Bloodstone

“Not yet. The lab is swamped, as usual. No, worse than usual. But my friend there did say he’d look at it when he had a spare minute.” Okay. I was a little less worried about poison now, since Juliet’s wound had stabilized. “Did you get a chance to talk to your aunt?” he asked.

“She agrees that the Reaper is Morfran-possessed.” I knew that from my own experience, but I didn’t want to place myself at the most recent murder scene. Daniel would want me to come in to the precinct, and the questioning would last for hours. If the cops even believed me. I had no wounds to show for my run-in with the Reaper. “But she says the murderer has to be present for a Morfran exorcism to work.”

“So there’s no way to call it out, make the murderer come to us.”

“I’m afraid not. But I think the Reaper is being controlled by someone else.”

“You do? Who?”

A fifteen-hundred-year-old, half-demon wizard who’d spent most of his life sealed up in a tree. Maybe I wouldn’t phrase it quite that way. I told Daniel about Myrddin, describing his appearance and explaining that Myrddin was using the Reaper in a ritual to harvest victims’ life forces and resuscitate Pryce.

“How did you learn all this?”

Good question. For Daniel’s sake, I wished I could answer it. “Can we make this an anonymous tip for now? Just follow up and see if there’s anything to it. I promise there will be.”

Daniel was silent for a minute. I could almost hear his reluctance over the phone; he didn’t like going off the record. “Okay” he said finally. “Tell me where I can find this Myrddin Wyllt.”

“I wish I knew, Daniel. I really wish I knew.”

KANE WAS ASLEEP ON THE SOFA, THE NEWS CHANNEL STILL on. I muted the TV and watched him. His wolf form was beautiful, with a thick, silver coat, supple muscles, and intelligent features. As he lay on the sofa, his ribs gently expanding and contracting with each breath, the long, lean lines of his body defined animal grace.

But I missed talking with him. And I missed the feel of his arms around me, his hands on my skin. I wanted Kane, my Kane, back. And I didn’t want to wait until the next full moon.

Maybe there was another option. I went back into the kitchen and picked up the phone.

Roxana Jade was one of Boston’s leading witches. I’d met her last fall, when she helped me prevent a Hellion from destroying the city. She was beautiful—with long silky black hair and the kind of figure that makes men look not twice but five or six times—and also smart and accomplished. To tell the truth, I was a little envious of her. But she was an expert in magic, and she might have some ideas about getting a stuck werewolf unstuck.

I found her number, dialed, and we chatted for a few minutes. I wanted to work my question into the conversation casually if I could. But when you’re talking about the spring weather and the movie you saw last weekend, it’s hard to drop in a mention of werewolves. I blurted instead.

“Have you ever heard, hypothetically speaking, of a werewolf getting stuck in wolf form?” Not what you’d call smooth, but at least we were on track.

“Hypothetically? In folklore, there are stories like that. Usually the werewolf can’t change back because someone hid his clothes.” Kane had a couple of suits in my closet, so that wasn’t the problem. Roxana continued: “It’s funny how in those stories, the wolf is almost always a man—one with a cheating wife who finds it convenient to prevent her husband from returning.” Nope, definitely not the case here.

“Anything else?”

“Well, there’s wolfsbane. One of the reasons that plant got its name is that it’s the bane of the wolf—in other words, it makes the wolf vanish and brings back the human form.”

That sounded more promising. “How does it work?”

“From what I understand, it’s compounded into an ointment and rubbed into the wolf’s paws.”

“So is this ointment for sale?”

“Oh, no, I don’t think so. Wolfsbane is highly poisonous.” She paused. “Why do I get the feeling we’ve moved beyond the hypothetical?”

I considered. I didn’t know Roxana well, but she’d given me help and support when that Hellion threatened Boston. She’d had reason to doubt me then, but she’d decided to trust me. Okay. I’d make the same decision now.

“It’s Kane. Last night he got hit with a blast of magical energy, and it knocked him into his wolf form.”

“And he didn’t change back with the dawn.”

“Correct.” I liked the way she got right to the heart of the problem. “I was hoping you might have an idea of how to help him.”

“Well, the safest thing is to wait for the full moon. But I guess you called me because you don’t want to wait. The wolfsbane could work. If I cast a strong protection spell before applying it—”

“I thought you said wolfsbane isn’t available.”

“It’s a very pretty flower that grows in my garden. I have some preserved. Let me do some research. If I find a recipe for a wolfsbane ointment that I believe is safe, I’ll call you back.”

“Great. I’ll talk to Kane about the risks and see if he’s willing to try it.”

The long pause made me think the call had been dropped. “Roxana?”

“Didn’t you say he’s in wolf form? How can you discuss anything with him?”

“He’s still got his human consciousness. He can’t talk, but he understands everything you say and responds as best he can.”

“Interesting.”

“How long will your research take?”

“It’s hard to say. It could be an hour or two. It could be a day or two. It depends on how lucky I get.”

I sighed. “I hope your luck is running better than mine.”

I TOLD KANE ABOUT MY CONVERSATION WITH ROXANA, how she thought a wolfsbane ointment might reverse his transformation. He clearly liked the idea. He jumped down from the sofa, ran in circles, and then pointed his muzzle at the ceiling and howled. “Shh,” I said. “We promised Clyde, remember?” He stopped howling and looked at me, eyes bright. I sat wearily on the sofa. “Wolfsbane is poison, Kane. Roxana said she’d only make up the ointment if she thought it was safe, but . . .”

He jumped up beside me and flicked his tongue against my cheek. I put an arm around him, pressing my face into his fur, breathing in the moonlight-and-pine scent, a link to the Kane I knew. It was his decision, but that didn’t stop me from worrying.

Mab, awake after her nap, came into the living room. I asked her what she thought of Roxana’s idea.

“Wolfsbane . . .” she said thoughtfully. “It could work. But it’s dangerous. May I have her telephone number? I’d like to confer with her.”

“I’ll call her for you. But first, I need to take your picture.”

Mab put a hand to her iron-gray hair. It was short, like mine, and mussed from sleeping. “Whatever for?”

“You need an ID,” I said, “to get in and out of Deadtown. I know someone who makes fake IDs while you wait.” Given the number of times my paranormal ID card had been shredded by the energy blast of a shift, I was one of his best customers. It had been years since I’d carried an honest-to-God official ID.

Mab went into the bathroom to brush her hair while I got out my camera. I positioned her against a blank stretch of wall and adjusted the lighting.

“Say cheese!” I said, centering her in the viewfinder.

“Whatever for?”

“All right, just smile.” Mab’s expression didn’t change, and I knew that was as close to a smile as I was going to get. I took a picture, and then two more to make sure we’d have a usable one.

Mab stepped away from the wall and reached for my camera.

I smiled. “You want to choose your favorite?”

“Hardly. I presume you need a new identification card, as well. Myrddin and the Old Ones stole your