“You mean the kind of stuff Laksha can do.”
“Precisely. And the coven living on the floor above you. Now watch what happens when you remove the amulet from around your neck-can you take off that necklace using my eyes?”
“I think so. Hold on.” She reached behind her neck and loosed the clasp of the chain, removing the amulet and holding it in her right hand, which she dropped to her side. The gossamer threads of my binding sloughed off, retracting like a tape measure into the amulet in her hand.
“See that?” I said. “If you don’t wear it, it’s useless.”
“So I have to wear it all the time?”
“That would be safest, but you can remove it when you know you’re secure in a warded room. Your condo counts, because I’ve warded it.”
“So if I looked at my door through your sight, I would see the wards you’ve put there?”
“Yep. You can see the wards on my house here if you’d like. I can lead you outside to check them out.”
“How bitchin’ would that-I mean, you honor me, sensei.”
I chuckled. “Put the amulet back on first, and watch yourself armor up.” She did so, and it was a serendipitous bit of caution. Hands on my shoulders, she followed me out front to the edge of my lawn, commenting as she went on the network of bindings all across the porch and the grass and the mesquite tree that had helped me fight off the wheel bug demon. Then, as we were about to turn around to appreciate the wards on the house itself, I heard a sharp thumping noise behind me, as though someone had slapped their hand down onto the cushion of a couch. Granuaile grunted, and I felt her fingers clutch desperately at my shoulders before they tore away. I whirled around to see her falling backward onto the lawn. Before I could discern what had happened or even ask her if she was all right, my amulet punched me in the chest, knocking me backward until I was staggering into the street. I realized this had happened to me before, but it had been during World War II in the southwest of France. And between one awkward step back and the next, I had one of those singular moments of gestalt, where the synapses of several memories and the clues lying idle in my subconscious connected and delivered a single word to my frontal lobe, loaded with anger and revulsion and a bitter kernel of vengeance long denied: them.
A flicker of movement in my peripheral vision drew my head to the right, and I caught a glimpse of a slim woman drenched in hellish juju fleeing around the corner toward Mitchell Park. If I hadn’t been using my faerie specs, I wouldn’t have seen her at all; she was probably cloaked or camouflaged in the normal spectrum, and she was definitely one of them-and now I had a name for an old enemy that I’d longed to meet again since the early 1940s. There was not a doubt in my mind that the witches who’d attacked me and my charges during World War II were the same ones attacking me now, and they called themselves die Tochter des dritten Hauses.
Chapter 18
There was no time to waste. I released the binding on Granuaile’s vision, restoring her own sight, and shouted to her as I ran down the street, “Get back in the house and stay there!” She’d be safe inside from further attacks. I lengthened my stride and sprinted, hoping I’d be able to catch up to the witch who had just tried to assassinate me and my apprentice.
As I came around the corner of 11th to Judd Street, I spied her turning right onto 10th Street. That would take her in short order to Mitchell Drive, where I imagined she would turn north and head for the park-or possibly University Drive-in a bid to escape. Yet when I arrived at Mitchell Drive, the sound of her soles clapping on the asphalt drew my gaze to the south instead. I was in time to see her disappear around the corner of 10th Place, a brief afterthought of a road with absolutely no residential frontage. It was an outlet that would take her to Roosevelt Street, where again I presumed she would turn north-and the thought turned me cold inside.
That would lead her past the widow MacDonagh’s house.
Did she know the widow was my friend? The widow had no protection; she was completely vulnerable, and she was probably sitting on her porch that very instant, open to attack, if the witch had not already paid her a visit.
I used to try to protect all my friends in the early days, but gradually I realized that the very process of protecting them often painted them as targets-or pointed the way to where I was hiding. It became counterproductive to keeping my location secret, so I long ago fell out of the habit. Running after the witch now, I realized that the situation had changed and I’d failed to see it: I was no longer hiding, so my friends might as well be wearing sandwich boards that said, Hurt me to hurt the Druid.
I redoubled my efforts and considered drawing on my depleted store of magic to accelerate my progress, but then I caught sight of her and understood that she was hoping I’d do just that. She was purposely running in the middle of the road, which meant she knew I got my power from the earth. She was not about to run anywhere near someone’s landscaping, where I could draw power and never tire; if I wanted to attack her magically, I’d have to remove myself from the earth and risk draining my power entirely.
That smelled like a trap.
My options were somewhat limited. I had enough magic left in my bear charm for a spell or two, three if I was lucky; most of it had been burned up creating Granuaile’s talisman and binding her sight to mine.
I had shoes on, so I couldn’t draw power without stopping to take them off. I couldn’t shape-shift to a hound without getting naked first, and that would not only put me farther behind but would risk exposure in a couple of ways. Another possibility suggested itself to me as I continued pounding down the pavement after the witch, though it certainly carried the risk of revealing my true nature and I’d never tried it before. I reasoned that here on 10th Place, with no windows looking out at the street, I could manage it with minimal risk of witnesses. In my estimation, it was worth a gamble; I couldn’t let the witch get away without answering her blow somehow. If she wanted to pick a fight with me, she had to know there was going to be a price to pay.
I stripped off my shirt as I ran and tossed it into the street, then triggered the charm that would bind my form to an owl while still on the run. My arms unfurled into wings, and my legs shrank up into my body, leaving my jeans and sandals to tumble after my shirt. I didn’t crash and burn and no one saw me do it, including the witch, so I decided to chalk it up as a good idea.
Flapping powerfully to gain altitude, I banked northeast immediately to cut off the witch, who was now heading north on Roosevelt.
She came into view as soon as I cleared the last roof of 10th Place, churning her legs straight up the middle of the street. I climbed higher to get out of her peripheral vision. I lined myself up behind her and saw her check her six to see if I was still pursuing on foot. She didn’t see me closing from above. I dove at her just before she drew even with the widow MacDonagh’s property on the left. I kept my eyes on my target, so I didn’t know if the widow was on her porch or not. The witch saw no shadow as I descended, and when she heard the softest flutter of my feathers as I backwinged, there was not time enough for her to duck. My talons scratched into her scalp, and I clutched them convulsively and pulled away hard to my right, even as she screamed and ducked. I came away with a bunch of her hair in my talons, more than enough for me-or Malina-to do something mischievous with.
But first I had to get away. The witch knew almost immediately what had happened: Normal owls don’t attack running heads of hair for their nests. She knew it was me and what I could do with a handful (or taloned footful) of her hair. She stopped and shouted a curse at me in German, which hit me just like the last one did. My amulet slapped me hard in the chest and knocked me spinning through the air. I flapped my wings spastically, trying to regain control, but I was at low altitude already and could see that I was going to crash pretty hard-hard enough to break my delicate bird bones if I didn’t do something. I hurriedly unbound myself from the owl and crashed with a whuff of breath onto the street in my human form, rolling and skidding and scraping my hide up with a beautiful case of road rash. The witch’s hair floated free from the grasp of my human feet-which cannot be said to have much of a grasp at all. She spat that curse at me again, and I lost what little breath I had remaining as the amulet punched me once more. Well, that was enough of that.
I was still rolling from the fall and kept at it, diving naked for the lawn of the nearest house. I sank my fingers into the grass and got only the tiniest trickle of power into my bear charm before I was torn away and hauled up by my own hair into the street.
Instead of resisting and trying to tear free by lunging forward, I pushed into a backward somersault. The unexpected maneuver forced her to let go, because her single right arm could not hold my entire weight propelled
