Chapter 32 Swans Are Vicious
THIRTY-TWO
Swans Are Vicious
We woke to my phone buzzing and a knocking on the back door. Declan growled and the knocking stopped. I tried to crawl out of bed but he snatched me back, holding on tight.
“Let go. Somebody wants me,” I whispered.
“I want you more,” he grumbled.
“Aww, but seriously, I need to go. The day’s a-wastin’.”
My phone started buzzing again, so Declan leaned over me and grabbed it. I saw Osso’s name as he swiped it open. “What?” he growled.
“Sorry to wake you both, but it’s almost ten and we really need to talk to Arwyn,” he said.
“Who’s we?” Declan asked.
“Sophia and Kaknu are with me. Actually, you should probably be a part of this discussion too.”
“We’re coming down,” I shouted into the phone as I rolled out of bed.
Declan disconnected and tossed my phone to the side of the bed closest to where I was rooting through my closet for clothes.
“You should run around naked more often. I approve.” He got out of bed, picked me up around the waist, and carried me into the bathroom.
“We both need a shower. There are two shifters down there. Their sense of smell is quite good.”
I grimaced.
“Is the hair getting washed or going up?” he asked.
I looked at myself in the mirror. “Whatever Dad did to it last night, it looks great. I kinda hate to undo it. How does it smell?”
Declan leaned in and took a whiff. “Like me. We’ll wash it.”
Declan was ready first, naturally. He went down to deal with our visitors while I dealt with my hair.
Dressed, with my hair still occasionally dripping, I jogged down the stairs and out to the deck.
The sun and wind would help dry it. Declan met me at the door, no doubt hearing me coming, with my pearl in his hand.
“I thought I left that at home.”
“You did.” He picked up my hair from my neck and back so I could do the clasp. “I ran back to get it for you.”
“Thank you.” I sat down on the bench beside him and turned to Osso. “So, what’s up?”
“A few things,” Osso grumbled.
Hernández said, “First, we want you to know that Milo Swan was released on bail Sunday.”
Declan’s arm went around me. “I thought you said the bail was set too high for that.”
She tipped her head to the side. “It should have been, but a judge reviewed it and agreed it was unfairly high and lowered it significantly.”
She had a look on her face that had me leaning forward. “You think something shady happened?”
Osso and Hernández shared a look. He said, “This is a tight-ass judge who never does this kind of thing, so we’re wondering if Catherine Swan might have hexed him or something.”
“We also have the mayor breathing down our necks,” Hernández added. “He flipped out when he heard that not only were multiple murder victims found at an abandoned camp, but we had brought in a psychic to help investigate. The yelling in the captain’s office was epic.” She rolled her eyes.
“We’re wondering,” Osso took over, “if Swan being released has anything to do with making problems for our psychic so she’s not involved with the camp case.”
“That seems stupidly indirect,” Declan commented. “Why not order you all not to ask Arwyn for help?”
Hernández huffed a laugh. “Exactly what I said.”
I held up a finger. “Speaking of Swans, you guys are sitting on top of a bag containing a seagull who was tortured in a black magic spell.”
Hernández jumped up so fast, if I’d blinked, I’d have missed it. Grumbling, Osso looked under the bench.
Kaknu nodded. “I wondered why I felt darkness.”
“I don’t see anything,” Osso said.
Hernández moved to the railing, staring appalled at the bench that had apparently betrayed her. When I stood, Kaknu and Osso did too, moving to stand beside Hernández.
“That’s because I hid it behind a spell. I didn’t want my raccoon friends to find it.” I flicked my fingers, revealing the plastic bag.
The shifters all lifted a hand to block their noses. I told them where I’d found the curse last night. I could feel Declan glaring. Yes, I’d found a curse outside our home and continued walking alone to the gallery. He needed to remember that I was stronger than Swans.
I glanced around at their looks of horror or disgust. “Listen, why don’t you guys go sit at the other end of the deck. The air will be fresher while I see if I can get any information from the seagull.”
“Will you touching it set off the curse?” Declan demanded.
I walked back to him and patted his chest. “I need you to relax. This isn’t my first day at wicche academy.”
Hernández whispered to Osso, “Is there a wicche academy?”
I shook my head at her and said to Declan, “This isn’t new for me. I know what I’m doing.” And I realized in that moment that I’d been so off balance and weepy lately because I had no idea what I was doing, pregnant and living with a man. The dream had settled a fear that had been consuming me.
“Go on.” I shooed them away. “I got this.”
The other three moved closer to the construction side of the gallery while Declan stayed with me, ready to grab me if I went down.
I was wearing the pearl, but to be safe, held my hand over the edge of the railing, caught a shot of water, and sat.
With the fingers of my left hand on the pearl, I placed the horror-filled plastic bag in my lap with my right one and touched a finger to the dead bird’s entrails.
The bird caws loudly, its beak snapping at the young man’s hands, its talons grabbing for his fingers. The seagull is strapped to a board at its neck and under its wings. The man picks up a sharp athame with a black handle.
I try to pull back from the animal torture.
I can almost feel the pearl. I concentrate on the round, smooth pearl between my fingers as I try to move away from what’s happening.
The room opens. It looks like a basement dug out of the ground, with a hard-packed dirt floor.
A freezer hums in the corner. An extension cord hangs through a hole in the ceiling, powering the freezer.
One wall is lined with shelves holding books and jars, bones and feathers, black candles, a plastic baggie containing a snarl of hair, another baggie of nail clippings, photos, random articles of clothing.
I recognize a brown plaid that matches the arm we found in the woods.
On a worktable is an open grimoire, a ceremonial bowl with blood, feathers, a fetish, jars and vials. A woman stands beside the man and puts her hand over his as they plunge the ceremonial blade into the writhing bird.
Feeling sick, I avert my gaze. There are wooden stairs going up. Rolling the pearl in my fingers, I try to find the distance my father spoke about. I force myself toward the stairs. It’s like walking through molasses in weighted shoes, but it works.
Doing my best to block out the spell chanting and piercing squawks, I go up the stairs to a bolted door. Physical walls mean nothing in this state, I remind myself. Nothing. Fingers still clutching the pearl, I force my consciousness through the wooden door.
Bright light blinds me after the darkness below. I’m on a porch, in what looks like a gardening area. This side of the door is a wooden bookshelf filled with pots, bags of potting soil, mulch, fertilizer, stakes, trowels, a small roll of chicken wire.
A car backs out of the driveway next door, and a man in a suit leaves for work. It’s a neighborhood. A normal neighborhood with two people doing black magic underground.
I blinked my eyes open and stared down at the horrible mess in the bag.
Holding my hand over the bird, I lifted my face to the clear, bright sunlight and called on the Goddess, asking her to take pity on one of her creatures who had been cruelly abused.
When I looked down, the bird was gone. All that was left in the bag was a black candle. I touched it.
“We need a stronger spell, Gran. I couldn’t break her wards.”
Catherine’s face darkens. “I was sure the wards would fray with Mary’s death.” Her jaw clenches as she looks between her twin grandchildren. “Maybe that freak Bracken is stronger than I thought.” She shook her head. “Otherwise, I don’t know how they’re doing it.”
“Calliope had a demon. Maybe the artist does too,” Milena suggests.
Catherine drums her fingers on the kitchen table. Glancing at her grandson, she says, “Eat. You lost weight in jail.”
He takes another bite of his sandwich and Catherine stares over his head, deep in thought.
“I thought Sybil’s girl was weak,” she muses.
“Why else would they have hidden her all her life? Margaret said she thought the kid was brain damaged or something. She has some kind of physical deformity. She didn’t tell me what, but she looked disgusted saying it.
” Her fingers continue to drum. “Maybe it wasn’t her at all.
Bracken showed up a minute later. He could have been covering for her lack of magic.
Still, why was she so smug? There was no fear when I talked to her. ”
“That would mean Bracken’s stronger than we thought,” Milena said.
“Brilliant observation,” Catherine murmured, rolling her eyes at her granddaughter. “And one I just made. Milo, dear, I got you a slice of that cake you like when I was at the store. You can have that when you finish your sandwich.”
Milena looked both chastened and hopeful.
Catherine glanced back at her. “And don’t you dare touch your brother’s dessert.
” Staring at the tabletop, she added, “I need to find out more about Sybil. I thought she was like this one.” She gestured vaguely to Milena.
“A helpful assistant to the real power, Mary. I haven’t heard of anyone else stepping up, so she must be the head of the Corey Council now.
I’ll see soon enough. The Wicches’ Council is in a few days.
It’ll be interesting to see if they bother showing up, given I’ve charged Bracken with black magic. ”
Milo chuckles but Milena looks worried.
Catherine stands. “Yes, fine, I’ll make a stronger spell.
Milo, this time, it needs to be you. Your sister’s hopeless.
Bracken is living at the gallery, so the wards being stronger there makes sense.
Drop the curse where Sybil’s brat is living with the woodworker.
I hear he might be a werewolf. I need to find Logan.
He’s Alpha. He’ll know if this Declan is one too.
It’s best to know who we’re dealing with, children.
” She smirks, considering. “Mary’s probably rolling over in her grave, having a Corey take up with a werewolf.
Then again, if the girl has no magic, Mary might not have cared. ”
She pins Milo with a dark look. “You’ll take care of her. Here.” She takes a black candle off a shelf holding a book and an athame. “Take this one. It’ll bring us good luck.”
When I opened my eyes this time, my Uncle John was sitting on the bench across from me. “Hey, when did you get here?”
His eyes brightened as he smiled. “Hello, you.” He pointed at the bag in my lap. “Declan said you had a black magic spell planted at your new home. Are you okay?”
I nodded and caught him up on what the Swans had been doing as Declan poured seawater over my finger. Was Uncle John a member of the Corey Council? No, but who cared? I trusted him completely and he needed something to think about other than his dead wife and daughter.
“Is there anything I can do?” he asked.
I thought about it. “I don’t think so, but please make sure your wards are strong. If you’re not sure, Bracken and I can come over and shore them up. Now that you’ll be visiting regularly, they might decide to take an interest in you.”
His eyebrows went up. “I’ll be careful. My wards should be good. Sybil and your gran came to strengthen them when we realized Ca—when we realized who the sorcerer was.”
“Do you have cameras?” I asked.
He nodded. “I do now.”
“Can we come back now?” Osso grumbled.
“Not yet!” I called back. To Uncle John, I asked, “Are you here to check on me?” My hand went to my stomach.
“I am.” He looked between Declan and me. “Is this an okay time or should I come back later?”
“It’s a perfect time. Let’s go inside for a minute.” I turned to the law enforcement. “We’ll be right back. Talk amongst yourselves.”
Uncle John followed us into the studio and closed the door. “You seem like you’re in a better mood today. No morning sickness?”
I waved away the suggestion. “I still get that.” I looked at Declan, then back at John. “I had an oracular dream. The Goddess showed me our family. A daughter—”
“Quinn,” Declan put in.
“And later, a son,” I finished.
Declan grinned broadly. “Mac.”
“Those were the names in the dream.” I shrugged, unable to dim my smile.
John took my gloved hand and squeezed. “I’m so happy for you both.” He held up his other hand. “Can I see how Quinn is doing?”
I nodded. When John put his hand on my lower abdomen and closed his eyes, I whispered to Declan, “Every time we use those names, we’re getting more locked in. Are we sure we like them?”
He leaned down and kissed me. “After you told me about them, I can’t see them any other way. They’re Quinn and Mac. Can you draw them for me?”
I nodded, taking Declan’s hand in my free one while we waited for word on the baby.