Part 26 (1/2)

Rhoda picked up the pad and frowned at it. ”You were attempting to copy the workings,” she said, not bothering to hide the accusation in her voice. ”Why did you do that?”

”It's a very long story.” I sighed. The scents and sounds and vision so vivid they hurt were fading, and now I just felt like I'd gone a few rounds with Batman and lost.

”Tell me what you did,” said Rhoda. Hex it if I wasn't ten years old again, having to explain why one of her favorite gla.s.ses was broken.

I closed my eyes, ma.s.saging my forehead with my index fingers. ”I was just... writing out the lettering,” I muttered. ”And all of a sudden I couldn't see. The pain... it was like getting hit by a truck and I felt this ... sort of... like my mind was being pushed out, by my senses. Everything went up to eleven.” The best way I could describe what had happened, truly.

When I opened my eyes, Rhoda's lips were pressed into a thin line. I had never seen her face exactly like this-her eyes were sharp and wide, and she was breathing through her nose. I was shocked when I realized that my grandmother was scared.

”This can't be happening,” she muttered, putting her hands over her face. ”Luna, tell me exactly exactly what you did.” what you did.”

”I just copied the symbols,” I said, puzzled. ”That's all.”

”Grandma, are you okay?” Sunny said anxiously. ”Do you need to lie down or take your pills?”

”You copied the working in your own hand. When a witch copies workings in her own hand, energy is transferred into the spell,” Rhoda continued as if she hadn't heard Sunny. ”Into ”Into a spell. The working absorbs the witch's latent magick and that's what makes a working possible, how it manifests.” She fixed her panicked gaze on me. a spell. The working absorbs the witch's latent magick and that's what makes a working possible, how it manifests.” She fixed her panicked gaze on me. ”You ”You absorbed it. All that magick...” absorbed it. All that magick...”

”Okay, a plain-English translation would be good at some point,” I said, giving Sunny the she's-crazy look. Sunny was nibbling on her lip like it was nutritious, eyes flicking between Rhoda and me.

”A Path, is what they're called,” said Rhoda slowly. ”Witches who absorb magick rather than expend it. They store it in themselves and are a human focus for a working. They're very rare.” She took a breath and blinked, and she was back to the familiar scary-fairy grandmother I knew. ”But Paths are always witches, never weres, so this must have just been something you did to yourself with that filthy blood relic. I'm glad you're all right.” She stood up, brus.h.i.+ng herself off like close contact with me had soiled her, and went into the kitchen.

Sunny stared at me. ”What the Hex is going on?”

”You tell me!” I hissed. ”One minute I'm sitting here minding my own business and the next she's babbling on about Paths and storing magickal energy and witches!”

”I hate to tell you she's right,” said Sunny. ”But Paths are are those of the blood. Not weres. It doesn't make sense.” those of the blood. Not weres. It doesn't make sense.”

I curled up, hugging one of the big throw pillows to me. ”Actually, it makes a lot of sense to me. Unfortunately.”

”Oh G.o.ds,” Sunny muttered. ”Luna, it can't can't happen. You're happen. You're not not a witch-trust me.” a witch-trust me.”

”Just because it's never never happened doesn't mean it happened doesn't mean it can't can't happen,” I muttered. ”And how do you know for sure, anyway? Serpent Eye pack magick is different for everyone who gets the bite. I may not be the first were to have Path magick.” Up until now, I'd always a.s.sumed I was defective, devoid of magicks because I had chosen to be Insoli. But the more I talked and the more Sunny shook her head, the surer I became. happen,” I muttered. ”And how do you know for sure, anyway? Serpent Eye pack magick is different for everyone who gets the bite. I may not be the first were to have Path magick.” Up until now, I'd always a.s.sumed I was defective, devoid of magicks because I had chosen to be Insoli. But the more I talked and the more Sunny shook her head, the surer I became.

It made sense now, the sinuous p.r.i.c.kle I felt every time I was close to powerful magick. My aversion to workings and circles and all the other trappings of being a witch. And here I had thought it was just psychological baggage from my childhood.

I voiced this to Sunny, and she slowly nodded.

”I'd believe that at least, Luna. Paths are extremely sensitive to s.h.i.+fting energies.”

”Yeah, that's me,” I said. ”Sensitive as h.e.l.l to the s.h.i.+fting energies.”

”If this is true ... and I'll admit, you may not be the first. There were reports right around the Inquisition of witches who-”

”Sunny,” I said. ”Less history. More helping me figure out a way not to explode whenever I brush up against magick.”

”I'll help you as much as I can,” said Sunny. ”But I'm not a Path, or a were. Just the standard-issue caster witch ... I don't know anything about this branch of magick.”

”Thanks anyway.” I sighed. She worried her hands together.

”Do you still want to spend the night?”

”No,” I said, standing and putting the Skull back into the tote bag. ”Right now I think I just want to go home.” I shouldn't, of course, but after what had happened to me I wanted to be at home, in my own bed, alone. Screw whatever Seamus would try to do to me. I was beyond caring.

The cottage was dark and desolate, just the way I'd left it. No shadowy security men waiting in the bushes in full tac gear. No trip wires in front of my door.

I put the Skull on the high shelf of the downstairs closet, with boxes of old shoes that I kept meaning to sell online, and went to my bedroom to find my backup gun. Morgan would probably chew me a new a.s.s for losing the Glock, but right now all I cared about was firepower, so I loaded my father's .38 revolver with hollow-point slugs and set it on my nightstand. I flopped onto the bed, intending to rest for just a minute before taking a shower, and when I woke up again it was morning, and my alarm clock was pinging at me.

Not my alarm clock, I realized after a second. Something from downstairs, an insistent ding ding ding ding ding ding that no one with normal ears would even notice from this far away. that no one with normal ears would even notice from this far away.

I followed the noise into my office and saw that my e-mail in-box was blinking with a new message.

No sender, the address line informed me. Sent from an anonymous box. The message was one word. the address line informed me. Sent from an anonymous box. The message was one word. Look. Look.

A video attachment blinked at the top of the message.

s.h.i.+t. I already knew I wasn't going to like this.

The image jumped into focus, a grainy handheld digital camera. Three plain black chairs against a blank white wall. In the chairs sat three bodies, tied down and slumped over, their heads covered in hoods. One of the anonymous suited security thugs came into the frame and s.n.a.t.c.hed the hoods off. My stomach lurched, even though I'd half known what I'd see.

Victor Blackburn was tied in one chair, his face bleeding from a recent beating. He was gallows-pale, his eyes unfocused. The other figures were Shelby and Valerie. Shelby looked scared, but she wasn't panicking, and her expression was enraged. If I were the security thug, I wouldn't get too close.

Seamus stepped in front of the camera, bending down to look directly into it. ”You have two hours to bring the Skull to me. Since I know you won't just give it back, I propose this: partic.i.p.ate in the Certamen Letum, Certamen Letum, werewolf. If you best me, I'll release my hostages. If you don't... well, you can figure out the rest.” He smiled thinly, and I dug my nails into my palm. The son of a b.i.t.c.h was enjoying this. ”The O'Halloran Tower. I think you know where that is. Two hours.” werewolf. If you best me, I'll release my hostages. If you don't... well, you can figure out the rest.” He smiled thinly, and I dug my nails into my palm. The son of a b.i.t.c.h was enjoying this. ”The O'Halloran Tower. I think you know where that is. Two hours.”

The screen went dark.

To my credit, I only sat frozen with disbelief for about thirty seconds before I grabbed up the phone and dialed Sunny. She answered groggily. ”Luna, it's six-thirty in the morning.”

”What's the Certamen Letum?” Certamen Letum?”

Silence. ”Where did you hear that?”

”Seamus O'Halloran,” I said grimly, ”of course. He has Shelby. I have two hours to bring him the Skull and partic.i.p.ate in whatever-it-is.”

”It's a contest,” said Sunny, and I heard s.h.i.+fting as she sat up in bed. ”A witch's contest. Literally, 'contest to the death.'”

I had figured it was something melodramatic like that. ”So what, we get in a big ring and poke each other with sticks while alien lizard-men look on?”

”It's not funny,” said Sunny. ”Two caster witches face each other inside a working circle and they raise their energy until one of them burns themselves out. Or dies.”

She was right, that didn't sound terribly amusing. ”What does he want from me, then? I'm not a witch.”

Sunny sighed. ”No, you're not. But it doesn't sound like you've got many options here.”

Exactly one option, really, because I had absolutely no doubt that Seamus would kill Victor, Shelby, and Valerie if I didn't show up within the two hours-less than two, now.