We stopped at a ten-by-ten-foot wooden platform set up with a crude table and chairs and a rain tarp strung up between the trees. “How are you killing them without getting cursed?” I asked, thinking back to the big battle we’d fought with the vamps and witches against the demons, when we first discovered my dad had been cursed. Tally had managed to explode one and Ray had sucked the life out of the others.
“Basically we have to give them a lobotomy. Once their brain function is dead, they crumple like marionettes,” he answered as he pulled out a chair and sat down. He gestured for us to sit. Rourke, Tyler, Danny, and I complied, while Naomi and Ray stood behind. For the first time, I noticed Marcy wasn’t with us. I glanced around the small space. She must have made a beeline to find her man. I smiled, thinking of how sweet their reunion would be.
“How is that done, then?” Danny asked. “Do you have to tear their heads off?”
My father shook his head. “No, we’ve all been carrying these around.” He unsheathed a sharp blade, about three inches long, from its holder on his waist. “We stick it right behind their eye socket. It happened by chance the first time. We’d been breaking their necks, their bones, everything, and those suckers wouldn’t die. We started taking up arms, guns, knives, anything to combat them. Then one attacked and Nicolas managed to get a knife securely into the brain and the thing dropped like a bag of garbage.”
“Oh my goodness, Nick! Where is he?” I asked, restraining myself from jumping out of the chair to go search for him. “I can’t wait to see him.”
“He’s at the far camp, two over from here,” my father answered. “I put him in charge and he’s doing a fine job. He’s grown into a great leader with a keen mind.” There was pride in his voice, and it was nice to hear it. Life growing up on the Compound had never been easy for Nick. And if a fox was in charge of wolves, then his standing in the Pack had definitely gone up since I’d left. “Don’t worry. You’ll see him soon. He’ll be over here tomorrow morning for a prearranged check-in.”
I nodded. “I always knew Nick would be a great leader. He managed to keep me safe for all my formative years, and that took some gumption. How many status fights has he had?”
“Three,” my father said. “After that, I placed him in charge of the younger wolves, and there have been no further issues. He’s like a son to me, and my wolves know that, wolf or not. But I will not tolerate any underhanded dealings. If one of my wolves wants to challenge him, as they will, we’ll set it up appropriately. For now, next to James, he is the best person I have to keep these camps running so we can efficiently take out the threat.”
“One more question before we discuss what happened to me while I was away, which I know you want to hear sooner than later,” I said. “You keep referring to this threat as a ‘priestess.’ Do you know for sure that’s what she is?”
My father shook his head. “I’m not sure of anything, but I refer to her as that because that’s what Redman called her. When I came down here the first time and tried to talk some sense into the Southern Pack, he insisted that she had been in ‘his’ territory for years and that they previously had an understanding. She kept to herself and they left her alone. That’s how the fracture wolves knew how to find her. She’s a legend in these parts.”
“And he said ‘priestess’ for sure?” I asked.
“He said something like that, but mainly he called her a nuisance. Why do you ask?”
“Because Marcy seems to think she’s not a priestess, but something more powerful.”
“And what would that be?”
“A sorceress.”
8
“A sorceress?” My father scratched his head. “I guess that makes some sense given she can make rabid wolves. My understanding of priestesses is that they feed the ghosts they worship or some such nonsense. I’ve never paid much attention.”
“I don’t know the role a priestess plays, but in voudoun Marcy said the sorceresses are called bokors.” I wished Marcy was here to explain, but I would do my best to relay her thoughts.
“That sounds about right. I’ve heard of them before, but only vaguely.” My father shifted in his tiny seat.
Rourke cleared his throat. “I’m not up on the practices of Haitian voodoo in the last few hundred years, but I agree with Marcy’s assessment. I’m somewhat familiar with voudoun. I know it started in the Congo at least a thousand years ago, and from what I’ve heard on my travels, a bokor does indeed specialize in mind control. I’m not sure if the creatures they puppet are dead or cursed, but it seems to fit the bill here. They also use fetishes. It’s their specialty. I know this because some supernaturals are willing to pay large sums of money to procure them.”
“I’m assuming you’re talking about an object—that kind of fetish?” Danny asked. “Or are they just really into certain things, like feet or belly buttons? I can totally understand the belly button part, because who doesn’t love a good navel? But feet? No, sir, I’ve never been a fan.”
Rourke arched an eye at Danny. “They trap magic into objects to enhance their power when they need it later. No navels.”