Witches, Voids, and Other Sanity Suckers

Sally's late model foreign SUV is in the coven's driveway, but no one answers when I ring the bell. Or when I bang and shout. Fine. No matter. What I'm here for isn’t in the house anyway.

"Grab the shovel, Princess."

"You get the shovel. I need the salt."

Contradicting my orders while still on probation is not a good move. She’s new, though, so I don’t snarl. Much. "Grab. The. Damn. Shovel."

Fortunately, for her, I can't make out what she mutters under her breath. She grabs the shovel as well as the salt and scurries back like a good little pack member. The gate leading to the rear of the house is wooden. Not very secure. I'm just pissed enough at Sally to want to kick it in.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Princess says seconds before the sole of my boot makes contact with Sally's crappy gate.

"Why not?"

She drops to her knees next to me and dips her right hand into the Ziploc bag of salt. "Because your foot'll fall off." She stares up at me with an expression that clearly indicates she thinks I'm an idiot. "Sally's a witch. Perimeter boundaries are warded."

Does she think this is my first run-in with witches? "I can handle wards."

"You can handle puny wards put up by amateurs with an all-purpose spell and a bit of sage. This is a professional warding. Around the Coven's garden. Trust me, it'll turn your manly hairy calf into ash."

It grates, but she's the magic expert. Time for her to start proving she's worth all the trouble. "Fine, but if you burn your hand off, don't come crying to me."

I catch a quick eye roll as she turns back to the gate. Oh, sweetheart, tomorrow morning is going to be so painful for you. I was going to have her jog with Ike and Hank, but it looks like she'll be joining Greta's morning run.

Az presses a salt-coated palm against the gate. "Don't try this on your own. The salt just protects my skin. I have to drain the magic out of the ward."

Aw hell. Just when I got the non-psycho version, too. "How far back is this going to set you?"

"Shouldn't set me back at all, Rick. My defenses are the best. When they're up, that is." She shrugs and closes her eyes. The gate glows a bright orange for a moment before returning to normal. "Plus, I have pretty deep reserves. This is nothing."

She rises and shakes the salt off her hand. There are a few blisters on the tips of her fingers, but she doesn't complain. Good. You have to be tough to keep up with the pack. She steps back and bows dramatically. "You may proceed with the destruction of private property."

The gate explodes inward with one well-placed kick. Sally put way too much confidence in her wards. Splinters of painted wood litter the entrance to the garden. The hinges hang limply from the cracked wooden post. If Sally wasn't a toxin-growing, crazy- witch-harboring, lying bitch I would offer to set her up with a sweet security fence and monitoring system.

Two steps into the coven's garden, Az grabs the back of my shirt and yanks. She's stronger than she looks, but she doesn't have what it takes to stop me in my tracks. There are few who do.

"Whoa, cowboy."

"What? No such thing as second thoughts. I don't care if she is one of your daddy's puppets, no one raises wolfsbane in my territory."

"You're close. Not second thoughts. Secondary wards. Illusionary wards." She lets out a hum of appreciation. "Sly Sally. Very sly."

She tosses out a handful of salt. What had looked like a brick walkway shimmers for a few seconds before revealing itself to be a branch-covered ditch. The damn thing has to be seven feet deep and the walls are smooth as granite. Fucking witches.

"We should have brought more salt," I say.

Az links her fingers with mine. Her hand feels tiny and fragile as crystal in mine. I try to disengage, but she has the tenacity of an octopus. She darts in front of me. "I should be enough to break the illusions. Just watch your step."

Just fucking great. I have to use the fairy princess as a shield. Wonderful way to start the morning. "She'll have the wolfsbane in the center where the scent will be covered by the other plants."

"Very good," she says, managing to sound just like my kindergarten teacher when I'd shown up to school with tied laces and not Velcro shoes.

I don't know magic as well as she does, but you can bet your ass I know everything there is to know about the things that can kill me. Every Shifter in my pack has gone through sessions on wolfsbane identification and survival. It's painful as hell when it makes contact with your skin, but it's not lethal. In small doses, ingestion doesn't always mean instant death, either. It does, however, mean you're going to be one sick son of a bitch for a long, long time.

The wolfsbane is right where I said it would be. Bracketed by gardenias, sage, rosemary, and chamomile, it looks harmless. It isn't until I'm two rows away that I can smell it. Flinching from the distinctive odor is pure instinct.

"Brazen bitch didn't even bother to hide it."

Az’s laughter floats on the wind. "Sure she did. See." She lets go of my hand and skips to the oak tree twenty feet from the wolfsbane. The wolfsbane disappears and a crop of chives takes its place. Sally, Sally, Sally.

"Get back here."

"What did she make it look like? The illusion isn't as strong as the wards, so I don't get to see the illusion."

"Chives."

"Blech. Onions. I'd rather eat wolfsbane."

"Because you aren't a Shifter."

"I think I'd still pick the wolfsbane." She plants the shovel in the soil near the wolfsbane. "The Matrons at the House of the Crystal Moon love onions. I had to eat onion soup twice a day for three months straight. With toast and chive-butter. Roasted Vidalia as a side dish. Onion bagels for breakfast. I picked fights with the Matrons just so I could be put on bread and water rations."

"Is that where you were in Minnesota?"

She blinks up at me. "No. The House of the Crystal Moon is in Michigan. I was seven."

Who puts a seven-year-old on bread and water rations? For that matter, who in the hell tries to make a seven-year-old eat nothing but onion soup? My momma didn't give a crap about me, which sucked most of the time, but at least she didn't try to dictate what I ate. A bowl of Oreos coated with chocolate milk makes an excellent breakfast, for the record.

I uproot every trace of wolfsbane. Princess stuffs the plants in a heavy trash bag. I'll dispose of the stuff somewhere safe. Someplace where double-crossing witches can't locate the ashes to use as a water-soluble poison. Since she isn't half as sweaty as I am, I instruct her to salt the churned soil. If I'm lucky, it'll rain tonight like Marina Reyes at Channel 2 predicted and the coven's garden won't be worth shit.

Sally, dressed in a matronly black dress and granny shawl, appears like a ghost near the gate. The hands gripping the shawl are paler, bonier than I remember. "You are trespassing."

"Call the cops."

Her lips pinch together. She looks like she guzzled a glass of unsweetened lemonade. Prissy bitch. "That is unnecessary. I do not need civilian authorities to help me defend my property."

The challenge in the insignificant witch's tone makes the muscles along the back of my neck itch. The growl that rumbles in my chest is one that makes my pack mates cringe and hide. It takes real effort to keep my claws and fangs at bay. Sally, bless her stupid heart, stands her ground and glares at me. That's fine, witch. I don't mind playing with my food.

"You're right, Sally, I think we should keep this just between the two of us."

I'm easily three times Sally's size. I stalk forward, slow and easy. No need to rush this. The longer the chase, the more satisfying the catch. She backs up until she hits the fence. Sweet panic flashes in her eyes as she realizes she's trapped. Her fear makes my mouth water.

"What were you going to use the wolfsbane for, Sally? You planning on making a move against my pack? Keeping us in line like good little pets? Murdering us in our sleep?"

Killing her would be easy. I wouldn't even need to Shift. Just a quick twist of her twig-thin neck and no more pain-in-the-ass Sally. That won't solve my witch problem completely. You kill one head of a coven and another power-greedy witch pops up to take her place.

Sally tosses a spell at me. I brace myself for a stunning curse or pain spell. The magic that bursts across my face is nothing more than a warm puff of air. A small, hot hand settles on my bicep. You know, having a personal spell-negator may just come in handy.

"Hiya, Sally," Princess chirps with all the peppiness of a cheerleader on game day. She slides into the sliver of space separating me from the witch. "Hope you don't mind, but we did a little gardening for you."

"And if I do mind?"

Az plants her feet, stands a little straighter. The pep in her voice turns to frost. "Well, that's fine. Perfectly within your rights, of course." She gives Sally that damn half-shrug that drives me batty. "You can file a complaint with my father. If you do that, though, I'll have no choice but to give him a full accounting of my time here in Houston."

Sally pales even further. She's white as paper and visibly trembling. "Full accounting?"

"Yep. Including how you had a witch you couldn't control. One stealing from you and practicing dark magic. Normally he wouldn't care much about the illegal wolfsbane, but the fact that you got caught? Naughty, naughty. You know how the Council is about appearances."

It's a good threat. I've heard horror stories about what the Council does to witches who step into the spotlight. The Mages like to keep the true depths of their power hidden from the public. They keep the Matrons on a short leash and expect the Matrons to do the same with their witches.

Sally doesn't know that Vardan wants nothing to do with Az. She'll be too afraid of him, of what he'll do with Az’s report, to mention any of this to him. It's perfect.

"I won't tell the Mage about this… incident… if you won't," Sally concedes.

Az ponders it for a moment. Watching Sally sweat and squirm is a nice little present. Maybe I'll let Az off with an early morning jog, after all.

"Okay," she agrees merrily. Before Sally can sigh with relief, Az leans forward so that she is less than an inch from Sally's face. "But this isn't the last time you'll see me."

"What do you mean?" Now that she feels like she's on even footing, Sally reverts to defiance. A quick flash of fang knocks her down a peg.

"I am afraid that the issues with your coven are symptomatic of a much larger problem. The lack of a formal Council presence in this city has allowed its witches entirely too much leeway. Too much freedom. Enough independence that you start thinking the rules don't apply to you." Az laughs as she leans back. "So I'll be back to check on you. Make sure you aren't trying to poison my new friends. Ensure that you have your witches under control."

We leave Sally huddled against the fence. I lock the bag of wolfsbane in the toolbox in the back of my truck. Az hums to herself as she buckles her seatbelt. She reaches for the radio but pulls her hand back before she can change it from the classic rock station. Good. I hate having to slap hands twice.

"So," she drawls, long and slow. She drags her knees up to her chest to rest her chin on. "That could come back to bite us later."

"I can handle Sally." That she thinks I can't is more than a little emasculating. I was doing just fine before she barged in. I've dealt with witches for decades without having to hide behind anyone.

"It's not Sally I'm worried about it. Witches talk. Gossip. It won't take long for word of this to get around."

"Just a matter of time before Daddy hears and comes gunning for you. This isn't what he intended when he brought you here." Just what I need: the Mage of New Orleans coming after me for reneging on our deal. As if things aren't already complicated enough.

"Eh," she says, plucking at the hem of her jeans. "Dad and I were always meant to go boom. This may be the catalyst. Not what I was worried about. You make an enemy of one coven, you might as well make an enemy of all of them. Witches'll stab each other in the back no problem, but heaven help the person who messes with one of them."

Her father didn't pay me enough. In the week that I've known Ms. Astraea Vardan, I have been nearly killed by a crazy-ass witch, had my entire household turned upside down, discovered that someone I thought was a friend was harboring wolfsbane, was nearly devoured by a succubus, and burned every bridge I had with the witch community. The girl's an overachiever, I'll give her that.

"Will the Council retaliate?" I have to ask because having the Council on my ass would be the rotten cherry atop this shit sundae.

"No. Maybe. I dunno." She flashes me a blinding smile that does absolutely nothing to reassure me that we're not headed for an all-out war. "I hate the Council. Always have. Bunch of whiny, greedy, self-centered jackasses. Smile to your face while they drive the dagger straight in your kidney. Uncle Evan, the Mage of St. Louis, is the only one I can actually stand. Don't you hate them, too?"

Honestly, I try not to give them much thought at all. As long as they stay out of Shifter business, I really don't care what that bunch of ninnies does. Still, it's better to agree with her than start an argument.

"Sure, Princess. With the passion of a thousand fiery suns."

"Good," she says with a wild grin that sends a shiver down my spine. Girl's crazy. No doubt about it. "That's good."