Sisters Of The Craft: Heat Of The Moment Part 44

"No."

"She meant to say 'die, witch hunter,'" I murmured. "Not 'die, witch.'"

Both times she'd been interrupted-tackled by George, shot by Deb.

"There you go." Jeremy withdrew a small notebook from a back pocket, flipped it open, and handed it to Deb. "I figured you'd be worthless. Read that."

"What language is this?"

"Latin."

"I don't speak Latin."

"You don't need to. Just read along. Try to keep up."

He slashed my neck again. From the sharp pain and the incredible head rush, the wound was deeper than the last one.

Jeremy drew his s.h.i.+rt over his head, shucked his pants and everything else. He lifted an eyebrow at Chief Deb. "Skyclad."

She sighed, but she got naked too.

"Skyclad beneath the moon," I said. "You gonna stand around until it rises?"

He lifted his gaze to the stormy sky. "Just because we can't see it, doesn't mean it isn't there."

He began to chant. Chief Deb joined in, lamely but gamely. I struggled against the zip ties. Foolish, since even if I got them off, I doubted that Jeremy or Deb-or his knife and her gun, which she'd kept in her hand even after she'd lost the uniform-would let me go. But I couldn't just lie there.

I was a witch. If I weren't, I wouldn't be here. I should be able to do something. But what? Talking to animals wasn't going to help. Neither would the laying on of hands. Not for the first time I wished for a more active-i.e., destructive-power.

In the air above me a face appeared. As if made from the air, or perhaps behind it, trying to get out.

I blinked. It was still there. In fact, it was more there, and I recognized it.

Roland McHugh was trying to push his way out from wherever he had been the last four hundred years.

Help! I scream-thought. I'm at Revelation Point. Please come.

I had no idea who I was talking to, but oddly ... it felt right.

The wind, or the wolves, picked up again. They sounded closer. They sounded here.

Though I didn't want to take my eyes off Jeremy and his knife, nor the creepy Roland-face that expanded and retreated from the air above me, I had to see if I was right.

I turned my head just as the first wolf emerged from the trees.

They weren't two miles out of town when a storm descended. Wind and rain slammed into the vehicle. Thunder shook the earth. Lightning split the navy sky, tossing silvery sparkles across the herd of now drenched wolves.

"That's weird," Ca.s.sandra said.

"Storms come up." Franklin shrugged. "They gotta start somewhere."

She glanced out the back window. "Huh."

Everyone but Bobby, who was driving, followed her gaze. Behind them, the sun shone from a cloudless sky. In front of them, the moon played hide-and-seek with the storm.

"Henry," Raye said. "Knock it off."

"Henry's doing that?" Owen asked.

"He says no."

"But he could?" Owen clarified. "If he wanted to?"

"He has the power to influence the weather."

"But you can't?" Ca.s.sandra asked, and Raye shook her head. "Becca?"

"Not that I know of." Raye faced front. "If she isn't, our other sister must be doing it."

Bobby glanced at her then back at the road. "What does that mean?"

"No clue."

"Can we focus on one sister at a time?" Owen pointed ahead as the wolves turned in a graceful sweep onto a dirt road.

Bobby slowed to follow, then slowed even more and switched the car into four-wheel drive to make it up the now-muddy incline.

"This is Revelation Point," Owen said. "Used to be make-out central."

"Why would the Venatores Mali come here?" Ca.s.sandra wondered. "Is there a rock altar?"

"Not that I remember, but-" He shrugged. "I wasn't looking for that the last time I was here."

The last time he'd been here he'd been looking for the unlock mechanism on Becca's bra. As he recalled, she'd ended up unlocking it for him.

The car s.h.i.+mmied and ground to a halt. Bobbie s.h.i.+fted into four-wheel low. The tires spun and he slammed it into park. "We can try and get unstuck."

Owen opened the door and stepped into the mud. "Or we can run."

He didn't wait for them to climb out; he took off on his own. The road was washed out. The trail led uphill. He slid backward nearly as much as he moved forward. Finally he stepped into the woods, where the trees had blocked some of the rain, and the leaves on the ground and the roots and the pine needles gave him some traction.

It seemed like an hour-but was probably only a few minutes-before he reached the edge of the trees and saw two people upright, one on the ground.

His chest tightened when he recognized Becca prostrate, loosened a bit as he identified Chief Deb, then contracted when he saw the athame in Reitman's hand. He and Deb were not only naked but chanting in a foreign language. That couldn't be good.

The wolves formed a semicircle, quivering as if waiting for an order, a signal, a treat. Then the earth shook, the heavens spilled lightning, and the storm stopped as quickly as it had begun. All seemed frozen, shrouded. Each living thing held its breath.

The others burst from the trees behind him. The wolves surged forward. Owen shouted, "Becca!"

Her gaze met his; her lips formed: Owen.

And the athame plunged into her chest.

Chapter 28.

In the midst of the darkness there was light, and I went toward it. I was a step away from going into it when someone called my name.

The man who emerged from the gloom to stand with me at the edge of that light was dressed in black, hat to boot. His hair was dark; his eyes were too. I'd seen him once before.

"Henry," I said.

He had Raye's eyes. Or she had his.

"Mo leanabh," he murmured, his voice bringing to mind the misty lochs of a Scotland I'd never seen. Or maybe I had. "Don't go."

"I-" I turned toward that light, and in the darkness just to the right of it, something slithered.

Henry stepped in front of me as the shadow became a man.

"Roland," we both said at the same time.

"One down." McHugh's whisper seemed to swirl in the air, stir my hair, slide across my skin like a slug. "Two to go."

"I won't let you hurt them," Henry said.

"You won't be able to stop me any more now than you were able to then."

"Watch me," Henry said, and lunged.

Raye screamed, "Becca!" and swung her arm in a wide arc.

Jeremy Reitman flew over the edge of the cliff and disappeared. Unfortunately he left his athame buried in Becca's chest.

She wasn't moving. From here, she didn't appear to be breathing. But that couldn't be right. Owen wouldn't let it be.

He ran across the open gra.s.s. He didn't even notice, or maybe he just didn't care, that Chief Deb had whirled in their direction. She might be naked but she still held a gun.

He never knew if she was shooting at him or one of the others. The shot fired harmlessly at the sky as Pru plowed into her. Deb's fury was cut off mid-shriek. From the gurgly sounds that followed, Pru had torn out her throat. From the snarling and slavering, the other wolves were tearing other parts. All Owen cared about was Becca.

He reached her side. There was so much blood. More outside than in, it seemed, which might be why she was so still, ice white. At first he thought she stared at him, then he realized she merely stared.

"No." He grasped the curved knife, yanked it free, and shook her. Her head lolled.

He had to do something; he didn't know what. He couldn't heal- Heal.

He used the athame to cut the bonds on her arms, her hands, then he grasped her wrist and placed her palm over the wound.

Nothing happened.

"Owen?" Raye stood at his side. At first he thought the rain had started again. Then he understood the drops on her face, on his, were tears. "She's gone."

"She can heal." His voice was desperate, but so was he. "We just have to give her a chance."

"She can't heal dead, Owen."

"How do you know? She's never tried."

"Exactly." Raye sounded as sad and hopeless as he felt, which was why he listened. "Powers require energy, life force, heat. She has none."

"There has to be a way," he insisted. "What good is magic if she's-" His voice broke.

Raye set her hand on his shoulder then shouted, "Ca.s.sandra!"

Both the priestess and the fed turned away from the wolves and what was left of Chief Deb. Owen had the presence of mind to look for Reggie and discovered the dog pressed against his leg like a leech. At least he wasn't snacking on the police chief.

"Good dog," he said.

"You know how to raise the dead." Raye pointed at Ca.s.sandra, who blinked then glanced at Franklin.

"I-uh-"

"We need her. Get her back."

"I couldn't even if I wanted to."

"Why wouldn't you want to?" Owen asked.

"Because to do so I'd have to be a shape-s.h.i.+fter, and that's just asking for a bullet to the head."

Owen had no idea what to say to that.

"Things happen for a reason," Ca.s.sandra began, but Owen interrupted.

"There's no reason for this beyond evil and a.s.shole."

"He has a point," Franklin observed.

"It's impossible," Ca.s.sandra said gently. "I'm sorry."