“Except for the one we’re dealing with now. So let me see if I understand what you’re saying. You think it was a witch who made the hole?”
Immediately, the clouds returned. Her violet eyes now holding inexpressible sadness, Roxana nodded. “It had to be. Who else would know the date? Who else would know the charms we used?”
“What if a witch told somebody else?”
“Like who?”
“Like a sorcerer. The Destroyer didn’t just show up. Somebody called it, then bound it. It has a master. No offense, but I’ve never met a witch powerful enough to do that.”
Roxana nodded thoughtfully. “I see what you mean. It might have been a witch and a sorcerer working together. Or maybe one of the witches let some information slip.”
“Hang on,” Daniel said, jumping in. We both looked at him. At least I didn’t want to smash his face anymore. “There’s a difference between a witch and a sorcerer? I thought they were just different words for the same thing.”
I shook my head. “A witch does magic by working with the energy of the earth. A sorcerer conjures demons and forces them to obey his or her will.”
“Witches,” added Roxana, “are forbidden to use their magic to cause harm, to themselves or others. Sorcerers don’t have any such scruples.”
“No kidding,” I said. “How can you ‘do no harm’ when all your magic is tied up with demons? Sorcerers may fool themselves into thinking they command demonic servants, but the truth is that no demon ever served a human without taking a bite out of that human’s soul.”
“Wow. Okay, thanks.” Daniel slouched in his chair as if trying to fade into the background again.
Roxana turned back to me. “I was afraid it was one of us. So at our last meeting, I put everyone under a truth spell, including myself, and asked each witch if she’d damaged the shield. Everyone said no. Now, it’s possible to create a counter-charm that lets you lie under a truth spell, if you prepare it in advance. But I’d called the meeting with only an hour’s notice, and I didn’t sense that kind of magic happening. I’ll try again, but this time I’ll ask if anyone gave an outsider any information about the shield. Even if it was by accident, even if they’ve forgotten, the truth spell will bring it out.”
“Kind of like hypnosis, huh? That’s a good idea,” Daniel said. “Let me know what you find out.”
Roxana nodded. “I’ll call another meeting today. In fact, I’d better get started. But before I go, Victory, I’ve got something for you.” She dug through her purse for a moment, then pulled out a clear stone attached to a leather cord. “This amulet will call the Witches of the Shield to your aid when you next encounter the Destroyer.”
“Thanks,” I started, “but I don’t—”
“Not to help with the fighting. You’re the expert there. But what we can do is open a tiny, momentary hole in the shield, if you need it, so you can push the Destroyer out.”
That sounded like a good idea. “How does it work?”
She held the crystal in her hand. It was a clear, unpolished stone in a lopsided teardrop shape, about two inches long. Golden wires caged it and connected it to the leather loop.
“You wear it around your neck. The amulet serves two purposes: it glows scarlet in the presence of a Hellion, and in that state it also becomes a communication device. It transmits what you’re seeing and hearing to a scrying mirror that my coven monitors constantly. If you need the shield opened, just call out and tell us, and we’ll crack it right away. You can force the Destroyer out before another Hellion has a chance to enter.”
“So I say, ‘Open the shield,’ and you’ll open it.” She nodded. “How long does that take?”
“About ten seconds. And the crack will remain open for another ten.”
“So timing is everything, huh?” I reached for the amulet.
As Roxana handed it to me, the stone brushed my right forearm, right across the demon mark. I felt a hot tingle, and the stone glowed a pale pink. Roxana’s eyes widened, fixed on the stone. She deliberately moved the amulet to find the source of the color, holding it over my scar.
My arm was burning now, and an image flashed into my mind: Roxana’s face, her violet eyes bulging, her teeth smeared with blood, as I squeezed and squeezed her scrawny neck until the bones cracked and her swollen purple tongue protruded from that red-lipsticked mouth—
Roxana jumped, jerking the amulet away. The violent image faded. “What was that?” she whispered.
“It turned pink,” Daniel said. “Why did it do that?” Roxana’s eyes were glassy with fear. She looked at me, uncertain, holding back the amulet.
“It’s all right,” I said, reaching for the amulet with my left hand. “The Destroyer’s in town. I’ve got some unfinished business with it. Personal business.”
Keeping my eyes on hers, I took the amulet and put it around my neck. The cord was long enough that I could look down and see the stone, which rested over my heart. It stayed crystal clear. Seeing that, Roxana nodded, but tentatively, like she wanted to understand but no longer quite trusted me. “We’ve felt a strengthening of the Hellion’s power,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. From her expression, she was trying to assess whose side I was on.
“It’s hard to fight something that’s inside you,” I said.
She tilted her head, then nodded, as if this time she really did understand. “But it can be done,” she said.
I nodded. “It can be done. People fight their own demons every day. Even me.”
DANIEL DIDN’T ASK AGAIN ABOUT THE AMULET. HE WATCHED Roxana leave to call her witches’ meeting, then turned back to me and grinned. He sure was smiling a lot this morning. “Wow,” he said, “that was fascinating. I knew listening to you talk to a witch would help.” He stood, taking his suit jacket from the back of his chair and pulling it on. “You want to get out of here? There’s a coffee shop around the corner, and I skipped breakfast this morning. I’m starving. Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”
“No, thanks.”
At my refusal, Daniel stopped, one arm in his jacket, looking crestfallen. “Why not?”
“I told you, I’ve got to get some sleep.”
“Oh, right, you did. Sorry.” He put his other arm through the empty sleeve and shrugged the jacket into place. He smiled again. “So can I tempt you with a decaf instead?”
I was sick of this guy acting like he thought he was Prince Charming. I narrowed my eyes at him and said, “What’s your relationship to Seth Baldwin?”
“Seth Bal—? You mean the guy who’s running for governor? Why would I have any relationship to him?”
See that? I thought. Answering a question with a question. He was trying to avoid telling me the truth. And the only way to fight evasion is to keep straight on your own course.
“Somebody told him that the Destroyer murdered my father.” I watched his face closely, wishing I had one of Roxana’s truth spells. Something flitted across his expression—he blinked, the smile dropped away, and he ran a hand through his hair—but I didn’t know how to read him.
“You don’t think I did?” His voice sounded hurt. “Jeez, Vicky, I’d never—You couldn’t—” He inspected his fingernails. “What makes you think it was me?”
“Only a few people know: my family, my roommate, Kane—and you. I trust the others. You, I don’t even know.” I thought about the woman’s sleepy voice calling him to the phone. “I don’t know you at all.”
He sat down heavily in his chair and spoke with his head turned away. “I’ve never met Baldwin. Hell, I’m not even voting for the guy. And I’m sorry that you think I could betray you like that. I swear to you, I haven’t told anyone. I left it out of my investigation notes. You know, I’d really hoped . . .” He raised his eyes to meet mine. But he didn’t finish his sentence, just looked down at his hands again.
Well, Daniel Costello’s hopes were none of my business. Those were the concern of his live-in lover, whoever she was. As far as I was concerned, he and I had nothing left to say to each other.
Nothing personal, anyway. “If Roxana finds out who leaked the info about the shield, you’ll let me know, right?” I made my voice sound as professional as I knew how.
He nodded. “And you’ll tell me if you run into that Hellion again.”
“Sure.” But something told me that I wouldn’t be calling him again, for any reason whatsoever.
As I was closing the door behind me, I knew I was right in my resolve.
“Hey, Costello,” called a detective, “your wife’s on line two.”
22
WHEN I GOT HOME, THE APARTMENT WAS SILENT. I CHECKED for phone messages; nothing from Kane. At least he didn’t want to continue our fight—or end it, for that matter. Either way, it would have been kind of nice just to hear his voice.
As I peeled off my clothes and got ready for bed, I realized that if Kane hadn’t called by now, I wouldn’t be hearing from him for a while. Tomorrow night was the full moon. That meant Kane, like all werewolves, had to report to a state-sanctioned werewolf retreat area before sundown tonight. He’d head for the Princeton retreat straight from his office. He’d be gone for three days.
It would be so good to talk to him, to drop our arguments and snuggle in together. I wanted to tell him about Roxana and the witches. I wanted to tell him how scared I was that I might be losing control. I wanted to feel his strong arms around me, to breathe in his woodsy, masculine scent. I wanted to feel the way I felt when we were laughing together. Safe. Happy. And if not exactly loved, then something not too far off.
Kane had wanted me to go on this retreat with him, but I’d said no. Now I was wishing he’d asked one more time before he left. Not that I’d have gone, of course; I had too much to deal with here in town—maybe even more than I could handle. Still, it would have been nice to be asked, I thought, as I pulled up the covers and turned out the light.