Shady Lady (Corine Solomon #3)

Shady Lady (Corine Solomon #3) Page 39

I shuddered to envision what Maury considered “play.” “Like a vacation.”

“Precisely.”

“If I consent to this, we’re square. No more favors. No more debt.” A glorious new life, down a very dark road. I suspected I couldn’t see how bad it would get from here, and that was probably best.

“Agreed.”

I couldn’t help but haggle, though he held all the cards. It was the pawnshop owner in me. “I’ll do it under one condition.”

“You’re hardly in a bargaining position, but I’m willing to listen.”

“You promise not to take unwilling hosts. Find a couple of coma victims or something. Stage a miraculous recovery and go about your business.”

Whatever that might be. Don’t think about it. Don’t.

“Done. Such hosts are typically easier to control anyway. Most of them have no brain function to interfere with my driving.”

Gross.

“Will she remember what we’ve talked about?” I nodded at the old lady. Her skin had turned a sickly shade, as if his presence made her queasy.

“No. They never do.”

“Good.” Before I could change my mind, I recited the address where we could be found. “Find a proper body and then come to us tonight. I’ll need some time to study my grimoires. I want to make sure I do this right.”

Because I’m sure as hell not doing it again, no matter what other witches think. One scar doesn’t mean I’m evil. It doesn’t.

“Until tonight, my darling child.”

The old woman slumped to the counter, and it took a couple of minutes for her to rouse. We stuck around to make sure Maury hadn’t cooked her brain. Other than being groggy, the witch didn’t seem to have taken permanent harm.

“Are we finished here?” she asked in bewilderment. “I seem to have lost track of time.”

“Yeah, we paid up. But we’re still waiting for you to get that starter pack of herbs you mentioned.”

“Oh, yes, of course. I’ ll be right back.”

She gave me a pretty wooden box with ten compartments inside. Each one held a different herb, wrapped in fabric. I didn’t know what any of this stuff did, but my mother could tell me, through the grimoires. I waved as we went past the curtain and out the front door.

Shannon broke the silence halfway to the SUV. “What didn’t you tell me about what happened in those woods?”

Remembered pain rendered my words staccato, choppy. “Cooper killed me. Or the wound would have. The demon plugged the hole.” Knowing it sounded incredible, I took her hand and pressed it to my side. Since I was thinner, the metal felt more obvious, a hard spot where the blade went in.

“I can feel it. That used to be a knife?”

I nodded, leading the way to the SUV. My gaze cut back and forth and over our shoulders. Nobody seemed to be paying us any particular attention, but I wouldn’t feel safe until I had Shannon behind locked doors again.

“I have a murderer’s weapon inside me,” I said, hearing the despair in my voice. “It’s no wonder I can give such orders. I’m afraid of what I’m becoming.”

That was the first time I’d articulated the fear aloud: that I was filthy and demon touched. I had allowed whispers and doubts along the way, as I went farther and farther from the light. God, the one in the village had called me its queen. Maybe I was wretched and damned, and it would be better if Montoya exterminated me. I increased the pace, trying to escape the doubt. In no time at all, we reached the Forester.

Shannon touched me on the arm. “I may not know much, but it seems like if you’re worried about it, then you’re okay. Evil people don’t question right or wrong. They just do what they want.”

I sighed as I got behind the wheel. “That helps a little. Or it might, if we weren’t heading off to summon a demon.”

“Cool,” she said. “I’ll wear my new necklace.”

Despite myself, I laughed. God help me if I ever lost Shan.

Raising Hell

On the way back, I took a circuitous route and made a number of unnecessary turns. Shannon watched but she didn’t see anybody tailing us. Maybe I was being paranoid, but I didn’t intend to let Montoya find me before I was good and ready.

Once locked behind all the dead bolts, I skipped ahead in the grimoire. I paged all the way through the red one and realized the spell I needed must be in the blue one. I located the summoning ritual about midway in. In fact, I was surprised my mother had such incantations in her books. I couldn’t imagine when summoning a demon could be considered white magic, and she’d told me more than once she only practiced beneficial craft.

Around noon, I made a call. I had Morales’s number handy, since he’d dialed my cell. “Before you guys report in, I need some things. Got a pen?” I read him the list. “Send the bill to Escobar.”

Strictly speaking this didn’t relate to our shared persecution of Montoya, but if I wanted to stay alive, which was part of the deal, I required these items. He wouldn’t even notice the expenditure. If he did, I’d account for it somehow.

“Sí, jefa. We’ll be there later.”

“No sooner than dusk. Your work is best done in the dark.”

“I might have that slogan tattooed on me somewhere.”

“The ladies might think you mean you’re too ugly for daytime sex.”

“Nunca. They got eyes, don’t they?” With a little chuckle, he disconnected.

For most of the day, I practiced drawing pentangles. Most witches grew up with such coursework as a part of their normal school curriculum. With any luck, this crash course would suffice. I wished I could take baby steps; I wasn’t prepared to jump from a mild call me spell to a major summoning, but in my case it was do or die.

“Ready or not, here I come,” I muttered.

Shannon glanced up from the laptop. It amused me that she could read Web comics at a time like this. She was also IMing somebody. When I went over, I saw she’d been talking to Booke.

“Is he okay?”

“As much as he ever is. He asked about you.”

“What did you tell him?”

“That you’re working for one drug dealer to drive another drug dealer crazy.”

Put that way, it sounded quite reprehensible. “In my defense, Montoya doesn’t have far to go.”

“I call ’em like I see ’em.”

“Funny.”

“Are you ready to do your thing tonight?”

“We’ll find out, won’t we?”

I occupied the rest of the day reading spells that would help if something went wrong. Even so, when the boys arrived with my shopping, I didn’t feel confident. They filed in, looking pleased with themselves.

“You had us buy some hudu shit,” García muttered in greeting. By the curl of his lip, he didn’t approve.

I pushed to my feet and folded my arms, trying to look intimidating. “Zaragoza pegged us as Escobar’s newest brujas .” I turned to the girl beside me, and to Shan’s credit, the sneer she’d perfected looked menacing. “What do you think? Should we show them?”

“No,” Santos said quickly. “We’ll take our orders and go. We don’t want to interfere with your . . . other work.”

So he’s both the oldest and the smartest. I stifled amusement at guys like this fearing us. Certainly part of that fright came from our association with Escobar, but not all. They feared the powerful woman chanting in the dark, her gleaming eyes and streaming hair, her unnatural influence.

“Very well,” I said. “Tonight, you will find one of Montoya’s businesses—a crib, a crack house, a meth lab, a warehouse where he stores the expensive imported stuff—and you will destroy it. Choose your target according to what will hurt him most.”

“¿ Estás segura?” Petrel asked. “If we hit his goods, it could start an all-out war.”

“That’s kind of the point.” I considered. “How likely is this to spill into the streets? Will there be shootings all over Laredo, innocent bystanders injured?”

García shrugged. “Maybe. If we’re at war and his guys see us, they open fire. We shoot back. People will get hurt.”

“All right. Change of plans.” I didn’t need to look at Shannon to know she was relieved. “Keep it personal. I don’t want him to realize you work for Escobar until the end. Ask Zaragoza for your new target: another lovely home, something expensive. Cross the border if you must, but don’t get caught.”

“Just like last night,” Morales said. “It’s gonna be a party.”

“Once you finish, leave this where he’ll find it. I suggest attaching it to a stake and planting it at the edge of the property.”

Santos took the lock of red synthetic hair with a confused look. This strategy qualified as both cruel and playful. Montoya would get excited, thinking I was dumb enough to leave real hair for his sorcerer. Then he’d realize it was fake; if Escobar knew his enemy’s psyche, this gambit would enrage him. I had no doubt he would associate me with the token, a quiet signature that meant nothing to anybody else.

Just to fuck with Santos, I murmured, “You might want to put that away. It’s not good to hold such things for too long.”

He shuddered, stuffed the long strand of hair into a plastic bag, and then wiped his fingers against his brown pants. The others smirked a little, but I had no doubt they would react the same way, even though rationally, I couldn’t have done anything to the item. They’d picked up the hair extension for me. But when the lizard brain spewed fear, logic disconnected.

“Anything else?” Morales asked.

“No. You have your orders. Call me once it’s done.”

The boys went out into the world to wreak havoc in my name.

Darkness had fallen by this time, which meant the demon would arrive soon to demand his due. I pored over the grimoires some more, trying to get ready, but how the hell did anyone prepare themselves for this? I had no answer.

Eventually, a knock sounded. No point in asking how Maury got over the fencing, complete with barbed wire. For all I knew, he could hurdle it. I glanced out the peephole, and I didn’t recognize the man standing there.

“Maury?”

“None other.”

I unfastened all the locks but didn’t invite him in. “We’ll have to do this outside.” I turned to Shannon. “Will you bring the supplies?”

“Sure.”

The body Maury had selected offered no attraction. He was thin and reedy, balding on top. But maybe nondescript was a bonus to a demon, making it easier to go about his business. Butch growled as if to warn me that this guy wasn’t what he seemed.

I patted the dog. “Don’t worry—I know that already.”

He whined at me, none too convinced I understood what I was doing. But when I went toward the door anyway, he washed his paws of me and trotted back to the pillow we’d put on the floor for his comfort. A glance over my shoulder showed him turning repeatedly on the cushion to find the perfect place for his butt.