In the Air Tonight (33 page)

“True.” Bobby took a breath, then continued very softly. “But it would have been nice to know that you were a witch.”

My gaze met his. I should have told him, except—

“You didn’t believe me about the ghosts. I certainly wasn’t going to tell you about…” I waved at the clearing. “This.”

“I’m sorry I behaved the way I did.”

I tilted my head. “You believe me now?”

“You tossed a dozen people while your hands were tied. Either I’m seeing things or you’re special.”

“Everyone’s special in their own way,” I said in my best Miss Larsen voice.

“Got that right.” He rubbed his thumb along mine. “How did you manage to hide what you were for so long?”

“I didn’t do a very good job.” I lifted my chin to indicate the still dopey
Venatores Mali.
“They knew.”

“But no one in New Bergin did.”

“That’s not true.” I kept my gaze on Brad. Perhaps knowing him all my life meant that he, in turn, had known me. He’d seen something, told someone.

“I always saw ghosts,” I continued. “But I learned not to talk about it. Freaked out my parents.”

“Can’t imagine why,” he said, and I tightened my fingers around his. We’d need to talk about Genevieve, but not yet.

“That I’m a witch too is new information.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I was adopted.”

“I thought you were abandoned and had no idea who your natural parents were.”

“I was, or I thought I was but—” My mind whirled at all I needed to tell him. By the time I was done, those sirens were closer. At this point, they had to be.

“Your dad’s a ghost and your mom’s a wolf,” he repeated. “From seventeenth-century Scotland.”

“Yes.”

“And as they died at the stake, they cast a time-traveling spell to send you and your sisters, whom you’ve never met, forward.”

“Technically, they sent us to a place where no one believes in witches anymore.”

He grunted and his gaze wandered around the clearing. “I’m not so sure they sent you to the right place.”

“Who would have thought an ancient witch-hunting society would be revived in this day and age?”

“Not me.”

“Franklin,” Cassandra said. “You got silver in that gun?”

Something in her voice, if not her odd question, made my skin prickle. I lifted my head as Pru stepped into the clearing.

“Always,” Franklin answered and pointed his weapon at my mother.

I tried to toss his gun, but the man had already seen my show and held on tight. I leaped up, nearly fell back down.

“No!” I cried. I couldn’t lose her when I’d only just found her. She wasn’t the usual mother, but she was the only mother I had.

Cassandra glanced in my direction. “You know this wolf?”

“It’s—uh—” My gaze met Bobby’s, and he shrugged. “My mother.”

Chapter 26

“When was she bitten?” Franklin asked.

“Could be cursed,” Cassandra put in.

“Bitten?” Bobby repeated. “By what? Cursed? By whom?”

Cassandra spread her hands.

“Look at her eyes,” the FBI agent said. “Human eyes in the face of a wolf.”

Now that he mentioned it, the wolf’s eyes were strange. “What does that mean?”

“He thinks she’s a werewolf,” Raye said.

Bobby laughed. No one else did.

“How did you know that?” he asked.

“Silver bullets? Bitten? Cursed?” Raye rolled her eyes. “Have you completely missed every werewolf book, TV show, and movie ever made?”

“Apparently. Though I guess you haven’t.” He glanced at Franklin. “What’s your excuse?”

“I deal with things like this all the time.” He kept his gun trained on Raye’s “mom,” who had stilled at the sight of it. Raye stepped between them, then Bobby stepped between Franklin and her.

“Cass?” Franklin asked.

“I’ve got her.”

Bobby glanced over his shoulder. The voodoo priestess had produced a shiny knife from Lord knew where. It sparkled silver as the moon lifted beyond the trees.

“Is everyone slightly nutso?”

“Seeing is believing, Doucet.” Cassandra’s fingers flexed on the hilt of the knife. “And believe me, I have seen.”

“She’s not a werewolf.” Raye put out a hand and the knife flew from Cassandra’s palm to hers. She scowled at the blade. “What does silver do?”

Cassandra contemplated her empty fingers for a instant before answering. “If you touch her with it and she doesn’t burn, she’s not your usual werewolf.”

Raye laid the flat of the blade on her mother’s nose. The wolf gave a disgusted huff, but she didn’t burst into flames.

“See?” Raye handed the weapon back to the voodoo priestess.

“She might not be the usual werewolf, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t something else,” Franklin said.

Bobby turned to the man. “Are you really with the FBI?”

Franklin appeared offended. “Of course!”

“No one would dress like that on purpose,” Cassandra said. “He gets the specialty cases.”

“There really is an X-files division in the basement?” Raye asked.

Franklin cast her an annoyed glare, and Cassandra snickered.

“You’d better get the wolf out of here before my backup arrives,” he said.

Cassandra stopped laughing. “You didn’t.”

“Of course I did. What was I supposed to do after…” He used his gun to indicate the clearing.

“He’s right.” Cassandra rubbed her forehead. “The wolf needs to go.”

“Why?” Raye asked.

“Our boss is coming, and he’s the greatest werewolf hunter of all time.”

“Don’t start.” Bobby had just gotten his mind around the witches and now they were talking werewolves. When did it end?

“My mother is not a werewolf,” Raye insisted.

“Edward’s more of a ‘shoot now, figure it out later’ kind of guy.” Franklin peered into the trees. “And he’ll probably be here any minute.”

“Where was he?” Cassandra asked.

“He was on his way from Three Harbors.”

“That’s where my sister lives,” Raye said, just as Pru snarled.

“Sister?” Franklin asked. Then things started to happen all at once.

The wolf loped off. A few seconds later, several shots were fired in the direction she’d gone.

Raye shouted, “Mom!” and Bobby had to grab her before she ran off too.

“You need to go to the hospital,” he said.

“But—”

“She’s over four hundred years old. She can handle herself.”

“You don’t know Edward,” Franklin muttered, and Bobby cast him a stern “shut the hell up” glance. “I’ll give him a call. Tell him not to kill the un-werewolf.”

“You do that,” Bobby said.

“I’d feel better if Henry were here,” Raye murmured.

“He’s not?”

She shook her head.

Bobby wanted to ask if Genevieve was near, but cops and EMTs spilled into the clearing, and the next hour was spent arresting people and trying to explain what had happened without using the words
spells, magic, voodoo,
or
werewolves
. It was surprisingly harder than he’d thought. He let Franklin do most of the talking. The fed had had practice.

Raye left in the ambulance with Cassandra. He’d seen enough of the priestess to know Raye would be safe until he got back to her side. Once he did, he didn’t plan to ever leave again.

“Doucet!”

Chief Johnson had arrived. He didn’t look happy.

*   *   *

“Just who are you guys?”

Cassandra waited until the EMT finished putting in my IV and went to sit a few feet away with his clipboard. Then she leaned in close.

“There’s a group of hunters called the
J
ä
ger-Suchers
.” At my confused expression she translated. “Hunter-searchers. They’ve been around since the Second World War; so has my boss.”

“He’s gotta be ancient.”

“He is. He began hunting werewolves, but as time went on, he branched out.” She lifted her gaze to the EMT, who was giving my vitals to the hospital—probably still half an hour away, even at this speed—by cell phone, then returned it to mine. “He’s gonna be pretty interested in this mess.”

“He isn’t a witch hunter too, is he? Because I have enough of those on my ass already.”

Cassandra’s lips curved. “He likes to employ the good witches.”

“And the not so good ones?”

Her smiled faded. “He doesn’t employ them.”

“How did you meet him?”

“I tried to raise my daughter from the dead.”

Hadn’t seen that one coming.

“Did you?”

Cassandra shook her head.

“Can you?”

“Not anymore.” I bit my lip, frowned, and she continued. “Raising Bobby’s daughter is a bad idea.”

Maybe so, but how did she know I’d had it? For that matter, how did she know about Bobby’s daughter?

“Franklin is in the FBI,” she said. “He can find out damn near anything. Edward can find out even more.”

I was tempted to ask if she could read everyone’s mind, or just mine, but she spoke.

“I would have done anything to have my child live again. I nearly did but…” Cassandra let out a breath.

“But?” I pressed when she didn’t go on.

“I learned several things while I was trying to raise her. Everything happens for a reason. There are no accidents, and most importantly, there is a better place, and it isn’t here. Bringing her back would have been for me and not her. It wasn’t fair, and it definitely wasn’t right.”

“Okay,” I said slowly, my gaze drawn to the corner of the ambulance where Genevieve had just materialized. “But what do you do when they don’t go to the better place?”

Cassandra’s eyes followed mine. “She’s here?”

I nodded.

“Ask her.”

I didn’t need to. Genevieve had already told me what the problem was. Bobby believed it was his fault that his daughter was dead. I wasn’t sure how I was going to make him stop believing that, but I’d have to try. And that would start with telling him all that his daughter had shared.

As soon as we arrived at the hospital, I was whisked off so that someone could stitch up the knife-shaped hole in my arm. The painkillers combined with the sudden absence of adrenaline until everything faded to black. When I woke, night had fled. The sun was shining. Bobby was there. So was his daughter.

There was something different about her. She was kind of fuzzy, and it wasn’t because I was.

“Hey,” I mumbled.

“Hey,” Bobby returned, and took my hand. “Your dad just left.”

For a minute I thought he meant Henry, but he couldn’t see Henry. “My father?”

“Yeah. Sorry. Forgot you have two. John was pretty upset. Stayed here all night. I don’t know if your—uh—other dad is—”

“He isn’t.” Which worried me. But I was in no condition to summon him now.

“Jenn’s called at least ten times.”

“She hasn’t come?” How very un-Jenn of her.

“She’s being questioned. She was the last one to see Brad before he snatched you. I’m sure she’ll be here as soon as she’s done.” Bobby took a deep breath. “I love you.”

“I— What?”

“Marry me?”

I glanced at Genevieve, who was fading fast. “Hold on.”

“I will.” He tightened his hand. “I won’t ever let go.”

“I meant Genevieve.”

“Where?” he asked, then turned in her direction.

“You feel her, don’t you?” He was more sensitive to ghosts than anyone I’d ever known. We’d discover why later. Apparently, we’d have time.

He shifted his shoulders. “I…” His breath rushed out. “Yeah. I do.”

The little girl became more solid. “Tell him it wasn’t his fault.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” I repeated.

Pain flickered in Bobby’s eyes. “Of course it was. I left her with her mom. Audrey was—” He took a breath, which shook in the middle. “Tell her—”

“You can tell her,” I said. “Just because you can’t hear or see her doesn’t mean she can’t hear and see you.”

I patted the bed at my hip. “Come here, baby.”

Genevieve sat where I indicated and lifted a ghostly hand to her father’s face.

He turned his cheek into her palm. “I should have done more to get you away from your mother, sweetheart.”

“She needed me, Daddy. I couldn’t leave her.”

I told him what she’d said.

Tears welled in his eyes. “I still should have taken you somewhere. Anywhere.”

“The man in black wouldn’t let you keep me.”

I got a shiver. “Man in black?”

“That’s what she called the judge.”

“Did you try and get custody?”

“I did. But we were never married. Audrey didn’t even put my name on the birth certificate.”

Which explained the lack of info I’d found on Genevieve Doucet.

“I’m sorry,” Bobby said. “I told you I didn’t have children, but I—”

“I understand.”

“I tried to save her, and I failed. She died.”

“Mommy’s waiting,” Genevieve said. “My gramma too. I want to be with them.”

“You need to let her go, Bobby. She doesn’t belong here anymore.”

“I’m not sure how.”

Neither was I.

“Is he happy?” the child asked.

“I think he could be.”

“That’s all I want. I can’t leave him when he’s so sad.”

Bobby’s gaze remained on me. “What did she say?”

“She wants you to be happy.”

“I will be. With you.”

Genevieve leaned over and kissed him. He closed his eyes, and the tears fell.

“Good-bye,” he whispered at the exact moment she did.

His hair stirred as she disappeared. He opened his eyes. I traced a tear from his cheek with my thumb. “You okay?”

“I think so. Ever since she died I felt…” He struggled to find a word.

“Haunted?”

“Yeah.”

“And now you’re not.”

“No,” he agreed.

“Except for that one guy.” At least Geraldine had moved on.

He straightened. “What?”

“Cold case.” I lifted my gaze to said guy. “We’ll talk. Run along.”

The guy went poof.

“Did he?”

“He did.”

“About that marriage proposal…”

“Bobby, I…”

“You’re going to say no?” He sounded almost more surprised about that than he’d been about the ghosts.

Of course I
did
love him. But—

“Just because your daughter’s gone doesn’t mean I won’t still see the dead, and that bothers you.”