"Did you?" I asked.
"Black magic is taken. White is given."
"Still not answering my question."
"My mother gave me her magic, through her love, by giving me life. Because life is magic, isn't it, Elizabeth?"
I laughed. I couldn't help it. That was just too much Susie sunshine for me, especially when the cheery point of view was coming from someone who looked like the latest advertisement for the Broadway production of Wicked.
Sawyer, who'd continued to sit at attention staring at Carta, growled without taking his eyes off her.
"Well, honestly," I said to him, "life's magic? That's not an answer."
"It's all the answer you'll get," Carta murmured. "I am a good witch and I am a werewolf."
"Like him," I said.
"No." Carla smoothed her ancient hand over his head in a gesture both tender and slightly erotic, though how it could be, I wasn't quite sure. "He is a skinwalker—more than a werewolf, and much, much more than a witch."
"Really?" I turned my gaze in Sawyer's direction, while Carta played with his ears. I couldn't believe he was allowing that.
“You'd like me to remove his curse?" Carla asked.
I jerked my eyes back to hers. "What?"
"He's cursed. I can see it in his aura." She waved a hand over his head in a circular motion. Sawyer watched the movement, his snout making tiny circles, too.
"You can remove curses?"
"What do you think a bewitchment is, Elisabetta?"
I'd been thinking in terms of jewelry—the amulet, my turquoise—not in terms of people. I started to get excited. Having Sawyer at full power—as a man and as all of his beasts—on the loose in the world, no longer confined to Navajo land, just might turn things around with the woman of smoke.
At the least, it would really piss her off.
CHAPTER 16
Ruthie had to have known that Carla could de-curse Sawyer, which was probably why she'd insisted I bring him along, but why hadn't she just told me the truth?
Because the rules on what she could tell me and what she couldn't were kind of wanked.
"What did you come here for, if not for him?" Carla asked.
"This." I removed the amulet from my pocket.
Her gaze sharpened, and she snatched it from my hand. "An amuletum. To protect from trouble. The inscription is Latin and reads, 'Hidden is the face of evil.'"
It certainly had been.
"Where did you get it?"
Quickly I told her about the Naye'i, who she was, what she'd done.
"Only a strega could have created this," she murmured.
The strega had bewitched the amulet. Hadn't seen that coming. But if he'd had the power to keep me from seeing what he was and what he was up to, then why hadn't he?
Because he'd wanted me to come to him; he'd meant to make me his concubine queen.
Once again, so glad he was dead.
"Why are you certain a strega created it?" I asked.
"For such a bewitchment, a very powerful witch is needed. To bind the magic requires bathing the amuletum in the blood of one who craves blood."
"A vampire."
"Certain spells, certain amulets and the like, are native to certain types of witches. Witch, plus vampire, plus Latin." She spread her hands. "Strega. Where is the witch now?"
My eyes met hers. "In hell, I assume."
"Excellent." She nodded once. "That saves me a trip."
My lips curved. I liked her.
"What about the Naye'i?" she asked.
"Could be anywhere."
Carla sighed. "They're like that."
"Can you remove the spell?"
"I'm the only one who can." I lifted my brows, and she continued. "Balance, Elisabetta. An evil Italian witch placed the curse—"
"So only a good Italian witch can remove it."
"Precisely."
And since the strega was no longer with us, the woman of smoke might have a tough time getting her tentacles on another.
One problem down, three or four hundred to go.
"You'll remove the spell now?" I asked.
"Now?" She glanced at Sawyer, who cocked his head. "But what about—"
"The amulet first, please."
Sawyer could remain a wolf for a little while longer, but the amulet was bugging me. With my luck, the woman of smoke would appear and not only take the copper medallion back but kill the benandanti, as well. If the amulet became just a necklace, there'd be no reason for any of that.
"All right," she said. "Come with me."
Carla headed toward the rear of the house. Sawyer following after. I had to hurry to keep up. She moved pretty well for an old hag.
At the farthest end of the hall, she opened a door beneath the stairs. I reached her just as she began to descend. Hesitating, I stared down the shadowed cement staircase, which disappeared into a chilly gloom.
It was never a good idea to go into the basement. Legions of teen scream queens learned this lesson every Halloween in Technicolor across the silver screens. However, what choice did I have? I could stay upstairs and wait, but then I'd never know for certain if she'd done what I'd asked.