which Sylvie was grateful for—and used Lupe’s momentum against her, slung her onto the bed, crashing into the headboard. Crystal crunched beneath Sylvie’s feet, cracked quartzite.
Lupe growled, a deep, inhuman rumble in her chest, and Sylvie snapped, “Stay there.”
“She hurt me,” Lupe said.
“It doesn’t look like
“It shouldn’t have hurt!” The woman—the witch—by the bathroom shrilled. She had reason to sound scared. It was her blood; the patterned skirt she wore was shredded. Her leg beneath the fabric was streaked and stippled with blood. Claw marks.
“Can you walk?” Sylvie said, cutting over her protests that she’d just been trying to help, that Lupe had gone berserk, that she’d tried to kill her—
“What?”
“Get out of here,” Sylvie said.
“Not without Peter,” the woman protested.
“Peter?” Sylvie echoed, and the low groan rose again. Keeping a careful eye on Lupe in case she freaked out again, Sylvie peered into the only space another person could be in: the gap between the beds.
The shadows separated themselves into a man in dark clothing crunched down into the gap.
“Fine,” Sylvie said. “Get him up, go.”
“But he’s heavy—”
Sylvie lost patience. Sirens scaled through the air, getting closer. She leveled the gun at the witch, and said, “Should I motivate you?”
The woman scrambled to her feet, tripped over the edge of her skirt, gained her feet again, and started dragging her boyfriend out of the room. Sylvie waited until they had cleared the door to slam it closed.
“Get your stuff, Lupe.”
“That bitch tried to
Sylvie did rapid math in her head. Another minute, maybe two for the cops to reach the motel, two minutes for them to get directions from the day manager, a minute to get their asses up the stairs.
“No time to talk,” Sylvie said. “Move your ass, Lupe, or I’m leaving you here to deal with the police.”
Lupe’s jaw slammed shut; she snatched up her shoes. Sylvie grabbed her duffel bag, grabbed the woman’s arm, and pulled her out the door, nearly tripping over the witch. No sense of self-preservation, Sylvie thought. The witch and her boyfriend should have been long gone; instead, the witch was trying to wake him, while they were still in the danger zone.
Lupe snarled; the woman yelped, and Sylvie jerked hard, her nails digging in to Lupe’s skin. “Ignore her.”
They descended the stairs in a slithering rush, half-falling, half-pulling, and Sylvie slammed Lupe up against the truck. “Get in.”
Sylvie darted around the nose of her truck, got the engine started, and was backing out at speed before Lupe even had the passenger door shut. “You check in under your own name?” Sylvie’s truck was distinctive, but not enough to randomly ID her. Not unless she was really unlucky, and it was a cop she knew.
Lupe’s lips went tight and thin. Answer enough.
Sylvie slued the truck around and headed out of the lot as the cops were pulling in. She waited two heartbeats, three, checking her rearview to see if they were U-turning, then punched the accelerator.
They drove ten miles down the road before Sylvie pulled into a movie theater’s crowded lot, parked her truck in a morass of other vehicles, and got out. She paced a tight circle, swearing, trying to figure the angles. So the cops had Lupe’s name. They didn’t have hers. Sylvie’s truck was distinctive, but there were so many red Ford trucks in the city that the cops would get bored long before they ran down the one with the jagged scars in the hood.
Unless she was unlucky, and the cops were part of Suarez’s brood. Then they’d know exactly who the truck belonged to.
All right. If that was so, Suarez would come to her first. She could put him off. After all, no one was dead. No one was that badly injured. Sylvie hadn’t committed the crime herself. She could come down hard on “I know nothing. Where’s your warrant?” if she had to.
The witch … Lupe had torn up her leg, and pissing off witches was usually a one-way ticket to a nasty curse. Nastier than what Lupe was already suffering through? Not likely.
Sylvie let her breath out. Okay. She’d need to keep Lupe away from the cops, but that wasn’t impossible. Not even particularly hard. Cash, another hotel, a tiny crime—hardly the kind of thing that would set them on a manhunt.
Annoying and time-consuming for Sylvie, and completely avoidable if Lupe had only listened.
She glared at Lupe through the truck window. Lupe glared right back, serpentine eyes gleaming in the shelter of the truck cab. Lupe didn’t look like she’d learned her lesson. She looked pissed, even put-upon, as she crossed her hands over her chest and revealed that the nails of one hand were stained with blood.
When she put the question to Lupe, back in the close confines of the truck, her nerves prickling at the animal scent in the cab, Lupe stiffened in her seat, and said, “That witch fucked me up. Made things worse. She was just supposed to diagnose the curse. She brought it out. I changed, Sylvie. No moon, and I changed. Now it’s right there, under my skin, ready to break free.”
Sylvie tightened her jaw, said nothing. She couldn’t think of anything to say immediately that wasn’t an
“What does it matter?” Lupe snapped.
Sylvie couldn’t help but notice that Lupe’s teeth were long and sharp, more than just the canines. Now, she had an entire mouthful of predator’s teeth.
“Humor me,” Sylvie said. “I just saved you from an awkward interview with the cops.”
Lupe slipped out of the truck, letting her stress out by pacing just as Sylvie had done, kicking at the worn yellow lines on the pavement. “I don’t know.”
“Of course you know. You were there. Let’s start. You were in the room, you called this witch who you didn’t even know—”
Lupe growled.
“So you let her in… then what?”
“Her bodyguard sat on the other bed. Creeper. Just stared at us. Livvy—the witch—told me to lie down.” Lupe’s breath rasped in her throat. “I did. She put crystals on me, told me that they were going to find the seat of the curse … but they burned.” She licked her lips, rubbed at her breastbone as if the heat remained. “I don’t remember things clearly after that. She tried to get her bodyguard to hold me down. I think I bit him. And the heat just sort of … ripped me open, turning me inside out. Next thing I knew, she was screaming and throwing spells at me.”
“Spells?” Sylvie said. She’d chalked the witch up as mostly show, a new age wannabe, who had managed to reach convinced-she-was status.
“Like wasps stinging. I don’t know. She kinda got freaked when the spells didn’t do much to me. Then you showed up.”
“When did you get your licks in?” Sylvie asked. “Her leg was torn up.”
“I don’t know. Does it matter? She got what she deserved. Trying to trick me. Pretending she could help.” Lupe’s eyes flashed bright again, a glance Sylvie’s way, her breath quickening. “Of course, that’s all you’re doing, isn’t it? Stringing me along. Doing nothing? Studying me? Watching me get
Her words grew thick, distorted; her face creaked strangely, as if the bones were shifting.
Sylvie had her gun up, leveled in Lupe’s inhuman face by the time the woman lunged at her. Half animal. Human enough to recognize the weapon as a threat. Lupe dropped to a crouch, nails scratching at the concrete,
