The peak was shrouded in dense fog, no outside lights were on, and the house was darker than the armpit of hell. I didn’t reweapon. If there was danger here, it wasn’t something I could kill with stakes, blades, or even my M4. Beast padded just under my skin, lending me her night vision, her strength and speed tingling just under my skin like her pelt rising. A snarl lifted my lips and my jaw ached, as Beast’s killing teeth strained to break free. I slid from the SUV.
My leg was cold where the blood was cooling, and the wound felt like fire, a burning throb of pain. I limped to the house, moving slowly, silently, trying to see the ward before I ran nose first into it. Bumping into Molly’s wards tended to result in a siren loud enough to deafen. But the siren didn’t sound, not even when my palm bumped something dark. The thud sounded dull, hollow in the encasing cloud. My fingertips touched metal, cold and wet beneath the fog. Molly’s van. Hope detonated through me like mini fireworks and I found the passenger door by feel. It opened easily, and mist puffed in. The interior light came on, too bright, making a halo around the vehicle.
Angelina and Little Evan were cuddled on the seat, wrapped in a blanket, asleep. I picked them up in my arms and jogged back to my SUV, the grass and ground crunching beneath me. I crawled in to the front seat and closed the door, settling them on my lap to wait. I pulled Angie Baby close, nuzzling her head, her hair soft as angel wings against my face, breathing in her scent. Her hair smelled of baby shampoo, sleep, and warmth. Little Evan smelled of dirty diapers and milk. The throbbing in my leg eased, even as my blood wicked into their blanket.
Kits, Beast murmured deep inside. Safe.
But I had put them in danger. Again. As usual, when I was dealing with the children, tears came easily; one scalded its way down my face.
“Aunt Jane? Am I a big girl? My angel said I was a big girl.”
A sob escaped before I could catch it. My words stuttered through the tears. “Ye-yes, Angie Baby.” I hugged the children closer, careful not to use Beast’s strength that still stalked just beneath my skin. “You are a very big, wise, strong, good girl, and I am very proud of you.” Headlights cut through the night, illuminating little more than the fog. A tiny four-wheel drive car pulled up behind me. The lights went out and two car doors slammed, the sound muffled. My SUV’s back doors opened and closed, Amelia on one side, Regan on the other. They leaned into the front seat, heads close, whispering together.
“The wards aren’t up.”
“Are the kids okay?”
“What’s happening? I called around and nobody’s answering.”
“This is bad. I can’t even get Mom to answer.”
There wasn’t time to reply or to fill them in. I said, “One of you has to stay with the children.” I gathered up the kids and drew my injured knee into the seat, ignoring the agony that shocked through my system. Pushing off with my other foot, I straightened up and over the seat, holding the children. The sisters’ eyes widened, and I knew I had given away something of my nature with the movement.
Too strong for human Jane, Beast thought at me. Beast-strong. Something else I could worry about later. At this rate, my later-list was going to need its own filing cabinet.
The girls’ eyes fell on the blanket. “Why are they bleeding?” Amelia asked.
“My blood. Not theirs,” I said. Amelia held out her arms. I stretched over the seat and settled the children in her lap. “See if you can keep Angie awake. Regan, you come with me. I need you to figure out how to remove Molly’s earrings. Evangelina gave her a gift and Angie said there was a spell on them.”
“I still don’t believe it.” Regan said.
Rather than answer, I stroked my fingers down Angie’s cheek, softer than any rose petal, and got out of the vehicle. The slamming door was tinny, the sound soaked up by the fog. I looked at Regan. “I don’t know anything about witch magic. The little bit Molly tried to explain just sounded like gobbledygook. But I do know we can’t just pull the earrings out of Molly’s ears.”
Regan looked grim and pulled the lapels of her jacket together, an action that looked more nervous than cold. “No. We have to stab her first.”
A totally inappropriate laugh puffed out of my mouth. “Aw righty then.” I indicated the dark house. “After you.”
Regan led the way through the fog, seeming to drift in and out of the dense, wet cloud, a ghostly form explaining as she went. “It’s not so weird. Only with the receiver’s permission can another witch make a spell and set a charm on her. She has to accept it, which is why gifts work so well. If you give a witch a pair of gloves or a scarf, then the spell tied to the gift is activated the moment the witch puts it on. For it to be strong enough to work long term, it has to be keyed to her blood, meaning that the practitioner has to have some genetic material to work with, like a hair with the root still on, or a fingernail clipping with some cells caught underneath.
That made sense. Spells against witches needed the snake in the heart of all animals, the double helix of DNA, the same material I used when I changed into another animal. “Okay. So how are you going to stop the spell?”