Chapter 18 #3
Another meow, and a mild chitter from Cecil.
“We can’t call Ronan. His wolf won’t be able to hide his rage.
Mason is an option—the guy has ice water in his veins—but if he tells Ronan…
” I sighed. “Anyway, they’re not answering their phones, so it’s a moot point.
Ida would show up in a heartbeat, but I’d want more backup in place before asking, and I can’t go to my wolves.
Joshua Tyler would help, but he’s not stable, and he’s already killed for me today.
There’s only one option that makes sense. ”
I pulled over, paused the map app, and dialed Margaux.
“Betty, I told you I’m in the middle of a spell, and can’t be—”
“Shut up and listen. I don’t have much time.”
I gave her instructions, made sure she had the right phone numbers and locations, and hung up while she was still ranting about what a stupid idea this was, and how Bronwyn would say the same if she were here, and how I should wait for backup.
“All right, that’s done.” I let the app recalibrate while I pulled onto the road.
“Cecil?”
My partner poked his pointed purple hat into the space between the seats before bounding onto the console. Fennel followed, accidentally bumping the gnome into the cupholder.
“I know you brought more weapons than you showed me today. You don’t walk into a candy store without being magically strapped.” I turned to Fennel. “I don’t know how this is going to go down, but I know I’ll need your magic.”
“Meow.” He headbutted my face. His soft black fur tickled my cheek, and for a moment, the chill in my bones warmed.
I glanced into the rearview before following the app’s instructions to turn down a farm road. The directions were only marginally necessary. After all, I already knew the way to East Pluto. I just wasn’t familiar with the house Gumbo was sending me to.
“Now, boys, it may seem to others that I live my life flying by the seat of my pants, but you two know I’ve always got a plan, right?”
Silence.
Cecil sat up in the cupholder and scratched his nose. Fennel gently swished his tail.
“Hey! I have a plan, okay? Is it a good plan? No. Is it a safe plan? No. Is it the best we can do in the time allotted? That’s probably a no, too. But it’s what we’re going to do, so Cecil, I need whatever wickedness you’ve got stowed away in that hat.”
His evil chittery laugh told me I didn’t need to worry. He’d come prepared.
I went over my “plan” with them, keeping to the heart of the thing rather than worrying about all the arteries, veins, and capillaries. Cecil abhorred structure, and Fennel preferred to feel things out, so my method worked for them.
“Follow this road for twenty miles,” the robotic voice said.
East Pluto was less of a town than a collection of scattered homes, an unincorporated area that barely qualified as a truck stop, because although it did have a gas station, it was rarely open and never at night.
In fact, not many people came to East Pluto at night—at least not the sort who valued their lives.
Senora Cervantes’s niece and grandniece lived out here, and the town had a fantastic crystal shop I patronized, run by a woman and her mother I was pretty sure were the sum total of the city council. It was also home to Dominick the creepy cemetery ghoul, of course.
But most importantly, it was home to the East Pluto Wake.
“Fair warning, my showing up here without permission could be viewed as an act of aggression toward the buzzards.”
When Mason had called for permission to enter their territory the night we visited the ghoul’s graveyard, he’d only been able to speak with the third alpha. The conversation had been short and to the point—we could enter to speak with Dominick, but we could not loiter.
And tonight I was entering their territory without permission. There would probably be a bit of loitering, too.
I glanced at Cecil, who’d resigned himself to the cupholder. He’d even kicked his feet up so that he looked like he was chilling on a pool float.
“You are entirely too relaxed for the level of anxiety I’m experiencing. Have you no empathy at all?”
He brandished an evil-looking, mini scimitar and cackled.
“Be careful with that,” I said.
“Reeeow.” The fur on Fennel’s back stood up.
Cecil tucked the blade away and straightened, the tip of his hat pointing skyward. He was definitely picking up on whatever Fennel was feeling.
“Are you sensing something?” I looked around.
Fennel’s ears went back. “Rrr-eee-oww.”
I leaned back in my seat and shoved my hand into the front pocket of my shorts.
As my fingers sank into the body-temperature soil, power sank hotly into my skin, firing through my bloodstream.
Magic steamed from my pores. With this much magic running through my veins, I was ready for damn near anything.
“What is it?”
Two enormous blurs of muscle, fur, and teeth leapt out of a shallow irrigation canal a half mile down the road and bulleted toward us. There was nothing I could do. The wolves slammed into the passenger-side fender, rolling the Mini straight into a dry ditch.