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"And… of course I found spider energy on the web and porch. But there was something beneath it—as if there'd been two magicians here, not one. So I did some more scrying to find out who was with the spiderling."
I nodded. "What did you find? Demon energy? The Jansshi demon?"
"That's the tricky part," she said, shaking her head. "Not demon energy, Delilah, but werepuma. Cat magic."
I tried to comprehend what she was saying, and then it dawned on me. "You're kidding! Couldn't it be some residue from me or something?"
She shook her head, keeping her voice low. "No. And to make sure, I checked Cromwell's body. There was a strong vibration of cat magic on him."
"But how do you know? I buried him." She couldn't be right about this; it meant… it meant too many bad things to think about. "Maybe the werepuma was following Cromwell's killer? Maybe he tried to stop him?"
She frowned, leaning back against the counter. "After I sensed the cat magic energy on the porch, I exhumed Cromwell's body." She looked at me, pleading for understanding. "You have to believe me—I wouldn't have done so if I hadn't needed to, but we have to know. It was the only way I could trace the energy."
Stunned, I leaned back against the counter. She dug up Cromwell's grave? A werepuma in league with the spider clan? I jerked around, looking over my shoulder at the archway that led to the hall.
"Could it have been Zachary? Is he setting us up for some reason? Do you think he's in league with the spiders? Or the demons? Maybe this is all a trap?" I began to shake. What if this was all a setup? What if we were being herded right into Shadow Wing's plan?
But Camille rested her hand on my shoulder. "I don't think it was Zachary. Otherwise, Smoky wouldn't have suggested bringing him with us. When I reset the wards, I targeted them to trigger if those same energies returned, and they're quiet this morning, so Zach can't be the one."
"Maybe it's a Were from a rival puma clan," I said, thinking. "There are others, though the Rainier Pride is by far the most active and respected, as far as I can tell." I let out a long sigh, wondering how much deeper this mess was going to get. "Did you… is Cromwell still…"
"He's buried again, with a ring of flowers around his body, and coins on his eyes so the boatman will ferry him across the river to the western shore to rest with Lady Bast. Trust me, I said prayers for his soul, and he's safe back in the arms of the Cat Mother again." She paused, then added, "About Zachary… I'm pretty sure he's okay, but just in case he's being used, don't let down your guard. And don't mention the warning or Cromwell to him. We don't want to tip our hands, just to be on the safe side."
And with that, she placed the coffee cups on a tray, added a plate of cookies, and headed into the living room. I followed more slowly. A werepuma had been on the porch. Had been at the scene of Cromwell's murder. I still wanted to think it was somebody spying on the freak who'd strung up my cat friend. But Camille made a valid point.
We'd better keep quiet about the matter until we knew more. Which meant keeping my hands off Zachary for the present. Which meant I didn't have to deal with my emerging attraction, one positive side effect from the whole mess.
Fate was guiding us along a dark path this time. And there wasn't much we could do except follow. If we turned away from this situation, we'd always be wondering if we should have followed through. We might also be setting ourselves up as easy targets in the future. This was going to be an interesting trip, there was no getting around that.
Zachary sat in the backseat next to me, while Morio drove. We were in his Subaru Outback. Camille rode in the passenger seat, silent and staring out the window. Morio looked unruffled, as usual. He always seemed to be calm—except when he was in battle, and then he was hell on wheels. More out of curiosity than interest, I wondered briefly what he was like in bed but shook off the thought. A, he was devoted to Camille. And B, well… I liked the guy, but he wasn't my type.
I glanced out the window. We were almost to the turnoff that would lead us to Tom Lane's old place. When we took Tom with us to Elqaneve and left him in the care of Queen Asteria, Smoky had come up with enough money to keep the house running. It made me sad to think that nobody would miss Tom. Except Titania, of course, and those of us who had the chance to meet him. He was lost, long out of time, long out of sanity.
By paying all the taxes on Tom's land and house, Smoky had provided himself with a buffer of protection and, in the process, prevented anybody else from moving in and discovering his secret.
Morio slowed and then turned left at the turnoff. The road was graveled, and huckleberry and bramble bushes with bare runners reached out to snag the car as we drove by. Towering sentinels, stark Douglas firs, kept silent watch over the land, with a medley of other trees crowding in below. The fireweed and flowers were asleep, of course, waiting for spring's kiss to awaken them like so many slumbering princesses. Winter had taken a firm hold, and a thick mist rose along the ground, rolling over patches where the snow hadn't melted off. We were close to the mountain now, and no doubt this land would see a full blanketing of the cold white flakes before many more days were out.
Round the bend to the left stood an old house in front of the circular driveway. Tom's old trucks were still here, rusted and on blocks, but there was an air of emptiness about the place that belied the scattered belongings that dotted the yard.
"Somebody's living here," Camille said, straightening her shoulders. "Look—there's smoke coming from the chimney."
Morio pulled to a stop and turned off the engine. "Smoky, perhaps? He might welcome spending time by a warm fire when he's in his human form."
"Maybe," Camille said, "but we'd better not assume it's him. We go in prepared."
Zachary swallowed with an audible gulp, his face a blank mask with a wash of apprehension hiding just below. "So, do dragons like pumas?" he asked with a slight edge to his voice.
"Uh, you mean do they like to eat pumas?" I asked.
He nodded. "Yeah, I guess that's what I'm asking."
Camille turned around and with a grin, said, "Dragons prefer cows for dinner, and virgins for other pursuits. You're not a cow, so you're safe on that account. As for the virgin…" She let her voice trail off, and he blushed as she gave him a friendly wink.
"Somehow, I don't think Smoky's your average, everyday dragon." I said, laughing.
Camille headed toward the house. "Yes, well, I doubt if an 'average, everyday' dragon really exists. Okay, let's go see who's inside, folks."
Morio and Camille led the way, readying whatever attacks they had planned just in case we found ourselves facing a less-than-desirable squatter. Since getting between Camille's magic and her intended victim was so not a good idea, I hung back with Zachary.
