He took a breath that sounded relieved and shaky and determined all at once, which was a lot for most people, but probably not for an air witch like Evan Trueblood. “I’ll let you talk to Angelina. And I won’t say anything when Molly is finally ready to call you. She forgives you, by the way. For killing her sister.”
Joy swept through me at the words. I nodded and wiped away a stray tear that had escaped down my cheek.
“It’s just hard yet. I think she’ll come around soon and— Are you
I nodded, miserable. “I’m not sure, because I’m not good at this stuff, but I think it’s supposed to be happy tears, though that always sounded stupid to me. Why cry when you’re happy. You know?”
Evan said nothing to that, but I could smell his scent change. He was horrified. Which made me laugh and cry at the same time. “Okay. We need to talk business,” I said.
“Good. This was a little touchy-feely for me.” I could hear the relief in his tone.
“Three things. One: I’d like for you to listen to Rick’s spell. He nearly turned on the first night of the full moon. He was hurting and worried that he’d get stuck in his cat form. Can you tweak his spells?” Evan nodded, and I went on. “Two: The vamp in the garage that Soul told you about? It admitted to being present when Bryson Ryder and his family were killed. And though I can’t prove it, I’m betting he was the vamp who talked to Misha, claiming to be Ryder, a primo of a nonexistent vamp clan. He liked playing games with females, and when Misha described the voice, it fit—old, elegant, Southern. If so, then he was the one who gave Misha to Lotus, Silandre, and Esther.”
“So you killed him,” Evan said flatly.
“No. I turned the thing he’d become over to Big H, carapace, tiny little wings, bug-ugly face, and all.”
Evan’s beard curled into a smile. “Losing that much money musta hurt.”
I smiled back. “The MOC paid me part of my fee even though his head was still attached. And it was worth the loss of the rest to keep you magic-using types happy.
“And three: I know you and Molly offered to show your healing spells to Misha for Charly. I know you’re going to work with her as soon as she’s able to travel. But I want you to consider what might happen to your spells if you added a vamp’s blood in.”
Evan went still as a vamp. For a long time he didn’t seem to breathe. Slowly he turned his head to me. “No witch has acquired access to a vampire’s blood in my lifetime. Use of it is nearly mythical.” He studied my face for proof that I was jerking his chain. “There are spells and workings from hundreds of years ago that show the efficacy of vampire blood in healing witches. How are you gonna get Leo to order a scion to donate?”
“Leo owes me one. A boon, sorta.”
“A vampire owes you a boon?”
I was getting pretty good. I had astounded Evan several times today and it wasn’t even lunchtime yet. I quoted, “‘In recompense of your debt and in honor of your service, you may choose a gift from among mine. Choose wisely.’ Sounds like a boon to me.”
“Yeah. That is . . . stellar.” Then his face twisted into a frown so dark it looked like a storm was raging inside him. “Let the other shoe drop.”
“Well, there’s just one problem. Somewhere around here is the spike from Calvary, used to make amulets. It was probably the focus for all the power from the circle of witches, and with it, it’s possible to do transformational magic. And Hieronymus, Master of the City of Natchez, wants it for his very own.”
Big Evan groaned. “It just never ends with you. Does it?”
EPILOGUE
Bobby stood straight and tall, his red hair brushed and shining in the noonday sun, his new suit sharp and neat. Misha and Charly stood to his sides, dressed to the nines. Misha still looked drained, pale, and wan, but she was alive and writing and working on her book’s deadline. Charly looked better than I had ever seen her, her hair growing back out and her skin pink and healthy. I knew the impression of good health was only skin deep. She still had leukemia, but the combo of vamp blood, Evan Trueblood’s magic, and chemo seemed to be working, at least for now. I stood at a right angle to the three, wearing my full vamp-fighting gear, at Bobby’s request. He wanted me to look like a vamp killer on his special day.
Eli, wearing full-dress military uniform, stepped slowly, formally, to Bobby, his eyes staring straight ahead, his every movement ceremonial. When he reached Bobby, he stopped, put his feet together, and slowly, so slowly, saluted Bobby. My old friend’s blue eyes followed every motion, every movement, full of wonder.
The Ranger slid a box from the crook of his left arm and opened it. Inside was a Purple Heart. I had argued against Eli giving Bobby his own medal, but Eli had laughed and said, “I won’t miss it. I’ve got two more.” Which was a story for another day. I hoped.
Tears gathered in my eyes as Eli lifted the medal from the box and carefully pinned it over the left side of Bobby’s chest.
Bobby’s eyes swelled with pride. He stood straight and tall, his eyes never leaving Eli’s. The Ranger stepped back and saluted Bobby again. Bobby raised his hand and touched the medal, and then sought me out. “I’m a hero too now, Jane.”
“Yes, Bobby Bates. You really are. You always have been.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Faith Hunter was born in Louisiana and raised all over the South. She writes full-time and works full-time in a hospital lab (for the benefits), tries to keep house, and is a workaholic with a passion for travel, jewelry making, orchids, skulls, Class III white-water kayaking, and writing. Many of the orchid pics on her Facebook fan page show skulls juxtaposed with orchid blooms; the bones are from roadkill prepared by taxidermists or a pal named Mud. In her collection are a fox skull, a cat skull, a dog skull, a goat skull (that is, unfortunately, falling apart), a cow skull, the jawbone of an ass, and a wild boar skull, complete with tusks. She would love to have the thighbone and skull of an African lion (one that died of old age, of course) and a mountain lion skull (ditto on the old-age death).
She and her husband own thirteen kayaks at last count, and love to RV, as they travel with their dogs to white-water rivers all over the Southeast.
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