Kitty Takes a Holiday

'There was something here—' He pointed to the ground, drawing a line in the air that arced halfway around him. 'In a circle all the way around the house. It's all kind of blurry now. But it's like someone was trying to build a fence or something.'

He gestured right to where the ring of barbed-wire crosses had lain on the ground.

'There's been a lot of blood spilled here, too. All kinds. This place is pretty messed up, spiritually speaking.'

I stared. My jaw might even have dropped open.

'Who are you?' I managed to demand without shrieking.

'Sorry. Name's Tony. Tony Rivera. Cormac asked me to come out and have a look. I haven't had the time until now.'

Simultaneously, the situation became more clear and more confused. This guy knew Cormac how? 'He said he called someone, but didn't say anything about you.'

'That surprise you? Is he here?'

'No.' Though he'd probably expected to still be here when he'd called.

'You must be Kitty.' He approached me slowly, obliquely, swinging a bit to the side—not directly toward me—and keeping his gaze off center, looking out and around, to the ground and the trees, everywhere but directly at me.

He was speaking wolf. Using wolf body language, at least. Giving me space and letting me take a good look at him. The gesture startled me into thinking well of him. i tilted my chin, breathed deeply—he wasn't a lycanthrope. He smelled absolutely human, normal and a little earthy, like he spent a lot of time outside.

'Hi,' I said, able to smile nicely while he stood in front of me. Before I realized I was speaking, I asked, 'How'd you learn to do that?'

'I pay attention. So, what seems to be the problem out here?'

'You the witch doctor?'

'Something like that.'

1 gestured over my shoulder. 'You want to come in for coffee while we talk?'

'Sure, thanks.'

Ben, clever boy that he was, was dressed and waiting in the doorway when Tony and I reached the cabin.

Tony saw him and waved. 'Hi, Ben. Cormac said you were here.'

Ben's eyes widened. 'Tony?' Tony just smiled, and Ben shook his head. 'Should have known.'

I said, 'So, ah, I guess you two know each other.'

'He's my lawyer,' Tony said.

Small world and all that. I looked at Ben. He shrugged. 'Guess I'm everybody's lawyer. Cormac didn't say it was you he'd called.'

Tony glanced at me with a sparkle in his eyes. 'Cormac likes his secrets, doesn't he?'

'I'm going to get some coffee.' I went into the house.

I turned around with a fresh mug of coffee for Tony to find him and Ben studying each other. Ben wilted under the scrutiny, bowing his head and slouching, and I sup­pressed an urge to jump between them in an effort to pro­tect him.

Tony said, 'When did that happen?'

That. The lycanthropy. Tony could tell just by looking.

'Couple weeks ago, 1 guess. 1 was out on a job with Cormac.'

'I'm sorry. That's rough.' He pointed at me. 'So you didn't—you're not the one who turned him, are you?'

'Do you think Cormac would have let me live if I'd done it?'

An uncomfortable silence fell. Tony took the mug I offered him, but didn't drink.

Tony wasn't here about werewolves, or about Ben. Cormac had called him here for the curse.

'Cormac thought you might know something about what's been going on. He thought it was some kind of curse.'

'Yeah, he told me some of it. You still have any of the stuff? The crosses or the animals?'

I shook my head and tried not to feel guilty about get­ting rid of the bag of crosses.

He said, 'That's too bad. I might have been able to lead you right to whoever's doing this.'

'Yeah, well you try living with a dozen skinned dogs hanging outside your house.'

'Fair enough. You know anything about who might be doing this?'

'We decided it has to be someone local, since they seem to want me to get out. Cormac thinks whoever it is doesn't know what they're doing. It's been pretty messy, and it isn't working.' In a low, grumbly voice I added, 'Much.'

Ben said, 'Can you really tell who's doing this just by looking at the mess?'

Tony shrugged. 'Sometimes. Sometimes there's spiri­tual fingerprints. Even when two different people work the same spell, each of them leaves their own stamp on it. Their own personality. If the person is local, it might be as simple as driving around looking for that same stamp. If someone's trying to put a curse on you, you can bet they've cast spells around their own place for protection.'

'Magic spells,' I couldn't help but mutter. 'Huh.'

'You don't believe?' Tony said.

'Look at me, you can tell what I am. I have to believe in pretty much anything these days. It doesn't make believing easy. Magic sounds like so much fun when you're a kid, until you realize how complicated it makes everything. Because you know what? It makes no sense. It makes no sense that throwing a bunch of barbed-wire crosses around my house should scare the pants off me.' My voice rose in volume. This whole situation had made me incredibly cranky.

'Except it does make sense, because finding a bunch of plastic Mickey Mouses around your house probably wouldn't have scared you so much, right?' Tony said, donning a half smile that creased his brown face.

My own smile answered his. 'I don't know. That'd be pretty weird. I always thought Mickey Mouse was kind of creepy.'

'Tony.' Ben sat in the kitchen chair, leaning forward on his knees, an idea lighting his eyes. 'You can spot the type of magic of something by looking at it. Sense it. Whatever. There's something else that's been happening around here. Probably not connected to what's been hap­pening at the house, but who knows. You mind taking a look while you're out here?'

'What is it?' Tony asked.

'Messy,' Ben said.

1 tried to catch Ben's gaze, to silently ask him what he was doing. He was talking about the cattle mutilations, about the second werewolf that he and Cormac had tracked in New Mexico. What did he think Tony could tell about it?

Tony frowned thoughtfully. 'What do you think it is?'

'I'd rather not say. Let you take a look at it without me giving you ideas.'

'Sure. I'm game.'

Ben looked at me. 'How about it? Where was the last one, out by county line road?'

Marks wouldn't tell me exactly where it was. He'd sort of acted like he assumed I already knew. But he'd indi­cated that general direction.

'What do you think he's going to find?'

'Just curious,' Ben said. 'You keep saying this isn't a werewolf. I'd like to hear what Tony has to say about it.'

With a complaining sigh, I went to find my car keys. 'Ben, you're going to have to start trusting your nose.' I looked at Tony. 'It isn't a werewolf.'

'Now I'm curious,' he said.

'Whatever it is, I want to know so it doesn't blindside us like it did the last time,' Ben said.

Which made it sound like there was going to be a next time. Why was I not surprised?

Chapter 11

The county line road turned off from the state highway a few miles outside town. It was two narrow lanes, paved, no discernible shoulder. Barbed-wire fences lined yel­lowed pastures on both sides. We all kept our eyes open, peering out the windows for anything unusual, any break in the consistent rangeland.

Tony spotted it, pointing. 'There.'

1 slowed down and pulled onto the grass on the side of the road. To the left, on the other side of a slope of grass­land, someone had parked a backhoe. The ordinary piece of equipment seemed ominous somehow, lurking out here by itself. The operator didn't seem to be around. Gone to lunch, maybe.

The three of us crossed the road and picked our way over the barbed wire. Walking toward the backhoe—and whatever work it was here for—felt like the last time, when Marks had brought us to see the slaughtered herd. This marching inexorably toward some unnamed hor­ror. I didn't want to see what lay over that slope. And yet I kept walking.

Finally, we crested the slope and looked down to what lay beyond.

The backhoe's work was done. A mound of newly turned earth lay over a recently covered ditch, a hole some twenty feet to a side. The evidence was buried, cleaned away.

I could see where the dead cattle had lain, though: the swathes of crushed grass, the dark stains of blood on the earth. Anybody could tell that something had happened here.

Tony stood with his arms crossed, regarding the scene, his brows furrowed. 'Werewolves didn't do this.'

'How do you even know what happened?' Ben said.

'Something died here,' Tony said matter-of-factly. 'Messy, like you said. But more. Evil. Can't you feel it?'

'I don't know. What am I supposed to be feeling?'

I knew what Tony was talking about. Werewolves weren't inherently evil. They came in all varieties. They were indi­viduals, exhibiting a whole range of behaviors and individ­ual intentions. But