Black Arts (Jane Yellowrock #7)

Black Arts (Jane Yellowrock #7) Page 55

“What? No. Not planning on it. You gonna try to drink me down?”

She ghosted a worn, wearied smile at me and stepped back from the door, saying, “Come in, Jane Yellowrock. What took you so long?”

• • •

I sat in the darkened living room, on a chair across from the cold fireplace, staring at a dead girl who was still dying. She was vastly different from the picture I had seen of her in her abandoned bedroom, in her mother’s house outside Asheville, North Carolina, and in the NOPD’s woo-woo room. Older than the photos, indicating that she hadn’t been turned immediately after they were taken. Skinnier, paler certainly. Probably a bit taller. Her hair was a browner shade of red than Molly’s.

She didn’t move with vamp grace, the way they do when they want to charm or disarm, but all lizard-y, bird-y, snake-y, the way they do when they’re fearful or angry. Or sick. She was sitting on the sofa, her spindly legs drawn up onto the cushion, arms held up in the air, the skein of magic still working, providing the only light.

“Where’s Molly?” Eli asked. He was standing in the corner, weapon at ready, ocular perched on top of his head like a science fiction cyborg.

“He took her today while I was sleeping, after Bliss got sick,” Shiloh said, still staring at me. It wasn’t the regard of a predator with prey in sight; more like being regarded as uninteresting, unnecessary, and I remembered her question at the door, “What took you so long?”

Beast padded slowly forward, into the front parts of my mind, studying her. Witch-vampire. Dying, Beast murmured.

“Your eyes are starting to glow, just like Aunt Molly-Lolly said they would,” Shiloh said.

Molly-Lolly? I hadn’t heard that name before. I took a breath and pulled myself together. Someone took Molly. I had work to do. “You look sick,” I said. “Bliss is sick too?”

“Yes. Something’s wrong with Aunt Molly-Lolly’s magic. Jack is a witch like me. Or not like me, but he’s a witch. He got Aunt Molly-Lolly blood-drunk, cast a spell, used his compulsion on her, and redirected her magic. With the death magics, he can make people sick and kill Mithrans. He’s going to use it on Leo Pellissier, as soon as he gets him away from his power base.” Shiloh smiled, the skin of her face pulling into wrinkles, as if she was badly dehydrated. She looked worse, if possible, than she had when she answered the door, but maybe it was the lack of light. She still hadn’t turned any on.

“Death magic,” I said.

“Yes.” She took a breath and her fingers, still manipulating magic, trembled like dried sticks in a winter wind.

“That’s why the grounds are dying. Because of Molly,” I said.

“Yes. If it isn’t used, it spills over. She’s fighting him, but he’s draining her, and when she fights him, other things die and people get sick. She can’t last long.” Shiloh chuckled, and there was nothing amusing in the laughter. It was raspy, dry, the laughter of the grave, full of despair. “She’ll give up soon and let him use her. She’ll have to. And then I’ll be dead.”

I pointed at the magic she was doing. “You’re fighting the death spell.” When she nodded I said, “If it can be fought, it can be defeated.” I pulled my cell and dialed Big Evan.

“Stop,” Shiloh said. “Don’t. He’ll know.”

I looked at the cell and back to the girl. And it all made perfect sense. “Someone is telling him stuff about us. Stuff we say on our cell phones.”

Shiloh nodded, her neck like a thin stem, overbalanced by her head.

“Did he use the name Reach, by any chance?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

I wanted to scream, but I didn’t have time just now for vengeance. I would take care of Reach later. Once I found him. I pulled a burner phone from my pocket and dialed Evan. When he answered, I said, “Jane here. Don’t talk. Just listen. Jack Shoffru has Molly, but I have Shiloh. Molly’s magic went bad and turned into death magic.”

“Magic doesn’t go bad. It takes—”

“I said shut up.” He did, but I didn’t have time to enjoy it. “Shoffru is directing Molly’s magic against her will, killing vamps and making humans sick. Shiloh is fighting it, but she’s losing. I need you to play something disruptive. And now.” It took a few seconds, but over the cell connection I heard the first strains of flute music. It was a melody similar to the one he had devised for Rick LaFleur, and tears prickled under my lids. But I didn’t have time for grief either, not for Rick, and not even for Molly. I held the cell to Shiloh, forcing all emotion down inside, where it raged and shrieked and slashed at the cave walls where I confined it.

Shiloh’s eyes shot to the cell vamp-fast, and her fangs snapped down on the tiny hinges in the roof of her mouth—the thin needles of the young, newly risen vamp. The magic in her hands swept to the cell and enveloped it in sparkles of green and white and pale blue, colors of light that I could see in Beast’s vision. The cell in my hand began to heat and the screen flickered for a moment. The battery wouldn’t last long at this rate. Neither would the electronic guts of the machine.

Strength returned to Shiloh, and her head moved upright, her fingers grew steady. But Shiloh’s eyes began to vamp out, and I knew she needed blood. Eli must have known as well. He said, “Bliss is sick. How about Rachael?” I closed my eyes and slumped in my chair, breathing deeply, scenting, trusting Eli to keep me safe while I was busy. Beneath the smell of vamp and the sting of magic, there was a scent on the air, like sweat on sickbed sheets. The girls had been here. They still were here. “Bliss? Rachael?” I called. “Come in, please.”

The door to the kitchen opened, revealing the two girls standing in the dark. “Hey, Jane,” Bliss said as she and Rachael walked into the living room. They looked horrible, as if they’d had the flu for days, but Bliss went straight to Shiloh and held out her wrist.

“You don’t have to,” Shiloh said, sounding stronger, but staring at the proffered flesh.

“Drink. You have magic help now, so I don’t think you’ll lose control,” the little witch said.

My brow crinkled with confusion as Shiloh bit down and sucked, greedily and hard, ravenous. Bliss flinched at the pain before the pleasure in the vamp saliva made it bearable. Shiloh still had stuff to learn about being a vamp and making her dinners happy. But the witch part, she was getting pretty well. In front of her body, her fingers kept working, braiding her own magic with Evan’s that sounded from the cell.

“Someone want to tell me what’s going on?” I asked.

Rachael said, “We were stupid. We went to a party at Guilbeau’s, looking for a little fun on the side. And we saw Molly standing with this guy. He looked like our type—rich and vampy. She looked drunk.”

“We went over to say hi,” Bliss said. “You know, because Molly was nice to us when she stayed with you and high-class ladies don’t usually treat people like us as”—her hand made a waffling motion—“people. Anyway, we don’t know what happened.” She cupped Shiloh’s head with her free hand, a grimace of pain on her face, and her voice showed strain. “Everything seemed great. The guy seemed hot, like Mr. Wonderful, great in bed and with wads of money. And he introduced us to Shiloh.”

“And next thing we knew, we woke up here,” Rachael said. “Chained to the beds upstairs and a newly risen fanghead loose in the house.”

“Hungry,” Bliss added. “Which kinda sucked, pun intended. Okay now,” she said to Shiloh. “Greenwitch. That’s enough. Remember what we said. Greenwitch. It’s time to stop.” Shiloh’s fangs slid from Bliss’ wrist and she licked the wound to close it. Or to get the last drop. Or both. To me, Bliss said, “Greenwitch is our safe word. So far it’s keeping her need in check.”

Shiloh looked less ill, as if there was more flesh cushioning between bone and skin, and she looked more in control. She clicked her fangs back into her mouth. “Aunt Molly-Lolly said I probably need more blood than the average Mithran. I had been talking to two blood-slaves, Devin and a guy named Ozzie, and two of their pals at the party. But then I saw Aunt Molly-Lolly and Bliss and Rachael. And then I don’t remember anything else.”

“Jack has a bottle of wine,” Bliss said.

Rachael said, “Honey wine. And if you drink it, you get, well, let’s say you get real suggestible, real fast.”

“Molly said it was probably the bottle that was spelled, because he would pour wine into it, cheap stuff, and it would turn into honey wine. And the spell transferred to the wine and then to the drinker. And according to him, it works on every species.”

“Enough,” I said. “Let’s get you three back to Katie’s house.”

“You’re going to bring a hungry fanghead and the two”—Eli hesitated a bare second—“ladies back into the city?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Into the cell, I said, “You hear that, Evan? Make sure things are safe at Katie’s. Make sure she knows what happened so she doesn’t kill her girls or Shiloh.” The young vamp’s eyes went wide at that, but really, what else could I say?

CHAPTER 21

Went to the Dark Side

The ride back to Katie’s was anticlimactic. The blood had given Shiloh strength, and Evan’s magic had given her something to use to keep the black magics at bay. And contrary to what I expected, when Katie saw her, the older vamp invited the younger into Katie’s Ladies instantly. Katie was changing, and so far, the changes seemed positive—barring that possessive streak and the quick temper.

Eli and I filed in after her, and I was doubly surprised to see Amy Lynn Brown sitting on the couch in Katie’s office, next to Big Evan. The young vamp and devoveo prodigy didn’t even stand, she just lifted her wrist. Shiloh fell at her feet and drank. When the young vamp had taken all she safely could, Katie offered the girl her own wrist.