The wind suddenly whispered in Lydia's voice. He'll do anything to keep me from sharing his secret.
I remembered another time, another place, another message. Had the voice been Lydia's? I didn't think so. How many voices were there?
I glanced at Edward, but he was oblivious to any whispers on the wind. Which was probably the entire idea.
I opened my mouth to call out to him and the trees murmured: I'll tell you the truth about your mother.
My teeth closed with an audible snap. I knew the truth about my mother. Didn't I?
"What about Lydia?" I blurted.
"Kill her."
"Sir?" I blinked. "She's a - "
"Murderer? Witch?"
"We shoot monsters, don't we?"
"You do not think she is a monster?"
I wasn't sure.
"Shouldn't we find out what she's done and how to undo it?" I asked. "If she's dead that could be tough."
"Do what I tell you, Elise. Or must I use that silver bullet I keep solely for you?"
Nic made an involuntary movement of denial, which Edward ignored. I kept my gaze on my boss.
My eyes narrowed; so did his. I was half-tempted to shift and chase him around the yard; too bad it was daytime. Too bad he'd kill me without so much as a bat of his nearly invisible blond eyelashes.
See? said the breeze through the leaves. He doesn't want you to know.
I glanced away. I might be an alpha wolf, but in the human world, Edward was king. Besides, with him hanging around, I'd never find out if what I'd been told about my mother was the truth. If Lydia could be trusted to tell the truth.
Probably not. Nevertheless, I found myself sympathizing with Eve in her garden. Ail that knowledge just waiting in a tree - all she had to do was listen to Satan.
The wind fluttered the ends of my hair, the silence so loud it pulsed with unanswered questions. When I looked back, both Edward and Nic were gone, so I chose a weapon, shut the trunk of the Cadillac, and headed in the direction of the voice - conveniently in the opposite direction of the others.
I had my orders. Despite my unease about killing Lydia, I'd killed people before. Just not with a gun.
Besides, who knew? Maybe eliminating Lydia would also eliminate the witchie wolves she'd raised and the coming Armageddon.
Two birds, one stone. I'd always loved that.
I followed the wind. Every time I hesitated the breeze murmured, drawing me farther and farther away from the cabin and closer and closer to -
Coming around a crop of low spruce bushes, I slid to a stop at the edge of the ravine. The scent of wolves washed over me, so strong I could distinguish it even in human form.
I paced back and forth until I found an opening big enough for a woman instead of a wolf, then inched through the brambles. Peeking over the rim as I'd done once before, I discovered nearly a dozen ghost wolves lolling on a grassy knoll.
The witchie wolves were werewolves, down to the human eyes. No longer shadows, they weren't solid either, since I could see the grass right through their hides.
"I've been waiting."
I spun toward Lydia's voice, half-expecting to find nothing but the rustle of a nonexistent breeze through the trees. But she stood a few feet away in a flowing skirt and peasant blouse of muted colors - violets beneath a spring rain, the sky just before a storm.
All of her bangles - wrists, ankles, feet - were in place. How had she snuck up on me? She must be able to appear as easily as she disappeared.
She held a gun in one hand, which looked suspiciously like the one I'd chosen from Edward's car.
Glancing at my holster, I saw she'd disarmed me as easily as she'd snuck up on me. Edward would have a stroke.
Lydia tossed my weapon into trees, then lowered two fingers into the valley between her breasts and withdrew the icon, strung on a leather strip around her neck. "Remember this?"
I nodded.
"You hand over the power; I'll tell you all about your mother. What do you say?"
I wasn't going to agree, especially since I had no idea how I could hand over anything. But if she was inclined to chat, I was inclined to ask questions.
"You made the talisman," I murmured. "Why?"
"To steal your magic." She rolled the icon around in her ringers. "But you're stronger than I imagined."
"How could that thing steal my power when lycan-thropy's caused by a virus?"
"Is it?"
"Yes."
Her smile was secretive, smug, and I stifled the urge to beat every tidbit of information out of her. All in good time.