Lasting Fury (Hexing House Book 2) (3 page)

“I’m sorry, I just don’t think his failure to get his mother a birthday present is cause enough to hex him with diligence.” Thea set her mug down on the conference table and crossed her arms. “I’ve seen that hex in action—as I’m sure most of you have—and it’s horrible.”

“All hexes are horrible,” Miranda said. “That’s the idea.”

“Thea, surely you realize you’re oversimplifying,” said Victor. “It’s hardly just a case of missing a couple of birthdays. He’s been neglecting his mother for years. While she’s been getting sicker and sicker.”

“And the inciting incident was her
eightieth
birthday,” Miranda added. “It’s not like it was just a minor random number. Even her damn postman remembered.”

“So now we’re hexing her son because she’s got an extra considerate postman?” Thea asked. “I’m sure we can all agree that it’s not normal for postmen to remember citizens’ birthdays.”

“You’re missing the point,” said Victor.

“No, I think I get the point very well.” Thea kept her voice under control, but she quickly hid her hands under the table, just in case she couldn’t do the same with her claws. There was that flare of temper. Again. If only she could apply it to potential hex targets instead of her coworkers, they’d never have anything to argue about. “The point is, this woman is vindictive
and
super rich, and that’s our favorite combination around here. So who cares if justice is being served, if screwing over her son pushes us over our monthly targets and earns us a bonus, right?”

Victor’s own claws came out, and he didn’t bother to hide it. He was a hard-hearted one, even for a fury, and he and Thea had often been at odds since Thea had joined the Investigators. In this case, he was probably right to be offended. Furies—good ones, at least—took accusations of miscarrying justice for profit very seriously.

But before things could get ugly, their administrative assistant poked her head through the door.

“You guys, there’s the craziest thing going on outside.”

Victor retracted his claws, but the look he gave Lola was less than patient. “It better be
the very
craziest thing, for you to be interrupting a case meeting.”

“It’s a crowd of humans outside the gates,” Lola said. “With picket signs and stuff. They’re shouting.”

Evidently this qualified as the
very craziest thing
, because Victor, with a quizzical laugh, immediately left the room. Thea followed, Miranda beside her.

They flew across the campus, to the original gates of what had once been the Spencer School and was now Hexing House. Several other furies were doing the same, all gossiping, eager to go check out the spectacle. Nobody looked worried. A few looked amused.

“What did you guys do?”

Thea glanced over to see Damon, who worked at Security, grinning as he flew up beside her and Miranda.

“You let a bad one through?” he asked. “Approve a case that didn’t deserve it, and now all their friends are doing the public outcry thing?”

Miranda laughed at his joke. But then, neither of them—
none
of them—knew that what had happened at Hemlock Heights the day before was hex-related. Maybe some of them didn’t even know about Hemlock Heights at all. It was all over the news, but the details were still fuzzy, and a lot of furies didn’t pay much attention to what was going on in the human world.

Thea had found out before breakfast that the death toll was up to nine already, with several more in critical condition. Normally there wouldn’t have been so many home during the day on a Tuesday, but it was the second week in March—spring break for the local school district. Many of the parents had taken the week off work, as well. Whoever had set up the demonstration had done their homework.

Apart from the deaths and injuries, as Thea had seen for herself, the property damage was extensive. There didn’t seem to be any theories on the cause of this inexplicable outbreak of violence and destruction. At least, not officially.

But apparently
somebody
had a theory, and it pointed directly at Hexing House. From above, the signs became clear to Thea before any of the faces did. The first one she saw read:

JUSTICE FOR HEMLOCK HEIGHTS!

How? How did they know?
Thea thought, then immediately scolded herself for it.

They don’t know, because they’re wrong. This is not our fault. We have nothing to do with Fury Unlimited.

Except we’re the ones who let Megaira get away with all the superhex research. Research she started as part of this colony.

Thea took in other signs as she flew closer:

DEMONS BELONG IN HELL – NOT FOREST COUNTY

CLOSE THIS PLACE OR WE’LL CLOSE IT FOR YOU!

WE WILL NOT SUFFER YOU AMONG US

And her personal favorite:

BURN, WITCHES

After that last one, she wasn’t surprised to see the twisted, angry face of Mr. Fanatic in the crowd of a dozen or so humans. He saw Thea almost as soon as she noticed him, and let out a roar of outrage.

Damon and a couple other guys from Security landed in front of the fence and began calling for the crowd to step back. Not that the humans would have been able to get past the gate anyway. It might look old and rusted, hanging crookedly and growing over with kudzu, but it was enchanted with supernatural strength as well as the illusion of weakness. A bulldozer wouldn’t have been able to tear it down.

Mr. Fanatic moved sideways a few paces, breaking away from his companions, without taking his eyes off Thea. “You get down here and face me, harlot!” he shouted.

But he took an almost frantic step back when Thea landed directly in front of him.

“What’s the matter?” Thea asked. “Didn’t think I’d actually do it?”

There were murmurs among the crowd that she couldn’t catch, some of the voices excited. Several people gathered in closer. For a second Thea felt a sickening sense of déjà vu. Had someone recognized her?

But no. Her transformation had been too complete for that. There was nothing left of the red carpet darling she’d once been. And of course they were coming closer; she was the only fury on the ground.

Mr. Fanatic had changed, Thea saw, and mostly for the better. He’d gained weight, and his eyes had lost some of that sunken look. His clothes were clean, and for the first time in her brief experience with him, he didn’t smell of beer.

He looks almost sane.

“Witch!” he hissed, spit collecting on his lips. “Harlot!”

Almost.

“You did this,” Mr. Fanatic went on.

Thea shook her head. “We didn’t.”

“Don’t lie to me, demon! I know your witchcraft!”

Well, which is it? Am I a demon, or a witch? I’m not sure you can be both. But I bet either could also be a harlot.

Thea mentally slapped herself. This was no laughing matter.

“I can understand why you would think that—” she began.

Mr. Fanatic cut her off. “Lex knew your witchcraft, too! He finally saw you for the devil spawn you are. That’s why he let me go.”

Thea started to ask what he was talking about, and who Lex was, but stopped in surprise when she saw that Mr. Fanatic’s eyes had actually filled with tears.

His voice cracked as he said, “And you
murdered
him for it! And
you will pay
!”

“I don’t know who Lex is,” Thea said. “Is he someone who lived in that neighborhood?” She tried to remember any of the names attached to the pictures on the news, the victims of Hemlock Heights, but she couldn’t.

It didn’t matter. None of them could have been murdered, not in the way Mr. Fanatic was using the word. What happened at Hemlock Heights was a test of the superhex, a demonstration for a client. Surely none of the victims had been targeted specifically. Megaira and her team would have no way of knowing how particular individuals would respond to the hex, who would die, who would turn on a neighbor.

Or on a little boy.

Daddy’s monsters came back.

It didn’t make any sense. And the chances of Mr. Fanatic clearing things up for her seemed slim. He was quoting scripture now, hurling the words like stones.

“Who is Lex?” Thea asked, and when he ignored her, reached out to touch his elbow.

“That’s enough!” A beefy, brute of a man with a shaved head was beside Mr. Fanatic in an instant. “Don’t touch him. We won’t be assaulted by you!”

As if they were a single creature, a growl rose up from the onlookers at the word
assaulted
. A few stepped closer.

Thea looked around uneasily. She was mostly surrounded now and, on the ground at least, badly outnumbered. But she resisted the urge to either open her wings or back up to the fence. It wouldn’t do to show fear.

“Do you need help here, Thea?” Her friend Cora landed beside her, jaw set and claws out, ready to fight. The beefy man looked a little startled, although to his credit, he stood his ground.

Thea smiled her gratitude at Cora, but shook her head. “No. We were just talking, right?” She turned back to the man. “I was just trying to ask a question. Do you know someone named—”

She was interrupted by a whistle, so unnaturally loud that it captured most of the crowd’s attention immediately. Thea had heard it before, and wasn’t surprised when Alecto alighted on top of the gate, where she was clearly visible to all.

“I’m Alecto. I’m the president of this company. Who is in charge here, please?”

Of course Alecto would come out to confront the situation personally. Thea half-smiled, imagining the futile efforts of the board to talk her into not engaging, cautioning her that it might make things worse, advising her to issue some sort of bland
no comment
and go about her business.
No comment
wasn’t really Alecto’s style.

The beefy man puffed out his chest and called, “I’m the leader of the Concerned Citizens For A Fury-Free County.”

CCFAFFC? A little clunky isn’t it, buddy? You couldn’t at least try to spell a word? Something catchy?

Thea bit back a laugh. First temper, then snark. None of this was like her. What the hell was going on inside her?

A good question. But at the moment, there was too much confusion on the outside to worry about the confusion inside.

Alecto flew over and landed beside Thea, addressing Mr. Beefy. “And your name, sir?”

“Todd.” He seemed about to offer his hand to shake, then thought better of it. “Todd Caulfield. I’m also the president of the Hemlock Heights HOA.” When Alecto looked at him blankly he added, “That stands for homeowner’s association.”

“Ah,” Alecto said. “Well, Mr. Caulfield, I’m sorry for your losses. But you appear to be acting on some bad information. We had nothing to do with the tragedy that struck your neighborhood.”

He started to say something, but was drowned out by shouts of
Liar!
and
Witch!
from the crowd around him.

“Can you tell me why you’re here?” Alecto raised her voice to be heard above them, although she still spoke to Caulfield alone. “And why you think we’re responsible for this?”

“Mr. Agnew here had some very interesting information for me about what you do,” Caulfield said, gesturing at Mr. Fanatic. “It sounded like a pretty good match to me. And then of course there’s the picture. Some thought it was doctored, but we can see the truth of that now, can’t we?”

Alecto frowned at him. “What picture?”

“Enough, witch!” A woman shouted.

“Stop letting her distract you! She’ll put a spell on you!” said a man behind Caulfield.

Thea stared at them all, wondering how this could really be happening. Had Mr. Fanatic—
Mr. Agnew
, apparently—really just come to them with his crazy eyes (okay, a little bit less crazy than before, but still) and even crazier story, and they’d all just flocked down here, believing in witches and demons and spells?

“Are you denying it was one of your hexes that caused this?” Caulfield asked Alecto.

Her face was inscrutable, as always. “I am
categorically
denying it,” she said. “It was not one of our hexes.”