re too busy to investigate.” She

sounded more than slightly irritated.

“Look Carmine, I am sure that Tiffany will get me the information you surely sent her on

that and I will look at it when I get back to the office. And no I’m not the one in jail. I‘ve found a

new medium who’s in need a bit of help.”

“Oh, and what did this new medium do to get thrown in jail?” Although her mood had

shifted, it was still on the short side; however, a pinch of curiosity spiced her loud note of

skepticism. True mediums were rare. The Council would verify her abilities and get her safely

under their wings.

“Not much. She just killed her boyfriend with a baseball bat,” I replied, somehow

keeping a straight face.

“Tell her for me, ‘You Go Girlfriend,’ and I'll have someone there within the hour. Tell

her not to talk to anyone else before they get there. It’ll probably be William.”

Carmine’s a bit of a man basher, but she sounded a bit too gleeful about the situation for

my taste. “Thanks Carmine. We'll get on to the other stuff as soon as I get back to the office.”

“You do that, Peters.” Her sternness returned as she hung up the phone.

I turned back to Alexia and Dusty. “Okay someone’s on the way, probably William

Cromly.”

“Oh good, William’s a great lawyer, one of the best we know,” said Dusty, assuring

Alexia. “He's also a good friend of mine.”

William’s a werewolf, one of the few members of the local pack who welcomed Dusty

with open arms. Werewolves, like a lot of other people, have issues with same-sex relationships,

in their case it’s mainly because most gay men didn’t have children. The conflict there is that

there are two kinds of werecreatures, ones that are born and ones that are made. Dusty’s a born

werewolf and most werewolves felt that he should find a female mate, settle down and pass on

his genes. His family was killed a couple of years back by a rouge pack during a big upheaval

right before we met. After we met but before we moved in together, Dusty compromised and

acted as a sperm donor to help one of the other genetic pairs have kids. That satisfied a few of

the wolves like William, but others in the local pack held fast to their beliefs and still just barely

tolerated him. Our relationship, which they saw as a mixed marriage, only made things worse,

but at least they allow him come to pack functions. His son, who was just now one, is really cute

for a kid. We’re lucky that the parents want Dusty in his life.

“Thanks,” Alexia said softly.

“Hey no problem, you look like a nice kid who can use a bit of help here,” I responded,

deciding to wait for a more secure place to fill her in about the Council. “So what more can you

tell us about Magee Reyes?”

“Well, Magee had some real issues. I mean she was nice enough at first. She’s the one

that set up the meetings and posted them online so the community could come together,

particularly those of us who didn't have any connection to anyone else. She had it all so well

organized at first with the sign-in sheet, the name badges and the really cool handouts. At first

she seemed to have it all together, a nice happy life and a loving husband, but she’s also

agoraphobic. She wouldn’t leave the house for the longest time unless her husband was with her.

During this time she decided to put together the coven. We all loved the idea. So many of us

never had anyone else to talk to about the Wiccan way of life, or to try spells out and just lots of

other fun things. We were like a little family. Then Barry developed a crush on Mad. Being the

manipulative bitch we realized she was, Mad basically led him along until he couldn't take it

anymore. She just tore him apart emotionally.”

“And who is Mad?” I asked, trying to clarify the people involved.

“Madeline Fort. Most people call her Maddie, but Barry and I started calling her Mad

after everything that she put him through. But then if she hadn’t put him through everything she

did, we probably wouldn’t have gotten together. The past couple of weeks have been great

except for all the emails.”

“Who was sending the emails?” I asked.

“Magee was. She sent a couple every day. Sometimes she was trying to get Barry and me

to come back to the coven, and sometimes she’d just rant at him or me. It was normally him, but

she flipped back and forth so often, it was a little scary. I’m thankful we got away from that shit

and I am not sorry that she’s dead.”

“So from what you remember, was there any one person that showed up around the time

she went from nice to crazy?” I asked, very pleased so far with the information that we were

getting and the fact that it matched so well with the behavior of Magee’s wraith.

Alexia thought about it for a moment and shook her head. “Not that I can recall, but

there’ve been so many new people in the community meetings lately. Magee was always getting

new people who responded to the website she set up, and then after the newspaper article on her,

we got even more people. It’s not uncommon for there to be thirty or forty people at one of the

community meetings. Barry’s supposed to oversee the meeting tonight since Magee wasn’t going

to be there.”

“There’s a meeting tonight?” It looked like I was going to get back to the office later than

I had planned.

“Sure, every Friday night at Trail Dusters Cappuccino and Milkshake Bar over on Elm

Street. I was looking forward to going since Magee’s gone and Mad’s backed out without her

friend to support her.” She looked a bit sad about missing the meeting. “It's been a few weeks

since I've seen everyone. I'm sure they are going to be more than a little upset tonight.”

“What time is the meeting?” I knew where Trail Dusters was. They made one of the best

milkshakes in town.

“They normally start around seven, but most people don't get there until seven thirty or

so. You know, Wiccan standard time.” She smiled slightly at the old joke that excused people

from not keeping track of time. I knew Wiccans’ inability to be anywhere on time was one of the

many things Tiffany didn’t like about them.

I glanced at my watch. Six thirty. “So this group welcomes new people?”

“Sure, everyone’s always welcomed with open arms. Well unless you piss off Magee or

show up strung-out on something, then she’d ask you not to come back unless you had

something to offer her. There’s this one guy, totally incredible drummer, Jet. He’s stoned all the

time. It never really showed because that was his normal. None of us ever saw him not stoned,

but because he was such an awesome drummer, she kept him around. That, and the fact that her

husband’s a little pothead, too. If she kicked Jet out for pot, she’d be a hypocrite. But based on

the way she was acting lately, being a hypocrite would not bother her for long.”

I was beginning to wonder if everyone else in this community group felt the same way as

Alexia. If so, the list of people that wouldn’t mind killing her would be a long one, indeed.

“Alexia, you’ve been a big help. William should be here soon and be able to arrange bail

for you. In the meantime, don’t talk to anyone else. Have him give you my card when you get

out and give me a call, so I can get with you again if I need anything more.” I headed toward the

door to let Steven know we were finished for now.

Dusty gave Alexia a big hug and I heard him tell her things are going to be okay now.

She looked grateful for the reassurance and told him that her grandmother said thanks. It’d be

nice if I could deal with spirits without casting a circle so I could confirm Grandma was there.

Just then, a chill hit me and reminded me that, at times, spirits have their own ways of making

their presence felt.

Dusty fell into step with me as we walked down the long steps of the police station

toward the street where we’d left the car. “She had the same smell on her that Barry had on him,

but a lot stronger,” he said softly, “almost like she had taken a bath in it.”

“I bet it has something to do with that fog her grandmother saw covering her,” I replied. I

pulled out my phone to call Tiffany and get her to work on getting info for me on spirits that

leave an elfin smell behind.

5

Trail Dusters was one of those cute little western-themed places that’s really popular

downtown, or in this case, just off of downtown. The area was widely known for its nightspots

and the tourist traffic was almost as heavy as the local because it was located on the edge of the

tourist-versus-local traffic zone. The locals visited the place for the great milkshakes and because

while it wasn’t one of the mega-corporation coffee houses, it still had a wide enough selection to

make everyone happy. The interior looked more like something that would have been in Fort

Worth, or Cowtown as the locals called it, with its cow-pattern tablecloths and longhorn

chandeliers. My higher-class friends called the place Texas Tacky but they still came down for a

milkshake or cappuccino when the urge hit.

We found parking relatively close without having to pay in one of the big lots that served

the Deep Ellum district. It was late enough that the street parking meters were down for the night

and the street lights were just starting to come on as we got out of the car.

“So illusions?” Dusty asked, as we closed the car doors.

“Yeah, I want to be able to question these folks later without them realizing it was us at

this meeting,” I replied, thinking out loud as we walked down the street. “We can’t just show up

and start questioning people at this thing. It would look strange.”

“So which one are we going to use this time?” Dusty was always eager to use disguises

and illusions. Sometimes I wondered if he didn’t like dressing up a bit too much.

“I was thinking the Goth couple,” I said. The Goth couple was one we used from time to

time when we went into some of the darker clubs and environments around town where our usual

casual appearance would stand out.

“Gay, straight or otherwise?”

“I was thinking we'd do Raven and Lobo today.” We stopped in the shadow of an alley

and I glanced around to make sure no one was watching.

“We're clear,” Dusty said. He tapped the end of his nose indicating that he didn't smell

anyone close enough to observe the magic.

In all honesty, the illusions I used were more mental projections than magical creations,

but since I wove one on Dusty as well, the process of magic helped to make sure the illusion

stayed on him. Energy hummed around me. I made a couple of symbols with my fingers,

muttered the Latin words and then I extended the energy out to Dusty. From a magical

perspective, it was a bit like casting a movie on a blank white wall. I could still see Dusty as he

really was, but the illusion covered him in a radiant glow. To anyone other than me, he appeared

as the image I cast. Gone were the cute little freckles that dusted his cheeks and the bridge of his

nose replaced by a coating of illusionary white makeup, which made him look slightly ghoulish.

His sparkling blue-green eyes hid behind bloodshot dark-brown shadows. His healthy muscular

frame looked shrunken in and his flannel shirt and jeans morphed into a black t-shirt, black pants

and a black trench coat way too warm for the sultry Dallas night. I knew from previous

comments from Dusty and Tiffany as we developed these disguises, that my own appearance

was more disturbing than Dusty's.

“If I look as awful as you do, we should be ready.” Dusty smiled, showing teeth that had

changed to the point if I hadn’t known it was a disguise, I wouldn’t have kissed him for fear that

one of the cracked worn teeth would chip off at the slightest touch. I took his hand in mine and

we continued toward the bar.

“Let's get this over with. I know these are disguises but they’re still disturbing. I’ve

always hated them, but they work well.”

Dusty laughed. “What, you don't like looking like something the cat would leave

outside?”

“Yeah, the things we do for a buck nowadays.” I chuckled and kissed his pale, pock-

marked cheek. We never worried about public displays when under illusions. One, it was easy to

drop an illusion if someone decided to take offense, two, there’s no problem with the wrong

people seeing us do anything out of the ordinary since the identities we assumed did not really

exist, and three, if we somehow did irreparable harm to an identity, it could easily be discarded

and a new one created.

A guitarist played softly in one corner of the bar. The number of patrons was surprisingly

low for a Friday night, but it was early yet. We’d only been in a few times on Friday before, so

we might not have been the best judges of a full house. Off to one side, a group of people had

pushed several tables together and clustered around them. For the most part, it looked like a

gathering of middle-aged housewives with a couple of younger folks thrown in for good

measure. In my limited experiences with Wiccans, that tended to be the norm. At the moment,

there were twenty or so people huddled there.

“Not exactly what you would expect from a group where one of them might have

murdered two people,” Dusty said as we walked up to the counter to order drinks.

“We'll see,” I replied evenly. “Do you know what you want?”

“That depends,” he said, his newly-bloodshot eyes betraying none of the teasing in his

voice. “Are you going to treat me to a nice night out after this where we can get something filling

to eat, or is this it for the night?”

“I'm all for a bite to eat after this. Somewhere nice….hmmmm…we'll have to see.” I

joked. We'd probably end up at either Coyote's Place or Roadies. Since we’d just been to

Coyote's Place, I’d vote for Roadies out in the West End. If it were late enough, they wouldn’t be

too busy, and while they didn’t serve their steaks as rare as Dusty liked, their rolls and cinnamon

butter were to die for.

“Okay then, how `bout a nice double chocolate chunk rocky road malt.”

“Hey guys, here for the witches’ group?” asked the perky blonde woman behind the

counter.

“Yeah, but we'd like to get a couple of drinks first.” I replied, flashing her my disguised

smile that wasn’t as charming as my usual grin.

“Cool. What would you like?”

After giving her our order, we walked over to meet the Wiccans. A couple more people

had wandered in. Two of the men, one of which I’d mistakenly tagged for a middle-aged woman

from the back, slid another table to the group while a couple of women added chairs to make

more room.

“Oh hi,” said one of the women with flaming red hair excitedly. “Are are you two

looking for the witches’ get together?”

“Yeah, we are.” I replied keeping my voice low and monotone. It’s too much trouble to

extend the illusion to voices, so we adjust that on our own.

“Well new faces are always welcome,” she said, nearly bubbling with enthusiasm. “I'm

Brianna, but you can call me Bree. That is my husband Byron.” She gestured to the tall skinny

gray-haired man who had just finished positioning the table. “Byron, this is…” She gestured for

us to fill in the blank.

“I'm Raven and this is my husband, Lobo,” I replied, stretching a hand out to Byron.

“Please to meet you both,” Byron said warmly, shaking my hand then Dusty’s. “Always

great to see new faces.”

“Well go ahead and grab a seat,” suggested Bree. “You guys aren't the only new folks

tonight so we'll start in a couple of minutes with going around and introducing everyone.”

A heavily acne-scarred young man sat opposite us. Although I judged his age as

somewhere around twenty, his pale red mullet-cut hair was already receding and he felt oddly

slimy. Wearing a tie-dyed t-shirt that was at least three sizes too large, he looked like someone

who was desperately trying to fit in.

“Hey guys,” he said. “You’re new here. I’m Xan.”

“Yeah we're new,” I replied without offering my hand. If I could avoid it, I didn’t want to

risk getting any kind of psychic impression from this one. “I'm Raven and this is my husband,

Lobo.”

“Oh wow, you're together,” said Xan, staring at Dusty, uh Lobo, with a goofy look on his

face that threatened to launch into a babbling fit. “That must be so cool. I've been looking for

someone to practice with. My last boyfriend was a fundy and way too clingy for me so we never

practiced together. He was a real flake too. He never understood me. I’m so ready for an LTR.”

If he were that goofy around the Lobo illusion, I’d hate to see him with Dusty’s hot self.

It's a good thing I’m not the jealous type.

“Ah Xan, if we could get stated please,” Bree called for order from the middle of the

table.

“Sorry Bree,” he apologized, his eyes still focused only on Lobo's pale face. I turned my

attention down the table.

“Well it looks like most everyone who said they were coming made it, so let's go ahead

and get things going,” said Bree. “We have several new folks here tonight, so let’s go around the

table. Everybody introduce yourself and tell us a little about you. I'll start. I'm Bree. I guess

Maddie, Byron and I are coordinating all this tonight. I’ve been practicing for nearly thirty years

and am a High Priestess of the Alexandrian tradition.”

Byron continued with his introduction and since there were almost twenty five people

around the table, the intros droned on for a while. I wasn’t surprised when Xan launched off on

another babble, going on about how he’d studied under this teacher and that and how long he’d

practiced along with several other mundane details. Another thing that amazed me about Wiccan

youth is how they become experts almost immediately. In reality, when they say they’ve studied

under someone, what they really mean is they either talked to someone at a shop or gathering of

some kind, or worse, they simply read a book by that person. I held to my previous impression of

the young man that he desperately wanted to fit in somehow. But did he want to fit in so badly

that he was willing to kill for it?

Madeline Fort, the object of the late Barry Crabtree's affection prior to Alexia

Rosenbloom, was nothing like I expected. She was fairly average in every way except for her

well-endowed bosom. Even her faded blue jeans and basic black t-shirt with a fairy on it looked

utterly unremarkable. I’ve never understood what some straight men see in plain, almost dumpy

women, but I’ve never understood why some straight women put up with beer-bellied, balding,

lazy bums they end up with, either.

To add to the unremarkable picture, Madeline spoke softly as she introduced herself,

almost as if she intended to fade into the background. She claimed to have practiced for the past

four years and followed the Fairy Light path. I could just imagine the look of horror on Tiffany's

face when I shared that information. She ended her introduction quickly, like she didn’t like to

draw attention to herself, but I knew better than to discount her. All too often, the power behind

the throne was someone no one would notice. Would she and her little Fairy Lite, I mean Light,

be capable of murder? In my experience, too many of these Fairy people were staunch believers

in the perfect love, perfect trust they tried to force down people's throats. I wondered how they

would handle knowing that most of the true fae folk are far from loving and light.

The door to the bar opened and a large man walked in just as the last introduction

finished. On second look, he wasn’t as large as he appeared, still he was on the tall side with

shoulders that were just shy of broad. He wasn’t in great shape, but he wasn’t overly soft, either,

and he carried himself with an air of superiority and power. His thick brown hair was slicked

back with a bit too much product, and as he approached the table, it smelled like he had bathed in

cologne.

“Sorry I'm late,” he said with the same arrogance he walked with. “Traffic’s just awful.”

“No problem Lenny, we understand,” said Bree as the man took the only vacant chair on

the end of the table opposite us. “We’re just finishing up with intros.”

“Well I'm Lenny,” he said, not looking at anyone in particular. “I've been with the group

for about three months now. I’ve been practicing magic for fifteen years and following a pagan

path for about ten years. I am both an accomplished high magician and a Gardenarian High

Priest.” He oozed enough arrogance to be a Gardenarian HP, but as far as a High Magician, I’d

have to ask Tiffany. She kept pretty close tabs on the HM community, even if they were a bunch

of loners. They’re more territorial than a pack of werewolves. He might even be listed with the

Council if he had come up the right way and really was what he said he was.

“Thanks for joining us, Lenny,” said Bree. “And welcome to all the new folks.” She

paused and took a long breath. “As most of you who are not new know, last week we lost our

dearest sister in the craft, Magee. It is to Magee that we owe a debt of thanks for starting this get

together and giving us all the opportunity to meet others like ourselves and make new and

wonderful friends. Magee will be missed. We’ll hold a special open circle next weekend to give

her an official passage into the next world. Byron and I have discussed it and it will be held at in

the grove. If you don’t know where that is, we’ll post directions up on the webpage. I offered

Reynaldo, Magee's husband, to give Magee a proper Wiccan service, but he wanted to do a

traditional Christian service with just family and very close friends.”

“It was a very lovely service,” Maddie spoke up.

“I'm sure it was dear,” The lady sitting next to Maddie replied darkly.

“Well be that as it may, our service for Maggie will be next Saturday at seven at the

grove. Circle will begin promptly at seven thirty, so don't be late.” She looked pointedly at the

late comer, Lenny. “The circle will also be for Barry Crabtree.”

Several people around the table drew in sharp breaths of amazement. “What happened to

Barry?” a woman, whose name I could not remember, whispered.

“We don't have details yet,” said Byron, finishing for Bree. “It just happened today

sometime. His mother called one of his mundane friends who thought to call me. Something

about his girlfriend attacking him with a baseball bat.”

“Alexia would never do that,” said one of the other ladies. I think her name was

Wyntermist, or some other breath mint flavor.

“Well like I said, we don’t have all the details,” continued Byron before anyone else

could speak up. “We’ll try to find out more after the meeting and send out an email with the facts

as we get them. I realize this has been a very hard couple of weeks for the group, but we know

with the perfect love that we all feel for each other we can get through anything.”

I didn’t need to look at Dusty to know he was rolling his eyes as his hand tightened on

my thigh at the utterance of those words. It was obvious that someone at this table didn’t hold

perfect love for the two people who were dead. If they were honest, there were probably more

than one.

Suddenly sobbing broke out. I glance down the table and saw Maddie put her head in her

hands. She muttered something, but I couldn’t make out what it was through her sobs. I touched

Dusty's hand, so that skin-to-skin touch would connect our mental link without disrupting the

illusion.

“What’s she saying?”

“Something about she never meant anything bad to happen,” he paused. I felt him

listening closer. “Apparently she cast some kind of spell so that he’d go away and now he has.

She thinks her spell caused this.”

“Oh good grief,” I grumbled mentally. “She’s about as much magic in her whole body

as I do in my little finger.” The perky waitress delivered our shakes.

“Here ‘ya go sweeties,” she said. She set the tall glasses and metal cups in front of us. “If

you need anything else, let me know.”

“Thanks,” Dusty mumbled for us while I focused on the drama at the other end of the

table.

Bree walked around the table to comfort Maddie, wrapping her arms around her

shoulders. So did Xan. Something told me that Maddie and Xan weren’t that close but he just

liked to be in the center of any drama. He spread his hands out above them, like some priest

performing a faith healing.

“Okay everyone, help me focus comforting energy to Maddie,” Xan said in a sing-song

voice. He sounded like some kiddy program teacher leading the kids in a nursery rhyme.

Several of the women reached out their hands and bowed their heads as if the effort to

send comfort took all their concentration. To my magical senses, the effect was like a clogged

faucet trying to dribble water. The urge to get up and leave was strong.

“Sit. Stay. Behave.” Dusty's mental voice and hand tightened.

Just as I resigned myself to the drama, Maddie lifted her head and turned on Xan. “Oh

fucking please Xan, just go sit down.”

He pulled back in fright. “What?!?”

“I said go sit down,” Maddie repeated, her voice holding an edge of impending hysterics.

“You’re not doing a damn thing for me. All you want is to be the center of this. Well, you nelly

little fag, this isn’t about you. In fact, it’s never about you. You just get in the middle of

everything and try to get everyone to believe you.” Maddie surged out of her chair, tears still

streaming down her face. “This is about Magee and Barry tonight. You’re not a part of this!

Barry hated you and Magee could barely stand you! She was just too nice to tell you to your face

to get lost! God I hate this!” She snatched up her purse and ran from the bar.

“Everyone just relax a bit, I'll be right back,” Bree said, as she followed Maddie.

“I can't believe she just said that to me,” Xan muttered. He walked back toward us with

his head down, started to sit, then shook his head. “Sorry guys, I have to go meditate on this for a

while. This has totally screwed up my energies.” He shoved his chair back and stomped out the

door, too.

Before the door shut, a short woman with a blonde crew cut squeezed through it, bounced

directly over to Lenny and threw herself in his lap.

“So what did I miss?”

“Hey Katie,” Byron said as he stood to try and regain some control over the meeting.

Lenny leaned into her and whispered something in her ear that neither Dusty nor I could

hear. She looked shocked and shook her head with an odd grin on her too-pale lips.

“Folks, it appears that it’s more difficult than we thought it was to have a meeting

tonight,” said Byron. “What do you all say we just go ahead and break up for the night? We can

have our regular Friday night meeting next week and then the services next Saturday. Make sure

we have everyone's email address or phone number so that if there’re changes we can let you

know. You new folks are welcome at the service and please come back another Friday night. We

aren’t always this dramatic. We really are a fun bunch of folks to hang around with. After this is

all over, we’re going to start a series of meetings on the different pantheons, so feel free to get

bring information on your favorite deity and share.”

A definite down mood enveloped everyone as they headed for the door, pausing to hug

each other on their way out. Lenny and Katie walked over to where Byron stood talking with one

of the women in a loud tie-dyed dress. With everyone on our end of the table gone, I nodded my

head toward their little group and Dusty and I walked over to join them.

“It is so sad what happened to poor Barry,” said the woman in the bright dress. “I just

cannot believe that Alexia could be capable of something like that. She loved the guy and what a

horrible thing to have to go through.”

“I’m sure we'll find out more in the next couple of days,” replied Byron. “It makes you

realize that sometimes, even when you think you know someone, they’re hiding something.”

“I just wonder if it’s all connected?” Lenny asked the question that was on my mind.

“What do you mean?” The woman looked worried.

“I’ve never been big on coincidence, but I just find it weird that first Magee takes an

overdose of sleeping pills with alcohol when we all know what a huge nondrinker she was,” said

Lenny. “And we all know that Alexia’s just a rebound for Barry after Maddie made his life

miserable for how many months? And now Alexia cracks and cracks him up a lot.” He chuckled

lightly at his pun. “These things always happen in threes. That means one more of these things

should happen to either someone in the group or someone we know.”

“What's weird is that Barry and Bree were supposed to take over the group if anything

happened to Magee,” Bryon added thoughtfully.

“You don't think anything will happen to Bree?” said tie-dyed dress worriedly.

“Trust me, I’ll do everything I can to make sure that doesn’t happen,” Byron said with a

determined snarl.

“Well if we can do anything to help, you just let us know,” said Lenny, taking Katie by

the hand and heading toward the door. “We'll see if Bree and Maddie are still around to say

goodbye.”

While Dusty carried the remains of our milkshakes over to the waiting tub by the door, I

made our departure from Byron.

“Well, it seems like you've got a good group here.”

“You caught us on a bad night,” he replied, the smile not sitting right amid the worry on

his face. “We really are a great group under normal circumstances, but lately it’s been anything

but normal. Hope you’ll come back and give us another try. Like I said earlier, after we get the

services out of the way, we'll be back on track with the study we have every week.”

“I'm sure you'll see us again.” I said, hoping that the files for everyone here were part of

what Tiffany was retrieving from Magee's computer.

“Well cool, you're welcome whenever you can stop by,” he said.

I left Byron and joined Dusty at the door. The night air was a welcome change from the

intensity inside of the bar. We hadn’t learned a lot. We knew that there was a lot of tension in the

group and we knew that Barry was next in line to take over if something happened to Magee.

“Looks like someone might be in the middle of a coup.” Dusty echoed my thoughts as we

walked toward the car.

“Yeah but who?” I wondered aloud. “I really doubt that Mad Fort has the magical ability

to cast a spell that’d backfire and kill someone. And, if she went after Barry, then why do Magee

as well? Byron and Bree seem too sweet to have done anyone in just to take over a group. And

then you have the question of what’s so important about this group that someone would want to

take them over?”

“Xan could’ve done it,” suggested Dusty as we approached the car “or…” he cut off,

stopped on the sidewalk and put an arm out to stop me.”There is a werewolf sitting on the hood

of the car,” he whispered, “and the wind’s blowing our scent right to him.”

The shadow jumped off the car’s hood and stepped toward us. “Hey dudes you don't need

to whisper. I can hear ‘ya just fine.”

The werewolf in question was your classic, tall, dark and handsome man with a thick

southern accent. Toby Butler was the beta of local pack. He wasn’t someone you ever expect to

find sitting on your car on a Friday evening on Elm Street, outside of a milkshake bar.

6

“You guys might as well drop the illusion too,” said Toby as we passed the back of the

car. “I smelled ‘ya from a block away. Don't worry. None of the witches came this way.”

I glanced at Dusty as the illusion fell away, thankful to see my handsome man appear

from behind the Lobo façade. “Were we expecting him to show up tonight? Anything you forgot

to tell me?”

Toby chuckled. “Nah, ya’ll weren't expecting me. The boss just sent me over to see if you

two would mind stopping by for a spell tonight. He's got something to talk to ‘ya about. ‘Ya

might say he needs a favor, but then I wouldn't be the one to say something like that.”

Toby's boss was Coyote, Dusty's uncle Bob who ran Coyote's Place up on I-35. By all

rights, Dusty should’ve been Coyote's beta. Dusty’d been in line to take over his mother's pack

back in Little Rock before a rogue pack came through and slaughtered most of them, leaving

Dusty in the care of one of the oldest alphas in Werewolf Society. Dusty could’ve become alpha

of Coyote's pack if he wanted to, but he had no urge to lead. Werewolf politics left a bad taste in

his mouth. He was more than happy to be denned up with me in marital bliss. That Coyote

bothered to send Toby after us instead of calling and leaving a message with Tiffany was a

concern. I wasn’t sure if it was an insult to Dusty or a more personal plea for help.

“Is this a formal affair or can we come as we are?” Taking the other werewolf’s presence

as an insult, Dusty almost growled at Toby. Toby tilted his head, exposing a bit of neck in a sign

of submission. It was a strange move for the beta of the pack and it told me that Coyote had

ordered him to behave himself around Dusty and not antagonize him.

“Come as you are is fine. The boss just wants to talk is all.”

“So does talk include dinner or do we have time to stop and get something on the way?” I

asked, reaching around Dusty to unlock his car door.

“Dinner will be on the house, in his private dining room,” Toby replied.

“So is your car around here or do you need a lift?” I asked, waiting for traffic to clear

enough for me to safely make it to my door.

Toby laughed as Dusty slid into his seat and pushed the button to unlock the other doors.

“Ah took the bus.”

“Yeah right,” Dusty grumbled. “I suppose Blanche is around here somewhere with the

car and is going to follow us back to Coyote's Place.” He sniffed the air before closing his door.

Toby settled into the back seat, his long legs cramped a bit, but he managed. I noticed

that Dusty did not bother to move his seat forward any to give the other wolf a bit more room.

“She should be back by now,” said Toby. “I told her not to wait. Coyote’s short staffed tonight

so she's covering the door for him.”

“I need to check in on the way over.” I said as I put on my blue-tooth headset and flipped

on the phone. There was a missed call from Tiffany. She didn't leave messages unless she wasn’t

going to be near her phone. She knew that I’d call her back when I saw that I’d missed a call

from her.

“The witches must have been really short spoken for Wiccans.” she said, when she

picked up on the second ring.

“Well you know, lots of tears, a bit of fairy dust and it was over.” I suppressed a chuckle.

“Coyote called and would like you to stop by this evening.” Her tone was light enough

that she didn’t think it was a big thing.

“We know. He sent Toby over to get us. We're on the way now.”

There was a short pause. “How’d he know where to find you?”

“You forget,” which was a very unusual thing for Tiffany, “Coyote knows where all the

wolves of his pack are at any time.” I reminded her, without going into detail, about the blood

oath that each wolf of the pack made to Coyote when they became part of the pack. It created a

magical bond between them that allowed him to locate them immediately.

“Sorry, it’s been a long day,” Tiffany giggled in an un-Tiffany like way.

“Tiff what's going on?”

“Nothing. Tech and I are just working with that laptop. Lots of interesting information,

I'll go over it with you when you get back. We just did a pizza summoning so we'll be here for a

while yet.” She sounded back to normal, but I started to put the pieces together. Tiffany’d been

giving Tech the eye recently. It’d been a while since her last relationship and Tech was a good-

looking guy, if you're into geeks. Maybe something was brewing behind my back. She was a big

girl and could take care of herself. If he did anything to her, Dusty’d shred him and we’d

apologize to the Council afterwards.

“Okay, we'll be there when we get done at Coyote's.” There was nothing else pressing so

I hung up and concentrated on my driving.

Since it was a Friday night and the full moon was still a week or so off, a wide variety of

customers packed Coyote's Place. The food was good enough that it had won Best Steakhouse in

Dallas three years running in the reader's pole of “The Dallas Voice,” the local independent

newspaper, where the locals went for non-biased news, so the local mundanes showed up in

droves. The location on the highway always brought in the tourist crowd. Over half of the staff

were members of Coyote's pack with a couple of wererats and a werepuma thrown in for good

measure.

A giant stylized roadrunner graced the top of the building to the left of the restaurant’s

neon sign. To the right of the sign, a classic southwest design coyote howled into the night sky.

Heavy brass cactus handles opened the double doors leading into the entryway.

Toby's wife, Blanche, manned the hostess station that looked similar to an old-time

banker's window just inside the doors behind a series of wooden benches that were currently

covered with waiting patrons. A quick glance at the wait staff surprised me. None of them were

wers. Wers have a unique aura that’s easy to pick up. It often looked like a glowing

representative of their animal form overlaying their human form. It’s one of those things that

even a new psi needed to learn to see and once you did, you either learned to turn it off and on

like a switch or you did not hang around wers much. Since I shared my life with one, it was

something I turned off and on, but I always made a point to check as I entered places like

Coyote's to limit unwanted surprises.

Blanche just nodded and smiled as Toby led us past her post. She was obviously busy;

otherwise she’d have been her normal happy classic southern belle busybody self, trying to pry

any and all news out of us. Blanche was one of the pack members who was great friends with all

of us. She and Tiffany hung out on a regular basis when their busy schedules allowed. She’s

almost a classic fag hag except she no longer hung out with a bunch of gay guys since coming to

Dallas and joining Coyote's pack. She’d told me once that if she were still in Atlanta there’s a

really nice friend of hers she’d love to fix me up with if Dusty wasn't around. Dusty had taken it

in good humor since he didn’t have anything to fear in the way of competition for my affections.

As I’d expected, the dinning floor was jam packed. Toby led us through the crowd

heading back to Coyote's private dining room. A good number of wers dined amongst the

humans. I couldn’t make out the species of a couple of them because of the crowd and angles,

but I spotted at least four werewolves who weren’t staff. A pair of werelions, who must have

been from out of town since at last report we did not have any werelions in Dallas, were seated

near the fountains. Three werebears sat near the bar and there was some kind of werebird. I could

barely make out the feathers but not the rest of the aura. Again, it had to have been someone

from out of town.

As we crossed the room, I realized I’d forgotten to scan the witches to see if there were

any wers among them. Wers weren’t religious as a whole, but those who were tended to stick

with traditional religions. Since Wicca was the fastest-growing religion, a few had converted and

I should have thought to check. I made a mental note to make sure when I talked to them as E. S.

Peters.

A small hall off the main dining room led to the private offices and Coyote's private

dining room where he threw private parties on a regular basis like when Dusty formally joined

the pack. There had been a small party in his honor before the pack headed out for a formal hunt

in the river bottom running behind the restaurant. The private dining room was large enough to

accommodate up to thirty people and small enough to be cozy.

Sam Manchester, one of the bouncers/security people, waited outside the door. She wore

a black western shirt with real mother of pearl buttons that strained at the shoulders. She’d pulled

her black cowboy hat down so low that it almost touched her thin black eyebrows and cast a

shadow so deep in the low light of the hallway that if I didn’t know her eyes were as black as

coal, I wouldn’t have been able to tell. I didn’t need to see underneath her floor-length black

duster to know that she carried twin pistols, one loaded with hollow points and the other with

silver. She was third in Coyote's pack and as such, his enforcer and one of the meanest women

I’ve ever met. Everyone in the pack gave her a wide berth. According to pack gossip, the only

reason she wasn’t beta is she didn’t want the position. Personally, I had no problem envisioning

her kicking Toby's ass without breaking a sweat. She didn't say a word as she opened the door

and let us into the private dining room.

I don't know why, but for some reason I expected a dark and shadowy room, but every

light shone brightly, chasing even the slightest hint of a shadow from the room. As always, the

room was immaculate. The long cherry wood tables gleamed from a recent polishing, the private

bar was well stocked and the brass railings sparkled in the bright lights. The dark-brown plush

carpet looked new, but Coyote had to replace it every now and again after the occasional blood-

spilling incident that happened in every wer group. A low fire burned in the large rock fireplace

at the far end of the room and mounted on the mantle, a rampant wolf held a fallen deer in its

jaws.

Coyote stood in front of the fireplace with a brandy snifter in his right hand and a pipe in

his left. The fact that he was standing immediately told me something major weighed on his

mind. Even though he was Dusty's uncle, there wasn’t a lot of resemblance. Coyote wasn’t as

imposing as you would think of for a werewolf pack leader. He was almost on the small side,

standing barely five foot five. His body wasn’t large, either, but he was one of the most ferocious

fighters in the werewolf community, and had been for several generations. Only his roan-colored

hair and green eyes resembled Dusty. Coyote was one of those businessmen who only appeared

in suit and tie when absolutely necessary. Tonight, he was dressed normally in skin-tight black

jeans and a blue western shirt. The cut wasn’t as fancy as Sam's, but it was finely-starched with

perfect creases running up the arms. A bolo tie with a golden wolf clasp rested at the base of his

throat.

Coyote turned toward us as the door opened and set his pipe in the pipe rack. After

another sip, the brandy snifter joined it.

“Dusty, Ethan, good of you to join me,” he said as he walked over and gave us both a big

hug. “Dinner should be here in a moment and then we can talk.”

While werewolves, and wers as a whole, tended to be very physical, I could count the

number of times Coyote hugged me on one hand. He’d shake hands, but hugging was rare. He’d

hugged me a couple of years ago to welcome me into the family—not the pack, but the family.

He recognized me as Dusty's life partner even if he didn’t completely understand it. He hugged

me last year at his wife's funeral and that was about it. That reinforced that something was

definitely up and it was something big.

“Toby would you please make sure dinner is coming,” he said, dismissing Toby with the

flick of his hand. Without a word or a look back, the beta wolf turned and headed into the

hallway. Coyote took another sip from the brandy snifter.

“He's a good wolf, strong, loyal,” Coyote muttered more to himself than to us.

“Coyote, Uncle Bob, is something wrong?” Dusty asked laying a hand on the shorter

man's shoulder.

Coyote definitely looked worried. He turned and smiled up at Dusty. I could hardly

remember the last time I’d seen him smile and his smile, like his eyes, were similar to Dusty's.

But it was Dusty's sad smile.

“Let’s eat first and then we can talk about what made me call you here tonight.” He

turned to me. “So have you two had anything interesting going on lately?”

We spent the next few minutes discussing the little things in life, the redecorating that

Dusty and Tiffany always seemed to be doing to our offices and the latest pack news. He told us

about the latest births, how the first full moon had gone for the newest pack member, a local girl

who had been attacked by a rogue wolf while camping out in west Texas last month. He

mentioned how impressed he’d been with the Lubbock pack in handling the situation and getting

the girl back home to Dallas and under his wing. He was fairly certain she would adjust well.

She’d been seeing both the pack councilor and the Council shrink.

About then, Toby returned carrying one of three plates filled with food. I didn't recognize

the waitress with him, but then I didn't know everyone in the pack.

“Here's the food sir,” said Toby, sounding apologetic, which was most unlike him. “Sorry

it took so long. Blanche needs some help at the front, so if it’s okay?”

Coyote dismissed him again with the wave of his hand. “Yes please, make sure

everything runs smoothly. I’m fine here. Please remind Sam that we’re not to be disturbed unless

there’s blood spilled in the dining room.”

“Yes sir.” Toby turned and followed the waitress out the door.

Coyote motioned us to the table. “Please boys, let’s eat before it gets cold.”

I don’t want to sound redundant, but Coyote’s Place definitely makes some of the best

steaks in the state. The only reason I had thought about going to Roadies was the fact that we’d

eaten here last night, but free steak cooked the way I like it without having to tell the cook is

always welcome. In fact, we came here so often that even when we just stopped by, unless we

wanted something out of the ordinary, the cook knew what to make and how to make it for both

of us. Family has its privileges.

Other than the sounds of forks and knifes moving swiftly against the plates and a bit of

chewing, silence filled the room for almost ten minutes. Just like at home, I was the last one to

finish. Werewolves may be somewhat civilized, but they still inhale their food. They just do it

with a knife and fork and without the growling and snapping that you would get from a wild wolf

pack. That is unless you tried to take their food, then you get the growling and snapping. I only

tried to swipe food off Dusty's plate once. If you look just right, you can still see the slight scar

on the back of my hand. He felt just awful about stabbing my hand and explained it’d just been

reflex, but it’s something that I never wanted to happen again. His plate is off limits.

After Coyote pushed his plate to the side, he got up and refilled his brandy snifter. “You

boys want anything from the bar?”

We both declined and he returned to the table with his half full brandy snifter. It looked

like he resisted the urge to pace and talk, but he settled back into his chair and almost seemed to

shrink in on himself.

“I guess I can't put this off any longer,” he said, an unmistakable note of sadness in his

words. “I need your help. This has to stay very quiet. I don't even want the Council knowing. If

too much of this gets out it could weaken my standing in the werewolf community and no telling

what kind of chaos would break out. Most of the pack doesn’t know about this.”

He took a long pull of the brandy.

“You have our word Uncle Bob,” Dusty said, reaching a hand across the table to Coyote.

Bob patted Dusty’s hand. “I know I can trust you two. Dusty, I so wish you would be my

beta. This pack should be yours when I’m gone.”

Before Dusty could speak, Coyote raised a hand. “I know you won't leave Ethan and I’d

never ask you to and that’s not why I called you here.”

He took a deep breath. “Someone’s trying to move in on my territory.”

“Do you know who sir?” I asked. I pulled my notebook and pencil out of my pocket.

“No, that’s the weird thing. There hasn’t been a formal challenge yet. I’ve run discreet

checks and none of the potential alpha werewolves are anywhere near here. But over the past

moon, several of the pack have been attacked, three fatally. It’s like they know where everyone

is and hit them when they’re alone. It’s not a werehunter, since whoever it is doesn’t use silver

bullets. All of the attacks have been either from another wer or an OD. I checked with the

Council and they told me that there have been some unusual OD activities lately, but wouldn’t

confirm if any of it tied in with the attacks on my wolves. I had Toby ask around with some of

the other wers and no one else is losing people like this. They must be after the wolves and my

territory. Like I said, I need to keep this quiet both to prevent a panic and to stop others from

seeing this as a sign of weakness.

“Now I’ll pay you your normal fees for investigating this for me.” Coyote pulled a

checkbook out of his back pocket.

“Uncle Bob, you don't need to…” Dusty started to object, but Coyote raised his hand to

cut him off.

“No, Dustin, I’ll pay you for this,” he said as he wrote out the check. “You and Ethan pay

for your food when you come to my restaurant. I’ll pay for your services in this case. I checked

with Tiffany tonight on the current rate. This should cover the first week of your services.” He

tore the check out and passed it to me along with a folder that he picked up off of the chair next

to him. “Here’s all the information I have on the killings. Where they happened, when they

happened and all of the official pack information on the victims and everything that’s unofficial

on the victims as well.”

The check was more than it needed to be, but I knew better than to object. I folded it up

and put it in my pocket with my notebook and pen. “Thank you, sir. We’ll go over this and get

right on the case.”

“I'm sure you will. Now I expect reports as soon as you get any information. Also I don’t

want you thinking you need to handle this on your own. Once you know who’s responsible, let

me know and we’ll decide how to handle it. If you feel the need for physical protection, call me

and I will send Sam right over.”

“Of course, Uncle Bob,” Dusty said.

“So then unless you two boys just want to sit here and chew the fat some more with this

old wolf, why don't you head on out and see what you can find.” It was a dismissal, a gentle one,

but a dismissal nonetheless. Coyote was a busy man and there were enough factions in the

political field that if he were noticed missing from his normal high-profile habits walking around

the restaurant and being very hands on with his business, and it not being a full moon night, word

would get out and fast.

“Thanks for the meal, sir, your kitchen is superb as usual,” I said, scooping the folder up

from the table.

Dusty walked around the table and gave his uncle another hug. “If anything new comes

up, call us ASAP and we’ll be here.”

“I know, you're a good kid, Dustin, good family. Families need to stick together.”

He saw us into the hall, then closed the door behind us. Sam only looked at us as we

headed for the front door of the restaurant.

7

Dusty remained silent most of the way home. He held my hand and leaned across the gap

in the seats to lay his head on my shoulder as I drove. That told me something distressed him

about our talk with Coyote. He’d say something when he was ready, and if he wasn’t ready by

bedtime, I’d tackle the issue when we were warm, safe and sound in our bed. Dusty is normally a

quiet guy, taking listening concepts to new heights. He rarely participated in group conversations

unless he could add something useful, but he could recite what had been said word for word.

That was one of the many things I liked about him.

The lights in the office blazed brightly. I pulled down the little driveway that led to the

garage in back and both Tiffany’s and Tech's cars were still there. It was a safe assumption that if

the lights were still on, they were still at work. I hoped they’d found something interesting in the

computer. With the developments at Coyote's, I didn’t want the Magee Reyes case to drag out

too long. I needed to devote more of my time to locating the invading wer before more of the

pack suffered.

As soon as we closed the back door and stood safely in the shadows of the mud room,

Dusty threw his arms around me and locked his lips to mine. A slight taste of rare steak and

onions still rested on his tongue. His scent smelled more musky than normal, almost like it was

the night of a full moon. I could feel his heart racing as he clung to me and I ran my hand

through his short red hair, trying to soothe him a bit. He seemed reluctant to release my mouth,

so I relied on my hands to communicate for me, moving them across his back. His muscles felt

extremely tight, almost like he fought to keep his wolf down.

“Hey guys you’re home,” said Tech, strolling into the doorway that led to the kitchen. He

stopped short. “Ah…sorry,” he muttered when he saw us. He turned and retreated, his face

nearly as red as his goatee.

Dusty sighed, as our lips parted. “I want to change out of these clothes,” he said softly

with a final squeeze. I caught his arm before he stepped past me.

“Dusty are you okay?” There were shadows in his green eyes.

“Later, work first.” His lips brushed my cheek before he disappeared up the back stairs to

our apartment. I paused for a second in the shadows of the mud room. It’d been a long time since

I’d seen Dusty this upset. Something definitely bothered him and now we were going to be too

busy for me to find out what.

“Ethan?” Tiffany called out from the kitchen.

“Yeah Tiff,” I said as I started toward her. As I stepped into the kitchen, the door of the

fridge hid most of her body.

“So what’s up at Coyote's?” she asked, holding a couple of Cokes as she straightened.

She smiled, closed the door and before I could answer, stepped toward me. “You guys startled

Tech,” she whispered with a light chuckle.

“Sorry about that,” I replied in the same low tone. Tech’s a nice guy, but not as worldly

as he would like others to think. We found out a couple of weeks ago that Dusty and I were the

first gay couple he’d ever met. Since we aren’t prone to public displays of affection, this must’ve

been the first time he’d seen us kiss.

“Coyote is concerned that we have an outside wer trying to take over his territory.” I held

up the file he had given us. “A couple of his folks have been killed recently. He wants us to look

into it.”

We started down the short hallway toward the main office area, but the lack of regular

clicks on the hardwood floor caused me to glance down. Tiffany had discarded her customary

high heels and walked in just her hose. I tried to remember the last time I’d seen Tiffany without

her shoes and wondered just how much real work she and Tech were getting done over pizza.

“Wow and it’s not something that the pack can deal with?”

“It sounds like they have been and haven't gotten much accomplished. He’s scared

enough that Sam’s guarding the private dining room,” I replied, opening the door to the reception

room.

“Damn. Sam? He must be scared. Was she doing the all-back number like she was the

last time I saw her?” Tiffany's eyes lit up for a second. Now Tiffany is one of those women who

weren’t afraid to admit when another woman is good looking, and she’s even been known to

munch a rug now and then. Since we ate at Coyote's Place fairly regularly she was familiar with

Sam. I’d known for a couple of months that she and most other people who were into women

thought Sam was hot.

I grinned at her. “Yep, complete with the cowboy hat and duster.”

She whistled.”Damn. I just wish it wasn’t easier to get a guard at Buckingham Palace to

laugh than that woman to talk. She takes the strong silent type to the extreme.” She set the Cokes

on her desk, one in front of Tech who sat on the far side of the very clean desk with his laptop

and the other in front of her monitor. Between the two computers sat Magee Reyes' laptop,

linked to the small hub that ran to the office network.

“Sorry about the mudroom Tech.” I set Coyote's file down next to the laptops.

“No worries, dude. Your house. Just surprised me. I didn't mean to intrude.” I wasn’t

used to a tongue-tied Tech. It was almost funny. His round face still blushed as he pushed his

small glasses up the bridge of his delicate nose. He looked just adorkable.

Tech was on the Council’s payroll as the local office’s resident computer and network

person. He was only a very minor psi, but when it came to computers, it was like he was in

telepathic contact with them. From what I’d seen of him, he was a really nice guy, but the

Council must not have much for him to do since every time Tiffany called him for a bit of tech

help, he showed up within minutes. In itself, that can be a magical feat in Dallas traffic. He’d

made some major enhancements to the office system, increasing operating speed and adding a

couple of interesting programs which made it easier for Tiffany, Dusty and I to collaborate on

cases when we weren’t in the office at the same time. He also helped Tiffany make our website

even more modern and fresh looking.

“Okay, well what have you found in Magee Reyes' computer?” I changed subjects while

shooting Tiffany a look that told her the Coyote information was closed for now. I wouldn’t

betray Coyote's trust that his issues would be kept from the Council. Tech was a nice guy, but he

wasn’t on my payroll and hadn’t signed confidentiality agreements with us, so he wasn’t

privileged to everything said in my office. One day soon, I’d have to get an agreement binding

him. If he kept working on my systems, he might stumble onto something that he, or worse yet

the Council, didn't need to know. That’s not to say that I keep a lot of secrets from the Council,

but there are one of two that they don't need to know. I’ve adopted a don't-ask-don't-tell attitude

about most things where the Council’s concerned. If it was something not detrimental to the

Council, the Council didn’t have to know about it.

“I’m amazed at the level of security she has on the system,” he said, turning the screen

toward me. “It took me a couple of minutes, but I managed to get into the system. She kept notes

on everything and everyone.”

Different screens appeared on the display.

“It looks like a lot of what she was telling her people was just stuff she pulled off the net.

Looks to me like some of the stuff’s from fictional works. She’s actually trying to make some of

the potions from “Harry Potter.” The display showed a screen with various icons from the

adventures of the boy wizard. There were notes from various things where she’d been trying to

find real-world equivalents to the ingredients. I really couldn’t see where java moss was an

equivalent to gillyweed, but then I’d never tried and hoped I never would.

“There’s also the proper dimensions for wands and a list of pseudo Latin words that

might be useful in magic.” More screens scrolled in front of my eyes. I shook my head feeling

sorry for the poor obviously-deluded woman who’d contrived such tripe.

“Okay, so let's move on to something about the people.” It was getting late and Tech

would show me every odd thing he’d found from strange pictures to funny sayings and weird

spells along the way to the important parts.

“Alright, the people.” He pulled up the address book. “Her address book is fairly large,

but she was nice enough to color code it for us. The women she used to work the streets with are

all in pink, the illicit substance folks are in blue, the witches are in green and family is brown.”

“Work the streets?” I was almost afraid to ask.

“It seems she used to be a lady of ill repute back before Mr. Reyes came along and

rescued her from herself. Her journal entries from back then make for some interesting reading,

as do the notes on the address book entries of the women and men she used to work with.” Tech

looked like he might have downloaded some of that information for later use.

“It sounds like we might want to send some of this information to the police

anonymously,” said Dusty, as he walked through the door looking much more comfortable. He’d

changed into a pair of tight dark green running shorts and a matching tank top. This told me, we

probably weren’t going anywhere else tonight. He draped himself over my shoulder, staring at

the display.

“Well if she weren’t already dead, I’d say some of this info could get her killed if it

leaked into the right hands,” said Tiffany. “As it is, anyone who found out might think she was

killed because of the information being leaked to the wrong person. There’s enough intel in these

files to get a good portion of the Dallas mundane underworld put away for a long time.

Unfortunately, it also increases our suspect list.”

I shook my head. “I don't think so. If there’s a connection to Barry Crabtree's death, our

best bet’s still the Wiccans on the list.”

“Just in case,” Tiffany said. “I’m running her list through the databases at the Council,

the police department, FBI, CIA and Homeland Security.”

“When did we get access to Homeland Security?” Dusty asked before I could.

“Tech set it up this afternoon,” Tiffany replied, sounding proud of him. “One of his

friends knew of a back door we can use. We have routed it through several other systems so that

even if they find the back door, they won't find us.”

“Okay, so while we wait for the cross reference to come back, is there anything else in

there that might be of use?” I knelt down in front of the desk, leaning over it was getting a bit

much and to pull a chair from across the waiting room was more than I wanted to do. Dusty

followed my move and kept his warmth at my back and his head on my shoulder.

“Starting with the emails,” said Tiffany, taking over from Tech. “It looks like she was

prone to starting fights with people. Fortunately for us, she kept everything anyone sent to her

and it’s just a matter of going through and sorting it. Luckily she kept the email as sorted as her

address book, so it is all here in neat little folders, and when she was fighting with someone, they

got a subfolder in the main folder.”

“Any recent fights? That's where we should start.”

“The most recent fight and several fights over the past couple of months were with Barry

Crabtree,” Tiffany continued. “They seem to have a pattern of fight and make up and it looks

like she started most of the fights over basic misunderstandings. The real big one before this also

involved Madeline Fort. I’m not sure why Magee got involved in that one. It lasted several

weeks with almost a hundred emails going out between the three of them, all because Barry said

in one email to Magee that he thought Maddie was cute. Magee forwarded it to Maddie. Then

Maddie replied back to both of them. Then Barry exploded saying it was said in confidence to

Magee, and back and forth it went. Several times, Barry tried to stop the whole thing and Magee

kept it going, even to the point of misreading her own post. The woman was a real piece of work.

The last round seems to be over something that was said to Maddie that got passed around to

several people before it finally stopped. The last email on that one seems to have come through

on the day that Magee died.” Tiffany paused to take a long drink from her coke.

“So Magee was one of those witches who liked to stir the cauldron,” I said. I could just

imagine the anger of the people involved as she screwed with them, either out of spite or

boredom. Having met her spirit, I’d bet out of spite.

“There were also a couple of interesting emails from screen name D M N F R N D, aka

Lenny Pentelli,” Tiffany continued. “It seems they began corresponding about two months ago,

slowly at first, then over the past few weeks, they exchanged a couple of emails a day. He’s been

sending her different spells to try. He even sent her a spell to summon a demon.”

Tiffany paused ominously. Her college drama classes that helped her develop a fondness

for hanging out with gay men had also given her a sense of the dramatic that she liked to use

from time to time. “Fortunately, it didn't work. I looked the spell over and there were a couple of

things wrong with it. It wouldn’t have worked in any way, shape or form. I have the computer

trying to cross reference it to see where it came from.”

“Good, I was going to ask you to do a check on Lenny,” I said. “We met him tonight at

the meeting. He claims to be a high magician. I thought you could ask around and see if any of

your contacts know anything about him. He has a crazy girl friend, Katie, but I didn't get a last

name.”

Tiffany's fingers flew across the keyboard. “There are a couple of Katies in her witch file,

I'll see if I can narrow it down.”

“Good. Anything else we should know about that might help out?” I wanted to shift, my

knees were getting tired. I glanced at the clock on the wall behind Tiffany. It was approaching

one a.m. I hadn’t realized we spent that much time out at Coyote's Place. No wonder my knees

were hurting and I was tired.

“Just this.” Tech pulled another file up on the display. The document was titled “Perfect

Love.” Two fairies danced within a garland of little yellow flowers along the top, joining two

little silver Celtic knot hearts that decorated the upper corners of the title page. I scanned the

twenty-page document, a manifesto on how Magee was going to join the pagan community

together under her leadership. Little happy faces filled the spaces of the Os and the dots of the Is.

What I read was enough to worry me. Was this the writing of a woman who was afraid to leave

her own home? Could she have really thought that she could organize the pagan community?

She wasn’t just after the Wiccans. She wanted everyone she could find under her thumb, and her

entire plan was under the name of “Perfect Love.” The other part of her plan was to stamp out all

the left-handed-path people she could find. She thought that all the people who practiced black

magic, voodoo, and other non-white forms of magic were evil, or left-hand path. She believed

she could either turn them from their path by explaining to them what was wrong with their path

or she could just smother them with love. If her ghost form was any indication of her true form,

her tits weren't big enough to smother someone with love. Gods, what an awful way to go. She

had a bigger ego than some of the people who worked for the Council. “Could you print this out

for me and leave it on my desk?”

“Already done,” Tiffany replied with her normal competency. I really don't know what

I’d do without that woman. The Yule and birthday bonuses I give her aren’t nearly enough for all

the work she does. “From what we’ve been able to tell, she came up with the idea some time ago,

but several members of her group have really been pushing her lately to get it moving. Madeline,

Brianna Supunski and Lenny are among her strongest supporters there. Barry seemed to think it

was silly.”

“From what I saw of Brianna Supunski tonight I can see where she’d be behind

something like that,” I said. “So how long before the database searches are done?”

Tech spoke up. “Due to the vast amount of data in her computer and the computers we

are searching, I would say we still have a couple of hours.”

“Tell ‘ya what, then,” I suggested. “Why don't you guys go ahead and hit the road. We'll

hit the bed, and when we all get down here in the morning, we’ll have some numbers to crunch.”

I stood up, pulling Dusty with me. He wrapped his arms around me, still pressed to my back. He

really needed comfort tonight.

I pulled the check from Coyote out of his file. “Tiffany if you could drop this in the night

drop at the bank on your way past that would be great.”

Her eyes widened when she saw the amount. “Sure, no problem.” She grabbed a deposit

slip from her desk drawer and filled it out.

“Okay. You guys go have a good rest of the night. We're going to relax a bit. If we're not

up in the morning when you get here, give us until ten or so. If we're still not up, come check on

us.” I ran my hand down Dusty's arm, into his hand and turned and led him out of the room.

“Bed?” I asked, as we walked hand in hand down the hall way toward the stairs.

“Hot tub,” he replied. “I turned it on after changing clothes. I could really use a good

soak for a few minutes, if you're not too tired.” There was no teasing in his eyes. He just wanted

to relax, but if I was lucky, after we relaxed and talked there might be a bit more energy left for

other things.

“You know I can never turn down the hot tub.”

8

Dusty needed some comfort before he could tell me what bothered him. I loved

comforting Dusty. Luckily, our hot tub was enclosed so that the neighbors couldn’t complain

about the time we spent there, comforting each other, and we did that a lot, especially when life

got weird. With the amount of time he wanted to spend in the hot tub, I thought he was more

wereotter than werewolf.

Dusty, curled up with his head on my shoulder and finally relaxed enough to start

explaining what was on his mind. “You know sometimes I think I am being selfish,” he began

softly.

“How so?” I brushed one of my loose blonde hairs off his forehead.

“Uncle Bob really needs my help with the pack and here I am living my overly happy life

with you.

I tilted his head up so I could look into his green eyes. The moisture from the hot tub had

darkened his eyebrows to the point where they looked liked blood streaks arcos his brow. “Well I

need you here in my life too, so if you're being selfish then so am I.”

He leaned up and kissed me deeply. “I know and you’re the most important person in my

life. I just realized tonight that Uncle Bob’s dying and he’s scared. I should try to find a way to

be there for him and make sure that everything he’s worked so hard for continues to hold

together after he’s gone. Everything my father had was lost. I don't want that to happen to Uncle

Bob.”

My mind reeled, “Coyote’s dying?” The man looked middle aged, but wers aged more

slowly than normal humans and were immune to most diseases. The idea that Coyote was dying

hit me hard. I had trouble wrapping my mind around it. I figured he would be a constant in the

wer community for years to come.

Dusty sank back down resting his head on my shoulder again as one hand trailed down

my stomach. “Uncle Bob’s over four hundred years old. He won't show his true age until the last

couple of weeks of his life, which hopefully is still a little ways off. But he knows it’s coming

and he’s worried about the pack. He doesn't think Toby will make the best Alpha. Although

Uncle Bob won the pack by force after the Civil War and to all outside appearances he holds it

by force now, in truth, he hasn’t had a challenger to his reign in over a hundred years because his

pack loves him and defends him. That’s almost unheard of in the werewolf world. The Sherkahn

of the weretigers in India has that type of rule, but werewolves are notoriously aggressive by

nature and Uncle Bob’s worried about where Toby will lead the pack. We have one of the largest

packs in the country and there’s bound to be instability at the time of change. Too much

instability in the pack will spread to the rest of the meta-community here in Dallas and possibly

the rest of Texas.”

“And too much instability in the meta-community risks drawing the attention of the

mundane community,” I finished the thought for him and it wasn’t a pleasant one. It meant a lot

of work for the Council and more work for the Council translated to more work for me since

Carmine was so good about calling in favors whenever she and her team got overworked. There

was a growing group of the community who were pushing us to go public, but I was still on the

stay-in-the-shadows bandwagon. I just didn’t think the mundane world was ready to deal with

things like real magic, wers, vampires, fairies and such. It could turn the entire world on its ear.

Instability in the werewolf pack was something we had to keep to a minimum or avoid, if

possible.

“Exactly. The catch is I’m stronger than Toby and everyone knows that, but a lot of the

pack wouldn’t follow a gay alpha, let alone one who’s partnered with a non-wolf. They see that

as a weakness.” He hugged me tightly and lightly kissed the curve of my neck sending shivers up

and down my spine. “I'm not sure they’d believe me when I tell them that you’d probably kick

most of their collected asses without too much trouble. I know that you are a major asset to me

and my life. I wonder sometimes what it’d take to bring that public enough for me to help

stabilize the pack after Uncle Bob dies.”

I ran a hand down his arm and onto his hard hairy abs. “I wonder if that may not be part

of the reason he called us in on this problem with the invader. He might be thinking if you and I

can prove our worth to the pack that you can help stabilize things when that day comes.”

That thought perked Dusty up. “You know Uncle Bob’s a crafty old wolf; that might be

what he’s doing. It would make a lot of sense when you stop and think about it. And if we can

prove to the pack that you’re useful, it’d be easier for me to step in and take a more active role in

things.” He swung his legs around me so he was sitting on my lap and kissed me deeply. “I love

you.” He breathed into my mouth.

My hands slid across the firm planes of his wet back. I pulled him closer to me as the

bubbles of the hot tub flowed up around us. His strong arms sought to crush me to his powerful

chest as his mouth engulfed mine. I felt the passion rising up between us. He needed me and the

primal energy we could raise between us right now.

His hands ran through my short blond hair as our kiss intensified. His tongue played

across mine while his hot breath shot down my throat. His fingers found my ear lobe. He traced

the contours knowing it would bring a rush of passion. The energy plunged through me tingling

up and down my body. I would have wiggled in pleasure if his weight had not been holding me

to the bottom of the hot tub. I felt him jump ever so slightly as I ran a hand stiffly up his spine all

the way from his tailbone to the thick red hair at the base of his skull. I forced energy up into

him, using the light play of the water to help relax him even further.

Dusty moaned deeply and pulled me tighter against him. His powerful arms forced us

together. He knew just how much pressure to apply and never let his werewolf strength hurt me.

His moan turned into a growl, deep and lusty. He nipped at the smooth skin in the shallow of my

neck. His teeth pricked just enough to send little jolts of electricity through me.

“I hate to interrupt this little display of affection.” A deep rumble of a voice echoed in my

mind. I could tell that Dusty had heard it too. Standing on the edge of the hot tub, the slightly-

glowing form of our warding spirit, Griff, was outlined by the steam rising from the water. Griff

was a spirit I created several years ago to guard the property, taking the image of the gryphon

statue I used as a physical form for the magical energy I’d called. His sharp eyes and quick

reflexes kept unwanted things out of the yard and out of the house. In the rare occasion that

something slipped past him, he would drive it out before too much could happen. Most of the

time, we barely knew Griff was around. Every once in awhile someone would catch a flash of a

wing that looked like a small sparrow disappearing into a bush or a glinpse of a tail as it slipped

around a corner.

“What's up Griff?” I wrapped a hand around Dusty's waist to keep him from sliding off

my lap as our mood vanished. I could hope it was nothing major, but for Griff to appear like this

it probably was.

“Well, sirs, I thought you should know that there is a werejaguar slinking across the back

yard. He is using some kind of bruja charm that resists my efforts to get rid of him. He is

currently behind the garage heading this way.” Griff sounded put out that someone would dare

use magic to deter his responsibilities.

So much for my quiet time with Dusty. I sighed, gave him another quick kiss and let him

slide off my lap and out of the hot tub. “Thank you Griff. Please stand by to fetch Tiffany if

things get bad.”

“Of course, Sir.” Griff flew up to the pitch of the tile roof, folded his wings and sat

waiting to see how it played out.

“I wonder what the jags want?” Dusty asked, as he wrapped a large blue towel around his

waist before handing one to me.

“What else? They’re missing people too.” I was beginning to see a trend here and it

wasn’t looking good. I tucked the edge of the towel securely and leaned up against the side of the

hot tub. I heard Dusty turn it off behind me.

“He's trying to come in upwind,” Dusty said sniffing the air. “But he put on too much

aftershave. No, that must be the bruja charm, stinks to high heaven.”

“No sense sneaking in,” I called out. “We know you're out there.”

No sound betrayed his presence as he appeared out of the bushes. I envied werecats’

ability to move in perfect silence. Dusty could be quiet when he tried, but werecats naturally

moved with the complete silence of newly-fallen snow. It’s almost other worldly. If it wasn’t late

at night, the sight of a large jaguar in the alleys of Dallas would’ve plunged the neighbors into a

blind panic, but I’m sure this jaguar was only seen when he chose to be seen. Shadows played off

the dark rosettes of his coat, and although his coat wasn’t black, it wasn't until he stepped

completely clear of the bushes and out into the dimly-lit yard that I could distinguish the lush

depth of his coloring. I’ve heard that if you are around werejaguars and wereleopards long

enough you can tell each one apart by the pattern of their spots, but I’m not around that many. I

had no idea who this was.

The jaguar stared at me for a moment and then stared at Dusty. Then a shimmer covered

it and it changed from beast to human and Police Officer Paul Ramirez, member of the Council,

second of the local jaguar pride, stood in the yard. That he was clothed confirmed my long-

standing suspicion that Paul was a hereditary wer. Most wers who are made, that is, wers who

result from attacks on humans by wers, are the classic wers that have little control under the full

moon, kinda go crazy for three nights a month and end up naked when they shift back to human

form since their clothes are shredded from the initial change. Hereditary wers are ones that are

born that way, sometimes from one wer parent and sometimes from two. Dusty’s one of the ones

born from two. Hereditary wers have more control, and since they’re truly magical creatures,

their clothes can shift back and forth with them. They are also less likely to go berserk at the

change of the moon. From what Dusty said, part of the berserk issue came from the pain the

made wers underwent during the change. Hereditary wers only experience pain the first time and

that’s only if their alphas don’t have the control to help take most of the pain away.

“Hello Paul.” I tried to keep irritation out of my voice. Staying on good terms with him

was important. He was our main contact at the police station and he comes in handy with

investigations.

“Hey Ethan, Dusty,” he said, glancing around nervously. I couldn’t remember the last

time I’d seen Paul this jittery. “Could we please go inside to talk?”

“Sure,” I said, catching the second towel that Dusty tossed and starting a quick dry off so

I didn't track too much water into the house. “Give us a sec to dry off.”

I noticed that Paul’s skin-tight black t-shirt and jeans showed no evidence of the gun he

normally carried, then I reminded myself that he was on family leave due to the new baby. I’d

never met his wife, but she was the daughter of the local jaguar priest, putting her high enough in

rank to have children, assuming the jaguar pride was set up anything like a werewolf pack where

only the alphas or other high-ranking members were allowed to add to the population. The

Council promoted the idea since it helped limit the number of wers. The local werejaguar pride

was the third largest weregroup in town, with the wolves being first followed by the bears.

I walked toward the house, running the towel over my hair. Paul fell into step behind me

and Dusty brought up the rear, which showed how much Paul either trusted us or needed our

help because he didn’t jostle with Dusty for last in line. A lot of wers were uncomfortable with

another wer from a different group behind them.

Once we were inside, Dusty disappeared up the back stairs as I led Paul to the kitchen. I

was in the mood for a drink and after the time in the hot tub, I’d worked up a bit of an appetite,

not as big as if Paul hadn’t interrupted, but I had the munchies nonetheless.

“Would you like something to drink?” I offered as I opened the fridge to pull out a bottle

of water for me and one for Dusty.

“Water’s fine,” he replied, pulling out the kitchen chair closest to the door. “If I come

home smelling of tequila, Rosa will kill me.”

I tossed him a water bottle. "We don't have any tequila right now anyway.” Even in

human form, Paul's reflexes were lighting fast. He caught the bottle before it started a downward

fall toward the table.

“Thanks.”

Dusty reappeared wearing the pair of hunter green silk shorts I brought him for Yule last

year and carrying my blue robe over one arm obviously sending Paul the message that he’d

interrupted something. He handed me the robe and settled on the opposite end of the table from

Paul.

I took the robe then discretely tossed the towel toward the washer that I could barely see.

I gave it just a little telekinetic push to make sure it landed on the washer and not the floor. I

didn’t need Tiffany fussing about me leaving towels lying around in the morning, and if it was

off the floor, she wouldn't say anything.

“I understand congratulations are in order,” I said, sitting next to Dusty. “So how’s

fatherhood?”

“It’s nothing like what I expected, but the whole pride’s doing as much as they can.

They’re treating Rosa like a queen. You know this is the first birth that the pride’s had in almost

ten years.” He puffed up a little bit. The fear that shone in his eyes in the yard had vanished in

his pride.

“Wow that’s a cause to celebrate,” Dusty said.

“Oh, the pride’s been celebrating since the birth. We’re going to have the naming

ceremony next full moon. The invitations will be going out in the next few days. If I’d been

thinking, I’d have brought pictures, but I kinda hurried over,” Paul paused and glanced back over

his shoulder toward the door.

“Paul, what’s going on? Are you being followed?” I asked, looking straight in his dark

brown eyes.

“I don't think I was followed, but something weird’s going on. I can't go to the police

with it since it’s a wer problem and I can't go to the Council since my priest wants to keep it

quiet for fear of losing face in the community.” His nervous look returned in full force.

“Gee this sounds familiar. Don't tell me. Let me guess. Someone is trying to take over the

priest’s territory and is killing jaguars to do it. And he wants us to investigate.” This was

definitely a pattern and not one I wanted to see.

“Well, close” Paul replied. “He wants me to investigate and I want your help.”

I started to open my mouth, then his hand popped up.

“Look, I'm a police officer and the Council contact on the police force. I should be able to

get leads on this. Unfortunately I am on family leave which cuts off my access to the official

police channels I can go through to get information.” He set his water bottle down on the table.

“I can still get some through the Council. I know that old Coyote’s made some discreet inquires

to the Council about missing wers.”

Dusty leaned back in his chair. “I was under the impression that Toby had been in touch

with the local wers, trying to find out if anyone else was missing people and came back that it

was just the wolves missing people.”

Paul shook his head. “No one’s come to the jaguars asking anything. He might have

asked Sliver, since she works at Coyote's Place. But since she’s a puma, she doesn't get as much

information as the rest of the pride. I'm not sure if she even knows we’re missing people. We just

include her due to a treaty that was signed with one of the prides of pumas out west that’s

supporting one of our people while he’s in their territory. So far we’ve lost two people and

several more have reported being stalked.”

I felt a flicker of hope for information. “Did you happen to get any description?”

Paul shook his head again and looked sad. “Unfortunately not. They never saw anything

for sure. They just had the feeling that there was another predator of some kind there, but they

could never get a visual. One of them said there was an odd smell. He could not give me

anything to compare it to. He just said it was odd.”

“Well that’s more than the wolves have,” I mused. “How long have these been going

on?”

“Since the last moon,” Paul replied

“Just like the wolves. Do you know of anyone new in your territory?”

“Just a couple of werelions passing through on tour from Egypt,” he explained. “They

came in last night and will be leaving in the morning. They’re seeing what the world holds and

looking for a new place to settle down. Seems the Dark Continent is getting a bit crowded for

their people, so they’re looking over here.” I recalled the lions we’d seen earlier.

“Right, they were at Coyote's Place this evening having dinner,” Dusty replied for me.

“Do you know if they’ve decided where they’re going to settle yet?”

“Well we’ve made a couple of suggestions to them, but advised them that there are

enough cats in the Dallas area and they don't need to look too close. They’re also looking for

somewhere more desert like. They like Albuquerque or Flagstaff. The last we heard, the prides

out there were rather thin and wouldn’t be affected too harshly by additional competition and

there are pronghorn antelope out there to remind them of home.” Paul paused only for a moment,

obviously deciding it was not a pride secret.

“What about the bird I saw at Coyote's place?”

“I haven't been able to confirm anything about a werebird, but there have been rumors for

a couple of years about either a werehawk or wereagle in the area,” said Paul, his curiosity

perking. “As you know, they’re all officially extinct after that incident back in World War Two

when Hitler killed off the last aerie, but there have been sightings around the world since then.”

“Well I saw someone tonight at Coyote's Place that had the aura of a wer, but the image

was a bird of some kind. You might tell your people to keep an eye out. I'll pass the information

along to the Council on the bird, but nothing else.” I knew what I’d seen, and now that he

reminded me, I knew how unique it would be too. The wereagle incident was one of the points

that people wanting to keep us in the shadows used as a reason to do so. They didn’t want to end

up destroyed by human ignorance or wind up in a lab somewhere.

“I'll pass that along,” said Paul, the wheels visibly turning in his head. “That’s interesting

information, since the attacks on my people definitely look like something a wer would do, but

we can't get a recognizable scent from the scenes. None of my people will have ever encountered

a werebird.”

“How long since the last attack?” I asked, drawing Paul back to the part of the discussion

we could follow for the moment.

“Two nights, over in Turtle Creek Park.”

“Has the scene been disturbed much since then?” There hadn’t been any rain since then,

but the fog had been thick last night and the creek would have made it even thicker in the park

which was in a little depression that ran along the creek.

“I went over the scene with some of my people looking for clues, but other than that and

the local foot traffic that it gets, no. We removed the body as soon as we found her and the police

haven’t been there.” Worry clouded Paul's eyes. The conflicting duties of a police officer with

his ties to his pride and the Council often tore at him.

I glanced at the clock. It was nearly four and I knew Tiffany would be setting up things

for me to do by noon if she could. But it was a lead and the sooner we moved the better. “Can

you show us the place right now?”

“At your standard rates?”

“How about favors, we’re already getting paid on this one. We help you out on this, you

help us out on something down the road.” I offered a handshake across the table to seal the deal.

“I can live with a favor.” He smiled and grasped my hand.

“Maybe two,” Dusty added.

“Okay, give us a moment to change and we'll be ready to roll.” I grabbed Dusty's hand

and led him up the stairs. He didn’t look overly happy. When we got into the bedroom, I could

see that he had hastily set out the candles around the room when he had come up earlier to grab

the shorts and robe.

I pulled him close and kissed him. “Oh Dusty, do you want me to go down and see if this

can wait until the afternoon and have Tiffany pencil him in?”

His ran his hand across my chest under the robe and lightly squeezed a nipple. “No, we

both know that the longer a trail sits the colder it gets. This one has been sitting for a couple of

days already. We should go now.” He pushed the robe off my shoulders before hugging me

tightly. “There will be time for all of this later.” His teeth teased my ear as he pushed his shorts

toward the floor. “We should hurry. Paul will worry if it takes too long.” He said as he went over

to the dresser and bent over to retrieve a well-worn pair of jeans from the bottom drawer, his pale

ass promising things for later.

9

Turtle Creek Park’s one of those parks that always has traffic of some sort, but maybe

that’s because Turtle Creek Boulevard runs down the middle of it just to the east of the creek.

And since Dallas was rapidly becoming one of the many big cities that never sleeps, there’s

always people in and around the park. With an excessive number of apartments bordering the

park and the street down the middle of it, the city had never limited the time that people could be

in the park. Dense foliage along the creek held promise for all sorts of things hiding in the

shadows. I had accurate reports of everything from muggers and possums, to alligators and

hookers. I felt safe walking in the park, even when I wasn’t accompanied by two very powerful

wers.

Dusty shifted to his wolf form as soon as we hit the park, and in open defiance of the

leash laws, he ran all over the place trying to pick up a scent. Paul remained human. It was easier

to communicate with me that way since he and I didn’t have the telepathic link I shared with

Dusty. Paul led us into the denser part of the park, almost to where the creek's spring bubbled to

the surface. The trails here are so overgrown that if you didn’t know exactly where to step, you

might need a machete to get more than a couple of feet. I used Dusty's eyes to find the trail. It

attracted less attention than the large flashlight I’d brought. I was waiting until we reached the

actual scene of the crime for the flashlight.

Paul stepped to the side of the trail where obviously the weeds had been recently

trampled and molested by someone falling on them. “Here's the place,” he said in barely more

than a whisper.

“Give me a sec before you hit the light,” Dusty requested as he put his nose in gear,

covering the smashed weeds and the area around the spot all the way down to the water’s edge.

He returned and butted his head into my hand so I could hear his mental voice. “There is

definitely a similar smell to what was on Barry Crabtree and Alexia. Much fainter, maybe

because of the age of the scene, but it’s here.”

“Dusty says that the smell’s the same as on one of the psi victims we visited this

yesterday,” I relayed to Paul.

When Dusty finished his search, I sat in the middle of the spot, and with Paul and Dusty

watching out for me, I opened myself up to the energies of the place. This wasn’t the best place

in the City for a psychic to open themselves up. A lot of violence happened in this park and this

spot had definitely seen its share. A feeling of darkness and despair had begun to grow here. I

allowed the energies to carry me as I searched for the essence and images from the werejaguar’s

death. The sense of the predator was strong, but I could not distinguish between the werejaguar

and the killer and it felt like there were more than those two. There was also the feeling that

there’d been more than one recent death in the area, but the energies were too old and scattered

to make out a clear picture.

I was just about to give up when I felt a slight movement in the weeds near my knee. I

moved the weeds aside, and hidden in a small gap between two pebbles, a tiny figure struggled

to stand. I broke my trance and reached down for one of the smallest pixies I’d ever seen. We’re

not talking about a Tinkerbelle-style pixie. In real life, pixies are small woodland fairies with

only a rudimentary intelligence. On a good day, they might be able to work for a call center in

India, but other than that, they are fairly useless for anything other than the basic plant

maintenance. Their job is to make sure plants that might not get pollinated by birds and bees are

pollinated. They also take care to get seeds to where they had the best chance of germinating and

growing, but they are totally keyed into the flow of nature. No one’s quite sure what happens to

them during the winter months. Since they are of the fair-folk, most people just assumed that

they went to Underhill, or whatever other dimension they come from. I read somewhere a while

back that some guy had tried to find out where they came from and where they went. The higher

fairies like the elves and such have never paid them any mind and couldn’t answer the question.

Pixies have such a short attention span that they couldn’t answer the question, either. So all we

know is that as the leaves start to turn they disappear and when the first buds start to bloom they

reappear.

This pixie was about as tall as the width of my thumb. I didn’t know enough about pixies

to tell if its color was good or not, but there was barely any glow to it at all, and from the little I

know, most pixies glowed faintly with the otherworldly light they held. The pixie might account

for the feeling that there was more than one person other than the werejaguar present at the time

of its death, but I doubted it. If it had been there for the past two days, it would’ve either faded

by now or been strong enough to fly away.

“What do you guys know about pixies?” I asked moving my hand so they could see it

lying in my palm.

“Not a whole lot,” Paul said with a bit of disdain in his voice. A lot of wers held ODs in

low opinion. The best I could figure was that they considered other magic creatures below their

notice unless they were forced to acknowledge them.

“Looks wounded,” said Dusty stating the blatantly obvious.

“Is it possible you and your people overlooked it during your search when you moved the

body?” I kept my tone neutral because that question could easily be taken the wrong way.

“It's possible,” Paul sounded a bit guilty about missing evidence. “It was close to sunrise

and we wanted to get out of here fast. That’s not easy when you’re toting a body through a city

park.”

Dusty sniffed the tiny figure in my palm. “It has the strange smell on it.”

“Hmm. So it was here the whole time.” I tried to think if I knew anyone who knew how

to communicate with pixies so we could ask it a few questions. Maybe Carmine knew someone

in the Council. “I'll get Tiffany on finding someone who can help. Hopefully there’s someone

close by.” I scooped out the contents of my left jacket pocket and carefully laid the fairy in the

pocket. “If we can keep it alive, it might be a witness. If it dies, it's evidence and another body to

add to the count.”

“Let's hope it lives,” Paul muttered to himself more than anyone else. “It’d be nice to

question something about all of this.” Doubt clouded his voice. He wasn’t sure it would be worth

it even if the pixie lived. Since it was just a pixie, it probably hadn’t seen anything useful, but

right now, I’d take anything I could get.

With the pixie safely tucked in my pocket, I swept the area carefully with the flashlight.

Other than the smashed weeds, there didn’t appear to be anything out of place. I stood there for a

second with the light playing off of the weeds before it hit me.

“Paul, was there a lot of blood here when you moved the body?”

Paul paused and thought about it. “No there wasn't and there wasn’t a lot of blood on the

body, either, even though it had been torn to shreds like it had been a wer attack. There should

have been blood everywhere.”

“Was there any sign of a vampire attack?” That would explain the lack of blood,

particularly if she had been drained first and then torn to shreds. But there should still be a bit of

blood on the ground.

“Not that was left, but then she was extremely torn up. But that is not something I have

ruled out either. But why would a vampire want the territory from us wers? There haven’t been

any territory wars in generations, not since the Council signed all the treaties with the various

groups to keep us all civil, at least on the outside.” I could see Paul's face in the flickering

flashlight beam as I continued to sweep the area. He was working through the possibilities more

thoroughly than he had before he enlisted our help.

“It could be a lone vampire with a grudge, but I doubt that.”

“And both pack and pride could track down a lone vampire,” added Dusty as he sat in

the weeds next to my leg, keeping just outside of the area I swept with the light.

“But I’d be able to find a lone vampire.” Paul echoed Dusty's thoughts. “This has to be

something more and it doesn't smell anything like a vampire, or at least none that I’ve ever met.”

“Dusty?” Dusty was always great for a second opinion.

“I've only met a couple,” he said. “Each one smelled different, of course, but they all

have underlying smell of decay to them. This scent doesn’t have an underlying smell of decay.”

“Okay then, let's get this Pixie some help and see if we end up with a witness out of it, or

not.” I stopped myself from patting the pocket with the pixie. No telling how easy it would have

been to kill the little thing.

10

After speaking with Carmine, I left the little pixie in a small bowl lined with Kleenex.

She promised she’d get someone who knew about pixies to pick it up later in the morning. I left a

note for Tiffany explaining everything. Dusty had already warmed the bed by the time I made it

up the stairs just as the first light of dawn peeked through the blinds. I was asleep before he was

comfortably wrapped in my arms.

***

Someone stood over my bed. It had to be someone I knew. Otherwise Griff or the

magical wards around the house would’ve alerted me. The blinds let in too much light. Someone

must have raised them. The sunlight lessened against my eyelids as something passed between

me and the window. I could still feel Dusty's comforting warmth next to me. I cracked an eye

and the golden light of the sun raged through the window and danced through long blonde hair.

“Come on Ethan, I know you're awake.” Tiffany's soft but commanding voice tore away

any hope of getting back to sleep, like an annoying little sister ripping the blankets off your bed

to get you awake.

“What time is it?” My eyes felt like they were bleeding.

“Just after ten,” she said, sounding too chipper to live.

“What happened to don't wake me up until after noon?” I wrapped my arms tightly

around Dusty hoping she was just a nightmare that might go away. I could tell from his breathing

and how he moved against me he was waking up too.

“Life changes. Now get out of bed. You have time for a really fast shower. There are

donuts on the kitchen table. You need to be in your office in fifteen minutes.” She turned and left

as the poorly-thrown pillow hit the wall instead of her head.

“Sometimes I think an irritating alarm clock would be better to wake up to than little miss

cheerful sunshine ass,” Dusty muttered as he rolled over in my arms to face me. “Good morning

sexy.” His lips were warm and tender, but his eyes looked almost as bloodshot as mine felt.

“Love you.” I nestled in against his hard chest.

“I don't hear the shower yet!” Tiffany shouted up the stairs.

“I pity her future children,” I mumbled as I struggled to get out of bed.

Twenty five minutes, many gallons of water, four drops of eye drops, two donuts and one

glass of OJ later, I made down the stairs and into my office. Dusty followed just a couple of steps

behind, but he needed two more donuts. Due to his faster wer metabolism, he could eat twice as

much as me and still maintain his absolutely fabulous body. Tiffany already had a pile of paper

on my desk and the door to the reception area hung open.

“Ethan, here are the latest updates.” She came through the door with another stack of

paper. I stifled a groan as I settled into my chair.

“Shoot.” I muttered, almost in jest. It was just not as easy to get by on four hours of sleep

as it used to be.

“Don't need the paperwork.” She smiled and dropped the handful of papers on the desk

before sitting down across from me.

Dusty came in and sat down next to her, still carrying half of a maple coconut crunch

donut. “Looks like you've been busy.”

“All morning. The lady from the pixie rehab center stopped by a few minutes ago. She

said that it didn't look good, but if she can pull him through, she’d let us know.”

“Him, how the hell can you tell hims from hers with those little bugs?” Dusty asked

between bites as another quarter of the donut disappeared.

“I asked her about that too and she said something about the length of the hair in

relationship to the size of the wings or something like that. I think she’s a bit nuts but she says

once you get the feel for it, it’s really easy to tell.” Tiffany sounded like she didn't believe the

woman. It was something I had never heard of, but then there was a lot about fairy physiology I

didn't know.

“Carmine called and William Cromly managed to get Alexia Rosenbloom out of jail. It

seems that her mother wasn’t very happy about the whole incident. She had a major screaming

match with William in front of the police station this morning after Alexia was released. Carmine

pulled a couple of strings and the mother has been readmitted to Cedar Hill mental hospital for

observation, which should keep her away for a few months at least. According to William,

Alexia’s relieved and will be settling into the Council safe house this afternoon after he helps her

retrieve some of her things.”

I nodded, trying to appear more interested than sleepy. “Good, see if he...”

“He will be stopping by here around four with her. He figured there might be more that

we can find out now that she’s out of jail.” Tiffany sounded way too smug first thing in my

morning.

“Thanks for setting that up.”

“No prob. Now before that happens, you have an appointment at one with Reynaldo

Reyes. You’re going to go over the scene where he found Magee. I personally doubt there is

anything left to find there, but you never know. The address is already in your GPS. It should

take you about twenty minutes to get there from your noon appointment.”

“My noon appointment?”

“Yep, I started going through Magee's address book and made a couple of appointments

over the next couple of days with likely suspects. Since it’s the weekend, I went ahead and

scheduled them as I could. The first one is with Brianna and Byron Supunski. They’re over in

Irving. Other than Madeline Fort and Barry Crabtree, there were more emails going to Brianna

than anyone else. Since you can't interview Barry before nightfall and Madeline is at work until

five, you get to start with the Supunskis. There’s a file for them there on the desk. I’ll see what I

can do about getting a couple of other interviews later this afternoon. You might want to take the

back roads into Irving since the Cowboys are having some kind of exhibition today and traffic

around the stadium is really bad.”

“I suppose that is also in my GPS?”

“Of course, here’s the file on them.” She handed it to Dusty. “You can read it to him on

the way over.” She paused a second then handed him another, much thicker folder. “By the way,

since you won't have time to stop by here on the way over to the Reyes residence, here is the file

on Reynaldo. It’s fairly interesting overall. He has had several run-ins with the law and sounds

like he could be a real handful in the wrong circumstances. I have already tossed your travel bag

in the car in case you need anything out of it.”

Sometimes she was too damned efficient for words. I struggled to find something polite

to say and failed. “Thanks Tiff. If you hear from Paul Ramirez and he needs to get a hold of us,

let him know where we are and we can try and meet up with him if need be.”

“Okay. Paul, have you seen pictures of his new baby yet? He’s so cute. One of the ladies

with the Council updated the community website the other day with pictures of the little guy.”

All I could do was shake my head. It was way too early in the day to be discussing cute

baby pictures. “Thanks. Anything else we should know before we battle our way into Irving?”

“Oh we are running low on white sage, so if you could while you are over on that side of

town, run by the herb store and grab a couple of ounces.”

Dusty nodded to her, knowing that I was a bit too sleepy to remember at this point. “Will

do, white sage.”

“Okay then. I guess we should be running along.” I pushed myself into a standing

position using the edge of the desk.

“I'll keep in touch if anything interesting pops up,” Tiffany said as she headed back

toward the reception area and her desk.

Dusty and I used the back door out of the office that went through the kitchen. We paused

at the door for a quick kiss. “Looks like it might be another long day.” He chuckled as he opened

the screen door out into the yard for me.

Occasionally, luck happens and even in Dallas traffic you can run early. We were early

enough that we picked up the white sage before the appointment with the Supunskis. Either the

traffic wasn’t as bad as Tiffany expected or it magically cleared out by the time we got there. I’m

not a big sports fan and don’t understand the point of putting a major stadium in the middle of an

area where it could and would snarl traffic on not one, but three major freeways. Texas stadium

did that regularly for football games, any other ballgame, concert or anything else they could

schedule. Traffic backed up for miles and occasionally that back up stretched all the way to

downtown Dallas. Most locals organized favorite bypasses around the mess. Based on where in

Irving the Supunskis lived, I chose my southern route, which ran one block from the herb store.

We pulled up in front of the Supunskis Las Colinas townhome a couple of minutes before noon.

On the way over, Dusty scanned the folder and shared the facts he thought were

interesting and pertinent. Byron Supunski was a partner in a small software development firm

that specialized in musical integration software. Apparently it wasn’t a large market, but the firm

held enough of it last year that it was considered one of the top one hundred companies in the

Dallas Metropolitan area in terms of growth. He also played guitar for a garage band that played

small gigs around town.

Brianna Supunski had held a number of small odd jobs over her life. She’d been

everything from a short order cook to a singing telegram worker and a tarot reader. She was

currently on the board of directors for the local New Age community center. The Council had a

small file on her as someone to watch out for, but they’d never gotten around to approaching her

because they considered any talent she might have was so hidden or insignificant that it was

probably of little use. It was rumored that the Council held that view of a lot of people who

didn’t come from gifted psi families.

The Supunskis apparently met about five years ago at a medieval fair near Fort Worth.

It’d been a whirlwind romance and they married less than two months after they met. They were

very active in the visible metaphysical community. I wondered if they had contacts in the real

one. But, if they did, the Council’s file should’ve included both of them, not just Brianna, and it

would’ve been much larger. They didn’t have any children, but then they were a later-in-life

couple. Records showed two cats and a dog.

I glanced at my watch, two minutes until noon. “Well we might as well go on up and see

what they can tell us.” I opened the door and stepped out onto the sidewalk. Just then, sounds of

chaos exploded from the back yard.

11

“Shit, we may be too late!” I slammed the car door shut and took off running toward the

sounds. Dusty ran faster than I and cleared the eight-foot privacy fence as I rounded the corner of

the garage heading for the gate. I often envied the extras being a werewolf gave him. I dashed

down the small stone path leading from the gate into the back yard.

The Supunski’s house was located on one of the smaller canals of Los Colinas and the

back yard opened up onto the canal. My first thought as I rounded the corner was that the yard

was nicely manicured and they must have an efficient gardener. Then I noticed Brianna lying in

the middle of the yard kicking at an extremely large alligator that had grabbed a mouthful of her

bright green dress and was trying to get a hold on her while Byron smacked it with a lawn chair.

Dusty straddled the thing trying to get a hand hold so he could turn it over while a large basset

hound bayed from the porch making more noise by itself than the rest of them combined.

I jogged over and pulled out my revolver. “Anyone mind if I just kill it?”

Dusty gave me an indignant look. “Just shoot the thing already Ethan.”

“Please shoot it!” Brianna screamed.

Two slugs through the right eye stopped it cold. Byron put down the chair and headed for

Brianna. I offered Dusty a hand up. Before we could turn to introduce ourselves, a dark fog

flowed out of the gator’s body. I yanked Dusty to the side away from the body and I saw Byron

do the same with Brianna. The fog coalesced into a presence, flowed a bit and then started to

become more solid. Tendrils of dark energy emerged and approached each of us as if searching

for something.

I poured energy into my psychic and magical shields while Dusty did the same. I glanced

over and saw Bryon making the sign of the pentagram in the air in front of him and Brianna.

Energy flared in the fog as the tendrils touched my shields and then quickly retracted. They

seemed to push harder against the shield Byron tried to hold as Brianna regained her balance and

added her strength to it. The energy could not find a way around the shield, although for a

moment, it blocked them from view while it swirled around their shield looking for a hole.

“What the hell is it?” Dusty asked as we stood there watching it try to find a way to get at

the Supunskis.

“If it were night time, I would think it was an OD from one of the lower planes, probably

an air plane, but it is broad daylight and we’re not close enough to the airport.”

“Ethan,” Dusty growled.

“Okay, but it’s acting like an air OD looking for a host of to keep it alive in the daylight,

but it shouldn’t even be here, unless it was called by someone.” I flipped my smart phone open

and checked moon phases and other astrological data. “Three nights ago, that was the last time

that everything would have been right to allow something from one of the elemental air planes to

make it through to this side. So if it’s an OD, it would’ve spent most of that time trapped in that

gator since it was called and it’s just been waiting for the opportunity to strike.”

“We need to do something to make it go home before it gets to one of the Supunskis and

we have another body or two on our hands,” Dusty said as calmly as he could.

“The Supunskis look safe for the moment, so unless it decides it wants to go after the

dog…” Well, about the time I let the words out of my mouth, the fog went after the baying

basset hound on the porch. It left the Supunskis in their circle of protection and headed for the

only other warm body within easy reach that might be able to host it. That was the big drawback

when people who summoned elemental ODs let them out of the summoning circle. They had a

tendency to go looking for a host since unlike higher ODs from more material places, elemental

ODs have problems holding themselves together without a physical form to inhabit. And right

now, it looked like it was going to be the Supunskis’ dog.

“Badger no, get in the house Badger!” Brianna screamed as the fog around her circle

cleared enough that she realized what it was going after. The dog went ballistic, trying to get

over the small gate that kept it on the porch. I desperately tried to think of something that’d help,

or some way to get the dog away from the fog or the fog away from the dog and just came up

blank. The fog hit the house. It spread out for a moment like it had hit a barrier and then it eased

through it and engulfed the dog. It only took a moment and the dog went from a raging beast to

one just sitting on the porch steps looking out at the world through uncertain eyes. The elemental

OD possessed the basset hound.

“Oh Goddess no, Badger!” Brianna wailed and started to throw herself toward the porch,

but Byron grabbed her arm. She shivered in his arms and her hands flew up to cover her mouth.

Then I realized something, there were shields around the house. Like most Wiccans, they

had cast protections around their home. They hadn’t been strong enough to keep the elemental

out, but with a bit of help, they might just help contain him so I could dispel him.

“Byron, sorry to meet under such extreme circumstances,” I said. “I'm E.S. Peters and

this is my partner, Dusty Davenport. We’re paranormal investigators. Do I assume correctly that

you have cast wards around your home?”

“Yes Mr. Peters you are correct. We have protections around the house.”

“And those extend out to the porch where the dog is?”

“Yes they do. Why?”

“I have a thought. Dusty if you’d get my travel bag out of the car, we'll see if we can

contain this thing.” As Dusty dashed for the front yard, I started to explain the plan to the

Supunskis. I started feeling out their shields. They were standard protection wards, very basic.

They showed that the Supunskis had promise as magic users, but we’d need the shields to be a

lot stronger to hold an elemental. Luckily I wouldn’t have to build them from scratch. I knew we

wouldn’t have a long time to get ready. It’d take the elemental a couple of minutes to adjust to

the new body. I wish I could’ve just gone in and pulled it out of the dog while it was settling, but

there was too big of a chance that it might get away if I did that. This way, it’d be harder to pull

it out of the dog, but easier to contain it when we did.

Dusty returned with my bag. I handed Byron a couple of things and some to Brianna as

well, explained what they needed to do and as they set about their task. I took a moment to scan

my phone for the proper banishing to remove the elemental and save the dog. The first thing I

pulled up was a bit too complex and involved too many things I didn’t have in my bag. It was a

good spell, very focused and in the right setting I’d use it in a heartbeat, but for field work, it

wouldn’t do. The next one was wrong due to the phase of the moon. Finally I found what I was

looking for. Then I felt the reinforced shielding click in around the house.

Brianna and Byron returned to our spot just off the porch steps. “Okay, now that it’s

contained inside some protection, we can see about sending it back where it came from. Have

either one of you had any experience with high magic?”

“I used to do a bit,” Brianna said. “What is it that we’re dealing with? It looked like some

kind of demon.”

I realized that I’d gone into command mode, simply telling people what to do without

explanations. This was as good a time as any to take a moment or two and explain what I

perceived was going on. “Okay, I’m pretty sure it is some kind of air elemental that someone

summoned to inhabit the alligator and then used the possessed alligator to attack you. When I

killed the alligator, the elemental needed something else to possess before the sunlight on this

plane killed it. We were both protected as were the two of you. The only one not protected was

the dog.”

“But Badger was inside the house shields,” Brianna protested.

“Which weren’t designed to keep out a threat the size of an air elemental,” I explained.

“You probably noticed that it slowed down a bit and flattened out when it hit your shields. That’s

what told me you had some protections around the house. Without a properly cast high-magic

circle, the reinforced shield that we just put up will only hold it for a couple of minutes, but I

think that’ll be enough time to get the elemental out of the dog and somewhere it will be safe, or

banish it back to its plane of origin.” I tried to make it sound a lot simpler than it was going to be.

I hoped that either the elemental would be tired from having to switch bodies quickly, or that

maybe by making it switch bodies, I had loosened the hold the summoner would have over it

enough to get it to go back to its home plane.

“So what can we do from here? Don't we need to be in the circle to influence the

elemental?” Byron asked as he paced at the edge of the shield near the steps.

“One of the things I remember from what I learned of high magic is that being in the

circle with the spirit you summon is bad,” Brianna explained to her husband. “That’s why most

high magicians cast two circles when they summon spirits, one for you and one for the spirit.

That gives you two layers of protection in case the spirit gets out of control.”

“That’s one way to do it. Right now, we have the elemental trapped in a single circle. If it

gets out, we only have our personal protection to fall back on.” I added.

“Hey look at this!” Dusty called from where he had wandered over to look at the alligator

while I explained things.

Dusty rolled the alligator over on its back. Along the scales of the abdomen, someone had

taken what looked like a Sharpie marker and drawn a complex magical symbol in the center of

an intricately-crafted pentagram. Some of it was a bit smudged, probably from the gator moving

through the water, weeds and grass in and along the canal. I pulled out my phone, snapped a

picture of it and promptly emailed it to Tiffany.

“If we’re lucky, the name of the elemental’s in there somewhere. If anyone can figure it

out quickly, it’s Tiffany,” I explained as I walked back over to my travel bag and pulled out the

better digital camera. “Just in case, I want a couple of better shots with this. We might get a lead

on who’s doing this.” High magicians tend to have rather large egos. If we’re lucky, mixed in

among the lines either in the symbol or in the pentagram itself there might be a signature we

could trace back to the mage.

I snapped a couple of shots from the angles that showed the marks best. I was just putting

the camera back in the bag when the dog on the porch began to howl again, not the deep brassy

howl it’d used before the elemental chose its body for a vessel, but a higher sound, more eerie.

The hairs along the back of my neck stood out. I would’ve been more worried if it were dark.

Some elementals can summon others by calling to them, but in the daylight, we should be safe. I

still wanted to get rid of it quickly.

“Okay folks let’s deal with this now before it attracts too much attention to itself,” I said.

“We don't need your neighbors complaining about the noise. I think that the circle on the gator

was a big part of the binding that’s holding it to this world. We may get lucky and have the spirit

want to leave once we remove it from the dog. It’ll be easier to get it out of the dog than it

would’ve been if we’d tried to remove it from the gator without killing the host first. Just in case,

Dusty prepare a holding bottle for me.”

I hated imprisoning things like elementals. I have only had to do it once before, I still

have the bottle stored in the box of dangerous things that I don't trust in other people's hands. I’d

much prefer the thing to return to its plane of origin. There wasn’t much hope in extracting

information from an elemental, although they followed directions real well, they tended not to

have much in the way of original thoughts and don't notice a whole lot, sort of like drivers

talking on cell phones in traffic.

Speaking of cell phones, mine picked that moment to sound off with Tiffany's distinctive

ringtone. “What ‘ya got for me, Tiff?”

“Not a whole lot. There is nothing extra in the sigil that could be the name of the

elemental. So either the summoner didn't know the name and was just calling a random air

elemental, or they wanted to leave out the information in the hopes of using the vessel again in

the future. The only thing useful in this is that it is supposed to be a Ventus ater elemental, or a

dark wind.”

“Well that’s something. Anything special about what to do or not to do when sending one

back to where it came from?”

“Nope, a basic elemental dispersal should work once you get it out of the host. Oh and I

have gone ahead and pushed back your one o'clock to two and you will want to check your

schedule on the drive over. The rest of your day is filling up quickly, so don't dawdle too long

over this.” She clicked off without saying goodbye. With other people, I might have found it

rude, but I’ve known Tiffany for many years and it is just her way. She rarely wastes time on

things like goodbyes and she never seems to do it when I have more questions. We’re just in tune

like that.

I turned back to the three people looking at me for the next move as the basset hound

continued to howl on the porch. “Okay, we don't have an actual name, which would’ve been

nice, but we do know it’s a Ventus ater. Should be a standard banishment, once we get it out of

Badger.”

“And how are we going to do that?” Byron asked.

“I'm going to start with strong-arm authority tactics. If that doesn't work, we'll go back to

the basics. Dusty get the blessed salt water ready.” I unstrapped my short sword from the travel

bag. “Brianna, you and Byron get the charged salt. When I get Badger out of there you’ll need it

to cleanse him.”

I walked to the edge of circle at the foot of the steps leading to the porch. I touched the

tip of the sword to the ground and carefully cut a doorway into the circle. Dusty stood behind me

to close the circle once I’d cleared the edge so I would not have to take my attention off Badger.

As I stepped across the magical threshold, the dog stopped howling and stared at me. The steps

leading up to the porch allowed me to make eye contact with the dog without being in an

awkward physical position. There was something akin to fear shining in those big brown puppy-

dog eyes. The dog was perfectly still and I was thankful it was a basset hound and not something

that could jump like a spaniel.

I held the sword in front of me in my right hand and dug out my Council credentials with

my left. “Ventus ater, by the Treaty of Florisent I command you to vacate the basset hound this

instant and return to your plane of origin. Should you fail to comply, I am justly deputized by the

Council to enforce the Treaty by any and all means necessary. Be it known that you have crossed

planal boundaries without proper permissions and have answered the summons of a magician

without proper rights to call beings from another plane to this one. If you leave now of your own

accord, I shall allow you to depart unmolested, but should you choose to attempt to stay, I will be

forced to remove you and make no promises about the state you will be in when I am finished

with you.”

With my final words, the basset hound launched itself off the edge of the porch, aiming

itself at my sword. There’s no way it could’ve known that Dusty and I played tag on a regular

basis with him in wolf form. I’m used to canines leaping at me. One of the games we like to play

was me trying to catch him telekinetically. Although Dusty's weight was almost more than I

could catch, this little guy was nowhere close to Dusty's wolf size. I caught him easily and held

him squirming in my mental grasp. “Look, if you want to do this the hard way we can.”

Badger whined and then the dark fog began seeping from him. It took longer to leave the

dog than to possess it, but before too long, a dark ball of energy floated above him as it hovered

in my mental grasp. The ball twisted counterclockwise a couple of times when the sparkling

effect of accessing other planes began to cover it. Then it vanished. The nice thing about ODs

and getting rid of them was that once they left this plane, they cannot come back without being

summoned. It was a bit anticlimactic, but at least it was gone.

I set Badger on the ground and he ran to Brianna and Byron who hugged him first then

began dousing him with salt to clean away any smut the elemental may have left behind. At least

I didn't have to remind them.

Dusty was putting things back in the travel bag when I got there to put the sword

back.”Well that went easily enough,” he said taking the sword from me so he could put it back in

its straps.

“Yeah almost too easy, but then a lot of air elementals are pushovers when you really get

right down to it. And I think it knew it’d done wrong and wasn’t in the mood for a real fight after

being evicted from a great host like the alligator.” I pulled out my cell phone and called Carmine.

I explained what happened and she promised to get a cleanup crew over to remove the gator. I

could’ve called animal control, but then there would’ve been an official report about an alligator

with occult drawings on its belly and eventually some grocery store checkout rack magazine

would have a picture on the front cover about devil alligator trying to eat a suburban Dallas

housewife.

By the time I got off the phone with Carmine, the Supunskis finished rubbing charged

salt on poor Badger. Dusty hefted the traveling bag over his broad shoulder and we walked over

as they were still hugging and petting the dog.

“I know the timing on this sucks, but could we bother you to get some information about

Magee Reyes?” I felt bad intruding on their family bonding with the basset hound, but we

needed the information, and based on what Tiffany said about my schedule, it might be a couple

of days before we could get back to talk to them again.

“Of course. Poor Magee. I never thought that the poor girl would commit suicide,”

Brianna said giving the dog a final pat and standing up. “Let's go in the house. We’ll more

comfortable.”

“So while we get comfortable, tell me what it would take to study under you two for high

magic,” Byron said as he fell into step with Dusty.

“We’re not taking students right now, but call this number, speak with Carmine. She'll be

happy to put you through testing. If you pass the test, she’ll set you up with a teacher,” Dusty

replied. I suppressed a chuckle at the thought of the look on Carmine's face when two Wiccans

called her to get tested and then trained. She’d know who sent them. But that was okay. It was

either payback for something I owed her that I forgot, or something she would do in the future.

Karma worked that way.

“Thanks, I’m always looking to expand my knowledge and I was almost lost out there

with what you guys just did. I followed the basic idea, but beyond that...”

“You have no idea what is out there just waiting for you,” Dusty said as he set the travel

bag down beside the couch.

The living room that Brianna led us into was fairly simple and homey. All the standard

items were placed on the wall, but instead of normal themes, she’d chosen a pagan motif that

eliminated any doubt about their religious affiliation. Various pictures adorned the wall, mostly

of them with friends and family. In several, Brianna wore the same t-shirt that read She Who

Shall be Obeyed in bright yellow letters. On wooden shelves, small statues representing an

assortment of gods posed in front of pictures that depicted the turning of the year. The furniture

was all rustic, but comfortable in dark earth tones that matched well with the plush brown carpet.

Byron and Brianna settled into matching recliners across the carved tree trunk coffee table from

the couch. Badger followed them and sat down looking up at Brianna until she reached down and

lifted him into her lap.

“I thought the police ruled Magee's death a suicide,” said Byron leaning forward. “What

brings the two of you out looking around?”

“Her husband’s not so sure, so he hired us to look into it for him,” I said. “Compounded

with the murder of Barry Crabtree and now the attack on you, I think he may be right.”

“Now, I'm not one to speak ill of someone, but let me tell you, this is probably the first

thing that Reynaldo and I have ever seen eye to eye on,” said Brianna with a near snarl. “That

little man is one of the worst excuses for a man I’ve ever met, and trust me, as a high priestess

you get to meet a lot of low-class guys.”

“Brianna,” I started as I pulled out my note pad.

“Call me Bree please, most everyone does,” she interrupted.

“Bree, so what kind of problems do you have with Reynaldo?”

“Please understand that I don't know both sides of the story,” Bree explained. “It just

seemed to me that he kept her on a very short leash and tried to promote her being afraid of

everything.”

Byron chimed in with his own assessment. “I think he’s one of those very insecure guys

who’s terrified his wife’s going to cheat on him, probably because he’s cheating on her.”

Bree took over when Byron paused. “He also hated all of us with the get together. I think

he was afraid that we’d take her away from him or something like that. It always seemed to me

like he tried to promote her playing in the magical world to keep her happy, but when she started

getting too serious about things, he’d freak out for a little while and pull her away from things

until she whined enough so that he’d let her start coming back around. So over the past few

months we’d see her for a while then she’d vanish for a bit and then be back. I suspect he may

have been abusive to her too. Sometimes she would show up with extra heavy makeup like she

was trying to cover up some bruising or something. She always just said she was clumsy.” Bree

finally paused for breath.

“So were there any signs that she was unhappy?” I took the opportunity to throw out

another question.

“Again, she seemed to always be trying to cover things up. You know how these

wannabe Southern belles can be. It’s all a game and they’re the ones who’re living it. But then

I’m not the one to ask about how happy they were. Before last night I’d have told you to talk

with Barry, but since he’s gone, the next best person to talk to is Maddie. She and Magee were

really close. I suspect that if she weren’t married to Reynaldo, she'd have been doing Maddie

more often.” Bree almost blushed.

“More often?” Man, this was getting good. This was exactly the type of information that

led to breaking a case like this wide open. Now we had the jealous-lover angle going.

“Well I know one of the girls, I forget who ‘cause she never came back to get together,

but one time during break, one of the girls headed to the bathroom, and when she came back,

claimed she caught them in the bathroom kissing. She may have been just trying to stir up drama,

but the way the energies around those two were I wouldn’t be at all surprised.”

“Do you think Maddie could’ve done something to Magee?” The jealous-lover angle

looked more promising but then I remembered Maddie from last night. I just didn’t think she had

the power needed to call the elemental we dispatched, but that didn’t mean she might not have

someone do it for her.

“No, I don't think so, Maddie’s a firm believer in perfect love, perfect trust,” Bree

replied. “She’s a vegetarian. She couldn't hurt a fly without worrying about the karma involved.”

“Yeah, she put the fluff in fluffy bunny,” Byron added with a smile.

“Can you think of anyone involved in the get togethers that might have the want or ability

to kill Magee?”

“Not really, but then so many people are a bit on the flaky side,” said Bree thoughtfully.

“They come for a couple of meetings and then we never see them again, or they show up a

couple of times then miss a couple of meetings then show up again. You really can’t count on

most of them and I really haven’t bothered to get to know them. Out of the regulars, no one

really wanted her dead. Several of us wanted her to grow up a bit. She was real bad about

making changes at the last minute and expecting everyone to jump when she wanted you to

jump. She may have been the organizer but really.”

“So how many official members are there for the get together?” I asked

“We’re approaching two hundred members, the largest group of its kind in the state,”

Bree replied. “We’re that large in part due to Magee.”

“Wow two hundred.” These people would freak if they knew how many people belonged

to the Council and most of those people are either some kind of psi or magical creature. But for a

Wiccan meeting group, the size was pretty impressive. Sort of like a dwarf with a six inch dick.

“And out of that two hundred how many are regulars?”

Byron and Bree thought for a second before Bree responded.”Oh, probably twenty five or

thirty.”

“Well at least we can be thankful we don't have to interview all two hundred, if we’re

lucky.” I really didn’t want this case to stretch on for the days it would take to interview two

hundred people, not to mention if the feeling that this case and the wer problem were tied in

together, that would mean interviewing more than a few wers as well. Suddenly, all I wanted to

do was go home, curl up in the hot tub with Dusty and not get out for a week or more. Yeah, like

Tiffany would bring out all my meals to the hot tub.

“If it’d help, I could put together a list of the people who were regulars,” Bree offered.

“That might help cut things down a bit for you.”

“Ethan,” Dusty said softly and pointed at his watch. My signal we were running out of

time. I nodded.

“Bree, that would be wonderful.” I pulled out two of my cards and handed one to each of

them. “If you could either call me at that number or email me the information, that would be

great. Tiffany, my secretary, will be happy to take any messages you might have when you call. I

really need to get moving so I can make the next interview. I appreciate your time.”

They both stood after Bree gently pushed Badger into the floor where he landed with a

loud thud. “No, no, if you hadn't shown up when you did there’s no telling what might have

happened to us. We owe you our lives.”

“It’s just a good thing that the gator didn’t strike before we got here, or wait until we

were gone,” I said. “We like to do our part to keep Dallas clean of unwanted magical menaces.”

“If you ask me, you guys are doing a great job,” Bree said, smiling warmly and leading

us to the front door. “Keep up the good work.”

As Byron held the door, Bree stopped us. “Boys give me hugs. Stop by anytime. You’re

family now.”

“Thanks Bree,” we both said as she embraced us. “We'll be in touch.”

“Why don't you stop by the next get together? We're having a service for Magee and

Barry next weekend,” She called as we walked out the door.

“I'll check my schedule.” I waved as we ducked into the car.

12

“We like to do our part to keep Dallas clean of unwanted magical menaces!” Dusty

mimicked as we pulled away from the curb. “You make us sound like ghost hunters or

something. You are so silly. That's part of what I love about you.” He leaned over and licked my

ear.

“Would you not do that while I'm trying to drive?” I laughed back as I tried not to swerve

into the path of a soccer mom on a cell phone while playfully shoving him back into this seat.

Dusty settled into his seat “Oh yeah, before I forget, I wasn't going to say anything there,

but the Ventus ater definitely smelled a bit like the scents at the park and on Barry and Alexia.

Not exactly, but a bit, so I think we’re dealing with multiple elemental spirits maybe of different

kinds.”

“On the bright side, at least it’s elementals and not higher ODs. Elementals we can deal

with. I’m so not in the mood to deal with higher ODs. We'd be hauling Tiffany around just to

negotiate with them.” When dealing with higher forms of ODs, you almost needed a law degree

just to get any useful information out of them. Why people bothered summoning them was

beyond me. Most of those that were legally able to be summoned were the craftiest of the bunch,

since they went to the trouble to get the permits and licenses. Tiffany was the only one of us that

had a license to actually summon ODs. Dusty and I could dismiss them as in the case of the

Ventus ater, and we could enforce the treaty, but I don’t have the patience for summoning and

Dusty doesn’t have the raw power for it.

“That’s something we need to be looking at in our potential killers,” I said smacking the

steering wheel. “We need to look for who has the raw power to summon something from one of

the further planes. The person who called that Ventus ater into the body of that gator is no

lightweight. They had to have a fair amount of power to pull that off and/or a circle of people to

augment that power. This isn’t being done by your average Wiccan guy.”

“So did anyone at the get together last night have the kind of power we’re looking for?”

Dusty was checking my PDA for the updated schedule and any changes Tiffany would have

made.

“Not on the surface. They could’ve cloaked it somehow, but a really strong shield

should’ve shown up too. But there are other ways to cloak power than shields.” I turned onto the

on ramp and slowed the car to a stop. Traffic on the highway was stopped and backed up. “We

shouldn't be anywhere near the stadium, I wonder what’s the problem?”

At that point with her almost omnipotent ability Tiffany called. “Hey when you leave the

Supunskis don't get on 635, take Beltline around to the Reyes place.”

“Your warning comes about one minute too late.” I laughed.

“Sorry, I just caught the police band about the tipped over cattle truck. Looks like more

cows decided to run wild in the river bottom. If you get off at Luna, you can cut up to Beltline.”

Many Dallasites wondered why there seemed to be a rash of cattle trucks tipping over. The

running joke was that the cows decided they’d risk life and limb so that a few of them could run

free and that we’d soon end up with free-roaming cow gangs controlling the Trinity River basin.

I guess no one bothered to tell them that the local werewolves liked to hunt down there.

“That's what I figured. Dusty’s looking at the schedule. Anything I should know about

that’s developing?” The cars ahead crept forward about half a car length.

“I'll let Dusty go over the changes in the schedule with you. Paul stopped by a little while

ago. Nothing new on the jaguar front and he’ll meet you back here after your appointment with

Alexia. I spoke with Toby and he’s supposed to send me more information on the wolf

disappearances. I went over the folder and a couple of the locations of the missing or mauled

wolves are missing. Toby’s going to get me that. I thought to compare the map of the

unauthorized planal crossings that Carmine sent, with the data from the wers to see what we

come up with. If they are not dead on I suspect they’ll be close.”

We inched closer to the exit ramp where the police were redirecting people off of the

highway. I pitied the people who were trying to get to North Dallas from the airport. “You're not

going to get an argument from me. Check with Carmine and see if there’ve been any new

crossings since she sent us the information. Let her know I sent an unauthorized Ventus ater back

to its home plane. Feel free to send her the shots of the markings from the gator, see if she can

figure out anything from them.”

“Gee do I have to be nice to Carmine?” Tiffany sounded almost like some little junior

high school kid. She really didn’t like Carmine and one of these days I’d find out exactly why.

“No you don't have to be nice. Cordial yes. See if when we resolve this thing, I can bill

the hours to her. Might as well try and get as much money as possible.” Billing Carmine would

make Tiffany feel better about talking to the woman. Dusty grinned at me and nodded. I knew he

was thinking about the new bathroom he wanted to put in the next time we had spare cash.

Billing the council would help with that.

“I can do cordial,” Tiffany said. “I just got an IM from Hans. He’s on the cleanup crew

that went to the Supunski’s place. He said that the gator’s already begun to decompose.” I could

hear the wheels in her brain spinning much faster than my tires on the highway parking lot where

I was stuck. “If the gator’s already decomposing, the Ventus ater had been in it long enough that

the flesh had begun to die. The elemental’s energy was the only thing holding it together. This

time of year, given the standard three days it takes for an elemental to kill the soul of the host, I’d

say it had been in the body at least two weeks. I wonder if any of the wers were attacked near

water and might have been bitten by the gator?”

“Any wer that couldn’t handle that alligator isn’t worth being a wer,” Dusty said, his

sensitive ears picking up the conversation.

“But if the gator's controller was nearby, he or she could’ve done something to

incapacitate the wer to the point that the alligator could finish it off making it look like an animal

attack. I'll look through the files and see if any of the damage looks like it may have been made

by an alligator. I'll dig up some comparison shots online. The jaguar in Turtle Creek Park

could’ve been close enough to water.” I could hear Tiffany's fingers dancing across her

keyboard. “Look, I'll work this angle and keep you posted. You see about getting out of traffic. If

you can, you’ll only end up fashionably late to the Reyes' house.”

She hung up.

As we crawled through the traffic, Dusty reviewed the schedule. It was a good thing we

didn’t have anything scheduled between Reynaldo at two and Alexia at four. Starting about five

thirty we had appointments through most of the evening with various members of the get-

together group and at least one wer, finalizing with calling up Barry Crabtree's spirit around

eleven.

Traffic finally broke a few blocks away from the highway, so we pulled up in front of the

Reyes house at two fifteen. Dusty called to let Reynaldo know we were stuck in traffic. He met

us on the porch with a half smoked cigarette in his hand.

“Sorry for the delay,” I said extending a hand as we approached on the walk.

“Hey dude, no problem. I was just chillin.’” His grip was cold and damp.

I paused, remembering that in the office, Dusty’d been in wolf form, so Reynaldo hadn’t

officially met him. “This is my partner Dusty Davenport. He wanted to tag along today since his

case load’s slow right now.” It was a good excuse for having Dusty along. He worked his own

cases once in a while. Mostly he did it when my case load got too heavy and we needed him to

work something on his own. He was developing into a good PI.

“Hey, the more the merrier.” Reynaldo rubbed his cigarette out on the side of the

entryway, then dropped it into a coffee can that was three quarters filled with cigarette butts,

before leading us into the house.

Clutter covered the living room. I couldn’t tell if it were recent or the norm for the place.

The house was fairly nice. Both the Reyes had been in the tech field, meaning they had nice-

paying jobs. Of course, to afford my fees, he had to have nicely-padded pockets. All of the

electronics in the house were the latest and best. The wall-mounted widescreen 3DHD TV

currently playing tentacle porn of some sort, or at least that what I thought it was. Dusty glanced

at it, shivered and looked away.

“Reynaldo, where did you find the body?” I asked, wanting to get this moving so we

could get back to the office.

“She was back in her altar room.” He led us down a flight of stairs into a more orderly

part of the house. “Pardon the mess, I’m not sure what is going on, but I clean and clean and

nothing seems to stay clean for long.”

“Hey I know it’s tough adjusting, or maybe you have gremlins.” I chuckled, thinking

about what Magee’s ghost said about haunting him. I could only imagine what she was up to.

The altar room was in the back of the house and he had to unlock the door.

“I don't want my daughter wandering in here,” he explained, as he put the key back in his

pocket.

“I'm sorry, I didn’t realize you two had children.” I paused on the threshold of the room.

“She isn't Magee's,” he explained, flipping the light switch. “She’s from my first

marriage. She's not over much, but it’s safer to keep the room locked until I decide if I'm going

to keep the house or not. If I keep the house, I'll go in and totally renovate the room, turn it into

storage or something.”

Overall, the room looked like your standard Wiccan altar room. A short bookcase with a

few books on modern Wicca occupied the far wall. On the east wall, a small table held the usual

accoutrements, a chalice, a statue of the triple goddess, an athame, a couple of candles, a wand, a

bell, a smudge stick and an incense burner. On the wall behind the altar, a large print of the

witches rede hung in a heavy wooden frame. The words perfect love and perfect trust were

underlined in red. A half-melted candle lay on the carpet under the altar. It looked like it might

have rolled there at some point. A small burn mark discolored the carpet in front of the altar. I

wondered if Magee had been holding the candle when she died. If so then it was sheer luck that

the house hadn’t burned down. I glanced around the rest of the room, then turned back to

Reynaldo.

“So where was she?”

He gestured toward the altar. “There on the floor where the burn spot is. When they

moved her, I noticed it for the first time,” he sighed. “Now I'm going to have to have this room

re-carpeted. I have no idea how long it has been there. The police think she may have been

holding that candle when the drugs overcame her. There was a bit of wax on her fingers.”

Dusty picked up the candle sniffed it and nodded.

“Do you mind if we take the candle? I'd like to run a couple of tests on it,” I asked while

Dusty dropped it into a Ziploc® bag. I always made sure we both carried a couple around with us

because you never know when you’re going to need one. They’re like duct tape.

“No please take anything you like,” he replied, his face dancing between regret and

repulsion. “None of this means anything to me. It’s a part of Magee I would just as soon forget.”

“Have any of Magee's witch friends stopped by to see you since her death?” I flipped

open the notebook. There didn't look to be too much more of interest in the room.

“Maddie comes by every couple of days to check on me. She and Magee were very close

and I think she misses her almost as much as I do. Other than that, I have had a couple of calls

from folks but no one’s stopped by. Bree’s really pissed at me for not having a Wiccan burial for

her. She said that several of the other people weren’t pleased either. But I told them that if I

wanted a Christian service for my wife so her soul would get into Heaven that’s my right and

they didn't have to come if they didn't want to.” His voice rose a couple of octaves as he spoke.

“And other than the house not staying clean, have you noticed anything out of the

ordinary in the past week or so?”

He thought for a moment and then shook his head.”Nope, but then I've been getting

completely stoned, then drunk and passing out every night. If something’s going on I wouldn't

know about it.”

“One last thing, do you happen to have the pills Magee took to commit suicide?”

“The police gave them back to me after they decided it was suicide,” he said. “The bag’s

up stairs. Take it if you want. None of them will do a thing for me.” He led us back up to the

living room and in one of the piles on the very expensive couch, he pulled the police evidence

bag with the pills.

“Thanks, maybe we can find something out,” I said, handing the bag to Dusty. “We’ve

started interviewing members of her get-together group. Hopefully they’ll let something slip.”

“Too bad you didn't get a chance to interview Barry, but I figure it’s about time some

woman pounded that slime into the ground. I’m amazed it took this long. Poor little Alexia, she

seemed like a nice enough girl, pretty too. Never understood what she saw in him. I figured it

was pity. That’s the type of girl she is. I never minded having her around the house, or Maddie

either for that matter. Both of them can light up a room. I hope Alexia’ll give me a call when she

gets out. It’d be nice to hear from her, maybe have her over. I need to get her fixed up with a real

man.” He thought for a moment. “You know I bet she may have done your job for you and just

offed Barry before you could find out anything. Maybe that’s what made her snap. He's the type

he’d have bragged about casting a spell on Magee to make her believe she was taking a pill with

water and then she took too many with alcohol. Hell, I bet he brought the bottle with him and

then left with it.”

“Wait a minute. They never found the bottle of alcohol?” That was news to me, I figured

it was something that they had on hand and she just finished it off.

“No, the coroner said it was vodka. I don't drink vodka. I'm a tequila man. The police just

figured she got rid of the bottle after she drank it, or that maybe a friend had brought it over and

left with it after she took the pills.”

“Was there anything in the chalice?” I thought out loud.

“I'll go check,” Dusty offered. “I think you left the door open.” And he disappeared down

the stairs. I figured this’d also give him the opportunity to sniff around a bit without Reynaldo

watching. And even if he’d locked it, Dusty’d get past it in second leaving no evidence that he’d

done anything to the door.

“I don't think the police checked the chalice,” Reynaldo said. “But she was always real

adamant about not drinking anything out of it unless it was sanctified to the Goddess. I just can't

see her drinking vodka out of it.”

“Sometimes people do strange things toward the end, and if someone changed out her

regular drink for the vodka, that might be a lead we can use.” I heard Dusty coming back up the

stairs.

He shook his head. “Nope it’s dry as a bone.”

“Well it was a thought.” I tried to sound down about it, but I could tell Dusty had found

something he didn’t want to talk about in front of Reynaldo.

“Sorry you couldn't find more.” Reynaldo pulled out a pack of cigarettes as he opened the

front door. “Let me know when you find anything else. If you look into Barry Crabtree a bit

more, you’ll find the guy who killed my Magee.”

“We're going to try and get access to his apartment and see what we can dig up. I'm also

going to interview Alexia and see what she knows.” I walked passed him lighting his cigarette.

“Well you dudes have a good day and keep me posted.” He took a long drag off his

cigarette.

“Will do,” I said as I opened the door to get into the car.

I waited until we got down the block a bit before turning to Dusty. “So what did you

find?”

He flashed a big smile. “It’s definitely tied in with the other shit that’s going on. The

smell’s closer to whatever attacked Barry Crabtree than the Ventus ater. Might even be the same

thing, but I doubt it. The scent’s old, but it touched several things on the altar, including the

chalice and the candle. I’m pretty sure that the last thing that was in that chalice was water, but it

smelled like it was cleaned after the last use.”

“But transmuting any liquid into water isn’t a hard thing to do for an elemental,

particularly a water elemental.” I finished for him. “Now we just need to find out who’s

summoning them and why. And the big part of the why is why try and take over the territory of

the wers and why take out the leaders of the largest Wiccan group in the area? The most obvious

answer is someone’s after power, but what power does one get with wers and witches under their

control and why haven't they made a move against the Council?”

“Could it be someone on the Council?” Dusty pondered as we left the neighborhood and

pulled out onto the highway heading back toward the office.

“But why have us researching the unauthorized ODs, unless Carmine hasn’t told anyone

that we’re working on the case?” For some reason, no one was slowing down for the cow on the

side of the road. I guess it was Texas, and some people just expect to see a cow on the side of the

road. It was probably one of the escapees from the cattle truck spill earlier. I paused as we passed

it and stared. It was a strange brindle-colored longhorn. It seemed to stare back, then went back

to grazing.

“We need to find that out,” Dusty said while I watched the cow.

“You know we have an hour,” I said as we picked up speed, getting closer to downtown.

“Let’s stop and get a bite to eat. It's going to be a long evening and this might be our last

chance.”

“I'll call ahead to the Burger Barn so we don't risk being late.” Dusty whipped out his

phone and began to dial.

13

Alexia Rosenbloom looked much better sitting in my office than in the conference room

in the police station. William Cromly, Council lawyer, and werewolf, sat next to her. A short

stocky man with thick gray hair, William was dressed impeccably in a dark suit like most

lawyers. I debated if it were true black or midnight blue with single strings of gray running in an

almost undetectable pattern. I wasn’t sure of his age, especially since werewolves, like most

magical races, age so much differently than those of us from mostly human stock. The feral look

in his crystal blue eyes must have given him an edge in the court room. Even mundane humans

must’ve been able to see the predator staring out from them. Then again, I’ve often said there’s

not a lot of difference between a wolf and a lawyer, except you can win fair negotiation with

most wolves.

Daphnia Collins, a powerful empath who tends to handle special cases for the Council,

occupied the third chair. I should’ve realized she’d probably be assigned to Alexia due to the

trauma she’d been through in the past day. She’d handle getting Alexia back to normal, and if

Alexia’s testing went well, Daphnia would integrate her into the Council since Alexia wasn’t a

member of one of the ancestral witch or psi families and wasn’t a magical creature like a wer or

an elf. She’d have a bit of a harder time making it very far in the Council hierarchy, but they’d at

least give her a place and a sense of being. Depending on how good a medium she was, I might

even see about trying to supplement that placement a bit. But right now Daphnia was the best

thing for her. She’d do her best to make sure that the lasting psychological damage was minimal.

“I just don't think this is a good idea,” Daphnia said, for the fourth time since our

conversation began.

“But I want to try,” Alexia pleaded with the counselor.

“I don't see the problem here,” William said coldly.

“We’ll do everything we can to minimize any emotional trauma that might have

occurred,” I explained. “Besides, it’ll give her a chance to say goodbye. It might also help the

spirit to rest better and she’ll have a stronger connection to him than anyone other than his

mother. It’ll make things a lot easier. There’ll be less of a chance that something might go

wrong.”

“Are you suggesting that things often go wrong when you try and contact the spirit world

Mr. Peters?” Daphnia’s radiant blue eyes turned toward me.

I felt like a rabbit that just realized there was a hawk staring at it. But I refused to freeze

under that piercing gaze. “Not at all, but I know from experience that it’s easier to communicate

with a spirit if the one trying to place the call is someone the spirit knows. And since the body’s

not buried and even Diane can't get us permission to do a séance in the morgue, we’re going to

have to do the calling away from the body. That makes it more difficult, even if it’s less than

seventy-two hours since the spirit passed over.”

“Mr. Peters has a point.” William sounded as formal as ever, or maybe I should say as

lawyer like.

“Mr. Peters always has a point,” Daphnia argued. “The problem is we’re dealing with the

emotional state of a very fragile young woman here. It might do her irreparable harm to actually

summon the spirit of the man she allegedly killed.”

“And it just might give her a sense of closure so she can go on with her life knowing he

knows she didn’t kill him, that it was something possessing her,” I’d grown weary of Daphnia’s

arguments. Previously, I’d only had minor dealings with the woman. I ran into her once in a

great while, like when I actually attended a Council function. She’d never been in my office

before and I hoped she’d never be again. But I knew if I could get her to agree with this, she’d be

here later when we tried to communicate with Barry Crabtree.

“There is certain validity to your argument, Mr. Peters,” she conceded coldly.

“So why not just let her try,” I interrupted before she could throw in more garbage. “If

she fails, then Tiffany and I can do the calling. If she succeeds, then it can be added to her

Council testing file, saving you and the testing group time.”

“I am certain the testers would appreciate the effort,” William added while Daphnia

glared at me.

She turned to Alexia. “Dear, you don't have to do this.”

“I want to do this,” said Alexia on the verge of tears. “I need to do this. I’ll feel so much

better if I can make Barry understand that it wasn’t me.”

“But what if he won't understand?” For an empath, Daphnia wasn’t being very sensitive

at the moment.

“That’s a chance I have to take. I owe it to Barry.” The look on Alexia's face was so

determined that I could see Daphnia flinch. I’m only a minor empath, but I could feel the

emotions the girl focused on the woman. I have no doubt that given time and training, this girl

would become a very powerful person in her own right.

Daphnia frowned and turned back toward me. “Fine, I’ll allow it, but only if I’m

present.”

“As long as you sit in a corner and stay quiet, I don’t have any problem with you being

here for the circle.”

“I can, as long as you realize that the second something goes wrong, I’ll yank her from

the circle before it has a chance to cause more harm than good.” Apparently she didn’t realize

that there are no corners in a circle. This woman just couldn’t think outside the box. I bet she had

little or no sense of humor, either. “And I want Mr. Cromly here too. We might need his

negotiating skills.”

“Now Daphnia, we’re going to be dealing with a spirit less than forty-eight hours dead,

not an OD from one of the lower levels.”

“I don't care. If Mister Cromly isn't there, then neither are Alexia and I.”

“Have you asked William if he is interested in being here when we call the spirit?” I

hoped he’d have something else going on. The circle was getting a bit crowded.

“Sounds like it might be interesting,” said William, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

“I've never been to a séance before. And it just happens that I’m free all evening.”

“We prefer to call it a Spiritual Calling,” I corrected as I buried the sigh I’d felt building

from underneath my kidneys. “Séance has such a negative connotation to it. Sounds too sleazy,

you know, like shyster.” I have to give William points. He didn’t bare his teeth. He didn't even

bristle visibly.

“Spirit Calling, okay, I can be here.”

The light on my phone flashed a warning from Tiffany that I needed to wrap this up if I

was going to make my next interview, the one with Madeline Fort. “Daphnia, if you don't mind,

why don't you and Alexia spend a few minutes with Tiffany to review the procedure for Spirit

Calling.”

Alexia's eyes lit up at the prospect of learning something new.

“I don't think we’ll need to do that, Mr. Peters,” Daphnia tossed her long brown hair as

she stood up from her chair. “We’ll be here promptly at eleven tonight. Come along Alexia.”

Daphnia sounded more like a governess than a trauma counselor.

Alexia caught my eyes as she stood to follow. There was the first faint hint of a smile on

her lips that I’d seen so far. I could almost hear a slight telepathic thank you.

“You're welcome. See you tonight.” I smiled back at her as Daphnia's too narrow back

approached the door.

“Well, since I'm driving I guess I should go along too before she comes back to get me,”

said William with a sigh. “See you guys tonight.” He nodded submissively to Dusty. William

was one of the lower-ranking wolves. He might be old and a damn good lawyer, but he’s not

overly powerful. He knew his place in the pack and honored any wolf that was higher in the

pecking order.

“Later William,” was all Dusty said as the lawyer headed for the door.

With a long held sigh, I slumped in the chair as the door closed.

“So what has Daphnia's panties in a bunch?” Dusty asked.

“No idea, I don't know her well. Maybe she just has a thing against trying to talk to the

dead.”

Dusty slid off his customary perch on the corner of my desk and came over to straddle

my chair. “Maybe she’s just trying to protect the kid.” He pressed his warm lips against mine.

I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him forward.

“Okay you two, no time for that,” Tiffany said from the doorway. “You need to get on

the road. You've got forty-five minutes to get over to Madeline Fort's place and she’s out in

Garland, so you better get moving.”

I released Dusty from my arms with a slight growl. “Yes, Tiffany,” I said, doing my best

to make it sound like “Yes, Mother.”

14

With two large dogs and a massive cat, Madeline Fort's small apartment felt very

cramped. Like most dogs, they gave Dusty a wide berth trying to stay as far away from him as

possible. When they did have to come near him, they cowered extremely submissively. One of

them had even wet the carpet in fear when we walked into the room before she had the chance to

hide in another room. The cat didn't seem to mind. Regular animals only reacted to wers of

similar type to themselves, so if we had brought Paul Ramirez along, she might have reacted like

the dogs to Dusty, but as it was, she was friendly.

“Well I think it’s great that Reynaldo hired you guys to look into Magee's death. I mean

she is, ah was, such a great person and she had so much to live for. I refuse to believe that she’d

take her own life.” Madeline babbled. She stroked the head of the large golden retriever that

shook beside her with his head on her knee.

“That seems to be how everyone feels. So is there anyone you can think of that would or

could have done Magee harm?” I flipped open my handy notebook, even though I knew that

Dusty could recite almost every word back to me if necessary. For some reason, people just

seemed to think I should be taking notes. So I did.

“Well, I really can't think of anyone other than Barry, but I really don't think he’d harm

anyone. But, you know he was bi-polar, so I guess anything’s possible if he wasn't taking his

medication. I heard about one guy who missed a dose of medication one time and then went off

and killed his whole family. It’s really scary that there are so many people that you just never

know if they might not just go off and start killing people. It really makes you want to stay inside

and never go out again. I mean, really, I just don't understand why people can't just all get along

and just have perfect love and perfect trust for everyone. Well I mean that is what the Goddess

intends for us isn't it? She created this world in perfect love and perfect trust and we should all

live that way. That's what Magee wanted. We knew that if we just went out and talked to

everyone that pretty soon they’d all start to see the world the way that we did, in perfect love and

perfect trust.” A glassiness drifted over her eyes as she rambled on and on.

“So how many people has Magee been talking with lately about her perfect love and

perfect trust ideas?” The words almost gagged me. I was so tired of hearing them.

“Well, just about everyone she could. I mean that was her real calling in life, to get the

Goddess's message out there to promote perfect love and perfect trust. She made sure that at least

once a month she spoke at length about it and how wrong the left-handed path is during get

together. During the moon circles every month, she vowed to the Goddess that her word would

be conveyed to the world. We all promised to do that since it’s the right thing to do. Magee loved

everyone and wanted to share that love as much as she could.”

I recalled her little outburst at Trail Dusters the night before when she screamed at Xan

that Magee could barely stand him. And if this is the woman who practiced such perfect love and

perfect trust, why had she been so worried that she might’ve cast a spell that had gotten Barry

Crabtree killed?

“So you can't think of anyone who might have wanted to kill Magee?” Other than

someone who wanted to shove her perfection down her throat, I thought to myself.

She looked stunned for a moment. “Goddess no! Everyone in the group loved her…” she

began another long diatribe about the meaning of perfect love and how everyone in the get-

together group followed it to the letter, well other than those that didn’t stay around. When she

finally stopped for a breath, I decided to change subjects on her.

“What can you tell us about Barry Crabtree? Weren't you two an item for a while?”

The hand stroking her dog’s head picked up speed to a near frantic pace. “Well, Barry

was a real dear, totally devoted to perfect love. He was like a brother to me for the longest time.

It was such a shame that I just wasn’t attracted to him. I don't see how anyone could be. I think

that Alexia was just using him since he liked to take her out to nice places to eat and buy her nice

things that she’d never been able to have while she lived with her mother. He always did things

like that. He offered to take me places, too, and I loved him. But I loved him like a brother and

he wanted something more. He just wasn’t my type. I like real men if you know what I mean.

Men more like the two of you.” She smiled slyly and my stomach lurched almost as bad as when

she was going on about perfect love. I guess she wasn’t opposed to using her feminine wiles to

get converts.

“What do you think made Alexia kill Barry?” I wanted to get her back on track.

The cell phone vibrated in my pocket.

“Well, I don't know, it doesn't make for very good planning on her part. I mean he was

really good to her. If I’d known how good, and if he’d been more of a man, I’d have been more

inclined to date him. But you know how that is. She’s a sweet girl, like I said, a bit of a gold

digger, but sweet nonetheless. And like Barry, she was really into prefect love and perfect trust. I

think she’d have made a wonderful high priestess for the Fairy Light path, but since she killed

Barry, the fairies won't accept her now as a high priestess unless she undergoes many years of

cleansing rituals and asking their forgiveness. Then they might forgive her and let her into the

priestesshood.” Her thought patterns were scary.

The cell phone vibrated again.

I pulled it out of my pocket, glad for the diversion. It was Tiffany. The only reason she

would call twice in a row was if there was something major going down. “Give me a sec here,” I

said as I flipped the phone open. “What's up?”

“Just got a frantic phone call from Carmine. Another gate just opened and it is only

blocks from you. She wants you to check it out right now.” Tiffany sounded agitated, which was

very unlike her.

Then the floor shook.

15

“Tiff, tell Carmine I'm on it, but I might need a bit of back up here.” I clicked the speaker

phone on and dropped the phone back into my pocket. Tiffany would keep the line open and

relay what was going on to whoever was on the way. I checked the time. Sundown happened

about five minutes ago.

The whole building shuddered.

“Dusty, Get outside!” Whatever made the apartment building shake was probably

heading right toward us and I hoped to lessen life and property loss. If whatever it was had to go

through the building to get us, the chances of loss increased.

“What about the dogs?” asked Maddie, with a stunned look, still sitting on her couch.

“You and the dogs stay in the house. You'll be safer here.” I barely paused on my way to

the door.

“No way,” she said, sounding determined. “If this has something to do with what killed

Magee, I'm going with you. You might need my help!” I didn’t have the time to explain to her

that her help would be equivalent to trying to put out a house fire with a water gun.

The building shook again as Dusty yanked open the door.

“Ah, shit.” Dusty muttered as he paused just briefly at the door. “Try and hold it. I'll be

right back with the kit from the car.” In a flash of werewolf speed he was gone.

Stomping across the well-manicured common area of the apartment was the largest troll

I’d ever seen. Whoever was calling things had grown tired of subtlety. “Tiffany, tell Carmine we

have a troll on the property. We’ll need a cleanup crew for this when we’re done.”

The troll was at least nine feet tall and still growing. Things called into this dimension

have a tendency to come through smaller than their true size so they can fit into the circle that

summoned them. Once they’re released from the circle, they grow to their full size. Trolls tend to

run between eight to ten feet tall and weigh in about a thousand pounds, but this one was going

to go way beyond that.

“What in the hell?” muttered Mad behind me.

“That is a troll. You know one of the fairies.” Hello Fairy Lite, meet Fairy Hard. “Now

do you really want to stay out here in the line of fire?”

“A real fairy? But he's so big.” If she ran forward to embrace the thing and try and tell it

all about perfect love and perfect trust, I was going to stand still and let it eat her.

A roar sounded from above us and a spotted furry shape launched itself from the roof of

the apartment building onto the head of the troll. The weight of the werejaguar wasn’t enough to

snap the troll's neck, but it did stagger the thing backwards. Chunks of dark grey flesh flew as the

jaguar savaged the troll's head. The troll dropped the large mace it carried in its huge hand and

tried to grab the rapidly-moving wer. The wer screamed a long, bone-chilling scream as the troll

grabbed its large bushy tail and pulled.

“Paul, cold iron, not claws!” Dusty yelled as he ran back around the corner with a couple

of large crowbars and a rifle in hand.

He tossed me the rifle. “It’s loaded for fae.”

Then he did a half shift to enhance his strength and rushed forward to help save Paul

Ramirez from the troll’s attack.

I lifted the rifle to my shoulder. Cold iron bullets would be more effective than any

magical leven bolts I could hurl against the thing. I just hoped I could hit it without hitting either

Dusty or Paul. The good thing was, as long as I didn't hit anything vital like heart or head, cold

iron wouldn’t cause permanent damage to a wer.

The wounds Paul caused closed almost instantly, but the blows from the crowbars left

long dark smoking gashes. Paul shifted to his half form to catch the crowbar Dusty threw. The

move took both of them to the ground, clear of the troll's head. The troll searched for his mace as

the two wers circled it swinging their crowbars, which gave me the opening to get a bead on the

thing's head.

The rifle cracked loudly and the troll jerked at the sound. My shot missed, and instead of

going through the thing’s eye, the bullet caught him in the shoulder. It howled in pain and tried

to shove Paul and Dusty out of the way so it could get to me.

“What are you doing?!?” Madeline screamed at me and snatched at the barrel of the rifle.

It was hot enough she had to let go quickly. “Don't kill it! It's a fairy!”

“It's a fucking troll lady,” I yelled back at her over the troll’s howling. “If we don't kill it,

it will kill us. You can't negotiate with trolls. They are not sweet little pollen sniffers that want

nothing more than to fly from flower to flower spreading peace and love and getting their little

fairy rocks off.” I sighted the rifle again at its head.

The second shot missed as the troll rocked forward after Dusty's crowbar caught it in the

groin. Brick and mortar rained down on the sidewalk across the way as the bullet lodged into the

wall. We were beginning to attract an audience, and in the distance, I could hear sirens. I hoped

the cleanup crew would be fast, or there’d be a whole lot more to clean up.

Paul hamstrung the troll with the sharp end of his crowbar and the troll crashed to its

knees. At that moment, I vowed I’d get a couple of cold iron swords to carry in the trunk of the

car. As the troll threw its head back in another howl of pain, I finally got a shot off that made

contact with its head, just as Madeline slammed into me from behind. I fell forward to the

ground and dropped the rifle. My knees hit first and the wave of pain that shot up my legs and

into my lower back was so sharp it almost brought tears to my eyes. I caught myself before I

sprawled across the sidewalk then resisted the urge to turn around and slap her. I grabbed the

rifle where it’d fallen and stood back up. A quick glance at the troll showed that the final shot

had finished it. Paul and Dusty stared at me as they shifted back to full human form.

I turned and glared at the woman who had shoved me. She stood defiantly with her

golden retriever on a short leash. The dog growled at me, but kept glancing at Dusty as he

walked toward me.

“What the hell was that for?” I demanded not bothering to keep the anger out of my

voice.

“I didn't want you to kill the troll!” She hollered back at me. “It was the first fairy I have

seen in the flesh and YOU killed it!”

“And lady if you’re lucky it’ll be the last fairy you see in the flesh,” I hollered back.

“Fairies aren’t the nice sweet little things you think they are. Most of them are deceitful, spiteful,

murdering beasts that are best left Underhill where they belong. Now someone called up that

troll to kill you. I’m betting that someone is one of your little perfect-love-perfect-trust people

from the get-together group. Any new ideas now about who might be willing to use magical

creatures to kill the competition for control of your little group?” I could see the light of the issue

beginning to dawn on her face, pushing away the doubt and dismay.

“I don't know who’d do something like this,” she all but whispered as Dusty put his arm

across my shoulders. “I never knew that magic actually worked.” She dropped to her knees and

hugged the dog to her. “I thought it was just something fun to do.”

“Sorry to bust your bubble, but magic’s real and it can be very dangerous.” I turned away

from her and looked at Dusty. “You Okay?”

“Nothing a good soaking in the hot tub won't fix,” he said, smiling. He gave me a kiss on

the lips.

I pulled the phone out of my pocket. “Tiffany, you still there?”

“Still here, the cleanup crew should be there in less than three minutes. Unfortunately the

cops get there first.” I could hear her talking to someone else in the background.

“Paul can handle the police until the clean up guys get here,” I explained. “Hope they are

bringing the big truck for this thing.” I almost laughed. If my knees and back weren't hurting so

much I might have.

The first police car pulled into the apartment complex’s parking lot and the inhabitants of

the nearby buildings tried to get a better look at the troll while Paul was trying to keep them

away. The advantage to the police was they could help with crowd control while we waited for

the cleanup crew to get there and do their job. The drawback was the longer we dallied there the

colder the trail would be once we tracked the troll back to the circle that called it from Underhill.

“Madeline, please take the dog and go back into the house. Someone’ll be there in a few

minutes to talk with you some more.” What I didn't bother telling her was that after her talk with

the Council cleaner, she wouldn’t remember her encounter with the first real fairy she’d ever

seen, and if she was lucky, would ever see in her life.

She bowed her head and slowly walked back into the house. At the door she turned back

to me. “Sorry I pushed you down.” Then her door closed. The sturdy wooden door blocked the

sound of the dog’s continued barking.

16

Between the warm water of the hot tub and Dusty's strong skilled hands, my back and

legs slowly started to come back to life. We soaked for almost an hour as we worked out each

other’s kinks. Most of Dusty's bruises repaired as he shifted back to human form after the fight

with the troll. Unfortunately I don't mend quite so fast, but Dusty helped a lot.

The cleanup crew arrived at the apartment complex right on schedule just as we finished

getting the police tape around the area to keep the curious away from the troll’s body. The police

were surprisingly susceptible to a little telepathic suggestion and the troll quickly became a

razorback boar that had wandered into the complex from the nearby creek bottom and had been

shot before it hurt anyone. As the cleanup crew took care of everyone else, making sure that their

memories reflected the razorback, Paul, Dusty and I headed off down the path the troll had

created.

Sure enough, the circle from which it had been called was long deserted. We searched the

best we could but there were no signs that told us anything more about who or what called the

troll. The circle area, which was on the banks of a creek under a small bridge, was much like area

where the werejaguar had been found, stamped flat. We couldn’t determine if it was by the troll

or the summoner. The only path leading away from the site was the troll’s, but that could just

have meant that the summoner was crafty enough to cover his or her own exit by taking the same

path as the troll until it reached the street. Whoever called the troll had chosen the location due to

its proximity to Madeline Fort's house. But the troll wasn’t the only thing that had been called

from that circle. It had just been the first thing. Looking around with a knowledgeable eye

revealed several sets of tiny footprints, the shock troupe for the stealth operator that came

through right afterwards. The other OD’s job revealed itself with a call from the cleanup crew.

They found Madeline Fort dead in her apartment, torn apart by her dogs. That left only Brianna

and Byron Supunski as the leaders of the get-together group and there’d been an attempt on

Brianna's life earlier.

“Well there’s some good news,” Tiffany said as she came out into the back yard. “I just

got off the phone with the various wer leaders around town and no one’s missing any people as

of today. It seems that whoever’s behind this has decided to focus on the human element of the

equation for a while.”

She carried a small tray with sandwiches and bottled water. “I realized that you two

haven’t eaten anything in a few hours, so here is something quick to hold you over until after the

séance. Then you can run over, get a steak and give a report to Coyote.” She set the tray down in

the spot on the side of the hot tub designed for trays.

“So what else have you found out today while we have been running around battling

trolls and elementals?” I asked, grabbing a sandwich. I didn’t realize I was hungry, until I saw

the food. It’s not always a good idea to eat a big meal before doing magic. In fact, a lot of people

will fast for up to twenty-four hours before, saying it clears their system. I've always felt it helps

with hallucinations, so I avoid it if at all possible. But a little sandwich, basically meat, bread and

a little cheese, is a good idea as long as it’s something that will not upset your stomach is a good

idea. It’s the same idea as eating carbs before working out and then having a big meal

afterwards.

“Well not a whole lot,” Tiffany replied. “I spent most of the day trying to track down

members of the get-together group. Even using the data we got out of Magee's computer, it

hasn’t been the easiest job in the world. After the troll, I rescheduled your other appointments

from tonight, other than the Barry and Coyote. I’ve got another slate of interviews for you

tomorrow, starting around ten a.m. with Xan Landron. He sounds really flaky and is ‘totally

ready to help in any way,’ his quote. He's clean other than he shows up on every pagan email list,

every gay dating service and has tried to contact the Council several times. They ignore him. His

correspondence with Magee bordered on the obsessive. He was trying to get into her coven, but

per her notes, she put him off hoping he’d just go away.”

“That matches what we’re hearing about him and the impression we got from him at the

get together last night,” I replied between bites.

“After that, you get to go see Lenny Pentelli and Katie Crackles. He's the one that goes

by DMNFRND and claims to be a high magician. No one in the Texas magician’s guild has

heard from him. I have feelers out on both coasts and in Europe, waiting to see what comes back.

He seems clean, almost too clean, not even a parking ticket. It's almost like he’s a made-up

person. On the other hand, Katie Crackles has a record. She’s only steps away from being locked

up on a long-term basis. She assaulted a police officer on a routine stop a couple of years back.

Since then, she’s had several run ins with the local law enforcement including assault and battery

to her last boyfriend. She’s not as strong as Alexia. He escaped her beating with a lead pipe with

only major contusions, but no fatal blows. She now spends part of each day in an anger

management group and probably will for the next few years.”

Dusty grinned around bites of his third sandwich “Wow sounds like she needs their

perf..”

I clamped my hand over his mouth, almost choking him with his sandwich. “Don't say

those words.”

He laughed as I released him. “You know I love and trust you perfectly.” He kissed me

and jumped to the other side of the hot tub.

I stared at him for a second then turned my attention back to Tiffany. She was smiling

too. “So anyway,” I prompted her to continue.

“I also heard back from the pixie rehab lady and she said the pixie’s responding well to

treatment. Hopefully you’ll be able to stop by and question him tomorrow afternoon if we need

to do that. Carmine is fascinated with the alligator remains and photos. She says it’s one of the

most complex high-magic spells she’s ever seen. She agrees that the elemental must have been in

the body of the alligator for some time. She also ran the id of the troll you guys killed tonight.

It’s one Brusier Blendari. He was legally registered to cross over several years ago, but had his

license revoked after he attacked a summoner in Canada last year. The council sent him back and

hoped never to see him again. Carmine’s been communicating with the troll ambassador to the

council. He’s not too happy that one of his citizens happened to end up dead by a Council agent

on Terran soil.”

“Great, just what we need, mad trolls coming at us from every bridge in town.” I could

just imagine what a mess it would be if the trolls decided to declare this a major incident. Like I

had tried to explain to Madeline earlier, trolls aren’t something you can negotiate with. It’s only

because they were one of the fae that they had any real rights on the Council at all. Under normal

circumstances, they’d have to go through the Fae Consortium before engaging the Council, but

since I’m sure that Carmine had gone to him first, it gave him the option to bypass the

Consortium and deal straight with the Council.

“Well Carmine’s fairly sure she can get something worked out with the trolls before that

happens. But right now it sounds like they are still in the shouting part of the negotiations and

she’s trying to keep him from getting her goat,” Tiffany chuckled.

“Yeah that would be bbbbbaaaaaaadd.” Dusty laughed as he came up behind me and

gave me a big hug.

I turned around in his arms and gave him a big wet kiss. “Don't make me get gruff on

you,” I grumbled playfully.

“If you two have had enough time to relax after fighting the troll, then you have about

thirty minutes before people show up for the spirit calling. Knowing Daphnia, they'll be early,”

Tiffany said in that way of hers that was a cross between motherly and something you expect

from a psycho dominatrix nun. Sometimes the woman scared me, but she’s the best right hand a

PI could have.

17

Since we were having guests, Tiffany took the time to clean out the workroom in the

basement to make it look presentable. I wasn't sure what to make of it without the year’s worth

of accumulated candle wax in the quarters and the almost permanent calk markings on the floor.

Unless I missed my guess, she aired out the place a bit too. It seemed to be missing the musty

smell that I always enjoyed about my workroom. Even the bookshelves lacked their layer of

dust. All of our jars of herbs had been cleaned and seemed to be in alphabetical order. And our

magical instruments were shinier than I’d seen them in years. If I didn't know better, I’d swear

that Tiffany was trying to impress someone.

Four extra chairs lined up against the wall in front of the bookcase. It was never a good

idea to have extra people in a circle when you are trying to communicate with a spirit. So Tiffany

arranged for the surplus people to sit outside the circle where they could do as little damage as

possible and be as safe as possible. Tiffany’d already cast the preliminary circles around the

chairs for a bit of added protection. They’d be finished right before the main circle went up,

effectively locking the occupant into the chair. She’d also already done as much preliminary

work as possible in the actual laying out of the main circle. All the sigils were carefully drawn on

the concrete floor. When I joined the three lines that had been left open for us to walk through

and made a final pass around the circle, we’d be locked in as well. The circle for the spirit of

Barry Crabtree was complete and waiting for its occupant.

Tiffany insisted that I wear my actual working robes for the calling. She wore hers. It’s a

well-known fact that you can cast magic without the robes. You can cast magic in street clothes,

which is what I normally do. Or you can go for the nudist look, which is okay in certain

situations, but the robes are not nearly as necessary as some practitioners would like people to

think. When you trace the real meaning of the robes back, it is twofold. First, the robes allow for

a worker of magic to be covered head to toe but the garment is loose enough not to restrict blood

flow. Nothing interrupts a meditation faster than some body part going to sleep because your

jeans were too tight and they cut off the flow of blood to your legs, toes, or whatever. The other

big reason to wear a robe, particularly one that you only use for magic, is it helps set your mind

in the right state to do magic. If you follow a set pattern when you get ready for magic each time,

your mind begins to fall more easily into the state to do magic. For a lot of people, this means

putting on a robe. Plus the robes are showy and I think Tiffany was shooting for showy tonight.

Tiffany's was a stunning silver lamé number that was a very basic cut but accented her

cleavage, and with its gold adornments around the neck and sleeves, it accented her golden hair

perfectly in candlelight. My robe, on the other hand, was basic black. There was nothing special

about it, just basic black, floor length and I made sure that the sleeves billowed out a bit to give

me a little extra room. I knew, like me, that Tiffany had a spare concentrated knife strapped to

her thigh, in addition to her athame that rode in its sheath hanging from her cable tow. You can

never tell what might happen in these situations so it is best to be prepared.

The altar was laid out in classic precision with everything we would need should Alexia

have trouble calling to Barry's spirit. It looked to me that Tiffany had actually polished the

pentacle. I began to wonder how Tiffany had time to set up the appointments, get the workroom

so tidy and do everything else that she did. I suppose it was just one of those secrets that all

executive assistants have, how to get so much done that the boss stands around and wonders

about it. Either that or she has an army of gnomes that come in and handle things for her while

she gets her nails done.

True to Tiffany's prediction, Daphnia showed up early with Alexia and William in tow.

Alexia’s excitement didn’t reflect in the other two. William looked positively bored. He had

removed his tie and coat, but otherwise wore the same shirt and slacks he had on earlier. A

feeling of intense control and worry settled over Daphnia. I could feel she was trying to shield

something from us, but I couldn’t tell what. I often find empaths annoying. They either wear

their hearts on their sleeves with their feelings and anything they’re picking up from everyone

else out for the world to see. Or, they clamp down so tight they go into ice princess mode where

nothing can touch them and they feel cold and aloof. Daphnia seemed the mistress of ice

princesses tonight. I’d never noticed that about her before in our limited encounters and I

wondered if this was her normal feel or if it was something new? And if it was something new,

what had changed in her that made it necessary?

Alexia was the bright spot in the room, both emotionally and physically. She had changed

into a bright orange t-shirt and cap with NASCAR logos on them. She wandered around the

room as far from Daphnia as the woman would let her go, looking at the various things in the

room. I noticed her caution when moving around the chalk lines on the floor. The books and

herbs seemed especially interesting to her.

“I've never heard of most of these books,” she said to Tiffany who stood closer to her.

I made last-minute adjustments to the altar, not that much needed adjusting. I just wanted

to seem like it mattered to me how things were laid out.

“Most of these books are not available through normal channels,” Tiffany explained.

Well that was an understatement. The Council went out of its way to control the magical

knowledge available to the public. They controlled the major publishing houses to the extent that

nothing that worked, without at least a bit of natural talent, was released. If you have ever

wondered why there are only a couple of places that put out books on magic and why so many of

the books just seem like rehashing of the same old stuff, well the Council is behind it. They say it

is their duty to keep the public safe. I guess ignorance is bliss in this case.

“Mr. Peters, where did you get this?” Daphnia demanded, hefting my copy of the legal

list of ODs that could be summoned. “You are not a licensed summoner.”

Tiffany intercepted her, snatching the book from her upraised hand. “Ethan is not a

licensed OD summoner, but I am and that book is mine. We often share this workspace and I

tend to use it more than he does for a lot of things.” Tiffany returned the book to the shelf with a

flourish.

Dusty led Paul Ramirez down at that point and everyone stopped to look at them.

“What is he doing here?” Daphnia asked in a high, almost screechy voice. I’d expected

William would’ve been the one doing all the demanding and such, but he remained quiet, letting

Daphnia take charge of everything. I bet much like Dusty did every day, he was taking

everything in, and if nothing else, it would all show up in a Council report later.

“Officer Ramirez is the Council liaison with the police department,” I explained coldly.

“He’s also investigating what’s going right now. Some of the information that we might get from

the spirit of Barry Crabtree might be of interest to him and his part of the investigation.” My

dislike for the woman was growing exponentially every time she opened her mouth. I cocked an

eyebrow at Paul in question and he shrugged. I guess he had no idea what was up her ass any

more than I did.

“I'll be making an official report to the Council board from my viewpoint once the case is

resolved,” Paul said calmly as he walked over toward William. “So how's life Bill?”

“Doing good, how's fatherhood?” The werewolf extended a hand.

“A lot more tiring than I would’ve thought.”

“So I guess this is everyone except the spirit, so let's go ahead and get started.” I stepped

to the center of the room. “Dusty, if you, Paul, William and Daphnia would take you seats.” I

gestured to the chairs lined up by the bookcase.

“Mr. Peters, I’ll be in the circle with Alexia,” Daphnia interrupted.

“No you won't,” I responded quietly. “You’re an empath. If something goes wrong,

you’re the one most likely, other than the medium, to provide an easy host for an unwanted

spirit. And if I remember your Council dossier, you’ve had no formal high-magic training, and

therefore, you’d be a liability to us. I’ll not put any of us, yourself included, in harm's way by

including you in a circle. I agreed to let you attend. I didn’t agree to let you participate. A safe

place has already been arranged for you where you can observe the proceedings and that’s where

you will be.”

Her mouth opened, closed and opened again. “Alexia is under my care.”

I focused my most stern stare on the empath and forced as much emotion as I could into

it. “Yes she is and that’s why you’re being allowed to witness the calling from outside the circle.

Otherwise you’d be witnessing the circle from outside the room. And I warn you that if you

move outside the protective circle that’s cast around your chair, I won’t be held responsible for

the circumstances.” I glanced at William and Paul, both nodded to show that they had witnessed

my declaration. If she was going to be bitchy about things, it was a good idea to have backup

witnesses who had no emotional bonds to me. That was another reason I’d invited Paul to come

watch.

I gestured again to the chairs. “So please take a seat so we can get this show on the road.”

Daphnia complied, although the look on her face said she didn’t like it.

Tiffany took Alexia's elbow and led her toward the altar. “Alexia, we'll be over here.”

Once all four spectators were in their chairs, I closed the individual circles, taking the

opportunity to grab a quick kiss from Dusty. I felt each circle flare up as it was completed. I had

every confidence in Tiffany's casting, so I didn’t worry once the circles were in place. I felt a

definite shift in the air of the room as Daphnia's circle closed around her, locking the empath

away from everyone.

The larger circle took longer to close, requiring me to sketch a symbol of closing between

the second and third circles to complete them. A sense of peace settled as I felt the circle rise up

around us. I always love the way the world feels from inside a circle. It was deceptively

comforting and secure. That is one of the big catches to the feeling inside a well-cast circle. It’s

like swimming in the middle of an ocean with the energy swelling around you ebbing and

flowing like soothing water currents. You can feel the vastness of it. It can make you seem

totally alone, and you never realize that if you make the wrong move something can come and

gobble you up just like a shark.

Alexia stood next to Tiffany with wide eyes, reflecting the wonder of feeling a well-

crafted circle come to life around her, sort of like a kid watching for the first time as the lights on

a Christmas tree come on. Her mouth opened in a silent “Wow.” Well the kid definitely had

potential if her reaction to a circle going up around her was that profound.

“Okay Alexia, we’re going to try this using your ability as a medium first. Go ahead and

take a seat.” I gestured to the large pillows that Tiffany placed in the circle so we could get

comfortable on the floor around the altar.

I settled down on a cushion as did Tiffany. We ended up as we had planned, with Alexia

between us. “Now Alexia, what do you normally do to try and contact a spirit?”

She looked a bit confused. “Well normally there’s not a try about it. Normally they just

show up and start talking to me. Some like Grandma never really leave after that, or don't leave

for long.”

“Okay, so what were you doing when you first started talking to your Grandmother?”

She thought about it for a bit. “I think I first noticed her when I’d been going through an

old photo album. I’d been looking at a picture of her and suddenly I felt someone standing

behind me and there she was. She's been with me ever since. Well, unless she is off harassing

mom. She's not too fond of mom and the way she treats me.”

“Alright, so what about other spirits you’ve talked to? How did you know they were

around?”

“Normally that happens if I’m close to where the spirit is, they just start talking.

Sometimes if it’s like a haunted house, there can be a lot of them that show up and want me to

listen to them. It can be very overwhelming.” She looked a bit perplexed.

“Since we can't get you into the place where Barry was killed right now, and doing this

from the morgue is also something we can't pull off, we’re going to have to try to expand your

abilities a bit.” I used my most reassuring voice, really hoping to inspire her confidence that she

could do this.

Tiffany reached over and took Alexia's hand in hers, drawing the girl’s attention to her.

“A lot of other mediums find it helpful to have something of the person they’re trying to contact,

or some emotional bond with them.”

“That's why you’re thinking that I can reach Barry, because we were dating,” The girl

nodded. “You know he gave me this shirt.” She ran her fingers along the edge of the NASCAR

logo on the orange shirt. “It's my favorite shirt.”

Tiffany nodded slightly. “Try and remember back to how you felt when he gave it to you,

what it was like with him there giving it to you. See him in your mind. Reach out to him.” Her

voice was smooth as silk and I could feel a tingle of energy as she reached out trying to help

Alexia into a trance that’d help contact Barry.

There was a slight noise from outside the circle. I glanced toward the chairs and noticed

that Daphnia was now slumped in hers, unconscious. Evidently, she’d triggered the internal

protection spell that Tiffany laid on the chairs to prevent the occupants from leaving. Yeah, it

was a bit controlling, and it would be counterproductive if something got out of the main circle

and tried to go after the inhabitants of the chairs, but it kept the people in the chairs and out of

our hair. Dusty knew to stay seated until the circle came down. I didn't feel sorry for Daphnia.

She’d probably be awake in a minute or two. It wasn’t that strong of a spell.

A sharp intake of breath drew my attention back to Tiffany and Alexia. There, standing in

the circle that had been laid for him, was the spirit of Barry Crabtree.

I had to say that death appeared to suit him a bit better than life, or at least what I had

seen of his life so far. His thick bright red hair hung down past his broad shoulders, his full beard

was neatly trimmed and his pale checks finished out a flawless peaches-and-cream complexion.

It didn't appear that he had an ounce of surplus weight on him and I knew from the morgue that,

in life, he had more than his share. Many psi-positive people had full control over their spirit

form. Barry Crabtree had caught on quickly that he was dead and fashioned his form to his

liking. The black leather duster over black t-shirt and pants along with a black cowboy hat made

him look like a ghost cowboy from Hell. All that was missing were the spurs and six shooters.

“Barry?” Alexia asked sounding uncertain.

“Alexia, you’re alright.” He made a move to leave the circle and the edges flashed

brightly, forcing him back. He looked around confused.

“I'm fine, Barry. You're in a magic circle. Sorry but you can't get out until Mr. Peters

opens the circle.”Alexia explained to the ghost.

“Ethan, please,” I laughed. I hated people calling me Mr. Peters. It sounded weird, almost

obscene. “Barry, we need to ask you a few questions.”

“Sure, I'm just happy that Alexia’s alright. After I died I saw the spirit leaving her, I

knew it wasn't her that had killed me. My Alexia would never hurt me.” He settled into the

center of the circle, carefully avoiding the edges, and although he looked like he had the urge to

pace, he stood still.

“Oh Barry, I’m so sorry it happened.” Alexia started to rise from her cushion, but Tiffany

stopped her with a hand on her arm and a shake of her head. “All I remember is opening the

door, then you were dead on the floor and your baseball bat was in my hand.”

“It's okay, baby.” He started forward again, like he wanted to comfort her, but the

looming circle stopped him. He turned to me, eyes pleading. “What can I do to help?”

“What do you remember?”

“I heard a knock at the door. Alexia answered it while I was in the kitchen. I heard her

open and then close the door. When I came back into the living room, she was standing there

with this strange look on her face and my baseball bat in her hands. She didn't say anything. She

just started hitting me with the bat. It didn't take long before she had killed me, but she kept

hitting me with the bat. As my spirit formed over my body she was still hitting me with the bat.

After a couple of minutes, she went still. Then a strange glow covered her and then moved away.

The glow seemed to have something inside of it, like some kind of sci-fi monster or something. I

tried to follow it, but something held me back.”

I nodded to him. It was normal for a spirit to be tied to the body for a little while after

death. I couldn’t feel any spirit attached to his body in the morgue, so the ties must have

loosened fairly quickly. What he described sounded like a fire elemental, which would fit with

the thing that attacked Brianna Supunski.

“Alexia, have you noticed any burns on your body since the attack?” I asked.

“Like these?” She raised her hands and showed me several big blisters. “I thought they

might have been from gripping the bat so strongly.”

“Looks like you were possessed by a fire elemental,” I said while Tiffany inspected her

hands.

“But why would a fire elemental want to possess Alexia?” Barry asked putting his hands

behind his back.

“Why would an air elemental want to possess an alligator and try to kill Brianna

Supunski this morning?”

“A possessed alligator tried to...to kill Bree?” Alexia all but stammered.

“Yeah and Madeline Fort was torn apart by her dogs tonight. We haven’t been able to

determine what did that.”

“Ah, Ethan,” Paul called from outside of the circle. “The cleanup crew finally worked out

is was a pair of Packrider Fae. They took over the dogs and rode them to kill their mistress.”

Dusty and William looked worried. “If we have someone who is calling up Packrider

Fae, we have to stop them fast,” Dusty said for the two of them. “If the person summoning them

knows they can take over werewolves in wolf form, this could be disastrous. We'll have to warn

Coyote tonight.”

Until that point, I’d only read about Packrider Fae. They’re a very rare form of fae that

have the ability to take over any canine and force it to do their will. Due to the potential damage

they could cause by taking over werewolves, they’re one of the outlaw races of fae on this plane.

Summoning one is an offense punishable by death per Council law. If we had someone

summoning Packrider Fae, then this just became a shoot-first, ask-questions-later assignment. I

figured we'd get the orders from Carmine before morning. It also meant I could charge her more.

“Packrider Fae killed Mad?” Alexia seemed stunned.

“Yeah,” Barry cheered, “the obnoxious bitch was torn apart by her own bitchy dogs.” I

think he would have jumped for joy if the circle had allowed him the space.

“This just upped the ante. It’s one thing for someone to be summoning unlicensed beings,

but something totally different to be summoning outlawed races,” I said, trying to go over in my

mind what all we knew. That would take a bit of a pow-wow with Tiffany and Dusty and we

didn’t have time for that now with everyone else here. It also reinforced that somehow, someone

in the Council was involved since the existence of Packrider Fae wasn’t something that was

easily found out unless the summoner had connections to the Council or had found the right fae

to question about it. And questioning fae was a very difficult thing to do since they have a

tendency to avoid answering questions they didn’t want to answer unless you worded everything

very specifically. I wanted to get this over with and get Daphnia and William out of the house.

Paul I trusted. He’s a good honest wer and cop.

“Barry is there anyone you can think of who would want to harm you, Magee and

Madeline?”

“As far as I am concerned, I can't think of anyone. I try to be nice to everyone and I

haven't pissed too many people off over the years. But as far as M&M, you might want to check

with any of the people who left the get-together group after they got tired of the perfect-love-

perfect-trust bs. Those two were always forcing it down people's throats, always speaking out

about the left-handed path and trying to turn people to the light. They never realized that without

the dark there can be no light.” A common theme was developing among the people who had

dealt with the dead women.

“Okay, let's look at it this way, can you think of anyone who would want to take over the

get-together group?”

He thought for a moment. “Well with me, Magee and Mad out of the picture, that leaves

Bree and Byron in charge, but you say an alligator was in their yard today and tried to eat Bree,

so I'd say it’d be kinda cheesy for them to try and set that up. Xan’s always acting like he thinks

of himself as a good candidate for leadership. He likes being in the spotlight. Katie keeps

offering to high priestess for people although she’s completely certifiable. If you’re looking for

someone to take over the group, I wouldn't waste time looking at past people. Look to new folks.

Lenny and Katie are some of the newest people, but I don't think Katie has the forethought to try

anything and Lenny’s too busy trying to keep Katie in line to plan out something this complex.”

“Did you ever hear any of them talk about summoning things or high magic?” I asked,

hoping that another angle might provide some insight.

“Magee would have had a fit if someone suggested summoning things and she was pretty

sure that high magic was most likely left handed. Mad wanted to call the fairies all the time, but

that’s not the same thing as summoning is it? I brought up the idea one time of summoning a

spirit to help us in some of the coven work. I think it was a money spell. And Magee said that if

there wasn’t perfect love and perfect trust in the spirit we were going to call, she didn't want to

call It, and if we had to take the precaution of calling it into a circle like this,” Barry gestured to

the circle he was enclosed in, “then she didn't want to have anything to do with it.”

“At least they seemed to be self regulating in their stupidity,” Tiffany grumbled softly.

“So anything else you think might be interesting or that we may have missed so far?” I

asked Barry, hoping to wind things up so I could get on to dinner and more pow-wowing with

Dusty and Tiffany.

“At the moment that is all I can think of. But you know this dead thing’s not so bad. I

know we don't stay dead long right now. That's why there are not more real haunted houses than

there are. People get reincarnated really fast. But I ran into Magee earlier. I thought I’d go by her

place and see if I could catch Reynaldo banging Mad. Magee was there and you know she’s as

big a bitch dead as she was alive. She told me she hopes that they take a while getting around to

calling her back to a life since she’s enjoying herself tormenting Reynaldo. Now I know the guy

isn't the nicest guy around, but she’s enjoying this a little too much. But anyway, she said

something about Reynaldo disturbing her altar and moving things around and now something

was missing. She’s sure that there was a candle on the altar and her chalice has been moved.

Reynaldo keeps the room locked so his daughter can't get in there, so Magee’s just sure that

whatever killed her moved things around after she was dead.” Barry's form shimmered a bit,

becoming less opaque than it had been. The strain of a full body apparition was beginning to take

a toll on him. He’d start to fade away moment by moment.

“Well that is helpful.” I chose not to say anything about Dusty and I being the ones with

the candle and having moved the chalice. I wondered where she’d been while we had been at the

house. We’d have to call her up again to ask her and I wasn't sure I was in the mood for that.

“Barry if you and Alexia want a moment to say goodbye, we need to release you before this

takes too big of a toll on either of you.”

Alexia walked over to Barry. Careful not to cross the circle, Tiffany and I moved to the

side of the circle closer to the chairs to give them a bit of privacy to say goodbye.

Once Barry was gone back to the other side, the circle came down. I quickly released the

circles around the chairs. Daphnia was so enraged about being locked in beyond her ability to get

out that she practically drug poor Alexia out of the room and out of the house with William

trailing along behind them. Paul had to head back to check on his wife and baby, leaving Tiffany,

Dusty and I to head over to Coyote's Place to grab a steak and warn Coyote about the Packriders.

Coyote joined us for a moment in the main dining room after we informed him of the

Packrider Fae in his private office. He’d been understandably worried and wondered how he was

going to get the pack to stay in human form until the threat was resolved and hoped that it would

be by full moon. After handling a minor issue in the kitchen, he had just sat down next to Tiffany

when his eyes became unfocused. I knew that look from human telepaths that I worked with

from time to time. He was communicating with someone, most likely one of his pack, since to

my knowledge, Coyote didn’t have any telepathic skills worthy of mention other than his link

with the wolves in his pack. The look lasted only for a second or two, then he shook his head and

a look of horror crossed his face. Since he was the pack alpha, it’d be impolite to ask him what

was wrong. We all put down our forks and knives and waited for him to speak.

It seemed a lot longer than it actually did before he finally said something. “Sam's in

trouble.” His voice was strained with the horror he had felt from her.

18

Dusty reached out a hand for his uncle. “Where is she uncle Bob?”

“She took tonight off to go sit at the Stones on the Moors. She wanted to spend some

time by herself tonight. I wasn't going anywhere and told her it was okay, Toby could keep track

of things here.” The alpha was more shaken than I had ever seen him.

“Coyote, is she still there? Is she still alive?” I asked as I started to get out of my seat.

“She was a moment ago when she broke the link with me. She’s trying to protect me

from her pain.” His voice was shaky.

“There’s a slim chance, but we have to try.” I pushed my chair in and turned toward the

door.

“Tiffany, call Carmine and see if there is anyone close to the stones tonight.” The Stones

on the Moors was a small park on the southern side of Arlington. There are a number of granite

monuments there, inspired by actual standing stones from England. A large number of the local

Wiccan and pagan groups liked to do their rituals there whenever they could. The land around

the park was marshy with a small creek running through it. We were a good half hour away

under normal driving conditions. I could only hope that this late there’d be no traffic.

“Tell her we'll be there in about fifteen minutes if traffic cooperates.”

“Coyote, who do you have here that can protect you? Who can we take with us? And can

you call any others of the pack that might be in Arlington?” Tiffany asked as we headed toward

the door.

“Toby and Blanche can protect me. Take Silver with you, she's close to Sam and if this

happens to involve the Packriders, she won't have to worry. None of the pack, other than Sam,

are near Arlington tonight. But I can call a couple of people from Fort Worth.” He seemed to

regain a little of his normal self. I knew how close he and Sam were and how, if anything

happened to her, he would be at a major loss, not just for his best bodyguard, but for a very good

friend.

“Good. We're on our way.” I motioned Tiffany and Dusty to follow me as we made our

way quickly, but not fast enough to alarm the other patrons.

We just cleared the front doors of the restaurant when I heard someone call out. From the

side of the building, a tall, slim, dark-haired woman ran toward us. I recognized Silver Phantom

Dancer, one of the waitresses and also the only werepuma in town. “Coyote said Sam’s in

trouble and you guys needed help. What can I do?”

“We're not totally sure yet,” said Tiffany, taking the initiative while I unlocked the car

doors. “But come on with us and we'll see when we get there.”

“Where’s there?” Silver asked as she slid into the back seat behind Dusty.

“Out on the Moors,” Tiffany replied as she slid in behind me on the driver' side.

Before Dusty closed his door, I had the engine running. I ran possible routes through my

head as I drove up on the freeway, but unfortunately from where we were, there was no clear

shot across town to where we needed to be. There was no other choice but taking the long way

around. As I picked up speed, I wrapped a thin shield of energy around the car, thankful that we

had the car and not the truck. The ladies in the back seat might be a bit cramped, but the Mustang

was nice and fast and shields like I was weaving would work better to keep anyone from seeing

us and prevent cops from stopping us and delaying our ride to the rescue.

Other than Tiffany on the phone from time to time, no one spoke as we raced across the

Metroplex. I was thankful for the quiet. I needed all my concentration to weave in and out of the

light traffic, which was common in the area even in the wee hours of the morning, while

maintaining the magical shield around the car. Carmine's closest person was about ten minutes

away and would meet us there. Coyote's Fort Worth people were twenty minutes away and on

their way there as well.

“Holy Shit!” Dusty exclaimed as we pulled off the highway at the exit that would take us

to the park.

The area was lit by magical fire. It looked like someone had set fire to the entire park

area. Bright flames of red, blue and gold danced among the rock monuments ahead of us. It was

one of the most awesome displays of large-scale magic I’d ever seen. I could only hope that the

mundanes couldn’t see it. If they could, the cleanup crew would be busy containing the problem

for days.

Sam's pickup truck was parked in the small dirt parking lot for the park, next to a battered

Volkswagen Beetle. I recognized the Beetle. It belonged to Henry Klienfelter, one of the mages

that worked for Carmine. I didn’t see Henry in the car, so I assumed that he was out in the park

trying to figure out the source of the lights.

Gravel flew as I slid the Mustang into the spot next to the Beetle. The car was barely

stopped before the doors opened and we piled out.

“Dusty, you and Silver find Sam and make sure she’s okay. Tiffany and I’ll try and figure

out the cause of the lights and shut it down.” I headed toward the hill that was the entrance to the

park, after grabbing the travel bag from the trunk.

I felt the push of the magic as we got closer. Someone had set off something big and we

needed to resolve it now before it got any bigger. As we topped the hill, I saw that it might have

been a lot more than I’d bargained for. In the small valley the creek had formed over the

millennia, where the stones now stood, a giant shimmering doorway gaped open. In front of the

doorway, a short man paced.

“Henry,” Tiffany called out as we started down the hill.

The man turned. His rumpled appearance, along with the fuzzy-puppy slippers he wore,

indicated he’d been asleep when he’d gotten the call to come out and help us. His thin grey hair

was more scattered than normal and his eyes looked tired.

“Thank the Gods you're here,” he said, a mix of relief and worry showing on his face. “It

looks like someone has opened a major gateway between here and one of the lower dimensions.

I’m trying to figure out how to disrupt the spell and shut down the gate.”

“Has anything come through?” I started digging in the travel bag for the stuff we needed

to close the gate.

“Well I just got here, but I’m betting that something did. There was a lot of howling just

to the north a few minutes ago. Sounded a bit like a wolf. I'm not sure if that was whatever came

through or if it was something else.”

“A werewolf in trouble in the park is why we came out, so I suppose it’s probably her.” I

said as I pulled out a large container of salt. Then, a howl split the air confirming that at least one

werewolf was still alive in the park. I knew Dusty's howl and that wasn’t it. My hopes rose that

we’d arrived in time to save Sam. The howl would give Dusty and Silver something to home in

on, and I could only hope that they could handle any trouble they encountered. It made focusing

on the problem of the gate easier.

I tossed the container of salt to Tiffany. “If we can break the connection, the gate should

close.” I turned and handed another container of salt to Henry. “Was there anyone else here when

you got here?”

The short man shook his grey head. “No, but then I didn’t look around much. With this

thing lighting up the sky, I came straight here. All I saw was the pickup truck in the parking lot.”

I scanned the ground near the gateway. There should be some kind of circle or sigil or

something that held the gate open. Tiffany and Henry were busy using the salt to form a circle

around the gate. As they approached the completion of the circle, I felt a change in the gate’s

energy. The energies rose to a higher frequency and become more erratic. As I hoped, casting

this very basic salt circle around the circle on which the gate was formed would help cut the

gate’s connection to this plane.

As Tiffany’s and Henry’s salt lines met on the far side, the gate sputtered. Looking up

from my ground search, I saw them through the gate’s bright, hazy energy and the dancing blue

and purple light cast strange light paintings across their features. The gate struggled for life, just

like any other living thing, trying to maintain its energy flow. The light changed from blues and

purples to orange and yellows. Tiffany chanted the lines to complete the circle’s closure. It was a

crude, simple circle. I wouldn’t have wanted to stake my life on it if there were an angry OD on

the other side, but it was enough for what we needed. The gate’s energy wavered like a candle in

a strong wind, then the light flared and fell until it finally sputtered out. The aural spectacle

around the park had ended. Only the lights on the sidewalks and monuments glowed to provide

safe passage for any late-night walkers.

I pulled a couple of flashlights out of the travel bag and tossed one to Tiffany. As it

passed through the spot where the gate had been moments before, it shimmered and slowed

slightly before continuing on to Tiffany's waiting hand. “That’s still a bit hot,” she said as she

flipped the light on.

With the gate pretty much history, it was easier to see the ground. We were careful not to

walk through the spot where the gate had been, since there was always a possibility of a flare up

and none of us wanted to get caught up in that. At the center of the area where the gate had been,

a small metallic disk lay. Using a stick I spotted laying on the ground, I gently moved it clear of

the spatial disturbance above it.

Both sides of the disk were etched with a series of complex sigils and runes. On one side

a magic square shone in the faint light of the flashlights. It’d take a while to decipher the

numbers, symbols and sigils and the order they occurred in the square, but I had every

confidence that Tiffany would have it worked out in a matter of days, if not hours. On the other

side, I could make out a few of the runes, the most important one was the one that was different.

“That's odd.” Tiffany stared over my shoulder, following my train of thought. “That one

looks like it was put there after the others.” She reached out for the disk and I dropped it into her

hand. With one delicate, well-manicured fingernail, she circled the odd rune. “I bet this is the

rune that activated the gate. The person that used the disk created it beforehand, then this rune

had to be carved, probably with their athame, or some other knife to complete the spell. This

took some planning.” I could tell by the tone in her voice she’d be up all night trying to decipher

the runes. “These things are not easy to make either. This isn’t something just any old mage can

do. Hopefully they signed it and the signature will match something on the gator from this

morning.”

“The gator from this morning?” said Henry, breaking his silence. I’d almost forgotten he

was there.

“Long story, there should be a report on it in the Council records by now,” I said as I

turned my light back toward the ground to see if there was anything else that might be of interest.

A howl and a scream ripped the quiet night open.

“Henry, stay here and keep checking to see if there’s anything else to be found. Sounds

like whatever came through the gate didn’t leave when the gate came down.” Tiffany handed her

flashlight to him, dropped the copper disk into her pocket and followed me.

We dashed up past the first couple of monuments. The howling continued. Again it didn’t

sound like Dusty. When it echoed through the park again, the scream sounded like a big cat. It

was a good assumption that Silver had changed to her puma form. We hurried down the slope

toward the sounds, which were now compounded with splashing water. They were fighting

something in the creek.

One of the monuments straddled the creek and the spotlights at the monument’s base

illuminated each of the base stones toward the towering stone piece that stretched between them.

Curling up the side of the stone, a scaled body tired to climb to the top. On the creek’s far bank, I

saw a large, dark furry form that I recognized as Sam’s massive wolf shape, but I couldn’t tell if

she was moving. She’s as large as many of the male wolves and more powerful than most. She’s

in the running for the next pack alpha female after Coyote died and a new alpha male was in

place. Being another strong silent type, I’m not sure she had the personality to pull off the role of

alpha female, but she certainly had the power for it.

A tan form leapt from the edge of the creek onto the top of the monument. I’d never seen

a werepuma in puma form. They’re one of the rarest wer species. From all the books, it was one

that only rarely transmitted to humans via attack. Almost all werepumas are genetic wers and

they had a notoriously slow birth rate. Most of their breeding-age females were treated as

queens. I’ve never stopped to question why a female werepuma was waiting tables at Coyote's

place and running with the jaguar pride. Paul had said something about some sort of interwer

exchange program where her pride watched over a jaguar and the jaguars watched over her.

Silver's puma form was larger than most mountain lions I’ve seen in zoos and such. It

was closer in overall size to an African lion, but still maintained the look of a puma with the

darker markings on the ears, feet and tail. The overall fur color was almost a grey tone. I

wondered if they tended to vary as much as werewolves. The jump appeared easy for her as she

slid to a stop atop the monument and glared down at the naga that struggled up the pillar toward

her.

“Fuck, a naga,” Tiffany swore as she sorted out what we were seeing.

Nagas were nasty creatures. Pulled from the elemental plane of fire, some of them had a

greater-than-human intelligence and could be particularly powerful spell casters. Most that fell

into the category had proper visas that allowed them to come and go on this plane. I would have

bet this particular one didn’t have all the proper paperwork to be here.

I reached into the bag as I watched Dusty in his sleek red-furred wolf form leap and catch

the snake being’s tail in his mouth. His sudden weight dragged the snake’s grip off the

monument and it fell forward. The pair hit the ground in a tumble of fur, fangs and scales as the

naga sought to escape.

Silver came crashing down as Dusty let go of the naga and danced out of the way of its

grasping arms. Silver missed hitting the thing in the head, but managed to strike it in the lower

back. Up close and personal, the thing’s screams were most unsettling.

A bright light flashed by my head. Thankfully Tiffany's aim was sharp as she sent a

volley of leven bolts at the thing.

The naga struggled to get away from the wers that fought it and the mage that shot magic

at it, then it suddenly rushed toward the creek. Although nagas come from the elemental plane of

fire, here in this plane, they love the water and if it reached the creek, we’d lose it for sure. With

the gate closed, there would be a loose naga running around south Arlington, Texas. Carmine

would have my hide.

“Don't let it in the water.” I screamed as I ran the short distance to it, athame in hand.

Now an athame may not seem like much, but in this situation, it’d be as good as it was going to

get. I’d much rather have picked the thing off from a distance with the rifle, but the chance of

hitting either Silver or Dusty was too high. Not to mention that I wasn’t sure which subspecies

this particular naga fell into. A couple of the subspecies could deflect bullets and I didn’t want

bullets bouncing all over the park.

I pushed power down into the sacred knife until it glowed with energy waiting to be

released, then plunged the knife into the naga. As the dagger slid easily through one of the holes

the wers had made in the thick scaly hide, I released the energy and fell back. Dusty had seen me

do this once before, so he bounced back a couple of steps after yanking on Silver's leg to get her

to follow him. She looked confused but followed as I dashed away from the naga.

I hoped this trick would work. It’d worked on everything else I’d ever tried it on, but the

problem with magical creatures is that no two ever react the same way. Luck was on my side. As

the naga made a last-ditch effort to make it to the water, it started to glow and then exploded in a

spray of light and snake guts.

I retrieved my athame as Dusty shifted back to human form.

“Thanks for the save,” he said, wrapping a sweaty arm around my waist and pulling me

close. “That thing was nasty.” His kiss tasted awful and I pushed him back a bit.

“Love, let's get your teeth brushed and try that again,” I said. “You had that nasty naga in

your mouth and you never know where those have been.”

“While you were fighting it, did it say anything or try to use magic?” Tiffany asked as

she toed over a piece of naga in the grass.

“No and it seemed uncertain when we showed up. It had Sam cornered and was moving

in for the kill,” Dusty explained while Silver leapt across the creek and ran to Sam's side. “Then

it paused, shimmered a bit and tried to get away.”

“She's still alive!” Silver called out from the other side of the creek. With a lot of help

from my telekinesis, we carried Sam's unconscious body across the creek, then headed for her

truck in the parking lot. She had numerous cuts, and from the smell, I was willing to bet that

some of the damage was poison that we need to deal with asap. I knew Coyote would have a

medic at the restaurant before we could get back to his place. I hoped she lasted that long.

Tiffany prepared something magically that would help slow the woman's metabolism. Tiffany

decided to ride back to Coyote's place with Silver and Sam. Dusty and I would meet them there.

We headed back to let Henry know what was going on and to see if he’d found anything else in

the circle.

When we got there, we found Henry laying face down on the edge of the circle. There

was large trail like a snake slithering across the salt line around him. My heart sank. There’d

been a second naga. And now it was loose.

19

The early morning sunlight blazed platinum, forcing me to wear my sunglasses as we

drove down the street. Xan Landron lived a little too close to the office for comfort. Based on the

personality he exhibited the night of the get together, he might be the type to just show up

unannounced and try to help out on the case. I’ve always tried to be nice to people and do my

best not to offend them unless it’s absolutely necessary. You never know when you need to get

information out of someone, and if you’ve had trouble with them in the past, getting reliable info

out of them was much more difficult. Like most large cities, Dallas had a gay ghetto. Our

home/office was located along the better part of it, a bit further from the bars and closer to the

upscale shops. Xan's efficiency apartment was in the heart of the roughest part, just a block from

the Oilers club, a notorious leather bar that catered to the rough trade guys.

As we looked for a parking place, I thought back over the night before. Carmine hadn’t

been pleased with Henry's death, but she was already working on the mountain of paperwork

caused by the death of a Council member. I never really understood the need for all of it, but it

was something that happened, and for some reason, Carmine never liked letting any of her

underlings to it for her. She was very concerned about the thought of another naga on the loose

and had a team working on covering the area to find it. Coyote's Fort Worth members showed up

right before we left. We asked them to go over the area again since Dusty and I already had

already gone over it after we found Henry's body. Unfortunately they didn't find anything else,

not even a scent trail, but my gut told me there was still something out there and another naga or

something else from the plane of fire wasn’t something I was in the mood to deal with, not with

someone already killing witches and wers in my city.

Sam was going to be okay in a few days. Her wounds would’ve killed a normal human,

but her wer metabolism handled the damage a lot easier. Silver refused to leave her side until she

woke up. So far that had not happened, but Coyote's medic was unconcerned since her vitals

were strong and it was not uncommon for a gravely-wounded wer to fall into an almost coma-

like state while their body repaired the damage. I hoped that Sam would be up fairly quickly. Her

attack shook Coyote up worse than he was letting on. The faster Sam was back on her feet, the

faster Coyote would be back to normal too. Right now the wer community didn’t need an

unstable wolf alpha. It made problems grow much faster and that was probably what the person

behind all of this wanted.

On the third trip around the block, a space opened up in front of the local newsstand. I’d

begun to think about just driving back to the house and walking over. Being the party animals

that most gay men are, you wouldn’t think they’d be out in large numbers on Sunday morning.

But here in Dallas, the thing to do was get up and show up for the Sunday socials that most of the

bars held starting at ten a.m. A couple of them had even started serving a breakfast buffet until it

was legal for them to serve liquor. A line of people waited to get into one of the diners just down

the street.

“You know, one of these Sunday mornings, we need to come down here for breakfast,”

Dusty said as he closed the car door. “I hear the food is great and on Sundays they get all the

waitstaff to dress in campy drag. It might be good for a change of pace.”

I shrugged. “I used to go there from time to time a few years back, BD, before Dusty.

Yeah, the food’s good, but the campy drag can be overdone.”

Dusty grabbed my hand and flashed me one of his award-winning smiles. “Ah, just think

about it. It might be a lot of fun.”

I grinned back at him. “I'll think about it.”

“Cool, so with this line do they take reservations?” he asked as his arm went around my

waist and we walked down the sidewalk toward Xan's apartment building.

“They didn't used to,” I said, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “It was first come, first

served.” He was in a better mood this morning than I would’ve expected given our rough night

and how little sleep we got. But, like so many other things, his enhanced physiology didn’t need

a lot of sleep. It made me jealous once in a while, but not often enough to even think about

asking him to change me into a werewolf. He might also have been trying to keep me from

falling into a dark mood like I’m prone to do when things don’t go the way I think they should.

We should’ve been getting closer to a break in the case. There should have been some link

between the witches and the wers, but so far it was more like someone had us running around in

circles.

Xan's apartment building had originally been styled after an east coast brownstone back

in the 30s, one of the projects that the government had done to try and boost the economy during

the Depression. The architecture was classic with tall windows, and I knew from experience that

there was a rickety fire escape outside the second through fifth floors. One of those little things

that PIs learn during the course of work is which building had what access. Xan's apartment was

up on the fifth floor. The morning sunlight lit the stairs enough to see that the carpet had been

replaced recently and was no longer the tacky green shag from the 60s. It was still worn enough

that it desperately needed a makeover, but it looked like the building’s owner was trying to

improve things. There was less graffiti than I remembered and all of the numbers on the doors

were actually straight. Like a lot of buildings in this area, it had seen worse times. One thing

about gay ghettos, they tend to have just a bit more style than most other ghettos. I’ve heard

horror stories about how the area looked back in the 60s before the gays took over; nothing like a

bunch of men who all want to be Martha Stewart moving in to spruce up a place. But even with

all the men running around festively spicing up the area, there were always a few buildings

where the spice just fell flat. Xan's building was one of those. I figured that one day soon some

developer would come through with a wrecking ball and a high-rise blueprint and raze it to the

ground.

“Gods this place needs a good cleansing,” Dusty echoed my thoughts, wrinkling his nose

as we stepped into the third-floor hallway.

“You get what you pay for and this is the cheapest apartment building in about a five-

mile radius.” The place even came with a psi stink from all the depressed people that lived there,

the people who for one reason or another couldn’t afford a better place to live. A lot of the

people who lived there were either alcoholics or drug users. I knew for sure that a meth lab was

run out of at least one apartment and several male prostitutes had places here as well. It all made

for a very oppressive atmosphere. I wondered how a Wiccan such as Xan handled it.

“Ethan this place is worse than that condemned bordello the pack ran those wererats out

of last year.”

“It's not that bad. At least there are not as many fleas, but I bet the roaches are larger.” I

laughed as we made it to the fourth floor. The oppression in the building seemed to increase the

higher we got. I wondered if some of it came from Xan, but then I reminded myself that the

worse off cases normally lived on the top floor since the rent was cheaper there, particularly in

buildings like this that had no elevator. Tenants actually got a price break for having to walk all

the way up to their apartment.

Spotting Xan's apartment proved easy. The door was covered in bright purple glitter

paint. It looked like something out of the Joker's nightmare. I hesitated knocking, a fear creeping

up my spine at what waited for us on the other side of that screamingly-loud door.

Dusty touched my arm as I reached to knock. “Can I just wait in the car?” he whispered.

“The door scares me.”

“Oh, come on,” I hissed. "Is the big bad wolf afraid of a little glitter?”

“You know I am allergic to glitter,” he whined, giving me his sad puppy-dog eyes.

I shook my head. “No you're not.” The previous year for the big Halloween block party

that the bars always threw, we had let Tiffany choose our costumes. We always tried to go as an

ensemble, but she’d gone off on a cruel streak. Of course, I was convinced that it was just that

time of the month and she was trying to get back at us for her last boyfriend dumping her. Her

idea of a great ensemble costume for us was for her to go as a fairy dominatrix and we were her

human slaves. There was way too much leather and glitter involved. I think Dusty and I were

still getting glitter out of our chest hair at Yule. And that body paint had been just awful. On the

upside, we won best ensemble for the party.

The discussion was closed as the dreadful door flew open and Xan's acne-scarred face

peered around the edge. “Hey I thought I felt someone out here,” he grinned and threw the door

open. “You guys from E. S. Peters investigations?”

“I'm Ethan Peters and this is my partner Dusty Davenport,” I replied, introducing us.

“And you're Xan Landron?”

“Yeah. Cool. Come on in.” He stepped aside to let us into the apartment.

The door was just a preview for what lay inside of the apartment. It looked like a swarm

of butterfly fairies had shown up, thrown up and then exploded. Every paintable surface had

been covered in brightly-colored paint with glitter added before the paint dried. There was no

pattern to the madness. The bright yellow wall was right next to the bright red wall. There was a

hideous table that must have at one time had a base coat of black paint then someone with no

sense of anything had streaked bright day-glo green paint around in what may have been a

horribly failed attempt at a spiral. It was parked under the open window in which several sets of

painted pewter fairy wind chimes hung. The two mismatched chairs and sofa were covered in

Celtic knot work sheets, while posters of all sorts of rainbows and fairies splattered the walls. It

had to be the worst case of rainbow glitter bright fairy syndrome I’d ever seen.

“So. Wow. You guys think that someone killed Magee?” he bubbled as he closed the

door and then bounced across the room. “Please have a seat.” He gesticulated toward the couch

as he perched himself on the edge of one of the chairs. The bright glare of his tie-dyed t-shirt

clashed horribly with the gold and lavender sheet on the chair.

“You know I knew something wasn’t right that day she died. The etheric energies were

just all wrong the whole time. It’s like they were just screaming out that something was wrong,

something evil was happening. And ever since then, all the spirits in town have been in an

uproar.” He ran his hands back through his unkempt day-glo red hair that I suspected wasn’t his

natural color, but something that came out of a bottle from the same place he’d bought all the

glitter.

“Can you think of anyone who would’ve wanted to harm Magee?” I could tell it was

going to be hard to control this interview.

“Well you know we all loved her, but there were a lot of things from her past. You had to

be in her very inner circle to know these things about her, but let's just say that her past was more

than a little jaded. I’m sure you know what I mean.” As Xan talked, his hands moved in

exaggerated gestures. I wondered if, given enough time, he might have worked up the lift to rise

off the edge of the chair and hover.

I could guess where this was going, but in detective work, it is always best to make sure

your source is very clear on the details. “Xan, there are a lot of things that can make a woman's

past jaded,” I said, prompting him for details.

“Yes, of course. Well you see back before she met Reynaldo, she used to work down at

the Bearded Clam. Of course, doing that type of work, you know she had self-esteem issues. She

was also on some major drugs at the time. And you know that a lot of the girls from the Bearded

Clam also work other jobs, and from what I’ve heard, they don't let go easily.” His flying hands

came to rest across his crossed knees, a clear indication that he was ready for the next question.

The Bearded Clam was one of the smaller strip clubs over on Northwest Highway. A

couple of years ago, the owner died and his wife, realizing the profit the club made, kept it open.

Since then, she ran a very clean place and was as mundane as you come. There was no lead

there.

I crossed the Beaded Clam off my note pad “So what about the get-together group? Since

Barry Crabtree and Madeline Fort have also died under mysterious circumstances, there might be

a link there.”

“Wow. You guys know about the get-together group? You guys are good.” He slid back

from the edge of his chair. “Well then you must know that on the surface of that little group is all

full of love, but I swear to the Goddess that as you get to know them they are a bunch of hideous

little vipers waiting to just stab people in the back. That Mad’s one of the worst. Why just the

other night I was trying my best to offer her all the comfort the group could call together after

poor Barry was killed and she just turned on me. I can well understand why her dogs would go

off and attack her. She probably turned on them all the time. And poor little Alexia, such a sweet

girl. I 'm sure that Barry the brute just pushed her until she couldn't take it anymore. Why anyone

would find that man even remotely attractive is beyond me. Did you know he smelled? And his

clothes, it’s one thing to shop at Walmart but it’s a totally different thing to look like you shop

there.”

I stifled a comment about glass houses as I glanced around the gaudy room. I figured he

might not shop at Walmart, but he defiantly looked like hippy Goodwill.

“Why would Barry have pushed Alexia to kill him?” I knew what killed Barry, but some

of Xan's opinions might be helpful. He might even come up with a good idea among all the bitter

rubbish.

“Oh, my Gods. I'm surprised she hadn't done it before now. Can you imagine waking up

next to that every day? He was clingy and whiney. A couple of months ago, he and Lenny got

into it during one of the meetings. I think it was Lenny's first get together. They actually argued

about which way to face when standing at the altar. Lenny proved that Barry didn't have any clue

what he was talking about. Barry stomped off and smoked half a pack of cigarettes before

coming back in, snatching poor little Alexia up and storming out of the place. Since then, he’d

always check with Magee before showing up to a get together to make sure that Lenny wouldn’t

be there. He was trying to get Magee to ban Lenny and Katie from the group, but Magee and

Mad felt that everyone had a place in the group.” By the time he paused for a breath, he was

perched on the edge of his chair again.

“Did Lenny start any other trouble in the group?” Sometimes interesting information

comes out of a rambler.

“Lenny, well he wasn’t at all the gatherings, but he was trying to get in really good with

Magee. If some of the rumors I heard are true, he was going to teach her high magic. You knew

Magee’s only been on the path for a short while and was still learning? I offered to help out as

much as I could and I taught her as much as she was willing to learn in the time that we had. She

really was a brilliant student. I know she could have gone so far if the fates had been kinder to

her.”

“But Lenny didn’t have conflicts with anyone else in the group?” I tried to get him back

on track.

He shook his head. “Not that I ever heard about.” He pointed a finger in thought. “Now

Katie was another issue all together. That bitch is crazy, certifiable, card-carrying, pill-popping

crazy. From what the rumors say, she actually has an arrest record for assaulting poor Penelope

over at Plight of the Penis, you know they have the best glitter in town. I wouldn’t put it past her

to be one of the black witches that everyone’s always so fearful of. Now you know that Magee

always said that she wouldn’t tolerate a black witch in the group, but I think that Katie is.”

I made a note to have Tiffany check out the dispute. Plight of the Penis was the nickname

a lot of people used for one of the local pagan shops that was run by a radical feminist who

thought that the only people who could properly worship the Goddess were women and that the

only thing that men were good for was fertilization. She had an insect-like mentality toward men.

I might try and stop by there and get her version of what happened with Katie Crackles.

Xan continued on about Katie. “I know that Brianna cannot stand the woman. They’ve

had several major debates, but Bree’s too nice to let it get to more than a debate. I’ve heard Katie

call her a bitch to her back. Bree’s one of the sweetest people you’ll ever meet. I can't imagine

anyone calling her a bitch and meaning it. I bet Katie’s at least bipolar, if not a full-fledged

schitzo. Whenever she’s present, the aura of an area darkens a lot.” He paused in thought for a

second. “You know I guess when you think about it, if Lenny’s her boyfriend, then you need to

ask yourself about how stable he is too.”

Dusty tapped my knee to get my attention and then tapped his watch to indicate that we

needed to get moving.

“Thanks for the input Xan. I’ll definitely follow up with the ideas you’ve tossed out here

and see what we can find out, but we have another appointment shortly and need to go.” I fished

out one of my business cards, careful to make sure it was one of the ones with just the phone

number and handed him the card as I stood. “If you can think of anything else that might be

useful, please feel free to call. If Dusty and I aren’t available, my office manager, Tiffany, will

be happy to assist you.”

He took the card with a sad look. “Okay I will. I hope that something I told you will help

and if I think of anything you can be sure I’ll give you a call.”

I could tell the kid had wanted to keep talking and probably could’ve continued to talk all

day long. Part of me felt sorry for him, but a bigger part just wanted to run away.

Dusty all but ran down the stairs until we hit the sidewalk. “That kid’s scary. It’s possible

he's just really needy. But he’s scary and he thinks he and Magee were such great friends when

it’s obvious she couldn’t stand him.” He breathed a sigh of relief in the fresh air.

It was still a bit too bright for me so I put my sunglasses back on. “Well maybe he just

has issues with reality.” I reached for Dusty's hand as we started back toward the car.

“More than issues, I don't think he knows what it is. If he ever set foot…”

Dusty's words were silenced by the explosion of the building behind us.

20

Dusty's reaction time had always amazed me, but the speed at which he threw me down

into the small nearby patch of lawn and covered me with his body was almost as frightening as

the sound of the building we just left exploding behind us. It seemed a lot longer than the couple

minutes that we lay there on the ground. As my breath came back to me, I felt a couple of pieces

of shrapnel hit Dusty, but luckily none of them contained any silver. I waited until I was sure

most of the immediate danger was over before shifting under his weight.

“Dude, I don't mind you laying on top of me, but we need to see if we can help,” I said

when it had been a minute or so since I felt the last piece hit. “You okay up there?” I asked when

he didn't immediately reply or move.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice shaky. “One of those pieces hit a bit harder than I thought it

might. Give me a sec.”

“Where did it hit?” I was concerned. It wasn’t like Dusty to get slowed down by

something like a bit of flying mortar.

“Lower back. Just kinda knocked the breath out of me for a minute there. I'll be okay.”

He shifted slightly so that I could move out from under him.

“Let me look at that,” I said and moved to a seated position next to him. I pushed him

gently face down on the grass, next to the large piece of brick and mortar that struck him. The

back of his shirt was already torn, so I just ripped it a bit more to take a closer look. A long gash

across his lower back was already mending, in a few minutes there would only be a red spot,

within an hour, not a trace. Wer healing is an amazing thing.

“Just take it easy for a minute or two,” I said. “It could’ve been a lot worse.”

“It takes more than a bit of old building to slow me down,” his voice already a little

stronger. He stretched a bit and groaned as the movement reached his lower back. “Okay another

minute or so I think.”

My cell phone rang with Tiffany’s ring. I sat back in the grass next to Dusty and flipped

it open.

“Are you two alright? The police bands are going nuts!” She sounded worried. I knew

that as soon as she’d realized there was a problem, she’d probably checked on us magically. She

would’ve felt Dusty’s injury and gotten worried.

“I’m fine and Dusty will be soon,” I explained. “We were outside the building when it

blew and he shielded me from the debris, but he took a large piece of building to the back. He’s

almost mended.”

“So what happened?” The tone of worry dropped from her voice, replaced by the cool

investigator tone that she normally used.

“Not sure yet, we’d just left when the building exploded.” I glanced around as neighbors

began to come out to see what happened. Behind us a large plume of dust rose up into the sky.

“Start checking for magical residue. There was some kind of magical shockwave that

went off just as that building did. Seems to be centered nearby. It didn’t feel like the sort of thing

that would’ve caused an explosion, but there may have been something in the building that

reacted to it.”

If there’d been a magical shockwave, why had we not felt that as well as the explosion?

Maybe Dusty had felt it and reacted by protecting me. I missed it due to flying through the air

under my werewolf. Tiffany was close enough at the office to have felt it there. But what in the

building had triggered the explosion since the explosion had just affected the single building?

Something had to have been preset there so that when the shockwave triggered, it exploded.

“I’ll check the rubble for something that may have reacted to the shockwave.” I could

hear sirens in the distance and Dusty groaned and sat up next to me. “How long until the

authorities arrive? Can you get a hold of Paul and have him come over and smokescreen them

while we do some digging?”

“The scanners are saying about two minutes before they get there. I’ll call Paul and see if

he can meet you there.” I heard a soft beep on the line. “Shit that’s Carmine. I’ll call you back if

she has anything interesting to say.” And she clicked off.

I turned to Dusty, he was unusually pale under his freckles. “You going to be alright?”

“Sure, get up, give me a hand up and we’ll start digging. You realize that the first thing

the authorities are going to do is try to find survivors. “

I offered him a hand. “Yeah and if we’re helping with that, it’ll give us a chance to check

for anything that could have set this off.”

I pulled him into my arms as he stood up, careful not to put pressure onto his healing

lower back. His lips were warm and reassuring. The kiss was too short, but we didn’t have time

for more than a quick one. Luckily, no one would shoot us for our little public display in the gay

ghetto.

“This may take a little while. Tiffany should probably reschedule our other interviews for

this evening if possible,” Dusty reminded me as we walked toward the pile of rubble that used to

be an apartment building.

I pulled the phone out of my pocket and flipped it open. “Good point.” People from

nearby were already converging on the scene beginning to dig through looking for people as I

dialed.

“Okay, we get to bill Carmine for this,” Tiffany said, sounding almost cheerful. “She

wants a full report from you ASAP on what happened over there. She sent the cleanup crew and

they’re already telling the news media that it was a meth lab explosion. I’m about to start calling

your other interviews for this afternoon and have them pushed back to either this evening or

tomorrow. Anything else you need?”

“Nope, was calling about the interviews, just in case you forgot.” I loved her efficiency.

Gods, I hoped she was always around to keep me organized. “So we’re going to start digging

through the rubble.”

“Oh yeah, Paul will be there in about twenty,” she said as she clicked off on her end.

That left twenty minutes of dealing with the authorities without his help. Well twenty

minutes isn’t that long, particularly in a disaster situation.

“There are still people alive in there,” Dusty said just loud enough for me to hear. “I’ll

shift and be right back.”

Dusty took off down the nearby alley. We often used his wolf form to get us out of being

noticed when doing things. It’s amazing how many people just think he’s a big German

shepherd. Usually he posed as a seeing-eye dog while I pretended to be blind. Or like the thing

we pulled with Reynaldo Reyes where he just thought Dusty was a loyal pet. Today he’d be a

trained search-and-rescue dog. He came back wagging his tail with a silly look on his face as the

first emergency vehicle, a large fire truck, came around the corner.

“Not to confuse things, but the smell of OD magic is really strong back down that alley,”

he told me mentally as he pushed his head into my hand.

“Good, show me.” I really needed a break right now. This case was starting to get

extremely irritating with its growing body count.

Dusty led me back behind one of the dumpsters that had been overturned by the

explosion. “Its strongest here. Almost smells like a pixie, but their scent is faint. This one is

not.”

Something similar to a pixie, but larger meant a fairy of some sort. I scanned the area,

looking for other signs of a fairy of some sort. But how had a fairy caused a magical shockwave

that could destroy an entire building? I realized that we were behind one of the bars and that a

security camera was aimed into the alley. I pulled the phone back out. Tiffany answered before it

even rang.

“Hey can you see about getting the security feed from the rear cameras over at Bobby’s

Place? We think there may have been a fairy in the alley right at the time of the explosion.”

“Sure, Tech just got here, so I’ll have him check into it for me.”

“Why did Tech come by?” I thought they had finished with Magee’s computer.

“He brought me some lunch. Isn’t that sweet of him?” She almost giggled. Tiffany never

giggled. I suppressed a shudder.

“Yeah sweet. Let me know if you get something.” I clicked off this time.

Dusty barked a come-over-here bark. I went over to where he had dug something out of

the trash from the fallen dumpster. It looked like a giant dragonfly wing. It was torn and singed,

and some of the veins across the top of the wing were mangled. Someone had forcefully torn the

wing off a rather large fairy.

“Any sign of the rest of it?” I poked around a bit more.

“None. Just the one wing.”

I pocketed the wing. I would give it to Carmine to have it run through the database of

legal ODs and see if it was one that was allowed on this plane. Dusty and I searched the alley for

a little while more but came up empty. We headed back toward the destroyed building.

Paul arrived while we were searching the alley. He was helping the others dig through the

rubble. I could tell he realized we would be doing the search-and-rescue angle by his brief nod to

us before he called out. “Search and rescue team over here.” He pointed where he’d been trying

to move some of the bricks away from the former corner of the building. Dusty ran over and

whined like the trained dog he pretended to be.

“I guess you know there are survivors?” Paul whispered to me as I set to work next to

him.

“Yeah, we would’ve been here when you got back but we found a bit of evidence over

there.” I nodded toward the alley. “Someone pulled a wing off a fairy.”

Paul looked dubious. “And that would cause this how?”

I used a bit of TK to help me lift a chunk of debris that was heavier than my physical

muscles could handle, but not so big that it would attract attention. “Not sure yet, I’ve got

Tiffany trying to get the security feed from Bobby’s Place. They had a camera pointed at where

we found the wing.”

“But could a fairy have done this?” Paul lobbed a couple of bricks into the growing pile

near the curb.

“Not under normal circumstances no, but it’s a bit of a lead.”

Dusty barked frantically as a hand was uncovered in the pile. Other workers came over to

help dig it out. Paul and I worked in silence while others were too near for comfort. The hand

turned out to belong to a young girl. She was alive, but her legs had been crushed. The first

ambulance arrived as we lifted her free of the rubble.

Hours later, with two more survivors and five bodies, we found the remains of Xan

Landron. It looked like his apartment had been ground zero for the explosion. Most of his body

was gone. Dusty identified him for me by the smell of one hand that was somehow intact. The

police would have to run a DNA analysis on him to make an official ID.

Around the hand was an odd circle of glitter that seemed to pulse with a magical light. I

scooped up a little bit into one of the evidence vials I always carry in case of emergency. They

were almost as handy as Ziploc® bags. Tiffany could get it analyzed, but my bet was on fairy

dust.

“Well that accounts for everyone who lived in the building,” said a brawny police officer.

“We are losing the light too. Boss wants to call it a day. We’ll have fresh team out here in the

morning. Thanks for your help in finding the survivors.” He offer a hand to me as we moved

through the rubble, past the front end loader that had shown up sometime in the middle of the

afternoon to start removing the debris that we had gone through to make getting people out

easier. His grip was strong and honest.

“Just happy we could be of some help,” I said with a weary smile. Dusty whined at my

side.

“Sounds like he’s ready to go home too,” Paul said from my other side. Looking at his

dust-covered face and clothes, I could just imagine what I looked like. I’d need a shower before

heading out to any more interviews this evening. I only hoped I’d get through a couple of them

without some kind of disaster striking.

21

Dusty’s strong hands felt wonderful as they worked the warm soapy water of the shower

across the sore muscles of my back. I hadn’t done this much back-breaking work in a long time.

I’d be sore for days. We retreated to the shower as soon as we walked through the door, handing

Tiffany the vial of glitter and the dismembered fairy wing. Unfortunately, we had an intercom

system in the house and she was updating us as we cleaned up.

“So this stuff in the vial is definitely fairy dust and not the normal kind either. It’s the

highly-explosive kind,” she explained from her desk.

“What do you mean explosive kind?” Dusty asked, his hands stopping in the middle of

my back.

“Well there are several kinds of fairy dust. Fairies can decide what kind they are dropping

based on their intended purpose. The most common kind is just the basic sparkly glitter they

normally use for marking territory or in mating displays. There is a hallucinogenic kind that they

often use for making people think they are not there, or see things that they want others to see.

They also have a kind that fertilizes plants.”

“That would be called fairy shit,” I snickered softly.

“I heard that,” Tiffany barked. “And there’s the explosive kind that they use when

everything else fails. Now the interesting thing about the explosive kind is that it’s extremely

volatile in the right circumstances. It can be set off from a distance by magic, but only by the

magic of the fairy that created it.”

“Do we have any idea what kind of fairy created it?” I asked as Dusty handed me the

shower head so I could rinse the soap off his chest. It was always a lot of fun to spray water all

over Dusty and run my hands across the hard hairy expanse of his body.

“I haven’t gotten anything out of Carmine yet, even though I sent the sample over via

portal twenty minutes ago. You two should be about done up there. But, based on the pattern of

the veins and the size of the wing, I would say it was probably one of the larger species like

either a Fae Gloaitha, or a Fae Cycolpia. Either one can produce explosive fairy dust and is large

enough to have a seven-inch wing, which means its wing span would be around sixteen inches if

you allow for a two-inch body width. That would make it standing about fourteen inches tall. Not

something that would be easily missed flitting around Dallas.”

Dusty turned off the water and grabbed a towel.

“How about the feed from the bar’s security camera?” I asked, trying not to moan with

pleasure at the soft towel pressing gently into my back.

“That should be coming up any minute,” Tech replied. He was still down there helping

Tiffany.

“Here it comes.” Tiffany said as I took the towel from Dusty and started working on

getting the water off of his totally-awesome physique. “Okay now going back about ten minutes

from the time of the explosion.” In the silence, I ran my hand over Dusty’s firm ass as he opened

the shower door so we could go out and get dressed. “Wait a second. Go back and slow it way

down,” Tiffany directed Tech.

“Guys you should see this. It looks like there is some kind of scuffle, nothing that makes

it real clearly onto the camera feed, then the wing floats down.”

“I’m going to try and enhance it a bit,” Tech said. “The Council has developed some new

software that helps magical things show up better on recorded media.”

“We’ll be there in a few minutes.” I pushed the button on the intercom turning it off and

turned to Dusty. He was already pulling on his jeans. “You know showers with you aren’t nearly

as much fun with Tiffany in the room.” I smiled at him and I pulled him close, feeling his naked

torso press against mine. I loved the feel of him against me.

Dusty kissed me as his hands explored the well-known paths of my body. “We don’t have

time for that now.” But he gave me a teasing squeeze. “Besides she’ll be up here in a minute or

two if we are not down there.”

“I know,” I muttered, reluctantly releasing him from my embrace.

I caught the jeans he tossed me and slid them on. He chose one of his tightest t-shirts, a

forest green that made his eyes go almost dark. It showed off his chest nicely. I could almost

make out his washboard abs. He tossed me one in a sky blue, as he pulled a green and burgundy

striped button-up shirt to go over the t-shirt. It muted the affect the tight t-shirt had on his chest,

but he still looked great. I selected a midnight blue button up before he could finish me off in

light blues. It was almost a game with us, dressing each other. But I wanted something that

would go with the dark duster I was planning on wearing for the interviews that we had tonight.

***

“Okay guys, look at this,” Tiffany instructed as we gathered around her desk staring at

the computer screen.

“Wait let me put it on the big screen,” Tech said with a wink at Tiffany.

“Big screen, since when did the computer show up on the plasma?” I asked.

“Well, last night while helping Tiff go through the Reyes woman’s computer I thought it

would be nice if we could route the computer through the TV when there was something that

everyone needed to see, so I ran by Microcenter this morning and picked up the parts I needed. I

took care of it while the security footage was downloading.” Tech looked rather smug.

I was going to have to talk to Tiffany about hormones, work and little things called

unapproved changes to the computer system.

The plasma screen on the wall opposite Tiffany’s desk flashed on and her computer

desktop appeared. Tech clicked on a couple of icons and media player started up with a scene

from the alley we’d been in hours before. The colors looked more than a little off until I realized

that it looked like mage sight.

“Okay, here’s the interesting part,” Tiffany said. The glowing form of a rather large fairy

appeared and flittered over the dumpster. It paused there for a moment and then was suddenly

jerked up into the air, its wings pinned to its sides by something that we could not make out

clearly, probably a hand. It beat its little hands at the much larger hand holding it tightly. The

hand seemed to wave it around a bit. The fairy’s mouth was working. I wished we could’ve had

sound with the picture. It seemed to be arguing with its captor. Then its mouth opened in a

scream as one of its wings was yanked off its body and allowed to fall almost leaf like to the

asphalt of the alleyway. Then seconds later the fairy exploded.

“Wow, I’ve never seen a fairy explode before. I didn’t know they could do that.” I said as

the scene flashed in my mind.

“They can’t, well not on their own.” Tiffany explained. “I think that whatever had hold of

it caused it to explode, or used its explosion to cause the magical shockwave that set off the fairy

dust you found from Xan’s place.”

“So you’re telling us that something turned that fairy into a nuclear fairy dust glitter

bomb?” Dusty somehow managed to keep his face straight while he said it. I had to chuckle.

Tech grabbed his stomach as he doubled over laughing.

Tiffany glared at us. “Essentially, yes.”

“Any idea what had hold of the fairy when it exploded?” I asked with a slight smirk.

“Not for sure, but I have a pretty good idea.” She clicked off media player and brought up

a picture. “This showed up for just a split second on the feed, at the exact time the fairy

exploded.” It was a fairly serpentine silhouette.

“The missing naga,” I sighed

“Looks that way,” Tiffany agreed. “And if it’s able to avoid showing up even under the

filters we ran the feed through, then it’s one of the higher naga races that’s going to be really

difficult to get rid of. I’d bet it’s working for whoever summoned it.”

“You need to come up with a way for us to get rid of that thing when we finally track it

down. Any leads off of the copper disk or the marking on the gator?” We needed something.

“Well there is nothing on either one of them that would constitute a signature, but I did

realize that the two were made by the same hand or hands as the case may be.” She pulled the

copper disk out of the protective box that she had sitting on the desk. The box had a series of

protections on it that would not allow any magical objects placed in it to leak energy out into the

house, or allow the creators of those objects to follow their magical trails to us.

“Hands? Two people created the markings?” It was incredibly difficult for two people to

work together to create magical sigals or even circles unless they had worked together a long

time.

“Well if you look closely at the symbols on the disc,” she explained, pulling a

magnifying glass out and handing it to me, “you can see that the style varies from symbol to

symbol. I’d say either two people worked on this together, or we’re dealing with a multiple

personality. Neither is good for the case.”

“Okay, so we have a couple of people working on this together. Does that help narrow

down our list of subjects?”

“Since most of these people are friends, not really. I’d bet that whoever they are, they’re

romantically involved and not just friends. Magic of this level is hard to work successfully with

just friends, unless you are friends that are as close as we are and have been working together for

as long as we have. Plus, we’ve the added angle of high magic with this. How many of these

wiccans,” sarcastic distaste rolled off her tongue at the word, “have any inkling about high

magic?”

“So we get to continue interviewing people?” Dusty sounded less than thrilled at the

prospect, but then so far none of our interviews had gone smoothly, except for Alexia here in the

office and at the police station.

“Yeah and the next one will be showing up here shortly.” Tiffany said glancing at the

clock.

“Here?” It was unusual for us to interview people here in the office. I got a much better

vibe off them in their own homes.

“Yeah when I called to reschedule your interview with Lenny and Katie, they said that

their place was getting fumigated and they asked if they could talk to you here. I said it would be

alright. They’ll be here in about five minutes.”

“Hey, why don’t you and Tech go check out their place while we interview them here?

It’s kinda odd that the fumigation thing came up right now. Go over and see if they are hiding

anything.” I got an odd feeling about things.

“We can do that.” Tiffany smiled at Tech.

Tech got a wide grin on his face, the kind that screamed “yeah field work!” Oh, if only he

knew how boring field work could be.

“If they’re the people who called the naga, be careful. Also look for any connection with

the Council there too. I still feel that there might be a connection that we’re not aware of,” I said

as Tiffany grabbed her purse and Tech’s arm. “Why else go after the wers in all of this as well?”

“I’ll let you know if there are any problems,” she said as she headed for the door. “Oh

yeah, your next interview is at nine tonight. The info is on the desk. You should leave by eight

thirty to get there on time.”

“So when do we get to eat?” Dusty grumbled as the door closed behind them.

22

Dusty barely had time to shift to his wolf form before we heard the bell to the outer office

jingle indicating we had visitors. Since Tiffany was not at her desk out front, I went out to see

who it was. Lenny Pentelli and Katie Crackles stood in the office looking around. For some

reason, I was surprised that they were early. Lenny wore a beat-up brown leather duster over a

basic black t-shirt and black jeans. His black cowboy boots tapped lightly as he stepped across

the oak flooring of the outer office. Katie looked bedraggled, her blonde crew cut hair was

somehow a frizzy mess, her fluffy green sweater was only half tucked into her orange skirt that

hung lopsided. She had a wild look in her mud-brown eyes. She all but screamed that something

was very wrong in her world.

“Hello, you must be my next appointment,” I offered my hand to Lenny first. “Ethan

Peters.”

“Lenny Pentelli.” His voice sounded as smooth as it had a couple of nights before at the

get together. His handshake was firm and full of confidence.

“Katie.” Her voice shook a bit and she tried to focus on me. I started to wonder if she

may not have been strung out on something.

“Sorry for not being able to do this at the house.” Lenny started as I motioned them into

my office. “But the roach issue just got so bad that we had to call the exterminators this morning.

I’ve no idea where they’re all coming from. It just has poor Katie beside herself.”

“No problem, we could have waited until tomorrow.” I gestured to the chairs in front of

my desk.

“We are booked up for the next week,” Lenny explained as he took the chair on the left.

“So tonight was the only time we had free.”

“Well thanks for driving over.” I waited for Katie to take the other chair.

She had a look of near horror on her face as she stared at Dusty where he sat at the end of

the desk looking at her. It was almost like she could tell he was more than just a big dog sitting

there. I wondered if she knew about werewolves? Most people who ever encountered them could

tell them apart from domestic dogs, or even wild wolves fairly easily.

“It’s okay. He won’t hurt you. I like keeping him close by, but I can put him out if you

like.” I walked over and put my hand on Dusty’s head.

“She smells weird, not exactly an elemental smell,” he said as we made contact. “Her

fear smell spiked after she saw me, I think she knows I’m a wer.”

Katie sat down shakily, barely hovering on the edge of the chair. Her eyes never left

Dusty. “No, I’ll be fine. It’s just that dogs make me nervous. He looks nice enough.”

“You be a good boy.” I said with a final pat on Dusty’s head then sat in my chair. “So,

Tiffany explained why I needed to talk to you?”

“Something about Magee’s suicide?” Lenny replied, a hint of doubt in his voice.

“Well, Reynaldo doesn’t think it’s a suicide, or at least not intentional. He wanted us to

ask around and see if we could find anyone who might have wanted Magee dead.”

“Well I personally feel that her loss is going to be a major blow to the community. I can

only hope that I can carry on her work for her.” Lenny said, a crease of concern deepening the

lines on his forehead.

“What work?” I wanted to see what he would say about perfect love.

“Oh you don’t know about the project she started? She called it Perfect Love. Her goal

was to unify the Wiccan community under one guiding hand. She was perfect for the job.

Everyone loved her. She had so much charisma. Under her guidance the Wiccans would’ve

stopped being these little single entities and been able to be a united force for the good of the

Mother Goddess.” His voice held conviction, but not on the blind-faith level that several of the

others had. He was planning something. “Magee let me see the first draft of her proposals. It was

a little rough, but I was helping her work out the kinks. She was nearly ready to present her ideas

to the CMC gathering in Austin next month.”

“CMC?” I don’t keep in touch with all the new groups that are popping up all the time.

I’m sure the Council has a file on them. I’d have Tiffany check into it.

“Council of Magical Crafts,” Lenny explained. “They’re one of the largest regularly-

meeting groups around right now. They recently managed to get their religious tax exemption.

They had some trouble a while back but have bounced back nicely.”

“He means that a large number of their people were turned into werewolves during one

of their gatherings,” Dusty added, brushing my hand with his head. “I thought that ended the

group.”

Now I remembered. It’d been a nasty mess that really changed the balance of power in

the wer community. Some people still swear that the Goddess Dianna appeared during the event.

The wers weren’t telling one way or the other. But that was neither here nor there at the moment.

We had other leads to chase.

“So, other people knew about this Perfect Love Initiative? “

“Only Magee’s close friends. She hadn’t told anyone at CMC what she was planning,

only that she wanted to do a workshop and a ritual. They got it all scheduled for her. They just

called me today asking if I’d do it in her place. I told them I would. I owe it to Mags to keep it

going.”

“We owe Magee a lot.” Katie finally found her voice.

Lenny reached across to take Katie’s hand. “Katie and I met thanks to the get-together

group. So if it hadn’t been for Magee, I wouldn’t have this wonderful woman in my life.” His

smile went only as far as his lips. His eyes held anger, like he had warned her not to say anything

before they came over. It was a cold calculating anger. I wondered if that was part of the reason

she was so disheveled? Had she felt his anger before they arrived? I couldn’t see any physical

signs of injury, but that bulky sweater could be hiding a lot. Had that been the true reason he had

wanted to meet up here and not at their home? Most men who controlled their spouses through

violence didn’t want people in their base of power. They were afraid of what others might find or

see.

“Well it seems that a lot of people owe their happy couple-hoods to Magee, Alexia and

Barry met there if I’m not mistaken.” I opened the middle drawer to the desk to like I was going

to pull out a file. I kept a small crystal there that I had ensorcelled to help detect magic when I

didn’t want to risk using mage sight or anything more active. A light orange glow came from the

crystal. There was something going on, but it’d be hard to tell without digging deeper and I

wasn’t sure if either of them would detect it if I did. These two weren’t the same as most of the

other people from the get-together group that we’d talked to so far. Real magic came from one or

both of them.

“It really is a shame about Barry,” said Lenny, his eyes losing some of their anger as he

turned back to me. “He and Alexia seemed so happy. They’d both been through so much with

Madeline tormenting Barry the way she did. Now, that woman had some issues. She had some

illusions that she’d take over the group after Magee died. I think the group’s better off with her

gone.”

Katie looked worse than ever and seemed to shrink back into her chair.

“I told Magee several times that Madeline was trouble and would bring her down, but she

always said that they were close friends, almost like sisters and that Madeline would never do

anything to hurt her,” Lenny continued, seeming not to notice Katie’s state. “I often got the

feeling that they were more than friends, if you know what I mean. You know, maybe Madeline

was dealing in black magic, and after she used it on Magee, it turned on her.” Lenny didn’t

notice her brief nod as he mentioned black magic turning on the caster, either.

“I hadn’t heard anyone mention Madeline using any kind of magic, other than fairy

magic.” And from what I had sensed of the woman, that was all she was capable of, nothing

more than a bit of glitter tossed into the air.

“Like a lot of the newbies around, she thought that anything other than fairy magic was

black,” Lenny continued. “But, I know from some of the things that she said, she either dabbled

a bit herself or someone that held her in confidence did. She knew just enough about high magic

to be dangerous.”

“So I take it you know a bit about high magic?” I made a few random scribbles on the

mostly blank pad in front of me. I found that it tended to make people think I was taking them

seriously and it made some of them very nervous.

“Well I am a Gardenarian High Priest and have read everything that Crowley ever wrote,

even managed to get my hands on a few of the things that never got published. He was a very

interesting man.” Lenny was very much in his element now. With any luck I’d be able to keep

him talking until it was time for us to go to the next interview and thus give Tiffany and Tech

time to search his house, if the exterminators or the roaches weren’t too bad.

I’ve never had much patience for either Gardener or Crowley. There were files on both of

them in the Council. Neither of them was what they claimed. Gardener was just a horny goat that

figured out that if he called it religion, he could get women to have sex with him whenever he

wanted. Crowley was just odd. There was no other way to look at him. There’s some evidence

that some of their ideas would yield results in the right hands, but most of them were backwards

ways of doing things. Most high magicians who found good teachers found easier ways to get

much better results. If Lenny was being truthful about himself he might be able to cause some

trouble and he might even be the person calling things up and not signing his circles.

Katie interrupted Lenny’s praise of Crowley and my musings. “Excuse me Mr. Peters?”

Lenny glared at her for a second.

“Yes Ms. Crackles?” I set my pencil down on top of the pad.

“Could I bother you to use the bathroom? It was a long ride over here and the tea I had is

going right through me.”

“Sure. There is one on the left side of the lobby.” I gestured to the open door into the

front office. “There is a picture of the Texas Star on it. You know the big ferris wheel over in

Fair Park.”

She nodded and got up. “Thank you.”

“So anyone else other than Madeline that you think may have had issues with Magee?

What about…” I glanced down at my pad for effect, “Bree and Byron Supunski?”

“Bree is a wonderful lady. I think that the community will do well with her as one of its

leaders. Byron, well let’s just say he is a bit of a blow hard, a bit more talk than he can back up,

if you know what I mean. He has an opinion on everything and is ready to defend it, even if it’s

totally wrong. Otherwise a really nice guy, particularly when Bree keeps him quiet.” He went on

about various things that Byron had tried to argue with various people over various times,

including whether or not George Washington was really the first president of the United States. I

made a mental note to make sure to get him together with Carmine. If possible, I’d like to

introduce them. It could be entertaining in a warped sort of way. Lenny’s comments also helped

reinforce some of my previous observations of the man.

Katie came back in and stood next to Lenny’s chair. She touched his arm and looked at

his watch. “Lenny the exterminators should be about done. We need to head back home.” She

sounded much more together after her trip to the bathroom. She had even taken a minute and

smoothed out her hair and sweater.

“Oh good point,” Lenny replied. “Well is there anything else we can help you with Mr.

Peters?”

“No, our little chat has been most enlightening.” I reached for the stack of business cards

on the desk and pulled off the top two. “If you think of anything that might be useful, please let

me know.” I carefully handed one to each of them. Katie seemed to flinch as my hand touched

hers. There was an almost unperceivable spark of magic pass between us. I began to wonder

what she had really done in the bathroom.

Dusty butted my hand with his head. “She smells different.”

“We’ll let you know if we think of anything else,” Lenny said as he took Katie’s hand

and headed for the door.

The outer door rang as they opened and closed it, just as Griff shot into the room and slid

to a landing on the desk, knocking my pencil and pad off into the floor. “Boss we got fairies

knocking on our shields. There are a lot of them and they want in real bad.”

23

Griff looked more frazzled than I’d ever seen him. It was not like our guardian to act this

way. He was normally the strong silent type. His side heaved and his eyes darted around as he sat

in the center of my desk.

“What kind of fairies and how many?” I asked as Dusty resumed his human form.

“Not sure what kind. They are wearing skins and carrying bows and arrows. A few of

them have spears. No wings. There seem to be about fifty or so and they have staked out the

perimeter of our shields.” He heaved while he spoke, his wings flapping a bit in agitation. A

couple of small spectral feathers floated down to the desk.

“And Lenny and Katie just walked out to their car.” I dashed for the door. I heard Dusty

behind me. Griff labored to take back to the air and follow.

There was no sign of a car in the driveway, or on the curb. But I caught a glimpse of

several small figures scurrying around the in the low hedge out where the front yard met the

sidewalk. Packrider Fae. I had never seen any in real life, but I had seen pictures. They were

nasty little pieces of work.

Dusty growled. “Are those what I think they are?”

“Looks that way,” I sighed. I’d really wanted to try and avoid any more major problems

with fairies for at least twelve hours or so after helping clean up from the fairy dust explosion at

Xan’s. “The shields should hold them for a bit, but to go anywhere, we’re going to need to deal

with them.”

“You know boss, there are a few more than I can handle,” Griff said from where he had

landed on the porch railing.

“I know Griff. Luckily whoever sent them, and I have a good idea who did, really has no

idea who they are dealing with.” I turned and headed back inside.

“Dusty, call Uncle Bob and tell him that we need to keep all the pack out of this part of

town for the night. I want to check the bathroom and see if anything’s out of place.” I had the

sneaking suspicion that Katie Crackles had called up the fae during her little trip, but then why

hadn’t I felt her using magic in my own house?

The sparkling clean tile of the bathroom floor was now home to a small copper disk that

looked very similar to the one that we found out at the park last night. Upon closer inspection,

the symbols on it were different, or at least in a different order than the other one. But that made

sense. This disk had been used to call Packrider Fae, the other disk had been used to call nagas. I

could see a dark speck on the top of the disk. It looked like Katie had used a bit of her blood to

activate the spell. That may have been why I hadn’t felt the magic that called the fae. It’d already

been cast and just needed to be activated. If that were the case, Katie and Lenny were planning

things out in advance. I realized that Tiffany and Tech might be in trouble.

Dusty was hanging up the phone as I came back into the office. “Uncle Bob says that

everyone is accounted for and I’m the only member of the pack in this part of town. He’ll pass

the word to everyone else to say back.”

I dropped the disc into the shielded box with the other one. “Good. Looks like Katie

called the fae while she was in the bathroom. We need to check on Tiffany and Tech, make sure

they are okay. Lenny and Katie may be craftier than I give most Wiccans credit for. I know

Tiffany won’t expect much trouble from them.” I picked up the phone that was still warm from

Dusty’s grasp and hit the four button, Tiffany’s speed dial.

“Boss! Something’s coming through the shields!” Griff shouted as he flapped off the

desk heading for the back of the house.

I dropped the phone as the first ring sounded.

Dusty grabbed one of the steel swords that sat in the umbrella stand next to the back door

as he followed after Griff’s immaterial form. I had one of the other swords in my hand before the

door was even halfway shut. There was no way I was going to let the two of them face fifty or

more Packriders by themselves.

The scene in the back yard was utter chaos. Griff swooped among the fae dispatching

them with what seemed a fair amount of ease. He managed to stay just out of reach of their

spears while dodging arrows and making agile stoops on them. Each stoop ended in the death of

one of the fae. They seemed be trying to get their archers to focus their efforts on the small spirit.

I was astonished when their arrows actually managed to hit one of his wings, knocking several

golden feathers off. Then I realized they were most likely using fairy shot, enchanted arrows that

still carried the some of the extra dimensional energy from their home plane. If they scored a

solid hit, it could mean death, even for a spirit. In fact, it was one of the few things that could kill

Griff.

“Watch out guys, they are using fairy shot!” I called as I watched Griff make another

stoop.

“No shit Boss,” he called as he grabbed a Packrider in his talons and flew out of reach of

the other, only to throw his captive down hard on the driveway next to a growing line of his

kinsmen that suffered a similar fate.

“Yeah these things sting,” Dusty called as he yanked a small arrow out of his arm as he

closed in on a couple of the fae that were trying to sneak around the side of the house. All it took

was a swift slash with his sword and the cold iron of it split the two of them into halves and four

pieces of fae fell onto the driveway.

Before I could take more than a couple of steps into the yard, a wild war cry sounded in

the air above me. I looked up in time to see the largest Packrider I’d seen so far diving off the

edge of the roof at me, his white hair streaming out behind him and a wicked curved silver

dagger in his hand. By instinct, I got a shield up just in time for him to slam into it. He slid to the

ground, with a comical look on his face, inches from being able to gut me with his dagger.

He recovered quickly once he was on the ground, he shook out his white mane, lifted his

dagger and howled. More howls sounded around us as the other Packriders paused in their

attacks to lend their voices. Then something large howled nearby. Another howl preceded a loud

crashing from the bushes that lined the back yard as a pair of coal-black Rottweiler’s charged

though. I guessed there was the breach in the shield.

Several fae rode each of the dogs, and between them, they held spears that looked much

like jousting lances. Each spear took four fae to hold it up and each dog had one fae controlling

it. The dogs showed no fear of Dusty as they charged toward him. I only hoped that he would

control his instinct to change into his wolf form to fight the dogs.

“Dusty look out!” I shouted as they bore down on him.

His supernatural speed allowed him to easily dodge the first lancer, but the other one had

anticipated his move and was there to keep him moving. I marveled at how easily he flowed

across the yard, evading the dogs and with each of their passes, his sword removed a couple of

riders. It seemed that it took at least two fae to hold up the lances, so after two passes the lances

tumbled to the ground, but the remaining fae just pulled out their swords and kept coming.

“Boss, watch your back!” Griff called out as he did a wingover right behind me.

I let my guard down watching the beauty of Dusty’s movements. The little white-haired

menace managed to get around the edge of my shield and tried a back stab. Griff, knocked him to

the ground, but the fae rolled and avoided the guardian’s talons. I turned and swung my sword

down at him. He grinned at me as his dagger blocked my blow. He somersaulted back a couple

of feet and charged me. His deflection of the sword caught me off guard. The cold iron should

have smashed any weapon made of fairy. He shouldn’t have been able to hold a weapon forged

of iron or steel. He leapt at me as he came into range. I caught him with my telekinesis and

brought him toward me.

“Why are you here?” I demanded. “You are breaking several of the treaties between our

world and yours with your aggression.”

He shook with laughter. “The Packriders never signed any treaties with the humans, or

the wers. What do we care about your laws? Our agreement is with the ones who opened the way

for us. They promised us great wolves to ride, wolves that will be powerful enough for us to

control the woods of our world and expand into the other woods of fairy.”

“Who opened the way for you? And what did they ask you to do here?” I heard Griff

smash another fae onto the driveway and one of the rots yelped in pain.

“Only destroy the simple man who lives here and his dog. You are no simple man and we

have yet to see a dog, but the fire hair smells of dog. I would bet he is wer. Maybe when this is

over I shall ride him back in triumph.” The fae sneered at me.

I have always thought it would have been much more impressive if Darth Vader had

made the guy’s head explode on “Star Wars” rather than just stop his heart. I’d never had the

opportunity to try condensing a shield around something’s head before. I realized to get a good

splatter from it, it had to be released at the right time. I seem to have held it a bit too long,

because the remains of the fae’s head just oozed when I let go of the shield and the body let it

fall to the ground.

One of the Rottweilers had dropped to the ground. It looked like the fae that had been

controlling it was trapped underneath it. The other one circled Dusty while several of the fae

archers lined up just outside of its circle hoping to get shots at Dusty. A scatter shot leven bolt

took them out easily enough. Dusty’s sword swung down, severing the dog’s head. He hadn’t

touched the last fae riding the dog, but it grabbed its head and screamed a short scream before

falling to the ground dead. It appeared that if you killed an animal that the Packrider was

controlling, it killed the driver. I had heard of telepathic feedback killing someone before, but

normally you had time to break the link before it happened. This might be useful info if we ever

had to deal with the little pests again.

A deafening roar sounded and I glimpsed a large gold and black form leaping over the

bushes. I raised my sword and started to advance until I realized it was Paul in his jaguar form

come to lend a hand. At the sight of the werejaguar in their midst, the few remaining Packriders

turned and ran. I lay down a line of quick leven bolts that took most of them out, with Griff,

Dusty and Paul getting the rest. I cast my mind out in a quick scan to make sure that we hadn’t

missed any. I could not sense anymore fae in the area.

“Everyone okay?” I asked looking people over.

“Nothing a good molt won’t cure,” Griff replied preening out a few loose feathers.

“Those damned arrows hurt and heal slow,” Dusty said coming toward me.

“None of them even touched me.” Paul resumed his human form and leaned up against

the railing leading up to the back door.

“How about you?” Dusty took my hand in his and look me up and down.

“Doing fine. We’re going to need to do something with the bodies.” I said lifting his hand

to my lips. His skin was a little sweaty.

Then I remembered that I was in the process of calling Tiffany when they broke through

the shields. “Crap, Tiffany and Tech.” I raced back into the house.

The phone was beeping an off-the-hook beep as I picked it up. I turned it off then back on

and dialed Tiffany again. No answer.

I ran to Tiffany’s desk and looked up Tech’s number, it was on her blotter with little

flowers around it. I shook my head, Tiffany never drew little flowers. I punched in the number. It

went right to voice mail.

I tried reaching out to Tiffany through the link we shared. I could feel her out there

somewhere, but could not get a strong reply.

Something was wrong.

Dusty walked in. “Anything?”

“No, we’re heading over to Lenny and Katie’s.”

“Need a hand?” Paul asked coming in right behind Dusty.

“Not going to pass it up.” I replied.

24

All the way across town, we kept trying Tiffany’s and Tech’s phones. Still no answer. I

kept telling myself that Tiffany was okay. We worked magic together long enough that if

something major happened to her I’d know about it. It didn’t stop me from worrying or slow

down my frantic flight across town to where the GPS said the house was.

For some reason it surprised me that Lenny and Katie actually lived in a house and not an

apartment or duplex. It was not in the best part of town, located on the south side of North

Richland Hills. It was more than a little banged up and in need a major spot or two of paint, but it

fit right in with the other houses around it.

I spotted Tech’s car a couple of doors down from the house. They were still in the area.

Or, at least their transportation was. I pulled in behind it.

Paul and Dusty got out of the car at almost the same instant. I paused, trying to get a

sense of Tiffany. The two wers weren’t being subtle at sniffing around the Tech’s car. Luckily a

fair number of the houses around were dark.

“They were here about two hours ago. Given what time they left the office and how long

it took us to take out the Packrider Fae, I’d say that they came right over. They haven’t been

back to the car, nor has anyone else,” Dusty said first.

“Although some local dog did pause and mark the front passenger-side tire,” Paul added.

“Let’s check the house then.” I headed toward the dark edifice.

“I’ll go around back,” Paul said as he took off around the block in a ground-eating lope.

“She’s going to be fine,” Dusty said patting my shoulder for the umpteenth time since we

set out from the office.

“I know Tiffany’s tough. But is she tough enough to take on a naga and protect Tech at

the same time. He’s really not in her league you know.” I whispered, knowing that Dusty could

easily hear me over the background noises of the city around us.

Dusty didn’t reply as he matched my stride going up to the house.

The front porch creaked loudly as I carefully took my first tentative step onto it. I hadn’t

felt any magical shielding around the perimeter of the yard as we crossed it. I still didn’t feel

anything on the porch either. If Lenny and Katie were our suspects and calling ODs into this

world, there should’ve been some kind of shielding around the place. It made no sense for the

place to be unprotected. A motion-activated light popped on throwing light on the entire battered

porch as my left foot touched it.

“Well so much for subtlety,” Dusty whispered from inches behind me.

“If they’re paying any attention, they know we’re out here. Let’s hope Paul’s having

better luck around back,” I replied softly taking another couple of steps toward the front door.

Light flashed from the back yard.

“I’d say not,” Dusty growled.

The front door was ajar as I placed a hand against it to see if I could feel any magic

coming from it. There was, finally, the barest tingle of something there.

“Well it is almost cliché, but the door is open,” I whispered. “But let me see where this

magic energy I found here leads before we go barging in.”

I opened myself up to the magic and tried to get a good feel for it. It was weak, it wasn’t

any type of shield I’d ever encountered. It wouldn’t have kept out determined Spiral Scouts

selling popcorn. It seemed more like a string of some kind that was strung across the front door.

It went through the windows in the front and continued around the sides of the house. Just as

Paul pushed open the back door I realized what it was, a magical trip wire to set off a magical

trap. A sudden burst of energy flared up along the wire and the trap slammed shut on Paul.

We heard the snarl of rage from a big cat echo through the night.

“Hold on a minute,” I told Dusty as I turned my mind from following the string of energy

to cutting it. It was easy for me to disrupt the string without setting off any more of the traps set

up along the perimeter of the house. The traps explained the lack of shielding.

“Now let’s go see what Paul’s gotten himself into,” I said as the string dissolved in my

mind. “I’ll go first in case there are any more nasty surprises.”

The living room we entered was a scene of pure chaos. I knew there was furniture there

somewhere, but it was all covered in books, magazines, clothes, dishes, almost anything

imaginable was somewhere in the mounds of things there. And there was a stench, like more

than a few of the dishes had not been cleaned before joining the heap of stuff. I could well see

why they would need an exterminator, but no exterminator in their right mind would touch the

place in its current condition. Part of me wanted to turn on the lights, but most of me didn’t. I

opted to pull out my flashlight and work my way back into the rest of the house with that. Dusty

stayed behind me so I could spot traps and so he wouldn’t destroy his night vision.

“Man what a dump,” he muttered as we made our way into the small hallway that

connected the living room and the kitchen. I figured the back door probably connected to the

kitchen.

Sure enough, hanging by one enormous hind paw in the middle of the kitchen was Paul.

His tail hung almost to his head and the look of fury on his face would have been funny in

another situation.

“Give me a sec to study the spell,” I said, as I walked around him trying to figure out the

best way to get him down.

It looked like your basic noose trap, but using magic, not rope. Lying just inside the back

door was another of the copper discs. I fished out my crime scene forceps with their special

rubber tips so that the metal would not interact with the disc’s magic. From the looks of the

markings, it was by the same hands as the other ones we had found. I wondered why someone

who could make these discs was not shielding their home. What was going on here? I wished

Tiffany was there to tell me what all the symbols meant, but she wasn’t. I worried that she and

Tech had fallen prey to the discs as well.

I used my magical senses to probe the disc and compared its energy to the energy holding

Paul up in the air. The disc was definitely tied to the spell. It seemed that there was also an alarm

spell tied to it as well. Great, they knew someone was in their home and their own version of

Brinks had called them. I wondered what would happen if I blocked the disc’s energy. I wished I

had the magic blocking box and since I didn’t, I tried shielding the disc. I felt the magic weaken,

but Paul still dangled in the air like a furry golden piñata.

“You could just try to destroy the disc,” Dusty suggested looking over my shoulder.

“Not a bad idea. Got any metal shears on you? This little thing is a bit thicker than what I

could rip with my bare hands.”

“Then let your loving huswolf do it for you.” Dusty took the disc from me, held it

delicately in both hands and tore it apart. There were a couple of sparks from the dissipating

magic and then Paul crashed to the floor.

“Thanks,” I said, taking the shards from Dusty and giving him a quick peck on the check.

“I’ve always said you’re the brawn in the family.”

“Well I can tell you that Tiffany and Tech didn’t go out the back door,” Paul said

regaining his human form.

“I lost their trail between all the trash in the living room and getting back here to rescue

you,” Dusty said, heading back toward the hallway.

“You know this place is a sty,” Paul grumbled as we followed Dusty. “So I take it we

need to be on the lookout for those disc things.”

“They seem to be popping up all over the place right now,” I replied dropping the

remains into my pocket.

Dusty reached the living room and began sniffing around. “Tiffany and Tech seem to

have been all over in here. And unless I miss my guess, there is also the smell of the naga too. Or

it may just be the three-week-old Dominoes box under the coffee table.” He moved around the

outside of the room. “They went down both halls. We know they weren’t in the kitchen so let’s

check the other hallway.”

The other hallway was a narrow passage with more piles of books and boxes along its

sides. I carefully kept the flashlight pointed downward so I illuminated my feet without blinding

Dusty and Paul. I knew they could both see as well in the gloom as if there was full light. There

were several doors along the hallway. The one to the bathroom stood open and the stench

coming out of there was enough that none of us had any urge to go in there first.

The front bedroom was more of the same clutter and it extended to include the bed. The

tattered old comforter that covered the bed had seen better days and looked like something that

came in one of those bed-in-a-bag kits you got at the flea market, not a classy WallyWorld one.

The way the pillows were piled around like they were trying to dam back the flow of stuff from

the sleeping area made it look more like an animal’s nest than a bed for humans.

There was a faint trace of magic in this room. I had a momentary flash of Lenny and

Katie doing tantric magic in here and then tried to wash that vision out of my mind. I let my

senses wander and the magic trace seemed to be coming from a book that sat on the top of the

pile of books closest to the head of the bed. It felt alarmingly dark.

“Might have found something here guys,” I said as I carefully lifted the book with a bit of

telekinesis so that I could study it without touching it.

“What is it?” Paul asked leaning into the beam of my flashlight.

“Looks like a spellbook of some kind.” The book’s black leather binding didn’t have any

discernable symbols on it. I carefully opened the book. “It looks like it was written by a human

hand and it’s in English.” From my brief scan of the first couple of spells, this wasn’t a nice

book. It contained very dark magic including a summoning spell. That explained how they’d

opened doorways to let fairies and worse in. It wasn’t a book I recognized, so it was not standard

issue. I wondered where it came from. From the look of it, it was not very old. I was going to

keep it and see what I could figure out. If we didn’t find Tiffany and Tech, the book might help

lead us to Lenny and Katie.

Under the black book was a white book that also had a slight glow of magic to it, but

dimmer than the black book. I lifted that book too. Embossed on the cover were the words

“Perfect Love.” Here was a hard copy of Magee Reyes’ manifesto. Lenny and Katie were trying

to charge a master copy with the power from the black book. This was our motive for murder.

From what I knew of Magee, she never would’ve gone along with someone corrupting her work

like this. I figured that there was some kind of control spell in the black book that would energize

the master copy of “Perfect Love” so that people who read any other copy would blindly follow

its teachings. I wished I had a way to keep the two books separated, but at this point, they’d have

to be carried together.

I turned back to Dusty who was still sniffing around. “Here’s a master copy of “Perfect

Love.” I nodded to the white book. “Any other sign of Tiffany?”

“I don’t think she made it in here. Tech did. But her scent trail goes on down the hall,” he

said, turning away from the bedroom.

He took point again as we worked on down the hall. I telekinetically kept the books

following us at a safe distance. As soon as we got out to the car, they were going into the trunk.

If the car weren’t so far away, they’d go in there right now. But I couldn’t see the car from the

porch of the house, so I’d have wait.

“They went in here,” Dusty said from the last room in the hall.

He pushed the door open slightly and a huge burst of magic knocked us backwards down

the hallway toward the living room. The two magical books dropped into the clutter there.

“You think they triggered that?” Paul said getting to his feet.

“Could have,” I said, as I again lifted the books up with my mind. I would have be

surprised if she had triggered any of the traps, from what I could tell, she’d managed to spot all

of them and avoid them.

“Nope, their trail goes in but does not come out,” Dusty said. “I figure Tiffany was either

on guard for something like that or looking for another trap like the ones around the outside of

the house to start her search. Which is why she didn’t go into the bedroom first,” Dusty replied.

“Yeah,” I agreed “That’s something Tiffany’d do.”

I walked up and took point from Dusty. “Let me see what we’re dealing with here before

we blow it again.”

The energies around the door of the room were more like a spider’s web, where the

previous trap had been a single strand of magic. This one would take more time to subtly undo

and I was not sure how much time we had at this point. Then a thought crossed my mind and I

brought the books forward and pushed the books into the room first. The web of energy parted as

the black book passed through it. Somewhere in the black spellbook was the spell used to create

the energy web.

“Come on guys,” I said, motioning them forward.

The room was unlike any other room in the house. It was clean, spotlessly clean, and

obviously where they worked their magic. In the center of the room was a large altar and along

the edges of the room, shelves with various things they might need for spell casting. The herbs

and crystals were all in perfect alphabetical order from what I could tell at a quick glance. There

was also a variety of small cages along the wall, none of which were occupied at the moment,

but a quick glance at the altar showed a dark stain in the center. Someone had done sacrifices

there.

Paul sniffed the cages. “I can smell rabbit and chicken and it’s been at least two, maybe

three weeks since they’ve been here,” he noted. “The Council’s not going to like this one bit.”

“They went through here,” Dusty said pointing at a bricked over doorway. “And it smells

like the naga went with them.”

25

The bricked-over doorway sang of magic. Opening my senses to it, I could tell that it’d

been used recently. A lot of energy still arced around it. Unfortunately for us it was a dead end.

“I have no way of knowing where it goes, even if the spell for it is in the black book.

Portals aren’t something to mess with. If Lenny and Katie are in control of the naga, then odds

are that it lets out somewhere in the area. Unless they have another portal nearby to get further

away, then they should rendezvous with the naga at some point,” I lamented, my worry for

Tiffany growing.

“Do you have some kind of tracking spell that you can cast for Lenny or Katie?” Paul

asked staring around the room for other possible clues.

“We certainly have access to enough of their things here.” I started running through my

mind what I’d need to find them. Here in their own magical room, I could use their own supplies

against them.

“Dusty, see if you can find a piece of hair. Check the bathroom for a hairbrush or

something.” I went over to the shelves with the jars of stones and crystals. I found their last

lodestone easily. Then I found several herbs that would be useful. I only pondered using their

altar for a second, but the blood stains on it convinced me that using the hood of the car as a

place to hold things while we cast the spell would be better. I handed a couple of things to Paul

to carry for me and headed out of the house.

Dusty caught up to us in the hallway. “You owe me big time making me go into that

bathroom. This building should be condemned on that room alone.”

“I’m sure Tiffany will appreciate your sacrifices in the effort to find her,” I said as we

passed through the living room again.

The air outside had changed. It seemed charged. Almost like the edge of a huge

thunderstorm had passed recently. Somebody was doing magic nearby, big magic. I’d forgotten

to check the phase of the moon. I couldn’t see one in the sky. I was pretty sure that if it weren’t a

new moon, then we were pretty close. It was the perfect time for casting magic of new

beginnings.

“We need to hurry. I can feel them or someone starting to cast a spell, a really big spell,”

I said as I lay the lodestone on the hood of the car. Dusty was already going to get the magic bag.

Paul set the jars carefully next to the stone.

“No time for formalities,” I muttered, as I called up a magical circle in my mind,

enclosing the whole car in its protective field. I only hoped that nobody drove down the street

before I finished, or the act of their car passing through the barrier would disrupt the circle and

bring it crashing down around me, yet another reason to work fast.

Dusty set the magic bag down on the hood. It was more of a doctor’s valance than

anything else. “What do you need? “

“Small cauldron, charcoal and lighter,” I replied as I began to arrange the bottles in the

order I needed them.

Paul watched as Dusty set the mini cauldron out on the hood, then took a small round

piece of charcoal, lit it and dropped it into the cauldron once it was going good. Dusty stepped

back in silence.

“The hair?” I asked before I started working.

Dusty handed me a couple of strands of short blonde hairs that felt greasy. They had to

have come from Katie Crackles.

I’d done this locator spell many times in the past. It was a quick and easy way to find a

missing person. I placed one of the hairs on the lodestone with a bit of spit and hoped that it

would stay. Then I set the lodestone down on the other hair so it would not blow away. I dropped

the herbs onto the charcoal in the correct order getting a good billow of smoke flowing upwards.

Taking up the hair-tied loadstone and the other strand of hair, I held them over the smoking

cauldron and intoned my commands. As the last word left my lips I dropped the hair into the

cauldron. There was a large flash of light and the fire in the cauldron went out. The light seemed

to coalesce around the loadstone. I held the loadstone aloft with the barest of mental touches so it

would move of its own accord. It swung briefly then pointed toward the south.

“Got them,” I said as I collapsed the circle with a thought similar to the one that had

created it.

Dusty scooped up the cauldron and tossed the remains of the fire into the street so it

would not ignite a fire. With practiced ease, Dusty repacked the stuff into my bag, careful to

place the hot cauldron into the special fireproof spot where it wouldn’t catch the rest of the bag

on fire.

He handed the bag to Paul. “Time to roll.” He pulled out his keys and headed for the

driver’s door.

I’d already opened the passenger door. Keeping the lodestone dangling in front of me, I

settled into the seat as Paul got into the back. Dusty started the car.

I went into an almost trance-like state, with the lodestone following the path to Katie and

directing Dusty where to drive. Dusty’d done this several times in the couple of years that we’d

been together. Tiffany had more experience doing it with me. She was good enough at it that at

times, I don’t even have to tell her were to go. She sensed where I wanted her to go before I told

her. It would’ve been easier if I had something of Tiffany’s to home in on her. I resolved to add

pieces of hair from Tiffany and Dusty to my magic bag so that I’d be able to find them if

anything like this ever happened again, and it had better not.

The trail led us out onto the loop around Fort Worth and south. I felt a pull to head

slightly east, but it wasn’t time yet. Then we went east on I 20, heading into south Arlington.

“Are we going back to the park where the naga came through last night?” Dusty asked

softly as he realized where we were.

“Feels that way,” I said. I almost did not recognize my own voice it sounded so dreamy

and far away.

Neither of us was surprised, when the lodestone swung toward the park when we reached

the exit. I have to admit, particularly for folks who need that sort of thing, the park and its

monuments had some great energy for magic. The building storm would help as well. As we

turned west down the access road to get back to the park, I could see lightning dancing across the

sky in the distance. I was pretty sure that the thunderstorm was already drenching south Fort

Worth and was heading our way.

“We need to end this before the storm gets here,” I said.

“Do we need to scout the park?” Paul asked as Dusty pulled into the parking lot that held

only a blue van.

“We’ll just follow the lodestone,” I said. Dusty turned off the car.

“How do you prefer to do this?” Paul asked from the back seat. “By gun or fang and

claw?”

“Dusty stays human. We don’t know if they have anymore of the Packrider Fae with

them. You go with what you think is best for you,” I said opening the door. “Dusty, grab one of

the big guns out of the back and the crossbow too. Unfortunately we aren’t sure what it will take

to bring down the naga, but we may need a combination of things. We’ll go for him first, unless

Tiffany and Tech are in a situation where we need to get them away before that. But I’d like

Tiffany’s help if she is in any shape to provide it.”

A soft growl emerged from the other side of the car, as Paul changed to his Jaguar

monster form. Well at least we could talk if need be. Dusty softly closed the back of the car and

turned toward the park with a large rifle over one shoulder, a crossbow over the other and a

monstrous bastard sword strapped to his hip. I hoped we wouldn’t have to run. The sword was

long enough that if we did, it’d get in his way. I needed to get him a shoulder scabbard for the

thing for ease of carry.

The locator spell pulled me north, toward the stones where they cast the original gate

spell. It wasn’t that far. They had to have heard the car pull up. I hoped the naga would not feel

the little bit of magic from the locator spell.

“Tiffany’s nearby,” said Paul, his voice soft and gravelly in his monster form.

We topped a small hill. Looking down toward the creek that ran through the park, a circle

of candles glowed along the short-cropped grass. The looming shape of the naga curled up across

the top of the monument, but I couldn’t make out details in the dim light of the candles many feet

below it. Two people moved around the circle. From a distance in the bad light, I was pretty sure

it was Lenny and Katie. An idea hit me. It was a simple spell and would have unknown results,

but if it worked right, it would at least provide us with a distraction that could help even the odds

a bit. I’d only used this spell once before, and then, Tiffany was helping but it was worth the try.

I motioned for Dusty and Paul to fall back down the rise a bit with me.

“I want to try something. It might work and it might not, but any help with the naga

would be welcome. Just give me a moment of silence.” As I dropped the lodestone into my

pocket, I made a mental note to show Alexia how to do this if I got the opportunity. With her

spiritual sensitivity she’d get great results with it.

I opened myself to the energy currents around me. In my mind, I envisioned Justice as

she appears in the courts, blindfolded, with her sword and her scales. I began a simple chant and

started calling names of those who could seek Justice in the coming conflict. Magee Reyes

appeared first, her spectral face ferocious. Barry Crabtree showed again in his long black duster

looking for a fight. The absence of Madeline Fort and Xan Landron didn’t surprise me. There

were several people that I didn’t recognize. I presumed as they kept changing from human to

animal that they were some of the wers that had been killed over the past couple of weeks. As I

stopped chanting, there were almost a dozen ghosts standing there with us. Their ability to affect

the world would be limited. Most magical people would know this, but I was hoping that Lenny

and Katie didn’t. That’d buy Paul, Dusty and I time to deal with the naga before having to turn

our attention to its summoners.

“Over the rise,” I whispered, “are the people who’re responsible for your deaths. I need to

you to distract them while we free our friends and deal with the naga they have summoned.”

“Just give us the chance,” Barry said, cracking his knuckles.

The wers nodded. Magee sneered. “Right behind ya, Barry.”

“Good, Paul, give Dusty and me the chance to hit the naga from a distance first. Then if

need be, we’ll go hand to hand. See if you can find Tiffany, her help would be appreciated,” I

said as I started up the hill.

Beside me, Dusty readied the crossbow and shot me a dazzling smile. He never

questioned my lead. He was always there for me. I loved him like no one else who had ever been

part of my life. After this was over, I promised myself that I would make sure he knew that.

We topped the hill and I reached out for the energy of the brewing storm. It came easily

and I forced it down toward the towering monument, blowing out the candles in the circle and

dropping the area into darkness.

My ghostly allies cast their own eerie light as they swarmed down toward Lenny and

Katie. Several of the wers howled long wicked howls that rent the night, raising the hairs on my

arms. Having called forth a vicious-looking motorcycle and sword, Barry led the charge with

Magee running behind him screaming her own indistinguishable battle cry.

I heard Dusty’s crossbow go off, followed closely by a roar that I couldn’t tell whether it

came from pain or anger. I paused in my downhill charge, and keeping a mental picture of the

naga in my mind since my night vision was nowhere near as keen as Dusty’s, I threw a large

leven bolt. I wouldn’t be able to cast many of those without tapping a lot of power from the

oncoming storm. The light from the energy bolt blazed blue across the park before striking the

naga. The serpent rose up, its arms working in an intricate pattern which could only be the

casting of some kind of spell. The leven bolt struck before the OD completed the pattern and it

screamed as the light that had gathered around its hands exploded in its face. Its leven bolt

arrived before I thought the naga could have recovered, flashing red as it flew toward my face.

I raised a shield just in time, but the impact still pushed me back a couple of feet, the

heels of my boots leaving lines in the grass. I heard Dusty’s rifle go off as I hit it with another

leven bolt. It was ready for me this time, and although the bolt struck true, it didn’t cry out.

Instead, it slid gracefully off the monument.

Then the lightning showed up in earnest, seemingly drawn to the naga. From the look on

its scaly face, this wasn’t the serpent mage’s effort to recharge. Lightning lit up the park as bolt

after bolt struck the naga.

“The lightning will dry it out.” Tiffany called out. I turned and she was standing near

where the circle had been. Her hands upraised as she called forth the power of the storm. “The

dryer it gets, the weaker it will become,” she screamed over the thunder that rolled through the

park as the lighting continued to streak down upon the stricken naga. It was trying to escape to

the creek that ran through the park.

Dusty continued to fire at the OD until he was out of bullets. He tossed the gun aside and

pulled out his sword. “Now Paul,” he called as he ran toward the naga.

I watched in horror as Dusty and Paul ran toward the naga. They got nearer and the

lightning danced ever closer to them. They seemed to dance with the lightning. Somehow, it

never struck them, not even with Dusty carrying that huge sword. The naga seemed to fall in on

itself. Dusty delivered a powerful blow with the sword while Paul sank dagger-long claws into

its back and began climbing the thing. Tiffany’s lightning continued a relentless assault and still

managed to avoid Dusty and Paul. Dusty’s sword cut deep and he retched upward, bathing in the

reptilian guts. It collapsed even further as Paul tore great chunks out of it.

I’am constantly amazed at the amount of damage some Other-Dimensionals can take.

Most of the creatures from this plane of reality would have been dead by now from just the

wounds that Dusty had inflicted, but still the naga tried to stay upright. Still it struggled to get

away to the life-giving power of the stream. Finally, it dropped its head to the point that Dusty

could reach it with the sword. With a heavy blow that lifted my lover off his feet, Dusty severed

the naga’s head from its neck. The beast’s great body shook wildly and Paul gracefully rolled

away from the thrashing form. A great stream of bodily fluids washed out of the headless naga’s

neck covering Dusty with another layer of goo. Silently, I hoped none of those fluids were

poisonous to wers.

Tiffany’s lightning attack stopped as soon as the naga’s head bounced on the short-cut

grass. But now the storm was upon us. In the last moments of the naga’s life, a little trickle of

rain had begun to fall. Now, it was rapidly becoming a downpour. The plus side I thought as I

rushed toward Dusty, who was sheathing his sword, was that it would wash off the naga guts and

fluids that covered him.

“Thank the Gods, you’re okay.” I hugged him tightly to me. He wrapped his arms around

me, returning my embrace.

“Hey it takes more than an over grown extra-dimensional snake to take me out.” He

laughed softly as the rain pelted heavier. “I think we still have the evil witches to deal with.” He

whispered giving my ear a playful nip.

I sighed. “A hero’s work is never done. Let’s see what’s going on there.”

I curved an arm around his waist and we headed back toward the area the circle had been

minutes before.

A flash of lightning showed Tech sitting on Lenny, while the specter of Magee Reyes

screamed at him. As we got closer we could make out her words. “What did you mean by killing

me, or rather summoning something to kill me? Don’t you know that summoning is evil? Lenny,

I trusted you and you betrayed me!” Every few words her voice rose to a higher pitch. Dusty

flinched a couple of times as she hit notes only dogs and werewolves could hear.

“Your vision for Perfect Love was too narrow. I knew you’d never listen. It was a means

to control the sheeple. If you’d listened to me we could’ve been great.” Lenny spoke so freely I

wondered if someone had cast a truth spell on him. I was not sure if Magee could have done that

in her spirit form or not.

“You knew I had no need to be great. I just wanted people to be happy. That was the goal

of Perfect Love, to show people how to be happy.” Magee railed on him.

“Have you got this under control Tech?” Tech looked comfortable enough to me. Lenny

wasn’t squirming or anything.

“Sure, I even called Carmine to send a cleanup crew and pickup car for this trash. You

might want to see what happened to Katie. Right after Paul got Tiffany and I free, she took off

screaming and the rest of the ghosts were chasing her down. For some reason, the big guy on the

motorcycle really scared her.”

“I’ve got her scent.” Dusty said as another bolt of lightning struck close by. “Need to

hurry though before the rain washes it away, although I doubt the ghost will let her get away.”

“Lead on, my faithful huswolf,” I said with my arm still around Dusty’s waist.

Dusty led me past where Tiffany and Paul were making sure that none of the naga’s

blood washed into the creek using Tiffany’s magic to build a small wall around the thing until

the clean-up crew arrived. We walked past several of the other monuments and almost back

toward the car before I spotted the ethereal light from the ghosts. They were standing by the

creek where Katie Crackles lay face down in the shallow water with the rain pounding into her

messed-up hair.

I looked at Barry Crabtree still sitting on his spectral cycle. He shrugged. “She just

tripped and fell in. Honest.”

I pulled Dusty back toward the parking lot, where the first of the Council’s clean-up crew

was just pulling up. “Let’s go home.” I was tired and ready for some much needed rest. I didn’t

even want to worry about dismissing the ghosts. They’d leave with the rising sun. We paused

long enough to gather up Tiffany, Tech and Paul. The backseat of the car was a bit cramped, but

everyone was safe and sound.

26

The beat of the drums filled the night. I stood in a circle of people as the full moon

crested the rise of a small hill just south of Dallas. I was amazed at how many people the get-

together group had gathered for their own private funeral. Brianna and Byron Supunski led the

service as they honored the lives of Magee Reyes, Barry Crabtree, Madeline Fort and Xan

Landron. There were several moving speeches given. The most notable by Alexia, who spoke of

her love for Barry and then announced to everyone that she was pregnant and his legacy would

carry on. That brought the assembled witches to tears and everything stopped for a few minutes

while everyone had to hug her.

I wish Dusty could’ve been there, but it was a full moon night and he had pack

obligations. I promised to fill him in when he got home in the morning. Tiffany and Tech were

out on a date. I brought Alexia. We figured it’d be easier for her than letting one of the Council

people bring her. The girl showed great potential. Tiffany agreed to teach her what she could

outside of the basic training the Council had already started for her.

To give him a sense of closure, we told Reynaldo Reyes that Katie Crackles had been the

one who had killed Magee. Since she was just a body now, it was easier than trying to explain

that she and Lenny had done it together and that Lenny was now in magical custody. He felt

better and had paid his bill, so I was okay with the omission.

The Council locked up Lenny Pentilli. They really wanted to know all about the Perfect

Love book and the black book that Lenny had used to charge it, but somehow those tomes

managed to disappear into the depths of my safe before they could get their hands on them. I

wanted to go over them in fine detail with Tiffany before letting them into other people’s hands.

I really wanted to know where the black book came from and what was in “Perfect Love” that

gave it so much potential power that people would kill to control it. We’d gone back to the house

before the Council cleaners arrived, to get Tech’s car and go over the place. We found a couple

more books that bore more research as well.

I am still watching the shadows. I know that Lenny couldn’t be the person behind trying

to unbalance the wer community as well as the Wiccan one. He was the one summoning the

ODs, but I don’t believe he could’ve thought for a minute that he’d be able to take over the wers

too. For that, we had to look at someone in the Council or an enemy of the Council. He claimed

that wers weren’t affected by Prefect Love, and therefore, he was just trying to get rid of them. It

would only be a matter of time before someone else stepped in to pick up Larry’s agenda. And

unfortunately, Coyote in ill health, the werewolf community would unsettle soon enough, giving

that person an opportunity to make things worse.

“Lovely circle,” A woman in a long denim skirt and tie-dyed dress shirt said softly to me,

breaking me out of my thoughts. She’d been one of the drummers and I recognized her from the

get-together meeting, where Dusty and I had been under illusion.

“Bree and Byron did a good job,” I said softly.

“Did you know any of them?”

“I met them a couple of times. But basically I’m Alexia’s ride tonight.”

She offered me a hug. “I’m Sue. Hope to see you around from time to time.”

I returned her hug. “I’m Ethan, I’m sure you will.”

“Well I have a bit more drumming to do. Stay around. We’re going to make it a royal

send off.” She turned to head back to the drumming circle.

Alexia joined me looking drained. “Do you mind if we go now? That took a lot out of

me.”

“No problem,” I replied as we turned toward the car.

There was a gambit of hugs yet to be given, as people expressed their regrets to Alexia

over the loss of Barry and their hopes for her baby. This was something the Council didn’t have,

a true sense of community. I was surprised to see it in the Wiccans. The wers all had it. But most

humans seem to have forgotten about the true idea of community in our busy modern world.

Alexia sighed as she settled into the passenger seat. “They’re good people.”

I started the car and looked back at the hillside where a bonfire blazed. We could still

hear the drums. Some people were beginning to dance around the fire.

“Yes, they’re good people. I think if people can achieve perfect love it would start in a

group like this.” I pulled out of the little parking lot and headed back toward the city lights.

The End

Coming Spring 2012 “Perfect Trouble”

If you liked this book, check out these shorts in the same series,

“Belly of the Beast”

“Jewelry Jinx”

A.M. Burns currently lives in the beautiful Colorado Mountains surrounded by nature, his

loving partner, several dogs, a couple of cats, some horses and a red-tailed hawk. When not hard

at work on his next writing project, he spends time photographing the magical world around him.

Learn More about A.M. and keep up to date on his projects at

A.M.Burns.com

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