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"She's not going to budge. Floraeds are stubborn as ticks, and she's got it in that pea brain of hers that the demons are going to sashay up to the nature spirits and turn the keys to Earth back over to them once all the humans are dead or subjugated. If our efforts fail, I only hope I get to see her face when she understands what's really going down. Because, with the gods as my witness, I swear I'll tear her apart with my bare hands that day."
Furious at the veg-head, I delegated Delilah and Morio to search the house for anything that might tell us where Tom Lane was. Meanwhile, I stepped outside to see if I could conjure up a spell that might help rather than bite us in the butt.
The wind had picked up; it had passed chilly and was downright cold. Blowing in from the southwest, a downpour threatened to swamp us before nightfall. I sucked in a deep breath, inhaling the scent of mossy trees and Douglas fir and molding fungi that padded the ground and made walking slippery.
The maples and oaks and other deciduous trees were almost bare now, their leaves whipped off by the frenzied gusts that swept through the area. Otherworld had its storms, some of them violent and awe-inspiring, but I had never experienced the continual drenching that the Pacific Northwest received for a good nine months out of the year. I longed for the sun, but according to Chase, that wouldn't be happening in any measurable amount, anytime soon.
As I stood in the soggy afternoon, shivering despite the thick weave of my jacket, I began to sense the presence of magic. Old magic, deep from the forest, deep from the ground. It wasn't the magic of wizards or witches. No, this was the magic from beneath the soil, growing out of the very element from which it was born. Earth magic—dark and loamy, filled with secrets buried under the years of leaves and branches that had decayed back into the planet herself.
There was something ponderous about the energy, something so heavy that it muffled my hearing and sucked me under. Dark as in deep nights in the thick of the woods, dark as in the wild hunt that raced across the sky. Dark as in ancient secrets that worked neither for good nor evil, but were simply a force unto themselves. A sparkle of green flared around me, and I understood that I'd contacted a minor earth elemental.
I knelt, steering clear of a puddle forming in one of the wheel ruts in the drive, and placed my hand on the slick earth. Listen, I told myself. Just listen. No casting spells, no calling down the moonbeams or starlight. Just tune in and respectfully ask where we might find the man called Tom Lane.
And then, I saw him—clear as a vision. Lumberjack, yes, but not a logger at heart. He was tall and strong, and beneath the grizzled beard, he bore a nobility born in another time and place. His eyes were lit with the sparkle of madness culled from living too long and seeing too much. I gasped as he reached out to me with an outstretched hand and begged for help.
Who was he? And why did he have the spirit seal?
As I watched, the dark maw of a cave opened up, and I understood that he was hiding inside it. I fine-tuned my internal radar and was pleased when I received a strong signal leading into the woods toward the side of a foothill. Tom Lane wasn't far, but it would take some navigation to get there, and the rain wasn't going to make it a whole lot of fun.
As I shook myself free of the lingering tendrils of energy, a hoarse shout from the house startled me, and I turned to race back inside.
* * *
CHAPTER 13
Wisteria was laughing. I glanced around to find Chase, doubled over on the floor. Delilah and Morio knelt beside him.
"What the hell happened?"
"We should have gagged her again," Delilah said. "Apparently, Wisteria can charm with her words. Chase got too close, and she managed to kick him in the balls. Hard."
Morio was trying to help him sit up, but it was obvious the kick had been perfectly aimed. Chase was so pale I wondered if he was going to be okay. His face was one big knot of pain.
I glanced over at Wisteria, who had a triumphant look in her eyes. Furious, I slammed her head against the beam, holding her by the throat.
"Try anything more, and you die. That's just the way it is. I'll let our sister come have some fun with you. You know Menolly? And you know that she's a vampire? Wouldn't you be a tasty treat for her?"
I could tell I'd made an impression. Wisteria swallowed—I felt her throat move—and I stepped away slowly, keeping an eye on her feet. "Delilah, tear up that tablecloth and tie her feet to the beam." I repositioned the gag on Wisteria's mouth. By the time we were done, she'd be trussed tight as a turkey.>"Crap! Chase, are you okay?" As I knelt beside him, Morio and Delilah converged on Wisteria. I heard a scuffle and glanced their way. They had managed to catch her. Morio was holding her down, while Delilah attempted to muzzle her mouth with the sleeve of her coat.
Chase blinked a couple of times, then slowly sat up. Thank the gods, he hadn't received the full blast, or he could have died. He glanced down at his shirt, which was scorched, and winced.
"Anything broken? Do you need a doctor?" I helped him to his feet.
He dusted off his jeans, then gingerly prodded his stomach, where the material had turned soil brown. "Thanks a lot. I loved this shirt. Damn, that stings. You pack a wallop, girl."
"You didn't get the full effect. Be grateful for small favors," I said grimly. In the best of all possible worlds, the bolt shouldn't have ricocheted like that, but considering the haywire effect of my magic, there was always a chance for something to go awry. Actually, in the best of all possible worlds, Menolly would still be alive, my magic would work perfectly, my sisters and I would be at the top of the OIA food chain, and we wouldn't be stuck running after a Degath Squad of demons who'd decided the time was ripe to take over Earth.
After making sure that Chase would survive, I turned my attention to Wisteria. Delilah and Morio had managed to restrain her near a big oaken table that was covered with a faded linen cloth. A place mat and napkin sat neatly in front of a chair. I shook out the napkin and advanced on our prisoner.
Delilah pulled her hand away as I slid the cloth in place over Wisteria's mouth. "She's strong," Delilah warned. Just then, the Faerie twisted savagely, attempting to free herself. My sister slammed Wisteria against the floor as Morio strengthened his grip.
I knelt down, trying to get a handle on just what race Wisteria hearkened from. She was obviously connected with the woodland. The vines and leaves weren't adornments on her dress; they were part of her flesh, part of her very essence. I stroked her hair, smoothing the long, wheat strands away from her eyes. The faint outlines of a brand appeared in the center of her forehead—a trefoil leaf.
"An offshoot of the dryads, I think." I struggled to remember my schooling.
"A maenad?" Morio asked. "She's volatile enough."
I shook my head. "I don't smell any meat, and maenads eat meat. She's never touched a hamburger in her life, I'd stake my reputation on it. No, I think Wisteria here is a dryad who's gotten into a snit over something and fallen in with the wrong crowd. Problem is, now she's linked to two murders."
