War-N-Wit, Inc. - The Coven (War-N-Wit, Inc. - Book 3) (9 page)

She sighed. “Okay, let’s go in someplace for a
soft drink and sit a minute. I’ve never had a connection before with anybody but you. I’ll need to concentrate.”

* * *

I sat across the table watching my little sister concentrate on this new connection of hers. I loved Spike myself. She couldn’t fall for a better man. But Vegas, damn it. Of course, with me being in south Georgia and her being in Macon, we were several hours apart anyway. But Vegas was damn near clear across the country. Handwriting was definitely on the wall about that, though, unless Spike decided to relocate.

Stacy’s face settled into a blank expression, her eyes closed. She sat for a few moments and then opened them.

“I don’t know, Ari. They’re moving in and out of the bars. And Spike’s so damn mad he’s ‘bout to bust a gasket himself. I don’t know why, exactly. Part of it’s what you said, that we should be on the road home, but there’s something else, too. Something deeper. From before. Really strong, but real mixed-up. I can’t get it.”

I shrugged.
“Well. We’ll just have stay alert till we do get it. Or see them. Let’s play Biker chicks. Cruise the shops.”

We walked down t
he street, taking in the crowd. Black leather, tight denim, feathers, sweatbands, shaved heads, long hair, tattoos, body piercing. Bare butt cheeks peeked out from short short cut-offs. Cleavage overflowed halter tops. Muscle shirts. Lots of muscles. Lots of used-to-be muscle that wasn’t quite anymore. Full mountain man beards, trimmed beards, scraggly beards. Head bandanas. Foot gear ran the gamut from flip-flops to biker boots to six inch platforms and/or spike heels. Pretty much what I’d expected at Biker’s Week. Can’t say as I expected what walked toward us, though, and I wasn’t about to risk accidental contact with that particular fashion accessory. I stepped back towards the shop fronts and pulled Stacy with me.

“What?”

I pointed.

“No. Way.”

“Way.”

A tall biker came down the street toward us. Shoulder muscles rippled as he walked. The
long length of the spotted boa constrictor wrapped around his neck rippled, too. The big head raised and lowered as it swayed back and forth, taking in the sights. Its tongue flicked out occasionally, tasting the air and any by-passer brave enough or drunk enough to pass close enough.

Stacy stepped back even further, crowding the shop’s doorway
, pulling me with her. The duo passed by. Almost. Just when I thought we were in the clear, its massive head swiveled toward us and its long body undulated. It bunched its muscles and lunged straight at us. The long tongue flicked. I cringed and cowered back. Not far enough, though. It got me square on the cheek, licking rapidly.

Its owner grabbed it close to the head and pulled it back.

“Cyrus! Where yo’ manners, boy?”

Cyrus flicked his tongue harder.

“’Scuse us, pretty ladies, but got to admit, the boy’s got good taste! You two mighty pretty things!” Cyrus lunged toward me again. “Cyrus! I said behave yo’self, now! ‘Course she tastes good, bound to, way she looks, but you just can’t go ‘round tasting all the ladies!” The biker reeled Cyrus in like the line on a fishing rod, waved cheerily, and continued on his way.

I leaned my back against the store wall and slid down
slowly all the way to the ground.

“You okay?” Stacy knelt beside me.
She grabbed my hands and rubbed them like she was reviving a shock victim. Mostly because I probably looked like one.

“If I can sit a minute. Rubber knees.”

“Guess I’ll let you get by with it this time.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I’da died. Was it as icky as it looked?”

“Actually,
it felt like gettin’ licked by a happy puppy. Real soft tongue, like a human tongue, almost. Thank God, ‘cause I’da had a heart attack for sure if it felt as icky as it sounds.”

“
Meoooowww.
”

Micah rubbed against my thighs and paced impatiently back and forth across my lap.

“So
now
you decide to show up. Where to, big boy?”

He took off down the street, glancing back to make sure we were still behind.

“What’s the deal with the cat, Ari? Give.”

“Wish I knew. I just know he—shows up. When I need him.”

I grabbed the hand Stacy extended to help me up and Micah darted on down the street, looking back to make sure we followed.

We
increased speed to keep up. Must be the heat and the press of the crowds. The after-shock from the snake smootch. Maybe I needed to eat. Nausea roiled up from the pit of my stomach and dark spots started dancing in my line of vision.

“Ari!” Stacy’s voice was muffled, hitting my eardrums through some barrier that distorted and slowed the vibration of her voice.
“
Arrriii!
” And then I didn’t hear her anymore. Because I wasn’t there. I was somewhere else.

* * *

It was night. I was on a motorcycle. A big one. Not as a passenger, as the sole rider. Riding with a pack. The pack pulled off the road and into a building. A warehouse. That was it. A warehouse. Somewhere. I didn’t know where. Sound echoed and bounced off the metal walls as the riders cut engines and dismounted.

“Damn fine work tonight, men! ‘Specially from the Snowman! Celebration time!”

A sound system blared. Heavy metal. Beer cans popped, liquor bottles splashed. Bodies gyrated in the center of the floor.

“Snowman!” A huge bearded biker thrust a woman toward the rider called Snowman. “Here! You deserve the best tonight!”

Snowman moved into my sight. Red hair and beard. Tight spiral curls halfway down his back. He grinned as the woman threw her arms around his neck and snaked her body up and down his. He didn’t like it but he did. He wasn’t one of them but he was. He was their brother. Except he wasn’t. Two men. Outlaw. Law enforcement. At war with each other, each vying for survival.

“Do
an min’ if I do.”

* * *

Nobody’s going to recognize me… ain’t nobody goan connect Chad Garrett’s voice wid’a Alabama Sno’man, darlin’, ya know whut I mean, c’mon back?

I whispered. “Except they did.”

“Ari, don’t
do
that! You scared the crap out of me!”

Stacy shook my arm.
I was sitting on a bench in front of a souvenir store.

“You almost fell flat on the sidewalk! I barely got you over to the bench! What happened?”

“A flashback. I think. But not mine. Chad’s. And it was them. At least, the woman. And one of the men.”

“Who was them?”

“The bikers in the jazz club last night. They did recognize him. I knew it.”

Chapter Nine

“
Meeeooowwww!”

Micah curled around our feet, displeased with the delay.

“Well, excuse me to hell and back,” I said. “Hard to keep movin’ when you’re passin’ out.”

“
Hssssssssssssss!
”

I stood up and
waved my hand in an “over to you” gesture.

“Lead the way.”

He tore off down the street. We took off after him in hot pursuit, trying to keep him in sight in the press of people. A crowd coming out of a restaurant cost us several seconds while we negotiated through them and when we emerged from the throng, he was gone.

“
Damn it!
If he wants us to follow him so damn bad, he’s goin’ to
have
to make allowances for this freakin’ crowd!”

“Don’t waste time complainin’,” Stacy said.
“Just keep goin’. We’ll catch up with him.”

There
! Further down the street, almost to the next block. We put it in high gear. At least until the world went out of kilter again.

* * *

The Alabama Snowman—I couldn’t think of him as Chad—slouched in the corner of the dark parking lot, watching the doors. A roadside biker bar. I didn’t know where. The flashing neon sign, missing half its bulbs, spelled out “Hell on Wheels”.

He had a cell phone to his ear. A relic from another time, a time when cell phones small enough to carry were just coming into common usag
e. Cell phones huge by today’s standards. A call he didn’t want to make. A call he couldn’t wait to make.

“Highway 47. Mile marker 16. Tomorrow night, 0200 hours.”

He paused and listened.

“Just be there.”

He pocketed the phone and walked toward Hell
. Hell on Wheels.

* * *

“Ari!” Stacy was making a career out of shaking my arm. “At least this time you didn’t almost fall down. Where you been?”

“Listenin’ to
the Snowman set up the Dark Rulers. Something he didn’t want to do at all. Something he wanted to do more than anything he’d ever wanted in his life. Where’s Micah, can you see him?”

She pointed. Micah stood at the end of the block.
He’d waited on us, but he sure hadn’t liked it.

“
Hssssssssssss!
”

“Not my fault,” I told him.
“I’m doin’ the best I can.”

He turned his head sideways and shot
me a glare, clearly telling me my best wasn’t good enough before he moved on down the street.

He stopped in front of one of the myriad bar-restaurants lining the street. Cyanide.

“You’re kiddin’, right?”

“
Meeeooowww.
” He didn’t budge. He turned in a circle and sat down in front of the door.

“We’re supposed to go in there?”

“
Meeooowww.
”

Stacy looked at the name on the window.

“Lovely,” she said. “How appetizin’.”

The door burst open before we could enter, spilling a mass of flailing arms and fists onto the sidewalk. Micah shot threw the opening and into the bar.
I started after him and Stacy pulled me back.

“Not a good idea,” she said.

“Can’t help it,” I said. “
Follow that cat!
”

* * *

“
Oh my God!
” Stacy rushed across the room, pushing big biker bodies aside like rag dolls. Spike lay flat out on the floor, unconscious.

In the pandemonium of flying fists and bodies, we knelt by Spike. Stacy cradled his head on her lap and tapped his cheeks.

“Spike! Wake up! Wake up, damnit!”

I grabbed a glass of water from a neighboring table, miraculously still standing upright in the melee, and sprinkled droplets on his face.

“
Whhaaattt…
” He bolted upright, coming from stupor into full consciousness in the space of a heartbeat. “Why that—
owwww!
” He rubbed the side of his head. I could see the knot already formed there. And wondered how hard a hit it took to knock Spike out.

“What the hell happened? And where’s Chad?”

“The son-of-a-bitch tried to
ditch
me! Like a freaking
novice
. Like a
rookie
. And when it didn’t work he
cold-cocked
me!
Son-of-a-bitch!
”

“How ‘bout you cuss him out somewhere else?” Stacy suggested.
“Like somewhere not here?”

“Good idea, babe. By the way, I love you.
And you’re absolutely gorgeous.”

He raised his head and kissed her. As first kisses go, it wasn’t a real long one, circumstances being what they were and all, but considering it was in the middle of a bar brawl, not bad. Not bad at all.

“Love you, too. Can you stand up?”

“
Really?”

“
Really. Can you stand up?”

“Babe,
after that, I can do anything.”

He got to his feet but I stopped him before he straightened to his full height.
“Maybe a crouch would get us out of here a little less conspicuously,” I suggested.

“You might be right.”
We formed a tight line, hunched over, and wove our way to the door. Micah waited on us right outside.

“How the hell did he get back out?” Stacy asked.

“How the hell does he get anywhere?” I countered. “Might be a good idea to get a little further away from here.” More bodies flew out the door.

“I’d say so,” Spike agreed, and we moved down the block, headed to a group of outside tables sporting colorful umbrellas.