I watched as Rick made nice-nice with Sylvia Turpin, LEO to LEO. They seemed to be okay, and I tuned them out, watching other players in the room.
Soul and Bruiser were looking each other over, a small smile on Bruiser’s face. They had met not that long ago, here in Natchez after the shootout. I had left the scene with Rick, and the glance they were exchanging suggested that the primo and Rick’s Soul had spent time together. And liked it. Crap. Inside, my Beast hissed.
Yeah, I thought at her. Me too.
“NPD is handling the lair. The Acheé place falls under my jurisdiction. We’re getting stretched thin, trying to keep citizens safe and run the crime scenes. First glance at blood spatter,” Sylvia said, bringing me back to the present, “indicates they fought back. Our local expert says it’s both Naturaleza vamp blood and witch. And the witches had silver-shot ammo on hand. It didn’t slow the vamps down.”
“Local expert?” Bruiser asked, his eyes still on Soul.
“Local vamp. Helps us out sometimes. And no. I won’t tell you the name.”
As the law enforcement and vamp-dinner types chatted and metaphorically scented one another’s butts, I slipped upstairs for gear, and then out the back door and into the night. I needed to get out of there. There were too many relationships in the house and none of them going where my cat wanted. The Acheé house gave me an excuse, and though I knew it was running away and totally cowardly, I headed straight to Bitsa.
The air was cold and sharp and a dispirited rain drizzled down, some sleet mixed in. It fell in irregular patterns, as if unsure whether to quit and go dry or give in and have a thunder temper tantrum and mini flood.
“Let’s take my vehicle.”
I started at the sound of Rick’s voice in the dark, from several cars parked in a neat row. His scent reached me, man and cat and sultry jungle nights. “What? Where?”
I heard keys jingle and amusement in his voice. “The Acheé family place. To take in the scents. That is where you were going. Right?”
I shouldn’t go with Rick. I really shouldn’t. Things are too messed up between us. I spun on a booted heel and said, “Sure. Let’s go.” So much for taking a stand.
Rick led the way through the small gate in the eight-foot-tall fence and around front. Silent, we got into his SUV, and I was buckling up when I realized Rick was standing outside with the back door open. The vehicle rocked when the wolf, Brute, leaped onto the bench seat and lay down, panting, his head turned away, the neon-green Pea clinging to his back. “Great,” I muttered.
Rick, if he heard me, chose to ignore me. He got in, closed out the night, and drove into the dark, his electronic tablet glowing on the console between us with our path all plotted out. I noticed that the house we were going to was in the opposite part of town from the red triangle Eli had prepared for us to search for Misha, and wondered if that meant anything at all.
• • •
We wove through the city and out into the country, trees crowding against the sides of the road and the smell of water on the night breeze. We crossed over a mostly dried-up, winding bayou three times before pulling on to a drive and winding our way in the deeper dark. The live oaks branched over the narrow driveway, interlacing like fingers to keep out the moonlight. The Acheé house was a traditional tidewater, up on pilings with a front porch that ran the length of the house, a tin roof, and chimneys at both ends. When we got out, the smell of the city was gone and the smell of water and living plants was strong. To the side of the house was a circular open area marked with stones, a perfect witch circle disguised as a sitting area with a gazebo in the center.
I meandered over while Rick went to talk to the LEO guarding the crime scene until the techs could get there. In the open space, no trees were in the way to spoil the moon’s glow, which suggested that a moon witch lived or practiced here. At the gazebo, I bent and spotted the cleverly disguised wheels used to push the structure out of the way when the family’s womenfolk needed some moon time. The stones around the edges were all white quartz, and winter herbs were planted around the outside edge. The scent of rosemary and sage permeated the air here, contained by the chill. I walked around the gazebo, staring up at the moon. The silvery orb was nearly full, and Beast pulled at me to shift and hunt, not demanding, not yet, but making her needs known.
Have not hunted in many moon times, she thought. Jane is selfish.
Yeah, and you’re chained to Leo.
Leo is not here. Leo is far away.
But his primo is here. That gonna make you get all hot and bothered?
Bruiser is good for mate. Will take Bruiser.
“Not gonna happen,” I murmured.
Beast huffed and disappeared, and Rick said, “What’s not gonna happen?”
“No witch circle this full moon unless we get the family back,” I lied. Not so very long ago, I couldn’t lie worth a dang. Now it came easily.
“We have entrée,” Rick said. “Shall we?”
I wanted to say, “When and where?” but managed to keep it inside. I nodded mutely and tucked my hands into my pockets to keep from shaping them over his butt as I followed him up the wooden steps to the doorway. The scent of blood was like a barbed fist to the jaw as Rick opened the door.
The blood was vamp by the smell, and I stood transfixed in the opening, lips parted, sucking in air over the roof of my mouth. Over the biological scent of drying blood I smelled gun propellant, the stench of burned nitrocellulose. And then I smelled the scent of child, witch child, her blood spilled. My fingers curled and my Beast claws tried to press through my fingertips, a piercing pain. I hissed softly.
“Jane?”
I growled and whirled to see Rick holding out a pair of cloth booties and gloves and something white in a plastic baggie.
“Jane?” Rick looked away, turning his head but keeping me in his peripheral vision. A strange dullness tugged at his mouth, catlike, uninterested, while at the same time actively involved in an exchange. It was big-cat body language for Not stepping on your toes. Your territory, your meat. Big-cat manners, intended to defuse an angry mate.
I huffed and felt Beast slide out of my eyes. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. But we need to preserve the crime scene. We need to dress out.”
I took the pile of paper and nitrile and dressed in the white—white booties, white nitrile gloves, white hair cap that shaped itself like a soft mound of bread-dough when I put it on, and white paper robe that tied in back. It was hot and stuffy and I hated it, but I understood the necessity. I didn’t want to leave my own stray hairs in the blood or ruin my clothes. It took me longer than it did Rick, and I followed him inside, placing my feet between blood splotches.
The wolf and his rider waited at the door, and I could feel more than hear the wolf’s low growl deep in his throat. His lips rose to reveal the points of his fangs, and I kept my gaze to the side. Too many species in one spot; the language of body movements was not precise, but a direct gaze was a challenge among all animals, except sometimes humans. Brute didn’t like the smells any more than I did, which made me feel better toward the wolf than I wanted to.