Under Witch Curse (Moon Shadow Series) (9 page)

He couldn’t see me nodding frantically. “She’s that strong. Not that she was likely trying to spray your brother. But when she’s mad, you do not want to be downstream of her. Aztec curses, you do not want to be upstream of her either. In high school she hosed down a guy with some nasty toilet water because he groped her.”

“That’s not the same thing as a water line.”

“White Feather, we were in the
classroom
. The toilet was down the hall. She flooded four rooms, drew out a stream of water from the mess and nearly blasted the guy through the window. I’d better go talk to her. If you see a storm brewing with a lot of clouds, shut the windmills down.”

“She calls storms too?”

“Not that I know of. But she’s a water witch. And she had fallen hard for your brother.”

“Call me if—” he paused. “I’m of no help with this one, am I?”

“No. I’ll call you later though.”

I grabbed my backpack and left the house at a run.

Chapter 12

The street in front of Mat’s shop was indeed flooded. Since I never parked on her street, my only concern was staying out of the rush of water and avoiding the hordes of onlookers as I made my way to her door. A few children tugged against parental restraints, anxious to play in the water, but the temperature hadn’t topped sixty today. It was closing in on four-thirty, which was still warm enough with a jacket, but it wouldn’t be cozy warm when sopping wet.

A fire hydrant at the end of the street had blown. Men, mostly firemen, were toiling away or shouting random suggestions.

Kevin, from the bakery up the street, was standing outside Mat’s shop. The other Asian guy who worked in Tam’s shop was also there. He was slightly taller than Kevin and older. His longish, baggy khaki shorts left plenty of bare leg exposed to the cool afternoon. To make up for the cold, he had his hands stuffed deep in the pockets. His Birkenstock sandals were dry, an indication the two of them had found a way to cross the street without slogging through the water.

Kevin raised one hand in a weak wave as I walked up. “Hey, the hair looks good! You like it?”

I smiled. “I love it.”

“Good thing you came the other day. She can’t do hair today. They’re shutting off the water. Mom sent us over here to see what caused the mess. This is Lee.” From Lee’s shorts, it was evident he had expected to be working in a nice warm nail salon all day.

We shook hands. “Adriel.”

He turned my hand sideways to inspect my nails. “You decide to get your nails done, ask for me.” He winked. “I’m better than the best, right Kevin? We’ll personalize it.”

“Uhm, thanks.”

Mat’s shop had remained ominously dim the whole while we exchanged pleasantries. Her windows were tinted so that no one could see in without some effort; the better to protect her customers from prying eyes. The water in the street was receding bit by bit. They must have shut off the main. “Looks like this could take a while.” I stepped around them to enter Mat’s shop, but the door was locked. Oh, that was a bad sign.

Kevin said, “Mom asked us to share some design ideas with her, but she’s not open. Maybe she had some damage from the water or can’t run her shop with it off.”

“Maybe.” My voice sounded stiff, even to me. “I’ll stop back later. I know she’s really thrilled about the idea of offering purses that match the nail patterns you do. I’ll tell her you were here.”

Kevin smiled, and held up a binder. “Yeah, we have a bunch of ideas. It’ll be radical.”

Lee gave me a nod and then faced the workers at the end of the street.

I was careful to make sure no one noticed me as I ducked into the convoluted set of alleyways that led to Mat’s back door.

After tapping the secret knock and receiving no answer, I called out softly, “Mat? Are you in there? Are you okay?”

No answer. My worry escalated a notch. “I’m standing here until you at least let me know you’re okay. You didn’t drown yourself accidentally when you blasted Jim, did you?”

There was a long silence before a small wedge of wood slid to one side, creating a peephole. “When did you know?” Her voice was a cross between a hiss, squeaky tears and ice.

“I gave him twenty-four hours to tell you himself.” It pained me to admit it. I should have called her right away, dammit. “White Feather said to make it forty-eight so Jim could schedule around his job.”

The window slammed shut, but the door didn’t open. I kept talking. “I met Gordon last night when White Feather invited me to meet his family. He’s the Gordon I’ve mentioned before—White Feather’s cop brother. I had no idea it was Jim. Mat, you know I’d never keep anything like that from you.”

No response.

“Did you know the street is flooded out front? No, no, you probably had no idea.” Of course she knew. “I’ll bring you a few gallons of drinking water tomorrow. Oh, and Kevin from the nail salon is out front of your shop, prepared to share his grand design ideas.”

I stood there talking to the closed piece of wood for another ten minutes, feeling like a fool and a miserable one at that. The peephole, never mind the door, never budged.

Maybe I should have lit a firecracker in Jim’s lap after all. At least that way he would have been visibly injured, and my friend would know I had taken action on her behalf.

Chapter 13

By the time I left Mat’s it was zeroing in on five o’clock. Not evening, but close. I wanted my new bracelet and the other silver, but I’d abandoned it in the lab. The remaining tweaks could easily be finished at White Feather’s house.

Clouds hung over the mountains, and as they were wont to do, they dipped lower into the valley as dark crept closer.

There was time to retrieve the bracelet, but barely.

Daylight teased me by fading in and out of the clouds as I drove. Of course, if Patrick was really after me, he could wait until I was out after dark and pounce on me anytime. He didn’t have to invade my house and skulk behind the couch.

A small hint of sunbeam winked at me from the west and lit my path like a beacon from heaven as I rolled to a dusty stop in my own driveway. “I can’t run scared from him the rest of my life.” I had known inviting Patrick inside was a big mistake. Once invoked, how was I to rescind the invite? My desperate impulse made me a stranger in my own home, ready to run scared.

It took less than a minute to collect my bracelet and other paraphernalia.

I peeled open the front door to escape, but a warning tingle of heat across my turquoise informed me I was too late.

Apparently Patrick had decided he was my best friend and wanted me to meet all his closest buddies. He waited in the open, pretending to be polite by standing off the side of the porch. It wasn’t dark, but the sun was very low in the sky. We both knew he could cross the threshold of my house despite the garlic, chile and silver around the door.

Hating him would be easy, but the knot in my stomach left room for nothing but fear. My feet ground to a halt even though I wanted to run back to the lab.

“What do you want?” I slammed the door behind me, pretending bravery. Probably a foolish display, but if he wanted to kill me, he would have already done it. His companion...I tried not to show my surprise, but failed.

“This is Joe,” Patrick said. “He has a problem.”

The porch light wouldn’t snap on until darker dusk, but there was enough daylight left to discern that while Joe was a vampire, he was uncharacteristically dumpy. His fangs protruded at odd angles; an obscene invitation to any decent dentist. He had made an effort to tuck his plaid dress shirt into his black chinos, but it hung sloppily over a muffin-top belly.

What self-respecting vamp wore a wrinkled, flannel shirt like that?? What self-respecting live human would even be seen in it???

“Is he new?” I blurted out. Vampires always turned handsome after they died. It was either the blood they consumed or the death magic, but a guy could die looking like this balding, out-of-shape mess and normally he’d be transformed into an ageless, handsome…dead guy.

“Show her how charming you can be,” Patrick commanded.

I yanked my eyes from Joe’s chin to his forehead; anywhere but his watery eyes. “No, no.” I backed up a step and hit adobe. I had no desire to succumb to vampire charm, diseased or not. My mouth dropped open when his bulbous nose reddened, either with embarrassment or because he was—had been—a heavy drinker in life. His face went blotchy and old pock-marks appeared.

I yelped.

“Indeed,” Patrick intoned. He rocked on his heels, perhaps wanting to step away himself, but felt forced to hold his ground.

My eyes brushed past Patrick. He was a dangerous dude; the epitome of vamp and every inch the handsome Spanish aristocrat with his dark hair swept into an elegant braid. High-end leather lacing was woven through his hair, the kind that ordinarily might carry spells. With a vamp, who needed spells? He oozed power when he chose, which was most of the time.

Right now, he was at his most impatient, probably because he was dragging Joe around, and Joe seemed less than capable.

“Enough.” He chopped a hand at Joe.

The old scars on Joe’s face faded, but didn’t disappear instantly, even though vampires supposedly could heal themselves. Gradually, like melting putty, his nose changed back to a pasty white. As he made a monumental effort, his teeth even receded.

“Wow,” I said.

“Can you detect what is wrong with him?”

My eyes darted sideways towards Patrick again, but settled on his shoulder. “Are you—” I bit back “crazed” and settled for, “I’m not a healer.”

Patrick’s golden toned skin was nothing like Joe’s unhealthy pallor, but it was as polished and unreal as a painting. “I realize healing isn’t your specialty. But you can sense auras. We need to discern what illness or spell has attached itself to him.”

I didn’t ask why, I just started shaking my head. “I cannot.”

“Yes, you can.”

“So can every other witch then. Go ask one of them.”

The hand again, chopping at my sentences. Maybe he did that so often because I refused to meet his eyes. “Some witches can, some can’t. You’ve got a special ability with auras.”

That was news to me. “No.”

“Oh, for the love of—”

“No,” I interrupted. “It’s the same as touching someone, and I’m not going to do it.”

“Are you sure your refusal to touch him isn’t because of the spell?”

“What spell?” I asked cautiously.

“Obviously, he has some spell or curse that makes him repulsive. It affects a lot of what should now be his innate abilities. Is it the spell that makes touching him abhorrent?”

I wasn’t certain Joe needed any spells to repulse me. Vampires didn’t sweat, but Joe had a sheen across his skin as if he had been sweating for hours.

Against my conscious wishes, my thoughts churned. My stubborn brain was probably the only reason Patrick bothered to plague me with questions on a regular basis. “Curses and spells are entirely different,” I said. “Does a spell work on a vampire?”

Patrick frowned, his impatience and disapproval swelling across the porch in a wave. “Why didn’t you ask about curses being effective on a vampire?”

See, that was what I meant about Patrick and why he never stopped asking me questions. Even if I didn’t know the answer, it might be hiding somewhere in the back of my brain. “A curse would work on a vamp because curses can pass through death if they are strong enough. But spells usually can’t. Vampires exist due to magic, but it would require stronger magic to overcome that magic and make a spell stick.”

“Why would a curse work?”

“Different kind of magic.” I was fascinated despite the fact that Patrick was an annoyed vamp, and I was standing outside a house that offered me no protection from him. It had never consciously occurred to me until now that a vamp would be vulnerable to a curse.

As vamps are wont to do, he caught me peeking at him. His black eyes were cold, but without real malice. “That’s why we’re here, yes. I require a deeper understanding of this weakness.”

It was never pleasant uncovering a person’s Achilles heel. Socially, it was awkward. When that person was a vamp, well, it was even less comfortable. This was twice in a few days that I had discovered a vamp weakness. I wasn’t stupid; Patrick could smear me across the tarmac on any given night. Sure, my protections might make it more difficult, but he had been around long enough to know more about witches than I knew about vampires. “Why me?”

Joe coughed, a phlegmy, disgusting sound. “I’ll research it myself! Who needs your help anyway?” He shoved a finger against the bridge of his nose as if pushing up invisible glasses.

Patrick did the chopping thing with his hand, ignoring Joe and answering the question. “The choices are limited.”

“Yeah, I can see where they would be.” The two of them were asking me to closely examine the cause of something that was detrimental to vampire health. If I figured out what caused the weakness, it would give me a certain leverage over them—and that made me dangerous. “I can’t help you.”

Patrick sighed. “Can’t or won’t? We’ve been through the pay thing before.”

“No, it’s not the money.”

“The situation has already been compromised,” he said smoothly.

“Is that a threat?”

He laughed softly. “That’s not the way I do business.”

I wasn’t buying his light and hearty. “If you recall, I don’t do business
at all
with vamps. For the very reason that I like my skin and blood the way it is.”

“That is unfortunate.”

His answer was as ambiguous as always. That made me very angry. He had backed me into a corner. I could either help him or be on notice that I was now considered a threat because I had figured out that vamps were vulnerable to curses. But even if I helped him, I’d still be in that realm because I had stopped a vamp in my own living room.

“Would you touch me or my aura?” Patrick asked.

The very question made my skin crawl. My face did all the talking; there was no need to verbalize it. He tilted his head.