Easy Pickings (8 page)

My stomach dropped through my shoes. I was halfway over the burnt-out Eagle, trusting my shields to protect me from its lingering heat, when Laz collared me and hauled me backward. “Don’ be a fool, witchy-woman. You go after d’cat, den we all separate an’ whoever out dere, dey pick us off easy. You and me, we find our enemy, den we find de cat.”

My nostrils filled with the scent of sulfur as he spoke. I glanced at my hands: coated in yellow dust, as if the car had been hit with a colored dust-bomb, not a fireball. That seemed slightly important, but less so than glaring futilely at Laz. I nodded. I’d shouted it at every horror movie I’d ever seen: don’t split the party. “Arright. Okay. But what the hell hit us?”

Sulfur’s stench faded, replaced by the cleaner smell of salt. I hadn’t even known salt had a scent, much less one I could recognize, but it permeated the air, sparkling like fairy dust. Then as if remembering it had come from the sea, it sucked water up from the swamp and attacked Laz and me.

I snapped shields around both of us, creating a bubble of air that I figured would last maybe three minutes. This was going to have to be a very short, decisive fight, or we’d suffocate. Teeth bared, I pushed back with my shields.

Water being what it was—malleable, permeable, probably other things that ended with -able too—it rolled around the shield. I had the distinct feeling it was examining my magic, or at least the shields. I hadn’t doubted there was a real live person somewhere in the swamp directing it, but that solidified my certainty. Our voodooine was nearby, controlling the water as it studied my shields. The magic covered my shield, wrapping around it until the rest of the outside world was only a wavering mass.

Then it began to squeeze.

I had never thought of myself as claustrophobic, not until I’d gone crawling through narrow tunnels deep under Seattle. Since then I’d had a dislike of small enclosed places.

All of a sudden the safety of my own shielding felt like a small enclosed place. The water was dark, much darker than it should be, like the whole damned swamp had come up on us. Even the generally shimmery blue-silver of my shields didn’t have much effect against that dark. I squeaked an I’m-being-brave little laugh and knelt down, focusing on the ground as I tried to breathe.

Creepy-crawlies crept up my spine and settled at my neck. My skin turned to goosebumps as water started dripping on my nape. It shouldn’t be possible. It wasn’t possible. My shields were stronger than that. They should hold against pretty much anything as long as I believed they could.

The drip turned to a deluge. I whispered, “Laz?”

“Eart’, fire, air,” he said, sounding strained, “dey ain’t notin’ dat stand against water, cherie.”

I looked up to see his black skin sallow and his eyes wide and white with fear. He stood rigid above my coiled-up ball, the two of us making an example of what the numeral 10 would look like if terrified out of its wits. I gave a high-pitched giggle and struggled to my feet so we were at least a petrified 11, standing back to back. “The air’s going to run out.”

“Den maybe we better do sometin’ dramatic.”

I was halfway through saying, “Right, good plan, got any ideas?” when the goddamned fool blew up the earth we were standing on.

I didn’t see how he did it. Dirt and mud simply exploded under my feet, rupturing a hole big enough that the Eagle fell halfway in. So did we. The water, though, fell apart: our enemy hadn’t expected that. Fair enough, because neither had I. I balled up a fist to hit Lazarus with, but he grabbed it and hauled me out of the pit he’d created. “Where your sword, witchy woman?”

“I’m not a witch, I’m—” I had the terrible urge finish that sentence with “your wife,” which was a quote I suspected would make Jane laugh and which I thought Laz wouldn’t get at all. Instead of finishing, I drew the sword for the second time that day, its four-foot blade afire with shamanic power.

Then, to my complete horror, I swung around and slashed Lazarus across the chest.

Blood rose up bright and frightening. My heart seized up, panic and confusion wrenching my breath away. Wrenching everything away: I had no control as I lunged again, piercing his left pectoral. I just missed shoving it through his heart only because he skipped backward with more alacrity than a man his size should possess. I swung again and this time he parried with his arm, for Christ’s sake, laying flesh open almost to the bone, and bellowed, “What de hell you doing, woman!”

“I don’t know!” The sword felt weirdly light in my hand, as if someone else held it and I was little more than a voodoo doll dancing to somebody’s whim.

A voodoo doll.

“Oh, bloody fucking hell …”

I shook pelt, loose skin slinging water and fire away. Snorted with anger. Huffed. Do not like magics. Smells bad. Feels bad on nose.

Padded though the hot, wet place, panting in the heat. Scenting strange witchy-woman nearby, smelling salt in air, seeing-feeling water in air as it moved up from bayou. It moved as if it was alive, shaped like human hand, black as night. Killing water, water to drown in, powered by magic. Formed like fist of witch. It smelled salty like sea, and stinky-with-dead-things like bayou. And it wrapped around blue magics Jo and Laz hid behind. Squeezing. Witches were stuck inside to drown. I could not help. I padded off to side, following witch-scent on wind, following magic scent on air.

Saw witchy woman, voodooine woman in trees. I crouched low, belly to ground, watching. Witch woman was in open place in trees, had fire in center of clearing. Behind it was small house, planks and windows, no paint, tall roof, porch in front and back, dock behind, on bayou. Her hand was out and closed, making fist. Squeezing, just as water magics were squeezing Jo and Laz.

I prodded Jane, inside of mind, but she was still asleep after fire and danger, after fast-fast-fast shift. I did not know what to do with dangerous witch. I could leap and kill witchy woman. I could go back to Jo and jump through water and Jo-magic and save Jo. Maybe. Maybe could drown. Looked at fire in fire pit. Maybe could burn.

I crept closer, paws beneath belly, padpadpad through brush, not crackling leaves. Not—

Terrible noise sounded. Blast of air and water. Mud and dirt. Threw Beast high. Explosion from behind. It whirled Beast in air, over and over. But Beast twisted in air and faced where Jo and Laz were. Landed in brush. Water-fist was gone. Laz was pulling Jo from hole in ground. Did not understand magic. Smelled bad.

I crouched low and crept under spiky plant to look at witchy woman. She picked up something from ground. Held it front of her. Kit? Sniffed air. Smelled of kit. Young kit. Milk on skin. But thing in witchy woman’s hands was not kit. Strange.

Looked back at Jo, seen through trees. Jo had sharp claw out. And hit Laz. Jo and Laz were fighting. I did not understand. Looked back to witchy woman. Witchy woman was holding not-kit’s arms out, moving them.

Doll, Jane thought. Crap. She’s using a voodoo doll.

Doll like Angie-baby plays with? I thought to her.

Yeah. But this one can kill. You have to stop her.

I gathered paws close. Watching witchy woman. Dangerous witchy woman. Black magic woman. Jane laughed and sang song in mind. I ignored her. And I leaped. Jane went silent in midair. I landed close to witchy woman, silent in brush. Studied woman with not-kit-doll.

Gathered limbs tight. And leaped again. Just as Jo screamed. Landed on witchy woman in mid-leap. Pushed her from fire, lifted her with paws and claws. Growling. Took her down to ground far from fire. She took breath to scream, and Beast dropped her. Landed on her. Breath left her in hard whoosh. I lowered head and took her throat in killing teeth. Her eyes were wide and she smelled good, like fear and blood and prey. And kit. Hunger cramped belly.

Stop! Jane shouted into mind. Beast had already stopped killing strike. Held witchy woman with teeth. World fell silent. Woman smelled of kit with milk. I snuffled in scent, lips pulled back. Woman had kit to feed from teats. But witchy woman was prey and predator both. And dangerous. I did not know what to do. Jane did not know what to do. Jane did not understand witchy power, not even witch power of friend Molly. I held witchy woman still.

Saw her eyes begin to leak. Saw not-kit-doll off to side. Felt witchy woman’s hands start to move under paws. Growled and shook her. Killing teeth broke skin. Blood tasted good. Beast was hungry. Tried to tell her so with eyes. Move and you will feed me.

I heard humans coming close. I waited. “Jane?” Jo said. “Are you … Um. Are you okay?”

I growled. Hungry.

“I thinkin’ big cat need to eat,” Laz said.

“Yeah. And I’ll let the big kitty cat eat you, too,” Jo said, “unless you agree to talk.”

Witchy woman swallowed, throat moving under teeth, against tongue. Tasted good. “Oui,” she said.

“Talk? No magic?” Jo asked.

“Oui.”

“Don’ believe her,” Laz said. “We wrap her in eart’, no? D’eart’ will stop her magics. Big cat, dis might hurt some.”

I growled and swiveled my eyes to big witch man. Do not hurt Beast. I will kill.

Magics twisted under belly. Burning. I pushed off of witchy woman, shoving down with paws. Heard breath grunt out of her. I did spiral in midair, swiveling with long, heavy tail. Landed in front of Laz and leaped at him. Screaming, Hurt! Hurt! Kill witchy man!

Landed on him, like landed on small woman. But Laz did not fall. Did not move at all. He caught Beast with arm and threw Beast into trees. Beast landed, rolled, and screamed again, screamer cat cry. Angry!

“Stop!” Jo shouted. She had arm out, with claw in hand. Magics surrounded her, hot and blazing like blue fire.

Jane clamped down on Beast mind. Stop. Stop now. Jane pushed down on legs and paws. Beast sat. Growled. But sat.

“Jane? Are you in control?” Jo asked.

Jane nodded Beast’s head. Beast did not like Jane in control. Beast is alpha! Pushed at mind with claws. Beast is alpha!

Not right now. Jo can kill us with that sharp pointy thing.

Beast growled, but lowered body to ground. Lying down. Flicked ears in disgust. Looked away. Bored. Small biting things bit at skin. Mosquitoes. Hate small biting things. Hate stinky magic.

“Okay, lady.” Jo bent and picked up not-kit-doll. Shook it and laughed. She held it to Laz. “Doesn’t look a thing like me.” She touched lock of hair on not-kit-doll. “Where … Son of a bitch. This is mine! When did you get this from me? In the underworld? Had to be. How did you get some of my hair!”

Witchy-woman-Jo made stubborn frown. Pointed sharp claw at black magic woman. “I think we were drawn here to stop you from doing whatever black magic you’re doing.”

“I no do black magic,” other witchy woman said. She put hand to throat. Smearing her blood. Laz put hand to his chest. Blood was dried there. Beast wanted to lick it. Hungry!

He’s healed, Jane thought in mind. Wonder when that happened.

“Coulda fooled me,” Jo said.

“Black magic vampire does black magic. No me. Black magic vampire said I had to hurt you, or else he would hurt Lissa.” She rose to her knees, fighting Laz magics on her skin. “Where is Lissa? Give her back to me!”

“Lady, I don’t know any Lissa.” Jo tilted head. “We aren’t from around here. We were pulled here to fix something that went wrong on this … in this place.”

“Pulled here?” The little witchy woman sat down the ground. “Pulled here? Oh praise all that is holy. I did that. I pulled you here. I did that.” She started to leak again.

I pulled from Jane’s control and moved silently into bushes. Hunt. I hunger.

No. Not yet. Shift back, Jane thought. We need to know what’s going on here and I think she can tell us.

I hunger! Beast screamed. But Jane pressed down on mind. I lay down beneath sharp pointy plant.

Not here. Oh, crap. Not again. Jane thought about Jane form. Pain hit belly and bones. Pain made much worse by hunger, hunger like from hunger times, when there was no prey to eat.

***

I came to lying naked under a sword plant, so named because the leaves were serrated on the sides and pointed on the end. Dang Beast and her petty games. The leaves drew blood as I climbed out. And now I had to find my clothes, which would be back at the burned out car. Grumbling imprecations under my breath about cats in general and Beast in particular, I made my way painfully across the rough ground, limping each time my bare feet came down on something sharp—every other step, it seemed—and swatting mosquitoes. Dang Beast.