Double Hexed, Page 3

  Out in the lobby, Mick was hugging the wall by the front door, cheek pressed to it, palm moving over the plaster as though he caressed a lover’s skin. I envied the wall. I knew what he was doing, though, feeling the essence of the building, connecting with his own magic in it.

  Coyote sprawled in a chair with his feet up, watching Mick with interest. Cassandra sat on one of the leather sofas, arms pressed over her stomach, staring at the floor. I plopped down next to her.

  “Cassandra, you are the most amazing witch I’ve ever met,” I said. “Your power could light a city.”

  Cassandra didn’t look up at me. “Is there a point to this little pep talk?”

  Her acid tone surprised me, but I let it go. We were all a little nervous. “I mean that if anyone can defeat a curse it’s you. I’m here to help you, and so is Mick, and we have Coyote. The four of us are damned powerful. We can break this, especially if we work on it together.”

  “And me.” Fremont came down the stairs, minus his toolbox, his overalls, face, and cap still spattered with blood.

  “And Fremont.” I knew Fremont’s magic was minimal, but even a minor mage can contribute to a group spell. “Thanks, Fremont. We’d welcome your help.”

  He gave me a pleased look, but Cassandra raised her head, her eyes red-rimmed and moist. “Janet, will you quit with the team-leader attitude? This is serious.”

  “I know, which is why I’m trying to come up with answers.”

  Cassandra wiped her eyes as Fremont went back upstairs, probably to check the plumbing. “Do you know what an ununculous is?”

  “An unun . . . a what?” I asked.

  “It’s a sorcerer who is a master of the blackest arts,” Cassandra said. “And when I say master, I mean the best sorcerer in the world, practitioner of the darkest magics. There are mages out there who summon demons to enhance their power, but an ununculous has more power than any demon ever could. Demons fear him. If he summons a demon, it’s to steal all its power and then try out a new way to kill the demon. The Nazis used an ununculous during the war—there was a branch that tried dark sorcery.”

  “Oh, nice. But you keep saying ‘he.’ Are there no female ununculouses?” I paused as my tongue twisted. “Or is the plural of ununculous ununculi?”

  “There is no plural, because there’s never more than one at a time.” Cassandra’s voice weakened as she spoke. “When he reaches the highest stage of his power, he fights the current ununculous, and only one survives. An ununculous never trains any other mage, because he knows he’d be teaching his own killer. They do their best to murder any mage who shows inclination to study the black arts too deeply. An aspiring ununculous trains in utmost secret, or he or she doesn’t survive.”

  I blew out my breath and scrubbed my hand through my still-blood-caked hair. “And that’s what’s after you?”

  Cassandra nodded. “I won’t name him, in case that calls him. But John Christianson employed the ununculous from time to time, paying him millions, to do things for him and for the ‘C.’ The ununculous took the money and did the deeds because he likes money; he’s the ultimate hedonist. I met him a couple of times.” She shuddered. “He knows me; he must have tracked me here.”

  I smiled grimly. “But can this ununculous stand against a god, a dragon, a Stormwalker, and one hell of a witch?”

  Cassandra gave me a deprecating glance. “Oh, yes. It’s likely he’ll welcome the challenge. He’ll enjoy experimenting until he figures out the most satisfying way of killing us, one at a time.”

  I gestured to Coyote, who was still watching Mick fondle the walls.

  “Coyote’s a god. Your ununculous, whatever he might aspire to be, is still mortal. Coyote can unmake him anytime he wants to.”

  Coyote shrugged. “Maybe.”

  I was tired of playing team leader. I got off the couch and headed for the hall that led to my private bedroom and bath. “You three figure something out. I need a shower, even if the water heater is out.”

  “No can do, Janet,” Fremont called to me, coming down the stairs again. “Water’s out completely.”

  I swung around. “What do you mean? Are the faucets still spraying blood?”

  “No, I mean nothing’s coming out. I opened up all the faucets, but they’re bone-dry. That’s all right, though. I can work on the pipes better if the water’s gone.”

  “That does it.” I didn’t discount Cassandra’s worry, but damn it, I wanted a shower. “Coyote, blast the curse and get rid of it. We’ll deal with Cassandra’s ununculous when he shows up to finish the job.”

  Coyote yawned. “As Fremont says, no can do.”

  I marched to the all-powerful god and stuck my finger at his face. “Don’t you dare give me any crap about not interfering in the lives of mortals, because you do it all the time. I’m filthy, it’s getting cold, and there’s a Nightwalker about to rise upstairs while the blood I bought for him slowly spoils in the non-working refrigerator. Just get rid of the curse. If you are holding out to see how we deal with it, I’ll . . . I’ll tell my grandmother.”

  Coyote’s eyes flickered. “Oh, hey, that’s not fair.”

  My grandmother, from whom I’d inherited my Stormwalker magic, often hung around my hotel parking lot in the form of a crow, watching over me (or watching to see what I did wrong). She didn’t like Coyote. Once upon a time, she’d run him off our place in Many Farms, he in his coyote form, she with a broom. Grandmother had no fear of trickster gods.

  Coyote looked troubled. “I really mean I can’t do it, Janet, sweetie. I seem to have lost my mojo.” He opened his hand and made a throwing motion at the windows, but again, nothing happened. The panes didn’t even rattle.

  My heart squeezed. “You’re a god. Your magic can’t disappear.”

  “Apparently, it can.”

  “You’re tricking me, right? Pretending to be powerless so you’ll see what I’ll do? Some god thing about observing the human condition?”

  Coyote leaned to me until we were face-to-face. His nose had been broken at some time in his human form and hadn’t healed in the best way. Why he hadn’t fixed that, I had no idea. “No, Janet. I truly can’t work any magic.”

  I went cold. If this ununculous was so powerful that his curse could render a god helpless, what could we do against him?

  Fear and rage awoke in me, and that, in turn, stirred the all-powerful, goddess-from-hell magic I fought every day to control. I’d been teaching myself, with the help of my friends, to twine it with my Stormwalker magic, to form a warm and strong power without the side effect of chaotic destruction, but it was tough going.

  There was no storm in the sky right now, and if I chose, I could let the Beneath magic untwine itself and become as hot and crazy and devastating as ever. Coyote didn’t want me doing that—a mortal with god magic was a dangerous thing, he’d told me—but I considered this an emergency.

  “To hell with it,” I said. “Get out of the way, Mick. I’m breaking the curse.”

  Mick stood up, his hand still pressed to the wall. His eyes had gone coal black all the way through, no more trace of blue. “The hex runs pretty deep. If you rip it away from the wards, you might destroy the walls.”

  “I don’t care if I bring down the whole damned hotel. I can rebuild it—I’ve done it before. After I take a shower.”

  Coyote rose, his height and bulk a formidable barrier. “Janet, you know I can’t let you use the Beneath magic.”

  “Make an exception. You can’t do shit right now. You just said that.”

  “But if you use that magic to break the curse, my first order of business will be to kill you.”

  At the moment, I didn’t care. I was angry, grungy, and not a little worried about what Cassandra had told me. And for some reason, I was convinced I couldn’t fight this ununculous until I’d scrubbed myself clean. I was obsessing, yes,
but I didn’t care.

  I looked up at Coyote, unafraid. I knew by the expression on his face that my eyes had gone ice green, the color of my mother’s eyes. “Get out of my way,” I said calmly. “Or I’ll do this through you.”

  Coyote lunged for me. I stared in shock, not really believing he meant to kill me, but at the last minute, when his hands were wrapping my throat, I realized—yes, he did.

  And then Mick was there. Mick ripped Coyote away from me and took the big man down. Coyote’s god power outweighed Mick’s dragon magic any day, but with them both in human form, neither using magic, they were well matched in strength.

  While the two of them fought it out on my earth-colored tile floor, I raised my hands, willing the worst of the Beneath magic to come out and play. White-hot light roared from my fingers and hit the door full force. The hotel shuddered, glass tinkling in the windows.

  I threw back my head and laughed. I hadn’t felt power like this in months. I’d forgotten how much I loved it.

  “Feel that, sorcerer,” I said, my entire body crackling with magic. “Fucking feel it.”

  There was a sizzling noise, and sparkling electricity danced across every wall. A high-pitched scream shrilled from the kitchen.

  Maya.

  I snapped off the Beneath magic—or tried to. A glowing nimbus clung to my hands as I turned and sprinted for the kitchen, Fremont and Cassandra right behind me.

  Four

  We found Maya sitting on the floor against the wall, cradling one arm, her black dress hiked up to her hips. When she saw me charge in with my hands glowing white and my eyes bright green, she screamed again.

  “Are you all right?” I yelled at her. “What happened?”

  Maya’s face was streaked with mascara and tears. “What do you think happened? I shocked myself. What the hell are you doing?”

  Fremont crouched next to her. “Didn’t you switch off the power?”

  “Of course I switched it off. I threw the main. I’m not stupid. A big arc jumped out of the generator and wrapped around my arm. Damn, and I’d almost gotten it working.”

  Had I done this? With my wave of Beneath power, had I sent electricity through the building to electrocute Maya? Or was it the curse simply not wanting Maya—or me—to get the lights back on?

  “Don’t worry about the electricity, Maya,” I said, trying to bring myself under control. “We have plenty of candles, and we’re going to break this spell. Let Cassandra look at your arm.”

  “She’s a medic?” Maya asked.

  “No, but she’s good with a healing spell.”

  “A magic medic.” Fremont grinned.

  Cassandra tented her hands over her mouth, tears trickling from her eyes. “I’d better not. If the ununculous behind the hex is after me, using magic will draw him here faster.”

  “Cassandra,” I said, my jaw tight. “You need to hold it together and help us.”

  “I can’t.” Cassandra started to sob, crumpling to her knees. “I can’t. Don’t make me.”

  “What’s wrong with her?” Fremont asked, wide-eyed.

  I wished I knew. I’d never seen Cassandra lose her cool, no matter how desperate the situation. “Either the hex is making her a little nuts, or the ununculous really is that terrifying.” I sighed. “So, that’s one powerful Wicca and one god down for the count.”

  “You still have me,” Fremont said quickly.

  “Yes,” I said, giving him a grateful look. “And me. And Mick.”

  And the mirror, I added silently. Time to have it send messages. Dragons knew everything about everyone, even though they mostly sat back and observed. I had no doubt that Bancroft of the dragon council would have heard of the ununculous and know who he was. Time to call in my favor.

  I dug in drawers for emergency candles, happy we had so many. In the desert, storms summer and winter could easily knock out electricity, and even though we had our own generator, it didn’t always work—like now. Fremont started helping me set the candles into holders and lit them with a butane lighter.

  “Fremont, can you and Cassandra fix some food for all of us? Something simple, even chips and dip would work. Maya, come out front with me, and Mick will take a look at your arm. He has healing magic, too. We’ll have our little meal and figure out how to beat this.”

  “She’s being team leader again,” Fremont said.

  “It’s better than sitting on our asses waiting to be picked off. Now do it.”

  Cassandra looked up from her huddle on the floor. “Sorry, Janet.”

  Fremont helped Cassandra to her feet and gave me a salute. “Aye-aye, ma’am. We’re on it.”

  I put my arm around Maya’s waist and guided her to the lobby. Mick was back at the walls, the fight over. Coyote sat on the stairs to the second floor, near the statue of the coyote my friend Jamison Kee had made for me. Blood stained Coyote’s face where it had run from his nose and a cut on his lip, but Mick looked whole and unscathed.

  I gave Maya to Mick’s capable healing—for a man his size, he could be incredibly gentle—and strode into the saloon.

  Through the saloon windows I could see the Crossroads Bar, now teeming with life. Floodlights glared to illuminate the motorcycles parked in front, and I saw movement inside the open door. Oh, to be there sipping beer provided by the taciturn Barry Dicks, fending off unwanted passes from drunk bikers. Paradise compared to being stuck in a curse-ridden hotel.

  As I turned away from the windows and moved to the mirror, Maya wandered in. She still cradled her arm, but less tenderly now. Mick’s magic would have easily fixed whatever burn or damage she’d sustained.

  Maya walked to the window in her high heels and looked out at the bar with the same wistfulness I’d had. “Mick and Coyote are growling at each other again. I never thought I’d say this, but you are acting the least weird of anybody, Janet.”

  She flattered me. I went behind the bar, unfolded the step stool I kept back there, and stepped up to look into the mirror.

  “I think it’s time to get Drake,” I murmured to it. “And while you’re at it, tell him to call the Hopi County Sheriff’s Department.” I couldn’t have the mirror contact Nash directly, because Nash was unable to hear it, but Drake knew who Nash was and would find him.

  Silence met me.

  “Hello?” I tapped on the mirror. “Is this thing on?”

  “Janet?” Maya said from the window.

  I stood on tiptoe and shook the mirror in its frame. “Wake up, damn you.”

  A piece of glass fell out and shattered on the floor. The mirror made no sound, and my breath stopped. It hated pieces of itself breaking, would scream in melodramatic terror when it happened. Simple breakage couldn’t hurt it, but the mirror always acted as though it was on death’s door when a piece broke.

  “Hey.” I shook it again. “Talk to me, or I pulverize you.”

  Nothing. No Oh, sugar pie, don’t hurt me, I’ll be good. Or Only if you promise to wear a leather bustier and thigh-high boots.

  “Janet, who are you talking to?” Maya asked. “I take it back about you not being weird.”

  “Damn it all to hell.” I jumped down from the stool and fetched the broken pieces of mirror, cutting myself on one. I put the pieces into an ashtray, selecting one of the smoother ones to shove into my pocket.

  I’d been arrogant, thinking that while the ununculous might be a big, bad sorcerer, we stood a chance to defeat him because we had a magic mirror. Even a minor witch can face the strongest mage if she has a magic mirror behind her.

  If the hex had rendered the mirror dormant, we could be seriously screwed.

  “Hey,” Maya said, rushing to the window. “There’s Carlos.”

  Carlos was my bartender. At the moment, he was staring in confusion at the outside door while he rattled the handle, trying to get in to work his shift
.

  “Janet?” he called. “Anyone home?”

  “Carlos!” Maya banged on the window, but Carlos didn’t hear her. Maya started beating on the window so hard I feared she’d break the glass. “Hey, we’re here! Carlos!”

  Carlos obviously didn’t see her either. He kept trying the door, and then he attempted to pry open the window right next to Maya. He backed away from the building, frowning. Maya shouted at him, calling him names in both English and Spanish, but Carlos wandered away toward the front of the hotel.

  “Idiota,” Maya screamed at him as he walked away.

  “Give him a break, Maya. He can’t hear you.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s a curse. A hex. Magic badness. Cassandra’s enemies want her trapped in this hotel, and they don’t want her to get help.”

  Thinking about that, I wondered why the ultra-bad sorcerer hadn’t waited until Cassandra was alone to confront and kill her. I could understand a sadistic man making Cassandra watch her friends die first, but why would he allow her the potential help of a dragon and the god Coyote? Why risk that?

  Something was wrong here, and I needed to know what. But even if Cassandra had neglected to tell us everything, it didn’t really matter. We were cut off and in trouble, and now we were without the magic mirror’s communication ability. We needed help.

  “We need Nash,” I said. If dragons were out, Nash Jones was the next best thing.

  “Don’t you think I’ve been trying to call him?” Maya demanded. “I told you, all the cell phones are out and so is your landline.”

  She went silent as we both watched Carlos circle back to the saloon, frown in puzzlement at the door again, then drift to his car and get in it. He started up, his taillights flashing as he pulled away from the parking lot. Maya muttered under her breath, calling Carlos more names.

  “Let him go,” I said. “And let’s concentrate on contacting Nash.”