Raven Cursed (Jane Yellowrock #4)

Raven Cursed (Jane Yellowrock #4) Page 45

“This goes on Pellissier’s tab.”

“My favorite words,” he said. The tab had just gone up by a huge percentage. Reach would work for anyone, but his prices were on a sliding scale and vamps had to pay more. I could hear keys clicking in the background. “Work order name?”

“Thomas Stevenson, formerly—”

“Lincoln Shaddock’s primo, turned just after 9-11, and still chained.”

“Not anymore. Sane, psycho, and free.”

“Sounds like a fun search. And because he’s crazy and hungry, you need it fast. More money for me. You need all pre-turn financial records including tax info, banking both on and offshore and in numbered accounts, real properties in his name, and a quick run through of friends, family, and acquaintances. Probably need a list of any properties they own as well.”

“Good. And while you’re clacking around in virtual space, see what you can find on a history of Evangelina Everhart. I want deep background. If she potty trained early or wrote a poem in third grade, I want to see it.”

“I have the financials on the witch collated, and am sending them over now. Anything else?”

Dollar signs were dancing a tango in my hindbrain. This was gonna cost Leo a fortune. The fog thinned and I gunned the engine, only to hit a thicker patch that forced me to brake hard. “Probably. If so I’ll call. Send the records to my e-mail. Anything hinky, call.”

“Will do.”

The call ended and I slowed again as the white closed in around the SUV like a blanket. I dialed Derek twice before the call went through, the atmospheric conditions ripe for interference. On my third try he said, “Go ahead.”

Short and sweet. That’s Derek. And if his attitude was anything to go by, I’d either be finding new help or taking our problems to the boxing ring. Maybe literally. “I’ll be away a while. You’re in charge of Grégoire.”

“Fine.” He hung up with a resounding click, hard to do on a cell.

Rain splattered against the windshield. I needed both hands on the wheel, which meant I needed hands-free calling. Next on my wish list from Leo. More urgent, I needed to get to Evangelina’s, and see if Shaddock was there. And I needed to help Big Evan find a way to wake Molly up from Evangelina’s spell, if he’d let me. And then I had to find a way to . . . Crap. Again, I was flying by the seat of my pants and had no idea how I was gonna accomplish the job and still keep my friends safe.

The phone rang and it was Molly’s number. Again. I punched the call button and heard crying. Angelina. The guilt and worry I had been shoving away rolled over me like a tsunami. It’s the middle of the night. What is she doing up, using her mother’s cell? “Hey, Angie Baby.”

“Aunt Jane, you need to come see me. Now. Mommy and Daddy won’t wake up. Come now. Come now!”

My heart did a cartwheel that left me breathless. “I’m on my way.” I switched to my right leg, pressed the accelerator to the floor and fishtailed around a curve. The road disappeared as the headlights illuminated only fog in a roiling wave. I compensated and braked, depending on the antilock breaking system, before easing the accelerator down. “I’ll be there in less than a hour. Can you let the wards down?”

“Yes. I can let them down. I’m a big girl.”

But I could still hear the tears. “Are you okay? Is Little Evan okay?” My leg was throbbing and a wet warm sensation gathered under me. I was bleeding again. I didn’t care.

“No. I’m sick. And Little Evan throwed up in his crib.” The call gave a staticky silence and picked back up on her words, “. . . urry, Aunt Jane. Hurry.”

“I’m coming as fast as I can, Angie. I need you to talk to me, so you can stay awake. Okay?” I took a tighter curve and passed an eighteen-wheeler with no room to spare between it and whatever lay in the white shadows off the road. When Angie sniffled agreement, I said, “Tell me how long your mama and daddy have been asleep.”

“They went to bed before dinner. I can’t wake them up. And you wouldn’t call me back.” She was crying in earnest now and my shame was stabbing deeper. She sounded so sleepy.

I had to keep her awake. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I promise from now on, I’ll always call you back. Always. Angie are you there?” When she mumbled a yes, I said, “Angie, I need for you do something for me. I need you to go into your mama and daddy’s bedroom and see if anything is spelled. Like a present Aunt Evangelina gave her. Can you do that?” Maybe if I kept her moving, I could keep her awake.

“You mean like the earrings she gived to Mama?”

My hands tightened so hard the steering wheel gave with a soft squeak of damaged rubber. But I kept my voice neutral and calm. “Yes. Like that. Go look at them and tell me if they have a spell on them, okay?”

“Okay. But don’t touch them, right? My angel said not to touch them.”

“Right.” I could hear snoring over the cell, the low rumble of a bear in hibernation. Big Evan. “Do you see the earrings? What do they look like?”

“Mama’s wearing them in her ears. They are pink and gold. And they got pink sparklies on them.” She yawned hugely. “I’m sleepy, Aunt Jane.”

Crapcrapcrap! I didn’t know enough about magic to make a decision. What to do? “Okay. I want you to get Little Evan out of his crib and let down the wards. Then I want you to climb into your mama’s van with a blanket and wait for me.” When she didn’t answer, I said, gently, “Angie?” I took a curve and the call stuttered. I heard Angie say something. And then silence.

“Angie! Angie!” I had lost the call.

I didn’t have the other Everhart sisters’ numbers on my cell. But I did have Reach. I pushed the number and when he answered, I said, “I need assistance.”

“I’m not your servant.”

“A little girl and a toddler are in trouble. You gonna let ’em die?”

“Like I said before, you are my most interesting client. Profit-making, too.”

“Yeah, whatever. This is on my tab. I need you to look up the numbers of the Everhart sisters, dial the numbers, one by one, and when someone answers, put me through. Start with Boadacia and Elizabeth. I think they live together.”

“Secretary. I’m playing secretary,” he grumbled. But I heard keys clacking and a moment later, an automated answering message invited me to leave a number. Several clicks later, another message answered, this time with Elizabeth’s voice. “Leave a number and I’ll get back to you.” Crap. Why weren’t they at home? Unless they were there and spelled. The fear sucked at me, pulling me down, drowning.

“Try Carmen Miranda Everhart Newton,” I said.

Following more clacking and more silence, Reach said, “No answer, no message. Just rings.”

“Regan and Amelia Everhart.”

Regan answered on the second ring, sounding groggy, as if waked from deep dreams. Relief slammed through me, almost painful. “Regan, this is Jane Yellowrock. Wake up. Your sisters are in trouble.”

Regan didn’t want to believe me when I told her that her witch sisters had been spelled by Evangelina, insisting that it was probably a group working gone wrong, but she and her sister did get out of bed and start the drive up the mountain to Molly’s. The girls had no power of their own, but they had been raised among witches and the manipulation of energy, so I was hopeful that they could guide me in freeing Molly and Evan. Unfortunately, I beat them to the refurbished house on the top of the mountain.

The peak was shrouded in dense fog, no outside lights were on, and the house was darker than the armpit of hell. I didn’t reweapon. If there was danger here, it wasn’t something I could kill with stakes, blades, or even my M4. Beast padded just under my skin, lending me her night vision, her strength and speed tingling just under my skin like her pelt rising. A snarl lifted my lips and my jaw ached, as Beast’s killing teeth strained to break free. I slid from the SUV.

My leg was cold where the blood was cooling, and the wound felt like fire, a burning throb of pain. I limped to the house, moving slowly, silently, trying to see the ward before I ran nose first into it. Bumping into Molly’s wards tended to result in a siren loud enough to deafen. But the siren didn’t sound, not even when my palm bumped something dark. The thud sounded dull, hollow in the encasing cloud. My fingertips touched metal, cold and wet beneath the fog. Molly’s van. Hope detonated through me like mini fireworks and I found the passenger door by feel. It opened easily, and mist puffed in. The interior light came on, too bright, making a halo around the vehicle.

Angelina and Little Evan were cuddled on the seat, wrapped in a blanket, asleep. I picked them up in my arms and jogged back to my SUV, the grass and ground crunching beneath me. I crawled in to the front seat and closed the door, settling them on my lap to wait. I pulled Angie Baby close, nuzzling her head, her hair soft as angel wings against my face, breathing in her scent. Her hair smelled of baby shampoo, sleep, and warmth. Little Evan smelled of dirty diapers and milk. The throbbing in my leg eased, even as my blood wicked into their blanket.

Kits, Beast murmured deep inside. Safe.

But I had put them in danger. Again. As usual, when I was dealing with the children, tears came easily; one scalded its way down my face.

“Aunt Jane? Am I a big girl? My angel said I was a big girl.”

A sob escaped before I could catch it. My words stuttered through the tears. “Ye-yes, Angie Baby.” I hugged the children closer, careful not to use Beast’s strength that still stalked just beneath my skin. “You are a very big, wise, strong, good girl, and I am very proud of you.” Headlights cut through the night, illuminating little more than the fog. A tiny four-wheel drive car pulled up behind me. The lights went out and two car doors slammed, the sound muffled. My SUV’s back doors opened and closed, Amelia on one side, Regan on the other. They leaned into the front seat, heads close, whispering together.