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Van kept his gaze on us but motioned to Jaycee. "How much do you suppose we'l get for them?"
She looked us up and down, like a couple of fryers. "Two out of the three? My guess is more than we expect, although we can't press our luck. I don't want the boss thinking we're trying to jack up the price. We're toast if she even remotely believes we're trying to scam her."
"What are you talking about?" I jostled, trying to find just the right position. It was obvious they weren't going to let us waltz out of here.
"Seems a certain demon general we work for has set a pretty price on your pretty heads," Van said. "We've been planning this moment--or one similar->Camil e frowned. "That wil work, although I'd rather have them today." She pul ed out her purse and paid the woman for the bone and deck. "I'l see you tomorrow--I need an ounce of each."
"You know the snake slither's going to run you a good hundred fifty for an ounce," Jaycee said as we headed to the door.
"I'm not worried," Camil e cal ed back over her shoulder.
As soon as we were outside, she hustled me to the car, stopping at a nearby garbage can to dump the tarot deck and bone. "I can't stand having those in my hands. They reek as bad as Demonkin energy."
The minute we were in the car, she turned to me. "We need to find their home address. Wilbur's right. They're the ones making Wolf Briar. I could smel some of the ingredients on her robe, but I'l guarantee you they don't keep it in the shop. And wherever they keep that crap, they're going to be keeping a diary of who brought them the werewolves. Making Wolf Briar's bad, but kidnapping werewolves to harvest their organs? So much worse."
"What about Van?"
"I heard someone in the back and sensed an energy very similar to Jaycee's. Ten to one it was Van. So if they are at work, there's nobody at home to keep watch over things."
"So we break into their house. They may stil be holding Doug and Saz--the guys might stil be alive. And if we can prove they're making Wolf Briar, we shut them down. We also search for the records that wil give us some idea where the coyote shifters live--and they have Amber."
"Two birds with one stone, babe." She started the car. "How do we find out where they live?"
"They have to have a business license, and there has to be a record of who owns that license. Simple enough. Stop at a coffee shop, and I'l go online and look it up. That stuff's al public knowledge."
We pul ed into a Starbucks, and while Camil e bought cookies and a monster latte, I flipped open my laptop, jacked into the wireless service, and pul ed up a browser. I had numerous sites bookmarked where I could dredge up al sorts of goodies on people. Some were pay-per-use, others I'd subscribed to, and stil others were public domain. Within five minutes, I had the address of both president and treasurer of Madame Pompey's Magical Emporium, Inc. Van and Jaycee Thomas, and they lived a few miles from our home in Bel es-Faire.
"Move it," I said. "I want to get there wel before they even think of going home for the day."
Camil e grabbed her latte and cookies, and we headed back to the car.
The Thomases lived back off the main road, like we did, on what looked to be a two- or three-acre parcel of land. In the Seattle area, that meant they weren't hurting for money. Camil e paused at the edge of the drive.
"Just remember: They may have wards up. Keep your eyes open." She let out a long breath and began to edge forward along the drive. Like most driveways in the area, it was heavily graveled and bordered on both sides by heavy foliage.
I watched nervously as we eased along the road. The sun was beginning to disappear beneath the cloud cover, and the scent of impending rain hung heavy in the air. Huckleberry and thimbleberries reached out from the side to brush the car as Camil e focused on staying in the grooved wheel ruts that had been worn into the drive, and I caught sight of a deer poking his head through the undergrowth up a ways to our right.
He was a four-tine buck, and he watched as we quietly drove past. I stared into his eyes and caught a glimpse of something--an intel igence I didn't normal y associate with deer. They weren't stupid animals, by any means, but this . . . this was cunning and wile--not normal y deer characteristics. I filed away the information in case we needed it later. For al we knew, the Thomases were creating souped-up animals for guardians.
As we rounded a curve, the house was suddenly in front of us. Like our own, it was a rambling Victorian, three stories high. Unlike our house, it was badly in need of repair and would have given the Munsters' house a run for its money. The paint was faded, the weather vane had snapped in two, at least three of the windows were cracked, from what I could see, and the porch sagged dangerously.
"They need to sink some of their money in a visit to Home Depot," Camil e said, turning off the engine. "That porch doesn't look stable. Let's head around back and see what we find. I'm pretty sure we tripped a couple wards on the way in, so let's get the fuck in and out, just in case they have a warning system set up at their shop."
We cautiously circled the house, me leading. I wished now that I'd thought to bring my dagger, but the Seattle cops frowned on carrying weapons around in public. I took it when I knew we were heading into a fight, but I didn't go flaunting it on jaunts around the city streets.
The back of the house was no better than the front, but at least the steps up to the back door looked more stable. I gingerly climbed them, testing each with my weight. At the landing, I motioned for Camil e to join me while I began to pick the lock.
She kept watch as I eased my picks into the keyhole and fished around. After a moment, I heard a faint click. Bingo! We were in. Easing open the door, I edged my way inside, Camil e fol owing.
The door led into a smal laundry-utility room. The washer and dryer had seen better days, too, and I had the feeling that Van and Jaycee had sunk al of their money into the shop rather than their home. A half door led to the kitchen, and I peeked through the top half, which was open, before turning the knob.
The kitchen was tidy. Too tidy. There were no signs that anybody ever ate in this room, no fruit bowl on the counter, no dishes in the sink, no coffeemaker, toaster, or any other appliances. Frowning, I opened the nearest cupboard, while Camil e peeked in the refrigerator.
"Nothing," I whispered. "No dishes, no food."
"Nothing here, either."
"Are you sure that they're human?" I asked. "The woman looked almost . . . too vivid to be an FBH, but I thought maybe it was her magic that did it to her."
