In the Air Tonight (24 page)

“How’d he lose them?”

Both men glanced at me, and I continued. “He murdered the parents. Did they sense the end was near and hide the babies?”

Todd actually rubbed his palms together. Considering all the blood and fire and death, he was enjoying the tale a little too much. “Here’s where it gets interesting. The
Venatores Mali
surprised the couple in a cottage in the deepest, darkest forest. They built a pyre.”

“Huge mistake in a forest,” I observed.

“They’d made enough of them to know what they were doing,” Todd said. “McHugh believed both mother and father were witches. Strapped them back-to-back on the stake and lit them up.”

I must have flinched because Bobby’s fingers tightened around mine. “The children?” I asked.

“Held in the arms of three hunters.”

“They made them watch?”

“They were a few days old. Doubt they could focus on much, or remember anything at all.”

For an instant I felt the fire hot against my face, the smoke, the smell, the shouts, and the terror. My imagination working overtime again.

“If the triplets were there, then why would McHugh spend his life searching for them?” Bobby asked.

“They disappeared.” Todd flipped his fingers toward the ceiling. “Like magic.”

Bobby snorted. “The men holding them ran off. Protected them. Hid them.”

“Those dudes? Not a chance. Even if they’d suddenly sprouted a conscience, they were scared of McHugh. Those who crossed him were labeled devotees of Satan, and they fried too.”

“There has to be a better explanation than magic,” Bobby insisted.

“According to the diary I read, the parents chanted as they died. The flames burned so high and hot, they were incinerated in an instant. Nothing left but ashes, and if you know anything about burning bodies, that ain’t easy. The children vanished, and they were never seen again.”

“That’s impossible,” Bobby said.

Todd lifted one shoulder. “Blood magic is the most powerful kind. Their disappearance made McHugh nuttier than before. He vowed vengeance on his deathbed.”

“He could vow whatever he liked,” Bobby said. “Death is the end.”

Not always.

The words whispered through my head. I glanced around, but I didn’t see any ghosts.

“He swore death wouldn’t bind him. That he would come back and obliterate the line of the witches that had obliterated his.”

“He could have had more children,” I said. “His line didn’t have to end.”

“Because a kook like him was such a great prize,” Todd muttered. “I bet he had a damn hard time getting dates when he smelled like dead people.”

“How did he die?” I asked.

“Plague of 1636 in England. He should have used fire for more than killing. A little sterilization would have worked wonders.”

“Not a word of him since?” I continued.

Bobby cast me a glance. “Really?”

I shrugged and spread my hands.

“Not that I’ve heard, though if the
Venatores Mali
are trying to raise him—”

“Raise him?” Bobby interrupted. “Dude.”

“The
Venatores Mali
are killing witches,” Todd began.

“I didn’t say that.”

“I can add. Witches are dying. The snarling wolf symbol is involved. If McHugh isn’t back—”

“He’s dust,” Bobby said tightly.

“If there are people calling themselves
Venatores Mali,
following McHugh’s rules, hunting, killing, burning, then McHugh isn’t really dead. He never will be.”

“Why now?” I asked. “Why here?” I left out
why me
. But from the glance Bobby gave me, he heard it anyway.

“If we find that out, we might find them,” Bobby said. “I should take a look at that athame.”

“You’ve got the key to her apartment.” Todd indicated the stairs to his left. “Knock yourself out.”

“You know where she kept the knife?”

“Last I saw the thing it was on her bedside table.”

Bobby went up the stairs with me close behind. He inserted the key into the lock and pushed open the door.

Expecting the apartment to be dark and musty, I was pleasantly surprised by a room full of sunshine, which smelled of mint. The reason for both was immediately apparent. The shades on Anne’s eastern windows were up, the sill lined with tiny pots of herbs. Even without the scent I would have recognized mint leaves.

I crossed the room, set my fingers on the soil. “I should water these.”

Bobby didn’t answer; he’d already stepped into her bedroom. I followed, curious to see the athame. He stood next to her bed. The only thing on the table was a lamp. He opened the drawer; stuff rattled; he cursed.

“Not there?”

“No.” He went onto his knees and peered beneath the bed, then straightened. “We’re going to have to toss the place.”

The apartment was smaller than mine, and that wasn’t easy. “It shouldn’t be hard to find.”

Bobby headed for her dresser. I found the watering can next to the kitchen sink and sprinkled the pots before I forgot. Besides mint, she had basil, thyme, and rosemary. I plucked a few leaves of the latter and tucked them into my pocket. Just in case.

A loud smack had me spinning, sloshing water onto my foot. A Siamese cat sat on the coffee table, peering at me with the bluest eyes I’d ever seen on an animal. The face was such a dark brown it was nearly black, which might have contributed to the intense shade of those eyes. The ears were huge, also deep brown, matching the paws and the tail. Everything else was the shade of sand.

The cat let out a long, loud, very human yowl, and the tail twitched once as it stared pointedly at the book on the floor before lifting those freaky eyes to mine. He, she, it must have knocked the volume off the table.

“Raye?” Bobby appeared in the bedroom doorway. “You o—” He saw the cat. “Where did that come from?”

“Must be Anne’s. It knocked something on the ground.” The cat jumped down and sat on the book, claws flexing against the binding and making a sound that caused my skin to prickle.

“I’m fine.” I kept my gaze on the cat. “You can go back to what you were doing.” When he did, I moved closer. “What’s your name?”

The cat didn’t blink. I wasn’t sure what to do. I’d never had a cat, or a dog either. I’d once had a goldfish from the goldfish game, but it hadn’t lasted long enough for us to bond.

I knelt and the cat scooted behind the sofa so fast, I barely saw it move. I considered following and trying to coax the animal out, then I saw the title on the palm-sized volume that lay on the floor.

Book of Shadows.

Compelled, I opened the cover and forgot all about the cat.

This Book of Shadows belongs to Anne McKenna, an air witch. Should any harm befall her, the book is gifted to the next witch of that element who beholds it. Use the information wisely and well. Harm none.

The pages ruffled forward, as if blown by a breeze, but the windows were closed. I turned back to the first page. Though I knew it was impossible, there was more writing there now than there’d been before.

The new words seem to be inscribed by the same hand as all the rest, which made me think at first that I’d just missed the final line. Anne was dead. Even if a ghost could write, I hadn’t seen her here, and seeing ghosts was what I did. The new entry read: “Raye Larsen’s Book of Shadows,” followed by today’s date.

I dropped the book. It made less of a smack this time since I was on the ground. Good thing too. I might have fallen if I wasn’t already there.

“Raye?”

I shoved the tome into the pocket of my jeans. How was I going to explain why my name was in it?

“The cat,” I said, then peered behind the couch.

No cat.

Bobby appeared next to me. He held out a hand, and I took it. He frowned. “You’re like ice.”

He folded me into his embrace. I spent the time worrying that he’d feel the book in my pocket, rather than enjoying the hug.

“There isn’t a knife in her bedroom. Did you find anything out here?”

I hadn’t had much of a chance to look. “Not yet.”

Together we made our way around the room, rifling drawers, peeking under cushions and furniture. Bobby went into the teeny bathroom and from the increase in volume of the slams and thunks, he wasn’t having any luck finding it there either.

He stepped out. “No athame.”

“No,” I agreed.

“Shit.”

“You think someone stole it?”

“Yeah.”

“She could have taken it with her when she left.”

“I read the reports. It wasn’t on her body, or in her car.”

“So if it wasn’t stolen here…”

“It was stolen somewhere.” He let out a breath. “I figured the chances of there being two squiggly knives was pretty damn slim.”

A crash from below was followed with cries of “Help!” and “Go away!” and, oddly, “Shoo!”

We hurried down the stairs. At the bottom, Bobby drew his gun, glancing over his shoulder with a stern “Stay” before he went around the corner.

“Don’t shoot!”

Todd’s voice. No others. Curious, I took a look.

The cat sat on the counter, staring at the kid, who cowered in the corner. The only movement from the animal was a twitch of the tail, back and forth, back and forth.

“Get it out of here!” Todd sneezed—once, twice, again.

Bobby reached for the cat and it hissed, arching like a Halloween decoration. He dropped his hand.

Todd coughed. His eyes were already red. “You gotta get her out of here. I swear she comes by me on purpose.”

“You’re allergic,” Bobby said.

“Y-y-ya … think!” The last was emitted with a sneeze.

“What’s her name?” I asked, stepping into the room.

“Samhain.”

The cat leaped into my arms. I waited for the spike of her claws. Instead, she rubbed her head under my chin and began to purr.

Todd straightened from his cowering pose. “I’ve never seen her act like that with anyone but Annie.”

“Has she been locked upstairs by herself?”

“Natasha, the other employee, fed and watered her.”

“She seems lonely,” Bobby said.

“Dude,” Todd murmured, “aren’t we all?”

Bobby snorted. Todd kept a wary gaze on Samhain. “I think she loves you.”

Personally, I thought she hated Todd, or maybe she just liked messing with him. I stood with my arms full of cat, my pocket full of
The Book of Shadows
as the kid sneezed and coughed and dribbled. If I didn’t know better I’d think Samhain was sending waves of dander his way on purpose. Todd was so pathetically pathetic, I felt bad. Then he said it.

“I’ll have Natasha drive her to the shelter as soon as she comes in.”

I swear Samhain’s purr lowered to a growl. But how could she know what he’d said?

“She can’t stay here,” the kid continued. “I was going to have Mrs. Noita take her. But now…”

“Can’t you leave her upstairs where she’s comfortable?”

“She sneaks down here whenever she can. Scares the crap out of me sometimes.”

“It’s a cat,” Bobby said.

“Sure it is,” Todd muttered.

“What about Natasha?”

“No pets at her place.”

“Give her this place.”

“It isn’t mine to give.”

“I can’t.” I tried to put Samhain on the counter. She clung to me like a baby monkey—with claws.

“I don’t think you’re going to be able to get rid of her,” Bobby said.

“I have a job. What will she do all day?”

“Same thing she did here. Sleep on the back of the couch, maybe on your pillow.” Todd’s lip curled, and he sneezed just thinking about it. “You find the athame?”

“No,” Bobby said. “Did Anne carry it with her?”

“I doubt it. Like I said, an athame wasn’t her ritual instrument.”

“Do you have security cameras?” Bobby asked.

Todd’s eyes widened. “You think someone stole it?”

“Yeah,” Bobby said, and we exchanged glances.

We had a pretty good idea who’d stolen it too—the tall brown-haired woman who’d murdered my pillow and mattress. But we’d never seen her. A video would be very helpful.

“Sorry, dude. No need for cameras. The people who come here are peaceful. Harm none.”

“Yet you sell knives.”

“Athames.”

“Which are sharp enough to kill.”

The thought seemed to upset Todd so much he went into another sneezing fit.

Bobby lifted his chin in my direction. “Maybe you should…”

I went upstairs to gather cat things—food, bowls, litter box, toys. I had to set Samhain down to do it, but in the apartment she let me.

I came down the stairs, hands full; the cat hovered at my heels as if she were herding me. I reached the last two steps, and Bobby spoke.

“Did the couple with the triplets have a name?”

I paused. Samhain bumped her head against my ankles. I couldn’t move. My ears strained; what was coming next was important.

“Taggart,” Todd said.

Or not. Never heard that name in my life.

I lifted my foot, planning to take the final steps and rejoin them.

“Henry and Prudence Taggart.”

My heel caught. I pitched forward, everything in my hands flew upward, and I fell downward. It was only two steps. I shouldn’t bruise too badly. Then Samhain appeared right in my path. I was going to fall on her if I didn’t—

She flew across the floor as if the wood had been greased like a bowling alley. Her claws scrambled for purchase. There wasn’t any. She clumped against the counter at the same time all of her necessities rained around me.

*   *   *

The return to New Bergin was uneventful. They’d had enough eventful already.

“You sure you’re okay?” Bobby asked.

“As okay as I was the last three times you asked.”

“Bruises and strains don’t hurt right away.”

“I caught my foot. Scared the cat, dropped the stuff. Not a mark on me. I swear.”

But there was something wrong. Bobby could feel it. Or maybe it was just the cat, which had decided her favorite place in the world was lying across the back of his seat.

If he got too close, she batted at his head. Claws sheathed, lucky him, it was still distracting. Raye had tried to get the animal to rest in her lap, on the seat, the floor, the dash. Samhain preferred staring at the back of Bobby’s neck.