Eli’s face was totally expressionless, even more so than normal. This was his battle face. “Two things. One. Never step between me and a target. Two. I brought the psy-meter. The wreath redlines.”
Psy-meters had been developed by Uncle Sam and were used to measure paranormal energy. Eli should never have been able to get his hands on one, and I had never asked how he came to possess it, for fear it had “fallen off a truck” somewhere. Eli had sources I didn’t want to know about. Every species and mystic device had a reading, one when at rest and another when actively using magic. Magic itself had a reading. Even I had readings. The wreath redlining when at rest meant one of two things. La corona contained massive power, or it was always in use.
“Okay,” I said, processing that and adding it to the overall picture of the thing. “No stepping between you and a target, not even to allow you a chance to draw a weapon.” I didn’t add, Fortunately she wasn’t a target, and there wasn’t room in the house to step the other way. That would have been an excuse. Eli didn’t accept excuses. There was always another way.
Eli gave me a stare before swiveling his eyes back to the road. He wasn’t happy. Maybe he had heard my silent excuses?
Alex said, “I started a search online, which is still ongoing, for magical implements shaped like a circle or a wreath. I also ran it through Reach’s database. Currently we have forty-seven magical and historical things that are shaped like circles, are made of metal, and are, at present, missing.”
“Keep me in the loop.” I took out my cell, the one with all the pics, and sent them to Alex and Eli for record-keeping. Then I sent three of the best to one of my contacts in PsyLED, the Psychometry Law Enforcement Division of Homeland Security. I figured I’d hear back fast if it was anything. I yawned hugely and said, “Sundown comes quick. I need some shut-eye. Unlike you two, I didn’t sleep last night. Take me back to the B and B.”
Eli sent me a sly expression that fell somewhere between a smile and a smirk. “Sharing a room with Edmund, are you?”
“Yeah. He’s in my closet. Get over it.” Eli slid his eyes back to the road, miffed that I didn’t rise to the bait. But truth be told, I wasn’t happy about the vamp sleeping in my closet, which sounded like the punch line to a very bad joke. Not happy at all.
? ? ?
I slept for four hours, about normal during an investigation, and Edmund behaved himself, maybe because I kept the blinds slit open and Eli woke me an hour before sunset. Not giving an opponent an opportunity to attack (or try to be snarky or try to seduce me) is the best offense. Being offensive to Edmund Hartley seemed the wisest course of action.
I showered and dressed in jeans, boots, and a T-shirt, and pulled a lightweight jacket on, black summer wool for a touch of formality that said I was taking everything seriously. I wished I had fighting leathers, but until I could afford more, I was out of luck. No way was I asking Leo to pay for them, no matter that some people seemed to think fighting leathers were part of my job expenses and therefore his financial responsibility. Just in case I had trouble, I pulled on a pair of cheap black sneakers—good for traction, easy to replace. Tucked a silver cross into a lead-lined pocket and silver and ash wood stakes into my bun, and strapped on a few weapons before hoofing it downstairs.
We ate a nice supper, nice meaning it was a five-star-type meal: a crisp salad with fresh bread to start; leek, spinach, and cream soup; braised rabbit with wild mushrooms; bacon, fig, and brie tartines; and a lovely white wine. Enough food to stuff a woman watching her weight. Miz Onie served huge quantities for breakfast, but not for supper. There were too many green things and not near enough meat to satisfy a skinwalker with battle—mental and possibly physical as well—ahead. When we left the B and B, all weaponed up and ready to rumble, we made a fast trek to Boudreaux’s Meats and ate a real meal. Barbecue pig, slaw, and French bread. That crazy coonass witch could freaking cook!
The sun was setting as we left the eatery and meat shop, and Lucky clicked off the lights and locked the door behind us. His wife and daughter were waiting in a car at the curb, engine running, for a meet and greet with the Doucettes, and, amazingly enough, they handled it all themselves, without my help. They had even agreed on a location convenient to all, in the blood bar across the street. Maybe the BO citizens were growing up. We’d meet the two families in the bar after the witches got their circle going.