Chapter 7 #2
Margot flinched at the mention of her name.
Her eyes darted toward the people huddled in her car, then to the dead creature, then away like she couldn't bear to look but couldn't stop herself either.
The terror was still raw and fresh, and I could practically see her mind cataloging every shadow, every dark corner, and every place another one of those things could be hiding.
"We need to get to the plantation," I said, pushing myself off the SUV. "Now. Before something else decides you look like dinner."
"Yes, please," she whispered, speaking up for the first time since we'd arrived. Her voice was barely audible, like she was afraid raising it might attract more predators.
"Follow me," I told her as I walked around to the driver's side of my SUV. "Stay close, and if you see anything that doesn't look right, lay on the horn."
She was in her car before I was. The drive to Willowberry Plantation felt like it took forever, even though we made it in less than three minutes.
Every shadow between the trees looked like it could be hiding something with too many teeth and not enough humanity.
It was impossible to relax until I pulled into my usual spot.
"Oh, thank the gods. You saved them," Cyran said the second we stepped out of the car.
He'd been pacing near the edge of the parking area like a caged animal.
Lucas and Noah flanked him with several other shifters.
The latter were busy scanning the tree line.
They were ready in case something nasty came charging out of the darkness.
"We don't have time for pleasantries," I replied bluntly. "We need to get your extended family to safety here. It’s going to be the best way to protect them until we can stop whoever is behind this."
Cyran gestured toward the covered portico that connected the summer kitchen to the main house, where we kept our outdoor dining tables. "Everyone I could reach is already here," he said. "They're not all happy about it, but they're here. There are a handful of others on their way."
The group huddled under the portico looked like a cross between a family reunion and a support group for people with trust issues.
There were maybe fifty people total, ranging from teenagers to grandparents.
Their fear and confusion were palpable. A few were shooting suspicious glances everywhere, making it obvious they weren't sure who they could trust. Considering recent events, it was probably smart.
"Ladies and gentlemen," I called out, stepping forward to address the group. The murmur of nervous conversation died down as people turned toward me. "If we could have your attention, please."
Dre moved up beside me. I could feel Dea, Dani, Phi, and Kota forming a loose semicircle behind us. United front and all that.
"We know this is an unusual situation," Dre said, picking up the thread.
"But we want you to know that we're doing everything in our power to ensure your safety. The plantation has protections in place that have kept our guests secure under various threats. We have houses at the back of the property for you to use. It’ll be tight quarters, but the Collector and his minions won’t be able to reach you here. "
"What kind of protections?" asked a woman in her forties. She was clutching a teenager close to her side.
"Ones Phoebe, the Pleiades, and Kaitlyn helped us establish," Dre said with a smile that managed to be both reassuring and slightly dangerous.
"And we’ve added to them as we have faced different enemies.
Trust us when we say that as long as you're on Willowberry property, you're as safe as we can make you. "
I caught Cyran's eye and nodded toward the group.
This was his family, his circus, his monkeys.
He needed to take point on keeping them calm and cooperative while we figured out who we could trust and who might be planning to stab us in the back.
He stepped forward smoothly. His natural charisma kicked in as he began explaining the situation in terms that wouldn't send anyone running for the hills.
I let him take over, using the distraction to study the faces gathered under the soft glow of the string lights we'd hung.
A familiar prickle along my spine hit me.
One that meant my instincts were screaming danger.
I had always been good at reading people.
It was why I went into social work as a career.
I could always pick up on the little tells that gave people away.
And right now, my alarm bells were going off like a smoke detector in a house fire.
Three people in the crowd weren't just nervous about the supernatural threat we'd described. They were nervous about us. About being here. About being caught. Well, shit.
"Excuse me," I said, approaching a thin man in his sixties with silver hair and nervous eyes. "I couldn't help but notice your necklace. Where did you get it?"
His hand flew to his throat, covering the bone amulet. "It’s an old family heirloom. Nothing special."
"Mind if I take a look?" Dea stepped forward with her most disarming smile. She had a way of making people comfortable. Actually, her empathy not only set others at ease but often made them happy. "I collect antique jewelry."
"I'd rather not." The man backed toward the parking lot. "Actually, I should go check on my nephew."
The other two, who also seemed to be worried about being caught, were also amulet-wearers. A few feet away, we could hear them making their excuses and heading to the parking lot. Within minutes, all three had fled into the night, leaving the rest of us staring after them.
"Well, that wasn't suspicious at all," Kota muttered.
"Dre, can you stay here with Cyran and coordinate protection for the others?" I asked as I headed for my car. "We need to follow them."
"Where are you going?" Cyran called after us.
"To find out which side your relatives are really on," I replied grimly.
“What?” His bewilderment was genuine.
A pang of guilt tightened my chest, but I pushed it aside and told him my suspicions.
He needed to be on the lookout for other suspicious behavior.
That delayed us long enough that all we could see when we got to the parking lot was the silver-haired man driving down the street in an old pickup truck.
Lucas and Noah had obviously sensed what we had because they were right behind the guy in Lucas’s truck.
I shouldn’t have been surprised. My mate’s instincts were often keener than mine.
As the alpha of a large shifter pack, they had to be.
"Do you see the other two who left?” Kota asked as she spun in a circle.
Shaking my head, I expanded my magical senses searching for anything that felt off. “No. It’s like they vanished.”
Dani jerked her chin at my vehicle. “We can’t stand around searching for them. We should catch up with Lucas and Noah and find out what that guy is up to.”
"You're right. I'll text Kai and let him know to keep an eye out for the other two around the property," Kota said, already pulling out her phone with the efficiency of someone who'd coordinated way too many supernatural crises.
"Good idea," I told her as we piled into my SUV. The second I cranked the engine, I was speed-dialing Lucas. "Hey, Chief. I see you caught our suspicious friend. Did you happen to spot where the other two went?"
"What other two?" His voice crackled through the speaker, and I could hear the rumble of his truck's engine in the background. "We only saw the old man slinking to his truck like his ass was on fire. We're tailing him now."
"I know. Kota, Dea, Dani, and I are heading out to back you up. Dre and Phi stayed behind to keep an eye on things. Where are you?"
"Highway 61, heading toward the Warehouse District. This guy's driving like he's being chased by the devil."
I gunned it out of Willowberry's parking lot, gravel spraying behind us as we hit the main road. The abandoned industrial district was twenty minutes away on a good day. With the way I was driving and the lack of traffic at this hour, we made it in fifteen.
"He just pulled into the old Crescent City Shipping lot," Lucas reported as we turned onto the potholed street that led to the warehouse district. "And those other two you were asking about? They beat us here. Looks like they're joining up with a whole damn crowd."
We parked three blocks away and picked our way through the industrial graveyard of rusted shipping containers and abandoned forklifts. We used every shadow and scrap of cover we could find. The place smelled like motor oil, rust, and the river.
Lucas and Noah materialized out of the darkness like the professional stalkers they were. Both of them moved with the predatory grace that marked them as apex shifters. Noah held up three fingers, then pointed toward the warehouse. His meaning was clear. Our three suspicious relatives were inside.
We crept closer, using a stack of shipping containers as cover. We used the warehouse's broken windows. We had a clear view inside. My mouth went dry, and my hands started to shake.
Thirty people, maybe more, were standing in a perfect circle around a ring of black candles.
The flames weren't normal fire. The light they cast was too green.
It was also cold and too much like the sickly glow I'd seen in my vision of Congo Square.
Our three suspicious relatives had taken their places in the circle like they belonged there.
From the way everyone was swaying in unison and chanting, this wasn't their first supernatural sing-along.
But it was what stood in the center of the circle that made my blood turn to ice water in my veins. There was an altar made of human bones. On top of it was a bowl that I doubt was filled with holy water.