Page 38 of Wicche Hunt

“Yeah, there’s that.” I wiggled my fingers. “So, I have lots of magic, cameras all around the building, wards that are about to be reinforced by Mom and Gran, and a werewolf down the road.”

“Not to mention a selkie guardian that can go get Dad when you need him. Hey,” he said, leaning away from me to get a better look, “why aren’t you wearing the earrings? They’re a direct line to him.”

“I know, and after today, I will. I just worried that if I wore them, he could always be listening in, which made me super uncomfortable.”

“You got to figure he’s a powerful, important guy, right?” Declan said. “He doesn’t have time to eavesdrop while you paint, bake, chat with Cecil. He’s got stuff to do. Think of the earrings like a buzzer. They get his attention so he can shift his focus to you.”

“Hmm. But when we’re messing around, stay away from my ears. I don’t need my dad hearing any of that.”

Declan chuckled and I felt him relax. “Agreed. And whenever possible, before any serious messing around, just take them off.”

“Good call.”

He kissed the top of my head. “Your mom just parked.” Standing up, he pulled me with him. “I’m going to get back to that meeting now.”

“Tell Kenji and Natsuki sorry about that.”

“Nothing to be sorry about.” Taking my hand, he led me to the railing. “Put your hand out. You’ll need a reset in a minute.” He cradled my face in his big, warm hands, running his nose over my hair, across my temple, before tilting my head up and kissing me softly, thoroughly.

At the clearing of a throat, we broke apart.

“Ladies.” He stepped away, his gaze moving between me and the water.

I shot a stream of seawater up, ran a hand through it, and then shook off the droplets. “Hey, Mom, can I have some gloves?”

“I’ll leave you three to it. I need to get back to a meeting. It’s always good seeing you,” he said and then took off at a jog.

Mom opened her bag with a tsk and then handed me a fresh pair of gloves. “I don’t like him.”

“Hush, Sybil,” Gran said. “I like him just fine.”

“Besides,” I said, “did he not just come at a run to help me?”

“Well, if you’re going to have a werewolf lurking around, you might as well put him to use,” she said. “Now, let’s get to work. Your Gran and I were discussing this on the way over. Your wards are very strong already, but they were built before you were a member of the Council. The Three have a power all our own. We’ll build the next ward together.”

I wasn’t sure there was a ward strong enough to protect me, but it was worth a shot.

SIXTEEN

The Reprise of Stupid Wolf

Once the ritual was complete, my wards strengthened, Mom and Gran on their way, and a frozen pizza consumed, I finally got started painting the interior. My plan was for the walls to be an impressionistic take on the ocean. The wall of windows looking out on the bay would be painted in sea green and foam white. The opposite wall, on the road side of the gallery, would be deep sea indigo and midnight, with small glimmers of bioluminescent jellyfish and sea stars.

Up high on the wall, barely visible, would lurk the gaze of the sea monster tearing the gallery apart. I wanted the walls to be interesting, without taking the focus from the art displayed on them. It was a delicate balance.

I was about four hours in and pleased with the results so far. I kept scrambling down from the scaffold to check the effect from the middle of the gallery. I had to go back over the first section I’d painted when I’d stood back and realized that my brushstrokes were too short. I’d been thinking about Pearl’s killer, D with the flashy car. How could I find him, and what did that corridor mean? Would anyone else know or care about my distracted, short brushstrokes? Probably not, but I couldn’t handle looking at something I knew was wrong. It didn’t look enough like moving water.

I painted over that section using longer, more fluid lines. When I stepped back then, it felt right. I’d been doing ten foot by five foot sections at a time, checking in between each block to make sure the new one flowed with the previous ones. It couldn’t look patchy. It had to move like the ocean, ceaseless waves flowing in and out.

Pearl’s killer seemed younger. Not as young as Pearl, but maybe midtwenties. He felt entitled, as though it was his right to do with her as he chose. I didn’t sense anger or lust so much as joy. Satisfaction.

I was climbing down the scaffold to do a check when my vision began to tunnel and my limbs went weak. Instead of possibly bouncing my head off the concrete floor, I lay down on the plywood platform. As the world went dark, I hoped like hell I didn’t roll off.

Growls and snarls fill my head. Paws pounding, pursuing through the thick forest. Declan’s wolf stands ready but Logan doesn’t step into the circle. He barks, bobs his head, and pads away as the pack descends on Declan, tearing into him. Covered in blood, he fights viciously, but it’s too much. On a broken howl, he goes down under almost two dozen wolves, tearing at him with claws and teeth, destroying the one who could have saved them.

The image goes dark and then…

A young girl wakes from a nightmare. Wiping away her tears, she slips from her bed, unsure of who to go to in the night. Her sister is in the bed a few feet away, but this isn’t something she wants to talk with Sylvia about. She needs an elder.

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