“I tried, but I got nothing. Maybe the two of us together—”
“We have murderers to catch first,” Bobby interrupted.
“Homicide cops,” Raye said. “Always about the murders.”
“We’re funny that way.”
My lips twitched. I liked him. I liked her. I felt like I’d known them both a lot longer than I had.
“Want some coffee?” Bobby asked.
“God, yes.”
“We’ve got extras. Join us.”
“Eight cups for two people?”
“A few more than two,” he said.
The door opened without either one of them touching it, and for an instant I thought Raye had done it—she’d opened mine—then I caught sight of three figures inside.
“It’s time you met the gang,” Raye said.
“I don’t—” I suddenly took several quick steps forward, as if pushed or pulled, over the threshold and into the room. I hadn’t meant to.
“Raye.” Bobby shut the door.
“Sorry.” I didn’t know if she was talking to him or to me. “This is my sister, Becca.” She set her tray of coffee on the dresser.
A tall man, with salt-and-pepper hair and a dark, crisp suit, led with his hand. “I’m Nic Franklin.”
“FBI,” Raye said. “Though I’m sure you could tell.”
I shook his hand. “Why would I be able to tell?”
“No one dresses like that on purpose,” said the tiny woman just behind. If not for the white streak in her dark hair, and the crinkles at the corners of her eyes I’d have thought she was a teenager.
“I’m Cassandra,” she said.
“Are you in the FBI too?”
“I’m a voodoo priestess.”
I laughed. No one else did.
“Anyone want to explain why we need a voodoo priestess?” I glanced at Cassandra. “No offense.”
“None taken. I’m a witch expert.”
“Sure you are.”
“I employ only the best of the best,” said the ancient fellow sitting stiffly in a desk chair in the most shadowed corner of the room.
“Edward Mandenauer,” I said.
“How do you know?”
“Your German accent kind of gave it away.”
Even though he was sitting I could tell that he was over six feet tall and far too thin. His eyes were a faded blue and his white hair had the muted hue of the once blond.
“In this neighborhood I am not the only one with such an accent.”
Germans did love Wisconsin more than the next immigrant. Might be because the deep, dark, Grimm-like forests reminded them of home.
“Probably not,” I agreed. “But you are the only one wearing bullets like a fashion statement before eight in the morning.”
Raye coughed to cover a laugh, and Edward shot her a glare.
Franklin handed him a cup of coffee. “She has a point, sir.”
“Is there a reason you shot Pru with a silver bullet?”
“She is a wolf with human eyes. That is reason enough.”
“Don’t do it again.”
“Why would I? She did not explode; she is clean.”
“She almost died.”
“Yet still she lives.”
“How can you be so certain?”
“According to your lovely sister, your mother the wolf is fine. You have healed her.” He indicated the nearest corner. “And your ghostly papa tells us that she is free.”
“Henry’s here?”
Raye tilted her head. “He says you’re beautiful. He’s sorry. He loves you.”
I wasn’t sure what to say back. I couldn’t see him. I didn’t love him. I didn’t even know him.
“Don’t worry about it,” Raye said. “He understands. He’s just glad we’re okay.”
“You will not be okay for much longer.” Edward took a sip of coffee and made a face, set the cup on the dresser, swallowed. “You must stop the crazy woman before she raises the equally insane hunter of witches.”
“Works for me,” I said. “How?”
“Let’s discuss.” Nic Franklin waved at an empty chair.
I took it and the nearest coffee.
“Mistress June must be staying somewhere, and a woman that tall is a little hard to miss.”
“It’s a tourist town,” I said. “There are probably a hundred rooms she could be holed up in.”
“I’ll start canvassing.”
“That doesn’t even take into account the privately rented cabins in the forest where I’d think she would be more likely to lurk.”
Franklin cursed.
“It’s a waste of time to search for her,” Cassandra said. “She’s not dumb. She won’t make it easy. Eventually, she’s going to come to us.” She glanced at Raye, then at me. “Or probably to one of you.”
“She knows about us?”
“We’re not sure what she knows,” Franklin said. “She tried to kill Raye, on an altar, beneath the moon in order to raise Roland. But she didn’t indicate that she knew Raye was one of the Taggart sisters. Now…” He waved a hand up and down to indicate me. “She’s probably figured it out.”
Dizziness washed over me, whether at the acceptance that one of the triplets born four hundred years ago was me, or the idea of being killed because of it, I had no idea.