Magic Burns (23 page)

But if I did nothing, she would die, as well.

Doolittle was out. So was Derek. Who could I take her to?

A tremor ran through Andrea’s limbs. Her right foot stretched. Bones crept forward with agonizing slowness. She moaned, her voice charged with so much pain, it sent my heart hammering. Her stomach contracted, her buttocks tightened, and then the convulsion was over and she slumped back onto the floor.

A distinct acrid stench spread through the room. I’ve smelled it before. A hyena.

The Keep was shared by all shapeshifters, but each clan had its own gathering place, just as each clan had its own pair of alphas. The hyenas had to have their own spot. They weren’t nearly as numerous as wolves or rats, but there were enough of them to form their own little pack. I’ve met their leader—an older woman called Aunt B. I’d rather fight a wolf pack than cross her. She had a bun on her head and a sweet smile, and I was sure she’d be smiling just as sweetly when she tickled my liver with her claws.

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Hyenas and lions didn’t get along. Curran recognized this. They were still his to command, but he left them enough autonomy to solve their own problems.

I had to take her to Aunt B. She was a scary bitch, but I’d rather reason with her than with Curran.

I bent over Andrea. “I’m going to take you to the hyena pack.”

Her eye widened. She shuddered, moaning. “No. Can’t.”

“Don’t argue. We have no choice.”

I slid my arms under her. Lymph wet my hands. I smelled the sharp odor of urine. She probably weighed close to a hundred and thirty pounds. I locked my teeth and heaved. Her deformed arms clutched at me.

God, she was heavy.

I headed for the vault door.

When I was a child, my father made me run grueling marathons with a loaded rucksack on my back.

Back then the only thing that kept me going was knowledge that the pain would eventually end. And so I murmured it to myself now, as I slowly climbed the stairs. Pain was good. Pain would end. Every moment I delayed, Andrea edged a little closer to dying.

I unloaded her into the buggy. “Julie?” I whispered.

“Boy. Shaman boy. Took Julie.” Her voice died in a gurgle.

Damn it, Red. At least, without the monisto, the reeves shouldn’t be able to find her. “Hang on for me.

Stay alive.”

I ran back inside, taking the stairs two at a time. Derek was still out like a light. I shook him. “Wake up!”

He snapped at me, his fangs scratching my hand, and instantly was up on his feet, whining in embarrassment.

“Never mind. I need help.”

He followed me down and froze midway on the stairs, his hackles up, his back humped, growling and snarling.

“Derek, please. I know it smells weird, but I need your nose. Now. Please.”

I coaxed him down the stairs. He gave the buggy a wide berth and looked at me.

“Can you pick up Julie’s scent?”

He put his nose to the ground and jerked back as if struck. He backed away, circled the buggy, circled wider, sniffed the ground, recoiled again, and whined.

Too much wolfsbane. Red covered his scent well.

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A hushed moan emanated from the cart. Julie would have to wait, because Andrea couldn’t. At least I still carried the necklace. If I were right, the reeves would chase me instead of Julie. They were welcome to it. As pissed off as I was, I’d welcome an assault with open arms.

“Change of plans. Take me to the hyenas. We don’t have much time. Please hurry.”

Derek trotted down the street. I hopped into the driver’s seat and we were off. Slow enough to make me fight against the urge to grind my teeth, but we were off.

All was not well in Atlanta. Magic sang through my bones as I piloted the cart through the rubble-framed streets as fast as the draft horse would allow. Strange things flew through the night sky, dark shapes blotting out the stars, gliding without sound. Twice we had to stop—first, to avoid a vampire patrol, four bloodsuckers in a diamond formation, and second to let a phantom translucent bear pass before us. The bear’s head was crowned with horns. It looked at the buggy with mournful eyes as rivulets of transparent fire cascaded down its back in a tangled waterfall, and ambled on its way, down the street.

A ghost river ran parallel to the road, its water inky—black and dense like liquid tar. I tried to stay away from it. The things that howled and cried in the night stayed silent. Listening. Waiting. If by some miracle, the pulse of the city could be captured and played back, a single phrase would echo: “A flare is coming, a flare is coming, a flare is coming…”

Andrea’s convulsions came faster now, every fifteen minutes or so. I knew when one gripped her because she let out a small pain-choked cry that made me wince.

Finally we left the city behind, heading down the familiar road past the ruined industrial district and down the overgrown highway. The night expanded, the dark sky pierced with tiny lights of stars reaching impossibly high. The colors were muted; the shadows darkened; ordinary trees, so mundane and cheerful in the light of day, twisted into gnarled monsters lying in wait for their prey. This was the way to the Keep, the fortress where the Pack gathered in times of trouble.

We passed an abandoned gas station, dark, its door missing, its windows broken. Small, gaunt creatures crawled along the windowsills and slunk in the doorway. Sickening yellow, like pus from an infected wound, they stared at us with glowing eyes and stretched their gnarled clawed hands in our direction, as if trying to rake us from a distance.

Derek trotted down the road in that lazy wolf gait that ate up miles without effort. We reached the tree line. Massive oaks hugged the road, stretching to clasp at each other with their branches. Derek stopped, raised his head to the starry sky, and howled. His cry floated into the night, lingering, haunting, full of sorrow and chilling to the bone. Announcing us. He waited for a long moment, flickered his ears, and trotted down the overgrown road under the shroud of the trees. I followed.

The buggy creaked, the beat of horse hooves steady and measured.

An eerie cackle echoed through the night. A high-pitched, deranged sound, tight like a guitar string about to snap. Lithe shapes appeared, gliding through the brush on both sides. They ran upright, gray silhouettes in the gloom, too tall and too fast to be human.

A shape leaped into the buggy and landed next to me. Red eyes shone in the dark like two stray sparks.

A werehyena in half-form was a terrible thing to behold.

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“Hi, pretty.” His monster mouth slurred the words.

Ahead three hyenas, two in beast-form and one human, circled Derek, hooting and laughing in berserk glee.

The male lunged at me. I twisted to the side, caught him in an armlock, and squeezed his throat, putting pressure on the artery. “I don’t want to play. Take me to Aunt B,” I said into the round ear.

His clawed hands clasped my arm. “Mmm, hurts so good. Hurt me more.”

God damn hyenas.

Ahead Derek snapped at one of the females.

“You need to learn humility.” The human hyena uncoiled a whip from her hand. “Come, let me pet you, little wolf.”

Shit. I wrenched the hyena male to the left and into the buggy, nose to nose with Andrea. A weak cry escaped from Andrea’s lips and washed over the male’s face.

“She’s dying!” I squeezed the words through my teeth.

The werehyena shoved me aside and screamed, “Open the way!”

The human female put her fist on her hip. “You forget yourself…”

“She needs Mother now!” He snarled and she backed away. He turned to me, eyes glowing. “Drive!”

I drove between the hyenas, and they closed ranks behind me, blocking Derek’s path.

“The wolf can’t pass. It’s the law.” The werehyena’s voice was grim.

“Nothing will happen to him.” I loaded as much steel into my voice as it would hold.

“Nothing will.”

The hyenas followed the cart. Spurred by their scent, the draft horse picked up speed. Rumbling and creaking, we drove faster and faster, until the buggy bumped and flew over every pimple on the road.

The trees parted, revealing a large ranchstyle house. I pulled on the reins and nearly lost my arms. Unable to stop, the draft horse thundered around the house and finally came to a stop. The male leaped onto the grass, scooped up Andrea, and ran to the porch.

The porch light came on and Aunt B swung the door open. Middle-aged and stout, with graying hair rolled into a bun, she looked like she should be baking cookies, not ruling a brood of social deviants with a penchant for hysterical laughter and kinky sex.

She took one look at Andrea and jerked her head. “Inside. You, too!”

I ran inside, behind the male. A female in a human shape followed. At least I thought she was female.

Aunt B looked out into the night and shut the door.

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The male ran down the hallway into a huge bathroom. An enormous tub sat sunken in the marble platform, enough for six or eight to comfortably fit. He padded across the floor strewn with sex toys and fruit, and jumped into the tub, holding Andrea above the surface.

Aunt B knocked some sort of leather and steel contraption off the marble and sat on the edge. “Who else knows?”

“She had a wolf with her,” the female said.

“Who?”

“Derek,” I told her.

Aunt B nodded. “Good. The boy will go straight to Curran. I can reason with Curran. It’s our luck that the Bear is away. As long as none of the older guard find out, we’ll be fine.”

What the hell was she so happy about? Curran was about as reasonable as a mad elephant.

She leaned over to Andrea. “Stupid, stupid child. You know what you are?”

Andrea nodded. The effort rocked her distorted body.

“It will go easier then. Strip her.”

The female leaped into the tub and brushed away the shreds of fabric, still clinging to Andrea’s flesh. My stomach clenched. Acid washed my tongue.

“You’re going to gag, go outside.” Aunt B nodded to Andrea. “I will guide you into the natural form.

Your face is turning gray. You know what that means, so concentrate if you want to live. Chest first.

Picture two wings growing from your back. Large wings. Spread them, child. Spread them wide.”

Andrea’s chest bone crawled down. Her shoulders lowered, stretching her chest…

I ran out of the house.

I SAT ON THE PORCH. THE DOOR BANGED AND Ahyena female sat next to me. Or maybe she was a he. It was hard to tell with hyenas: they were a weird androgynous lot. In the wild, female hyenas were dominant. The hierarchy went females, pups, and only then males. Considering that spotted hyena females grew larger than males and sported a clitoris big enough to rival any male’s penis that could, and frequently did, get erections, the hierarchy made sense.

This particular hyena was short and had blue hair that stuck out straight up from her head. She saw me looking.

“Like my do? I’ll tell you who did it. Of course, it won’t look as good on you as it does on me.” She winked.

“I’m sure. So how much does it cost to get a gas burner installed on your head?”

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She guffawed and handed me a sandwich. “You’re okay. Here, brought you some grub.”

I sniffed the sandwich. “So what’s in it? Jism? Ground tiger testicles?”

“Salami. Eat it. It’s good and you look like you need it.”

I didn’t think I’d hold it down, but as soon as the first bite hit my mouth, I knew I would want seconds.

“How is she?” I asked between bites.

“She’s doing good.” The werehyena raised her eyebrows and nodded. “She’s one tough bouda.”

“Buddha?”

“Bouda. Werehyena. Although if you want to get technical, your girl is…” She cut herself off. “If you want to get technical, it’s not my place to tell you. Call us boudas. That’s the proper way to do it.” The bouda sniffed. “Company. I love visitors for dinner.”

A familiar man strode from the trees, moving with a purpose. Six two, with skin the color of coffee grounds, he looked like he wanted to punch somebody. A long black leather coat hid most of him, but what little showed of his chest under a black T-shirt suggested he was all muscle. His swagger suggested he was all mean. In daylight on a busy street, crowds did an excellent impression of the Red Sea before Moses at his approach.

He stopped a few yards from the porch.

“Wow, knock me over with a feather. The chief of intelligence himself at our doorstep.” The bouda grinned and her smile wasn’t friendly.

“Hi, Jim,” I said.

He didn’t look at me. “The man wants to know what’s going on. And he wants her at the Keep. Now.”

“Talking about yourself in the third person now, are we?” The bouda smiled.

Jim leaned back, his chin high. “Curran wants information. Don’t make me walk into this house uninvited.”

The bouda’s eyes flashed crimson. She let loose a strung-out hysterical cackle and leaned forward, showing him her teeth. Her face twisted into a hungry grimace. “Make a move, cat! Break the law. Test the jaws of Kuri’s daughter, if you dare. I’ll smile wide when your bones snap under my teeth.”

She snapped at him and licked her lips. Jim’s face wrinkled in a snarl. Two hyenas circled from behind the house like sharks, clicking and growling.

I got up and nodded to Jim. “Give me a minute. As a personal favor.”

His face gave nothing away. Slowly, deliberately he took two steps back and waited.

Inside the bathroom, Andrea sat on marble, barely visible behind the female and Aunt B. The male bouda ran his fingers through the wet mass of blond hair on her head, searching for something.

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“I have to go…”

The boudas parted, revealing Andrea. She was covered in short fur, her skin dappled with uniform black spots. I’d never seen a body that proportionate in beast-form, except for Curran’s. The only flaw was her arms: they reached down too low, almost brushing her knees. It took me a second to register the fact that she had breasts. Normal human breasts. Most female shapeshifters in half-form had tiny breasts or a row of tits.