Circle of the Moon (Soulwood #4)

Hunger …

“No,” I whispered. I shoved my bloodlust deep inside, tied it down and locked it away in the deeps of me. I could still feel it. Impossible not to with this much blood. Three young steers. All dead. Sacrificed. This was the first time Jason had sacrificed such large creatures. And so many. All outside the circle. Why? I moved on.

“Hedge of thorns,” T. Laine said, “still active, double layered, one on the outside of a talcum powder ring to keep people out, one on the inside to keep … the sacrifices in.”

Sacrifices. People.

Even without the warning, I’d have seen the circle. A wagon wheel of twelve spokes, with pale things half-buried in each wedge opening. There was a pile of bodies in the center, at least three, visible in the low-light-vision headgear, naked so far as I could tell. Fear shot through me like being drenched with icy water. Rick’s blood? Rick is back at HQ. I switched to infrared to see the bodies were cold, nothing warmer than the ambient temp, except for a small blot of red on top, fresh and warm-blooded. A death working? I had heard of them in Spook School. Humans were no good for such a sacrifice. But vampires would be just dandy.

“Vampires,” FireWind said. “Jason Ethier sacrificed vampires.”

“Except for the warm-blooded thing on the top of the pile,” T. Laine said. “That’s a black cat.”

Rick had been tattooed with vampire blood. And cat blood.

A demon was being summoned. Rick was being used in the curse. Was Rick’s part of the curse simply that he would die? And the sorcerer raced away because … I looked at the sky. No moon, not until nearly dawn. The timing didn’t feel right.

I focused on the pieces of white tissue buried in the earth in the space of each spoke. I remembered the sight of Rick’s crashed car. And the blood on the seats. Easy enough to have someone follow the car and, as soon as Rick left it, collect samples. “Dagnabbit,” I muttered.

“Ingram? Explain,” FireWind said.

I explained about the blood, and Occam said, “It’s possible. I was first PsyLED on scene but not the first law enforcement or civilian. The blood was fresh enough for some to have been swabbed out from the puddles in the upholstery without leaving evidence of it.”

“Kent. Can you close the circle and stop the curse?”

“Not alone. Even with a full coven, this is gonna make a mess.”

“What kind of mess?” FireWind sounded amused at her choice of words.

“Livestock center could explode. Witches hurt, maybe second-degree burns, hair loss, damaged lungs. That sort of thing. Alone, I’d die.”

“I see. I’ll handle contacting the local coven. Jones, please see that the contact information is sent to my cell phone. And see that the sheriff’s department sets a perimeter around the property. Ethier got away, but something still feels wrong about this place.”

“It’s the demon,” I said. “It’s close. It’s clawing up here. Right there.” I pointed. “In the center of the circle.”

“How long?” FireWind asked.

I hesitated and when I spoke there was no certainty in my voice. “Tomorrow night? The next?”

FireWind said, “Jones, update the APB on an armed and dangerous paranormal. Do not approach. If possible tag and monitor.”

“Got it,” JoJo said, sounding slightly tinny through the earpiece. “Going out in ten.”

“How is LaFleur?” he asked.

“Cat. Out cold. Bloodied and burned at jaw and claws from scratching and chewing on the silver. The grindy’s curled up sleeping on Rick’s ass.”

I smiled at the visual.

“Margot Racer just drove up,” she said. “From the look on her face, she knows about the op, and she knows that she wasn’t asked to join. I gotta wonder how she knows. You folks be safe. I’ll put on fresh coffee.”

“Withdraw. Keep your eyes open,” FireWind said. “We’ll discuss this at HQ.”

We backed away slowly, retracing our trails through the tall grass.

? ? ?

Back at HQ, my weapons were secured, my body and clothes picked clean of ticks, and I had looked in on Mud, who was sound asleep in the sleeping room with Cherry curled up beside her. No one was shot, no one was injured, no one was missing, Rick was human again, and the demon was still trapped in the earth. We didn’t have the bad guy yet, and the demon was still a threat, but it wasn’t an awful ending to a nighttime op.

JoJo, however, was ticked off at having to babysit Margot. And Margot, standing at the top of the stairs, was livid. “You will never leave me behind on an op. Do you understand?” she spat at me.

I pointed to FireWind. “Talk to the boss.”

FireWind jutted his chin to the side, indicating Rick’s office. “Some jurisdictional discussion is in order. LaFleur? Join us?”

Margot’s eyes flashed with ire, and I was glad I didn’t have to be part of that discussion. It would be worse than a senior wife laying down the law to a younger one. I had never witnessed it myself, but church gossip suggested that could be unpleasant. They went to the office and FireWind closed the door, and the blinds over the wall windows.

In the conference room with the rest of the team, Tandy poured coffee for us, passing around our mugs and a small tray with sugar, cream, and plastic spoons. We were exhausted and despondent and worried about Rick and demons and crazy, revenge-obsessed witches.

I took my coffee in my leaf-painted metal mug and added both sugar and cream. Occam passed me the box of pizza. Coffee with pizza sounded awful, but I took a cold slice and passed the box on. We ate. Wrote reports in our laptops. No one talked. Loriann had been in the null room for hours. I took her to the ladies room and gave her a cup of coffee, a bottle of water, and a left over barbeque sandwich. Minutes passed.

“Okay,” FireWind said, returning to the conference room, Margot and Rick on his heels. Neither one looked happy, but there was no blood so I figured that things were okay. “Clementine, record,” FireWind said. “Date is—”

My cell dinged. It was Yummy, the screen presenting a photo of the vamp, her head on a sunrise background. I reckoned it to be a vamp joke. I showed the cell to FireWind, who nodded that I should take it, and said, “Speaker.”

I frowned at him. “No. It might be personal.”

“No?”

I had a feeling that few people said no to Mr. Flames and Hot Air. “Ingram. How can I help you, Yummy?”

“You could come feed me, but I have a feeling your blood won’t do me much good. I need human juice to heal, not plant juice.”

“Heal?”

“We’ve been attacked. Again.”

“Okay if I put you on speaker?”

“With who?”

“HQ. The team plus the special agent in charge of the eastern seaboard, Ayatas FireWind.”

“Him, I’d drink from.”

“Going live,” I said, so she wouldn’t say anything over the speakers about my new boss.

“Hey there, FireWind,” Yummy said. “I’ve seen your photos and read your sheet. You interested in a little slap and tickle, you let me know. Your blood should be tasty.”

I wasn’t sure, but judging from the team’s muffled, horrified, and frozen reactions, and FireWind’s amused smile, slap and tickle was probably about sex. “Thank you for the … proposition,” he said, sounding almost vampire-formal and exceptionally polite. “You are injured?”

“Yes. Not as bad as the last time, but bad enough. Hurts like silver,” she added, using a term I figured was a vampire colloquialism. “Nice strong bloooood would help,” she nearly purred, her Louisiana accent far stronger than usual, “and the werecat is not interested in my … slap and tickle.”

I frowned at the cell. “Yummy, are you blood-drunk?”

“Dreadfully, honey chile. It took the combined offerings of Ming of Glass, the Master of the City of Asheville, and three humans to bring me back. I was nearly cut in half,” she said, sounding far too giggly for the bald statements. “And I’m still hungry.”

“Cut in half,” I said, appalled. “What happened?”

FireWind muted my cell and said softly, “Clementine, cease recording. Jones, pull up the security history at Ming’s. And don’t tell me you can’t. I know about Alex Younger’s security system.” JoJo froze, looking down at her fingers on her keyboard. Her head was bent, her dark-skinned face looking stressed in the screen lights. She reached up and yanked on her earrings as if thinking, and then punched several keys, clacking fast.

I was left wondering what Alex Younger’s security system was all about.