Blood Lines (22 page)

“Alex will.”

Shit. This was why she didn’t like being in charge. Sometimes there weren’t any good options, and you had to pick one anyway. “Can you fire an M72 LAW?”

“Does it have a trigger?”

“Never mind. Are you armed?”

“With my wits and charm. I hate guns.”

“But you can use one if you have to. Guess what? You have to. We’ve got an M-16 in the trunk, and it does have a trigger. What about your diamond?”

“Not recharged yet.”

Yet? She mentally added one more question to the “when we’re alone” list. “I’m going to do a full cast now.”

He nodded and turned his back on her.

It wasn’t rudeness. He was facing out while she faced in, watching her back so she could concentrate on her cast. That was one of the things she actually liked about Cullen. She didn’t have to explain herself when it came to magic. He knew.

Working magic typically requires three things: knowledge, focus, and power. Power could be innate, pooled with other practitioners, drawn from natural sources, or stolen—though that was dark magic, what most people thought of when they thought about sorcery. Focus was learned. Knowledge usually meant knowing the spell to be performed; with a Find, that meant using the
kilingo
for the target.

With a quick cast, Cynna just had to give her attention to the object she sought. Doing a full cast meant putting a lot of power into her search. For that, she needed her focus crystal clear.

She said a quick Our Father, bent, untied her shoes, and removed them and her socks.

The ground was cold and prickly with dried grass. She closed her eyes and shook her arms until her fingertips tingled. She sent that tingling up her arms, down her spine, tracing the magic that coursed over her skin, attached yet never entirely still. Like fur, she thought, always ruffling a bit in the breeze.

Some of the intricate tattoos stored spells. Those were the
kilingo
, and they took days or weeks to perfect and imprint, and would take at least as long to alter or remove. Most were
kielezo
, patterns lifted from something or someone she’d Found or might need to Find.
Kielezo
were much quicker to imprint, change, or remove.

The
kielezo
for the dead demon was on her right shoulder blade. The skin there felt tight with residual power from the cast she’d started in the car and never finished. She fed more power into it . . . and began to move.

Only her feet at first. She flexed her knees and lifted one heel, then the other, keeping the balls of her feet earthed. Slowly, then faster, her heels thumped out a rhythm as old as Africa, letting it build, catching her power up into it and lifting the essence of the
kielezo
from her shoulder to thrum in the air all around her. Her arms began to lift, too—hip high, waist, chest. She breathed the pattern in.

When her arms were over her head, with her heels still pounding the earth, she searched. And Found.

Not an exact match, but the click of connection was unmistakable. She felt it in her stomach, her palms, the lifting of all the tiny hairs on her arms. Her eyes opened.

She was facing the house.

SIXTEEN

“SHIT!
” Cynna snatched up her tote and kicked into a run, not taking the time to put her shoes back on.

“Where?” Cullen demanded, loping along easily beside her. “Where is it? How far?”

“The house. It’s in the house.”

“Can’t be. Even if I didn’t smell it when we were inside, Victor or his guards would have. Behind the house, maybe.”

“No. It’s on the second floor.” That’s what made her so sure it was in the house—it was
that
way, and the right distance, and well above ground level. “The connection feels odd, but it’s clear enough.”

“What kind of odd?”

“Finding is kind of like tying a rope between me and what I’ve searched for. The texture of this rope is funny, a little like when I search for a living person and Find a ghost. But not exactly, and anyway, demons don’t throw ghosts.”

“Maybe it’s dashtu. That might explain . . . no, it wouldn’t,” he said, arguing with himself before she could. “I still smelled the one that chased me when it was dashtu.”

“You were chased by a demon? When? Where?”

“Later. They aren’t going to let us in.” He kept pace with her even as he told her it was pointless. “They won’t believe you. Demons stink. Even a human could smell one if you were close enough.”

“Maybe this one’s using deodorant.”

“I’d have seen it. I think. If it were in someone, I should’ve seen it.”

“So maybe it’s in someone you didn’t see. Get Timms.”

“They for damned sure won’t let him in. If that odd texture you mentioned . . .” His voice trailed away. He stopped. “Holy Mother.”

She stopped, too, though it made her twitchy. “What?”

“I’m stupid. I’m a fool. There are humans in that house.
We
can’t be possessed, but there are humans in that house.”

“Oh, God.” She stopped and tossed him the car keys. “M-16 in the trunk.” She took off running.

He ran with her, damn him. “Go get a weapon!” she shouted.

“And shoot who? It’s in a woman!”

The car door slammed. Timms started for them, .357 in one hand, submachine gun slung over his shoulder. “Get the dart gun!” she called.

He paused, spun, and went back for it.

The guards, human and lupine, massed in front of the door. “Stop.”

That was the one with African blood. Alex. Boss guard. “You heard us, dammit!” She skidded to a halt at the steps. Her heart was pounding, and not from the short run.
The back of the house. The demon is upstairs, at the back of the house. It can’t hear us. It has only its human host’s senses.
“There’s a demon inside. We need in. Now.”

“The Rho is resting. He’s not to be disturbed.”

“He’ll be damned disturbed if that demon gets hold of him!”

Timms slid into place beside her. “What’s going on?”

She answered without taking her eyes off the guards. “The demon has possessed one of the women. That’s why the lupi didn’t sniff it out. Look,” she said to the boss guard. “I’m Dizzy and a Finder. I know demons, and I know Finding. You’ve got a demon in the same house as your Rho, and there’s a good chance it wants to kill him.
She
sent the demon, and
She
may be trying to decapitate the clans.”

“She?”
he repeated, brows snapping down in a scowl.

“The Great Bitch,” Cullen said. “The Lady’s enemy.”

“You can prove this?”

“Not from out here,” Cynna snapped, “but I have holy water. If one of the women reacts to it, will you accept that as proof?”

He thought about it longer than she liked, but at last nodded. “Wait here. I’ll wake the Rho.”

“I need in
now.
I have the authority. If you don’t—”

Cullen put a hand on her arm, then said something Latin. At least she thought it was Latin. He spoke so softly she barely heard him.

Boss Guard heard just fine. He looked at Cynna, astonishment mixing with skepticism, then back at Cullen. “All right. Gary, go get her.” One of the wolves—the one with reddish fur—leaped over the porch railing, landed on the ground, and hit high speed in a blink.

“Where’s he—”

Boss Guard spoke right over her. “If you’ve lied, Nokolai—”

“You’ll pull me apart and feed me to the pups. Fine.” Cullen leaped onto the porch without bothering with the steps. “Lead on,” he told her.

One hell of a leader she was. She should have planned for this possibility. Lily would have.

She’d have to wing it. “Timms,” she said, “we treat this as a hostage situation, only the hostage may try to kill us or take other hostages. We have to restrain her, not kill her. I want to surprise her if possible, so hang back, try not to let her see you. Be ready with the dart gun.” And pray the dose they were using worked. “Cullen, burning things won’t help. What else have you got?”

“I’m more of a brute force kind of guy, but I do have a sleep charm.”

“Good. That’s good. How long will it hold her under?”

He shrugged. “It’ll put a human to sleep for up to a week if left undisturbed, but I haven’t tried it on a demon. And it has to be activated while touching her skin.”

Okay, the demon might not stand around quietly for that. “We may still need it. If Timms darts her, the anesthetic should have an effect, but we don’t know how much, or how long it’ll last.” It was getting hard to stand still—this close to a target, the Find pulled at her.

Boss Guard shook his head. “You aren’t shooting anyone unless you prove she’s possessed.”

“You’ll have your proof. How many women are in the house?”

“Three adults and two children.”

Oh, God. She hadn’t thought of that. Never mind
The Exorcist
; demons seldom possessed a child. Kids were too constrained by size, social roles, and the lack of a Visa to be much fun for them. But she’d already been wrong about this demon once. “Timms, if it’s in a child, you can’t dart her. That dose is for an adult.”

“If I don’t dart her, how will we hold her long enough for an exorcism?”

“We’ll think of something.” Oh, that was lame. She looked at Boss Guard again. “How many of you are coming with me?”

“Me. David.” He nodded at a man-shaped guard, then told the wolf to hold the door.

“Okay. Keep in mind that she’ll have demonic strength—more than you’ve got—but she won’t be as fast as you.”

“If there
is
a demon.”

He worried her. Doubt could make him hesitate, and hesitation could get him killed. But she didn’t know what else to say. “Here’s the plan. I Find her, splash her with holy water. She’ll react in a way that proves she’s possessed.” Except that not all demons were hurt by holy water . . . but this demon matched the pattern of the one she’d killed. The poison from that one had definitely been affected by holy water, so the demon should be, too. Shouldn’t it?

Never mind. She didn’t have time for second-guessing. “Soon as she reacts, I’ll get out of the way.” She shifted from foot to foot, wanting to get moving, to follow her Find. “If she’s an adult, Timms darts her, and you big, strong lupi can finish subduing her, if necessary. Then Cullen puts a sleep on her.”

Boss Guard and Cullen exchanged a glance. “Well,” Cullen murmured, “it does have the virtue of simplicity.”

Boss Guard grunted. “And if this alleged demon is in a child?”

“There’s three of us,” Cullen said. “We might be able to hold her long enough for my charm to work.”

Or not, in which case . . . dammit, she couldn’t think of any other options. Cynna took a deep breath, made the sign of the cross, pulled a vial of holy water out of her tote, and opened the door.

No one in the entry, the hall, or on the stairs. She gave the living room a quick scan. Empty. Couldn’t hear any voices, but music was playing upstairs—something longhair, with violins. She started up.

The Find yanked hard now. She had to consciously mind her pace or she’d have sprinted up the stairs.
Stealth,
she reminded herself, and kept to the outsides of the risers, hoping to avoid any creaky spots.

The music grew louder as she climbed but remained muffled. Someone was listening to it in a bedroom, she thought, and hoped it was the Leidolf Rho, and that he wouldn’t pop out of his room to make trouble. Then she hoped even more he was alone in his room.

Close. So close. Fourteen feet away, and up. Thirteen.

Cynna gestured at those behind her: wait. She eased up the last few steps.

The pregnant Merilee was in the middle of the hall that ran the length of the house. So was Victor Frey. She was bent over her big belly, hands braced on the wall, her sweater bunched up beneath her breasts, jeans and panties MIA. His pants hung at his knees, stopped in their descent by his spread legs. He was fucking her from the rear, quick and hard.

Merilee turned her head and met Cynna’s eyes. Her face was flushed, her mouth smiling, her eyes wild. She liked it.

Typical damned demon. Cynna drew her arm back and pitched the vial.

Frey saw her. His face contorted in rage, his hips kept pumping, and his hand flashed up—and caught the vial before it struck.

Damned lupus reflexes! Cynna dug out another vial, dumped the tote, and raced down the hall. “Timms—dart her!” she cried, cursing herself for telling the others to stay back. “Frey, she’s possessed! She—aw, shit!”

Still smiling, still fucking, Merilee had twisted around impossibly to loop one arm around Frey’s neck, and squeeze. Frey’s eyes bulged.

Vial in hand, Cynna threw herself into a tackle.

And Cullen, who’d never heard an order he didn’t disobey, hurtled right past her.

He arrived first, ducking as Merilee swung at him with her free hand. He grabbed the arm clamped around Frey’s throat and threw himself back, pulling all of them off balance.

They’d just started to topple when Cynna collided with a confusion of legs. She glimpsed shaved skin on a shapely calf and smashed the vial against it.