the sugar into her tea and stirred. “One: Wait until the full moon. At that time, the moon’s power will most likely transform Mr. Kane into true wolf form, as usual. And when the full moon passes, he should return to his human form.”
It was too long; the full moon was three weeks away. And I didn’t like the sound of “most likely” and “should.”
“What’s possibility number two?”
“Myrddin’s energy changed him to this form. Myrddin’s energy can change him back.”
Great. “So we just waltz up to Myrddin and say, ‘Hey, old buddy, can you do us a favor?’”
“None of that cheek, young lady.” She pulled some crullers from the bag and arranged them on a napkin. “Here, you must eat. The sugar will restore your strength.”
She unwrapped an English muffin filled with egg, cheese, and ham and set it on the table in front of an empty chair. Kane jumped up onto the chair and, um, wolfed down the sandwich. Mab unwrapped another for him.
My stomach growled again. I picked up a cruller and bit into it. “Okay, sorry about the sarcasm. But what are we going to do? If I understand right, we can wait until the next full moon—” Kane let out a short bark to show how little he liked that idea. “And the full moon may or may not fix the problem. Or we can ask Myrddin to undo the damage he caused. That would be the same Myrddin who tried to kill me yesterday.”
“I said nothing about asking him. We’ll have to force him.” Mab moved aside the food bag and opened a small laptop computer. “I’ve been reviewing the recording Myrddin made last night—”
I nearly choked on my cruller. “You know how to use a computer?” I’d always thought of my aunt as the original Luddite.
She didn’t even bother to shrug. “One does what one must.” Mab squinted at the small screen. “There was a camera behind the shattered mirror. It broadcast wirelessly to this . . .” She flicked a finger at the laptop. “To this contraption. I’ve been going through the files. Unfortunately, there seems to be nothing important there besides Myrddin’s video.” Her voice broke on the last word. She picked up her tea, but the cup shook and she put it down again. “Victory, child, I’m so sorry we couldn’t get there sooner.”
I closed my eyes against the image of a descending needle. “I’d say you arrived just in time.” Then I thought of something. “The Reaper . . . ?”
Mab nodded. “Yes, child. You were correct. A hooded man attacked you with a curved blade. But whatever symbols he carved into your chest, I couldn’t make them out. His back obscured what he was doing, and then there was so much blood.” She grabbed a napkin and pressed it to her face, turning her head away.
I rubbed her shoulder, reminding her I was all right now. After a moment, she sniffed and balled up the napkin in her hand.
“The Reaper was possessed by the Morfran,” I said. “In the demon plane, he looked kind of like a giant crow.” That awful cawing, driving the Reaper to use his blade, echoed in my mind.
Mab nodded thoughtfully. She raised her cup with a steadier hand. “The Morfran is the essence of all demons. A Morfran-possessed hand drawing the symbols on the victims adds that demonic essence to the ritual. Without the Morfran, Pryce would be revived as a mere human. Myrddin wants his demi-demon son.”
I remembered Daniel’s question about calling to the Morfran to find the Reaper. “Is there some way we can make the Morfran come to us? Flush the Reaper out?”
Mab pursed her lips, considering. “Not that I’m aware of. Myrddin is using his demon side to control the Morfran—and with the Morfran, the Reaper. I can’t break that connection unless the possessed human is in front of me. There’s a ritual to exorcise the Morfran, but I can’t do it at a distance.”
Pity. We sat in silence for a minute. Then Kane jumped down from his chair and ran over next to Mab. He put his front paws on the table and nosed at the laptop.
I voiced his question. “You were talking about the video. Is there anything in it that could help Kane?”
“Perhaps.” She sniffed again and cleared her throat. “As I watched the video, I paid careful attention to Pryce. He’s not yet resuscitated. He cried out when my energy blast hit his table, yes, but it was merely a reflex, I believe. After that single cry, he sank back into his stupor.”
“Myrddin said it would take the life forces of five people to bring Pryce back.”
“Yes, I heard that on the video. And I was to be the fifth.” She smiled grimly.
“I’ve been thinking about that. Myrddin and the Reaper appear to be working on a timetable—one victim every two days. Last night, I was supposed to be victim number three, but Myrddin failed to steal my life force. So maybe we screwed things up for him.” I looked at her hopefully.
“We might have, child. Unfortunately, we did not.”
She picked up a folded newspaper and showed me its screaming headline:
I grabbed the paper and scanned the article. The police weren’t saying much, but the story claimed that the victim had suffered the same mutilations as the previous two. The reporter noted, somewhat hysterically, that the Reaper had moved beyond the South End. Now, no one in Boston was safe.
Mab took the paper and folded it again. “We know that two more victims are required before Pryce can be revived. That means Pryce is vulnerable. And the son’s vulnerability makes the father vulnerable to us.”
I saw where she was going. “If we can grab Pryce, we can force Myrddin to change Kane back.” We could use Pryce as leverage, like the Old Ones were doing.
Mab nodded.
“And then what?”
Mab pursed her lips as though surprised I’d asked such a silly question. “Why, then we destroy them both.”
AFTER BREAKFAST, WE CHECKED OUT OF THE MOTEL. MAB gave me some clothes—an oversized Red Sox sweatshirt and matching sweatpants—that she’d bought at a convenience store down the street. The best she could do for shoes was a pair of pink flip-flops. My toes would be chilly, but it didn’t matter. I was happy to leave the bloodstained hospital gown in the trash.
We were barely out the door when Kane took my sleeve in his teeth and pulled me toward his car. He led me around to the driver’s side, then sat and stared.
“You want me to drive?”
The wolf nodded. He looked back at Mab and shuddered. Mab handed me the keys. “As I said, one does what one must. I learned a great deal about driving last night, but I can’t say I’m eager to repeat the experience, especially on your Boston streets.”
If a wolf can heave a sigh of relief, that’s what Kane did. I unlocked the doors and opened mine. Kane jumped into the back, and I slid into the driver’s seat. The engine roared to life, then settled to a steady purr. Nice. I love my Jag, but she’s an antique requiring frequent repairs. Kane’s BMW was a dream machine.
I hit the gas. The car fishtailed a little as we sped out of the parking lot. Kane let out a short, sharp yip as Mab put a hand on her chest and exclaimed, “Oh, my.” We headed back to town.
IF THE ANCIENT GREEK GODS HAD REALLY WANTED TO PUNISH Sisyphus, they wouldn’t have bothered with that rollinga-stone-up-a-hill thing. They would have made him spend eternity trying to find a parking space on a downtown Boston street during business hours on a Monday.
I couldn’t drive into Deadtown; we’d never get through the checkpoints. Myrddin and the Old Ones had taken my ID card, Mab had no identification at all, and Kane—well, Kane was a wolf. The Goon Squad would be all over us before I could back up and turn around. We’d have to sneak in. And that meant I had to find a place to park.
I was on Cambridge Street, circling City Hall Plaza, when Kane started yipping. I glanced at him in the rearview mirror. He stared down a side street. “You want me to take that right?”
His wolf’s head nodded.
I turned right. A couple of blocks later, Kane yipped again, his eyes fixed on the entrance to a parking garage. I knew Kane had a parking space downtown somewhere. This must be the place.
Through barks and head gestures, Kane guided me to his parking space. I pulled in and turned off the car. I let my head fall back against the leather headrest.
