Into the Fire

“Isn’t it refreshing to cut through the shite and get what you want?” Ian said as we began to follow the officer.

This did save more time and we were running against a merciless clock, but still. “I actually don’t like mind-manipulating people.”

Ian grunted. “Give it time. You’ll grow to love it.”

“Are you forgetting something, Leila?” Gretchen said, leaning forward to pinch my arm. “Like Mom being an Ani-kutani?”

I filled her in on what had happened when we met the demon while we followed the officer. Well, most of it. I left out the part where I’d been gutted in front of everyone in order to deliver a murderous directive to Vlad that Gretchen now forgot.

I expected a flurry of questions when I was finished. Instead, Gretchen said nothing, which concerned me enough to look back at her several times in my rearview mirror. Then I really grew worried when I caught her scent. Beneath her normal lemon-and-sea-spray scent, she smelled very, very upset. What had caused this sort of reaction? Discovering the real reason Mom had died? Finding out that we both might be witches? The magic legacy thing? All the above?

“Tell me what’s wrong,” I urged her.

She looked at me with cornflower-blue eyes shiny from unshed tears. “Don’t worry about it. Look, the officer’s stopping. Brake or you’ll hit him, Leila.”

I hit the brakes in time to avoid rear-ending the other car. Marty muttered something about my being a terrible driver. Okay, maybe, but I’d learned how to drive just last year, and the only way to get better was with practice.

“We’re talking about this later,” I told Gretchen as I parked and we got out. She muttered “Whatever” under her breath.

“Here,” the officer said, pointing to the house he’d stopped in front of. It was a small structure with wooden siding that needed repainting and a broken section in the wraparound porch. But its position near a precipice gave it a magnificent view of the mountains, and intricate dream catchers swayed gently from their perches over the porch.

“Who lives here?” I asked the officer.

“Leotie Shayne,” he said, gesturing to the door. “Go. Knock. She is home.”

I did hear a heartbeat inside, slow, steady, and coming closer to the door. Leotie Shayne must have heard us pull up.

The officer got back in his car. I debated telling him to stay, then decided not to. I might not like mind manipulation, but it did ensure that I’d get the truth out of Leotie Shayne.

I blinked in surprise when the door opened and a girl who looked years younger than Gretchen stared back at us. “Yeah?” she said with a teenager’s unmistakable attitude.

“Leotie Shayne?” I asked.

“Grandma!” she yelled in reply, turning around. “Some people are here to see you!”

Scraping sounds preceded the appearance of a stooped Native American woman. Like the officer, her hair was almost completely white and her skin was crisscrossed with wrinkles. She also leaned heavily on her walker as she limped toward the door.

Nothing about her appeared threatening, but I stiffened. So did Maximus, Ian, and Marty, and Maximus pushed Gretchen behind him with one swipe of his hand.

“What’s your problem?” she hissed, not catching the reason for our new, heightened tension.

I’d heard only one heartbeat, yet two people had been inside the house. Sharp, intelligent black eyes met mine as the wizened old woman stared at me. Then laughter that sounded decades younger than her appearance spilled out of her.

“Lisa, go to Toby’s,” she said in perfect English.

The teenager let out an annoyed huff. “Why?”

A torrent of Cherokee followed. Whatever the old woman said lit a fire under the teenager’s ass. She was out the door and running toward what I assumed was Toby’s house in less than a minute flat.

“So,” Leotie Shayne said, shoving her walker aside and straightening into a posture that had looked impossible moments before. “What brings a group of vampires and witches to my house?”

Chapter 21

“What makes you say witches?” I said, masking my surprise. How she’d known we were vampires was obvious. That no-heartbeat thing was a dead giveaway, pun intended.

The old woman laughed again, a light, tinkling sound that reminded me of champagne flutes clinking together. “Dear, I know exactly what you and your sister are, and who you are.”

I exchanged a quick, measured glance with Ian. “Did Ashael tell you we’d be coming?” I asked in a casual tone that belied me starting to pull off my right glove.

Leotie Shayne cast a pointed look at my hands. “Don’t. I’ve heard very impressive things about your whip, but I don’t need a demonstration.”

“You didn’t answer her question, luv,” Ian said, flashing her one of his brilliant smiles.

She smiled back wide enough to reveal that she was missing several teeth. “Don’t try to charm my panties off, boy. Your gender doesn’t tempt me.”

Ian puffed up in outrage. “Uppity crone, you should be so lucky! You’d never enjoy getting your hips broken more!”

Now Leotie’s laughter held a snort. “Who is this one?” she asked me. “He’s not your husband and neither are the other two.”

Frustration made my fists clench. How quickly Ian had proven correct when he said I’d grow to love mesmerizing people. I’d give a lot to just glare the answers I needed out of this old woman, but since it was impossible to mesmerize another vampire, I’d have to do this the slow way. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">