Jaz Parks 5 - One More Bite

“Their part had already been played,” she said. “They hao saomed completed the resurrection ceremony before you arrived.”

I went on. “Plus, my dog dug up his harness earlier this evening. You didn’t have the right components to make your spell work in the first place.”

She didn’t even flinch. “I never needed that to bring my lover back. And to use it for its real purpose you’d need a spell caster. I happen to know your warlock is off chasing some renegade mattick from the Treasury Department who’s pissed off the Secretary of Education.”

Oh, no, not again. “Which member of our Oversight Committee is on your payroll? Come on, spill. That’s the only way you could’ve—”

Her trickle of delighted laughter cut me off. “As if I’d waste my hard-earned cash on those dolts. It will be such a pleasure watching them tear your—” Her words trailed into a gargle. She grabbed the bed of the Big Red, clutching it as her body, which should never have moved again, began to writhe.

Goddammit! As Vayl wrapped his coat around Cole’s shoulders I said, “Cole! Do you feel any different? Talk to me!”

“I’m  .  .  .  I think—”

Floraidh laughed again, her voice moving deeper down the scale. She threw her head back, her face contorted with pain.

Vayl and I moved toward her together, of one mind without even having to discuss our intentions. Kill Floraidh, kill the spell. Then Samos couldn’t take Cole’s body. Couldn’t return at all. Hey, it had worked with Dormal. It was certainly worth a shot, even if the suits back home raised hell. I pulled my knife from his belt as he called on his cantrantia.

A young woman’s voice said, “Stop right there!” We kept moving. Neither of us follows orders well. Plus, Cole was close to passing out and Floraidh had begun to seize. If we waited any longer—

“Stop or we kill the old man! And the dog!”

Fuck.

Chapter Thirty-Two

For some reason I looked at my watch. It was like a part of me wanted to mark this moment in my life’s history: 12:34 a.m. May fourteenth. My inner librarian spoke up. “In precisely thirteen days you will turn twenty- six.”

If I live that long.

Exhaustion dropped on me like a chronic disease as I turned to face our newest crisis.

“Drop your weapons!” My knife hit the dirt. Vayl pulled his power back and the air warmed by a couple of degrees.

I said, “Viv! Iona! What the hell?”

I realized they’d been the two dressed women among the coven that I’d seen back at Clava Cairns. Now they stood with the rest of Floraidh’s flunkies on the opposite side of the ravine. All of them wore clothes now, shapeless knee-length robes and sandals that brought out the vivid whiteness in their legs. Why, at thesosite moments, did my mind come up with thoughts like That chick should always wear pants? Most of them carried flashlights as well, which I found ironic. The scariest monsters out creeping around were afraid of tripping over a tree root in the dark.

I tried to meet Viv’s eyes, but she dropped her head, leaving Iona to answer my question. “When Floraidh heard about what happened to Viv all those years ago, she was appalled. She explained how her group has learned a form of self-defense that only ghosts can beat. She invited her out here tonight to learn more about them. Of course, I had to come to translate. And to show her how wonderful life in a coven could be. It’s actually pretty neat, Lucille. You should join too.”

She’d been signing the whole time, of course. Not easy to see from all the way across a dimly lit clearing, but then I wasn’t the intended audience. Her message was for Cole.

“Jaz!”

I turned back, rushing to put my hand into his. He pulled me close. “One last hug before I go,” he said. When he’d pressed his lips against my ear he said, “The girls are faking. Iona’s actually a witch. A Wiccan. She’s been sent by her circle to stop Floraidh.”

Ahh. So she was the source of the spell I’d sensed earlier. I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t been able to pick her out as other to start with, but she’d probably found a way to guard herself from discovery just like I had. Maybe that funky belt of hers was for more than keeping her crack from showing.

“Iona, Viv, your move I understand,” I said, hoping they’d get my double meaning. “Albert, I hope this trip cost you every cent you had.” I stared at my dad, currently being held by a petite young blonde who carried a blade almost as long as her leg and a tall, spectacled woman with a professorial demeanor who carried a cleaver like she’d been raised by a butcher. I should’ve known he wouldn’t leave like I’d asked. He’d never listen to me, because in his mind I’d never outrank him.

He didn’t say anything, just squared his shoulders and looked straight ahead as the blonde brought her sword closer to his throat. I memorized her face, so that when the time came I could exact just the right amount of revenge on those sweet, even features. Nope, she didn’t look evil. You couldn’t tell by the appearance of any of the Scidairans what they did in their free time. They all seemed like pleasant women. The kind you’d expect to trade idle gossip with at the grocery store or the bank line. Nine faces at nearly every point on the circle of life. But all of them joined by their shared lust for eternity. The weapons they carried proved it. Blades mostly. Ancient and wicked sharp by the look of them. Strangely, each woman had tied a leather bag to the hilt of her sword, or axe, or dagger.

Maybe it’s their lucky charm, I thought.

A couple of the younger women had traded metal for plastic. Naw, not that toy gun crap. This was heavy-duty stuff, so new even Bergman had just mentioned it. The lancers they carried shot a steel bolt into the victim, which