Harvest Hunting

Wilbur glanced at Camil e, frowned, then sniffed the air. "Wolf Briar. I can smel it on you. Jangled your senses, didn't it, girl?"



I shot a look at Menol y, wondering if she'd told him about it, but she shook her head. "You can smel the stuff? What else do you know about it?"



He swal owed the mouthful of cookie before answering. "Wolf Briar--I learned about it down in the jungle when I was in Special Ops." We'd recently learned that Wilbur's stint in the military had included a tour in some special operating force, one so top secret it didn't even have a name, though we knew it had been part of the marines.



"You have a lot of werewolves down in the rain forest?" I knew he'd been stationed down in South America, but he never told us just quite where.



"Yeah, actual y, we did. There are tribes of shifters down there who make your kind look like puddy tats," he said, motioning to me. "The Jaguar Warriors--deadly and swift, dangerous beyond belief. But they aren't as bad as the canid clans. The Jungle Stalkers are Mexican gray werewolves, and they're skil ed hunters but deadly to intruders. But then the coyote shifters moved in from North America, and they're far more unpredictable. They'd just as soon slit your throat as help you out. They used the Wolf Briar to take over some of the Jungle Stalkers clans."



"The coyote shifters use Wolf Briar? But don't they feel like they're betraying their cousins?" I'd only met a couple coyote shifters before--one was Siobhan the selkie's friend Marion, who owned the Supe-Urban Cafe. And she was one of the good guys. Just a few weeks ago, she'd helped Camil e and our friend Siobhan escape a crazed stalker Siobhan was running from. I'd never think of her as trying to displace someone else.



"Wait--are coyote shifters technical y Weres?" Roz asked.



"Yeah," Wilbur said. "But they often used the term shifter instead. They're a little different than a lot of other Weres. It's said they originated from Great Coyote himself."



"Hmm, a little like the werespiders we fought--they originated from Kyoka the shaman. They weren't a normal adaptation, though." I paused, then cleared my throat. "Coyotes are found in Arizona, right?"



"Just about every state, from what I know." Wilbur frowned. "So, what do you want to know? Elvira here said it was something to do with sorcery shops?



"



Menol y hissed at him, and he gave her the finger. Everybody froze. I slowly flickered my gaze toward her. She was staring him down. Not good. Oh--this could be so bad. But then she broke into laughter, startling me and everybody else, including Wilbur--I could see the sweat on his forehead--and I relaxed.



"Wilbur, do you know of any sorcerers who set up a shop in the area? Somebody who maybe could be producing Wolf Briar? It's truly a matter of life and death." Camil e leaned forward, stil looking shaken but doing what she always did: putting duty first. "Please, if you have any information, tel us."



He eyed her slowly, his gaze running up her body, but for once he wasn't ogling. "I know how bad that crap can be." His voice was gruff, but I sensed a gentleness behind it that I'd never before heard. "Somebody hit me with a load of it once, and it wiped me out for days. Of course, I didn't get no antidote either, but stil . . . you look like you got the crap beaten out of you. Okay, babe. Give me a pen and paper. I'l tel you what I know."



I slid a notepad and pen across the table to him, and he jotted down a name and address.



Wilbur shoved the notepad back to me. "This dude, he came into town a few months ago. I heard he was opening up a shop and so decided to see what he had to offer. I was looking for a few rare spel components. But a few seconds through the door, and I nearly passed out."



"What happened?" I met his eyes, thinking that maybe, beneath that rough exterior, Wilbur was okay.



"The energy was so thick in that joint I could barely breathe. Be cautious. Dude's name is Van, and his partner's name is Jaycee. As far as I can tel , they're both sorcerers. I don't know what tradition they fol ow, but I can tel you this: They're dangerous and chaotic. I got out of there as soon as I could, and I've never been back. I assume the shop is stil there."



Crap. If Wilbur was afraid to go back, then they must be pretty damned nasty. Wilbur didn't spook easily, and with his skil in necromancy, it would take a buttload of bad energy to scare him. I glanced at the notepad.



"Madame Pompey's Magical Emporium . Wow, that sounds so . . . so . . . B-grade movie-ish." Images of '60s science fiction gypsy fortune-tel er werewolf movies skittered through my head.



"Trust me, we're not talking B-grade anything. These folks are for real, and if there's Wolf Briar being produced around the area, then my bets are on them. There's bad, and then there's bad. And those two . . . they walk on the dark side of the fence." Wilbur let out a sharp breath and leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. He shook his head. "I wonder . . ."



"What are you thinking?" Camil e winced as she shifted position. "May I please have some more tea?"



Tril ian scrambled to pour her another cup.



Wilbur ran his fingers through his beard. "Just . . . Once, down in the jungles, when I was on a mission, I ran across an old shaman from the Jaguar Warriors tribe. He'd wandered away during a vision quest and was a good ten miles from his vil age. I asked him why he was hiding, and he told me he'd accidental y crossed the borders into Koyanni territory--coyote shifters who made Wolf Briar. That old man could have easily kil ed almost every one of us with the flick of an eye-lash, but he was scared shitless of the Koyanni."



"And?"



"Just this: I wonder if Van and Jaycee have anything to do with coyote shifters. I don't know enough about them to know if they're al like the ones I met when I was in the service, but . . ."



"But it's a good thought to check up on," I finished for him.



Camil e cleared her throat. "We know not al of them are like that. Marion isn't. But . . . we can ask her about others in the area, if there's any connection between the shop and the shifters."



"We'l have to be delicate about it," Menol y said. "And being so, it's not a chore for me--I'm too blunt. Camil e, tomorrow you and Delilah can take a trip over to the cafe and check it out. You think you'd be up for that?"



"Sure. I'l be fine. Real y." She yawned, and I could tel she was about ready to faint from exhaustion and shock. "I should be good to go then. But for now, I just want to sleep. If anything happens tonight while you guys are checking out the two Weres, let me know. I'l come help if you need--"



"You wil not leave this house tonight." Iris motioned to Smoky, who tossed Camil e's afghan over his shoulder. "Smoky, get her back up to bed."



As the dragon gathered Camil e up in his arms and headed toward the stairs, Tril ian fol owed with a tea tray. Morio turned to me before heading after them. "You need us, the three of us wil come help, but if you want your sister to be okay by tomorrow, she needs a ful night's sleep. The Wolf Briar real y disrupted her system. More than you think."



"It's not just the Wolf Briar." Menol y frowned. "Iris, you go with them. Ask her what Trenyth had to say. But be gentle, or I'l rip out your throats."



I glanced at Morio. "Do you think the Wolf Briar might have done permanent damage? Sharah said it should be out of her system by tomorrow."



"Sharah's an excel ent medic, but she doesn't work with magic. Not like Camil e and myself." Morio's expression was grave. "I have the feeling Camil e's spel s may be a little more off-kilter than usual for the next few days. I'm hoping no permanent damage was done, but knowing for sure is a matter of wait and see." He scooted past the table and vanished up the stairs.



"I hope to hel he's wrong and that it's out of her system for good by tomorrow. But you can bet the news from our beloved father won't be." Menol y slowly descended to the floor, looking grim. "Shit like this Wolf Briar hurts the entire Supe Community, not just the intended targets. So, you ready? Let's go check out your Weres. I don't want to spend al night on a wild-goose chase. Nerissa and I get so little time together that we want to make the most of every minute."



I grabbed my coat and glanced at the stairs. "I think we should leave the terrible trio with Camil e. She needs al the support she can get. Vanzir--Roz?



One of you wil ing to come with?"



Vanzir leapt up. "I wil . Roz, you stay and see Wilbur home." He grabbed a heavy denim jacket and fol owed us out to my Jeep. I insisted on driving.



Menol y's Jag was actual y fairly uncomfortable for me since I was so tal , and while sports cars seemed like fun toys, it wasn't up to the actual work my Jeep could do.



Menol y rode shotgun; Vanzir climbed in the back. As we headed out into the storm, I wondered how many rain-soaked nights we'd crept into the dark, knowing we were headed into danger, chipping away at the edge of our luck. One of these days it wasn't going to hold.



We'd already lost so much, but there was so much, much more that could crumble beneath our feet. Every step was a question mark. Every move--a domino. And al we could do was make the best decision we could at the time and hope that the entire house of cards didn't come fluttering down around our shoulders.



CHAPTER 11



Menol y grumbled about having to take my Jeep, but I told her to stuff it. Vanzir laughed from the backseat. We headed toward Doug Smith's house--which was located up on Queen Anne Hil , one of the highest hil s in Seattle. The neighborhood was somewhat upscale, and I realized that I was surprised a werewolf would have a house there. So much for my own prejudices.



While I drove, peering through the streaming rain that was making my windshield wipers work overtime, Menol y told Vanzir what Trenyth had wanted.



Vanzir remained silent for a moment, then cleared his throat.



"I know you love your father, but that's a shitty thing to do. Ten to one, if he's banging the Queen like you say, she convinced him to play along with it." He leaned forward, peering between the front seats. "Camil e and I don't have much in common, but she's al right. And she's doing what she needs to be doing. Chances are your daddy just doesn't like the fact that she married Tril ian, and when the Queen offered him a good excuse to slam the situation, he ran with it."



What he said made sense. Hel , I'd been thinking the same thing myself for the past hour or so. "I guess we could ask Grandmother Coyote what to do."



Menol y let out a sharp hiss. "Camil e already owes Grandmother Coyote payment from last time she talked to her. Remember? The Hag told her that a sacrifice had already begun. Maybe that's what this is."



"I don't think so. I think it was Henry's death, to be honest, but I'd never mention my suspicions to Camil e. I wouldn't want her to feel responsible." I swerved to avoid a dog that darted out in the street and, since there were no oncoming cars for now, switched to brights until we got into the city proper.



"She already feels responsible. I don't think she'l ever get over feeling guilty for the old guy's death. But you two hens are overlooking the most important point. The important thing isn't what started this mess but how to deal with it. Are you going to stand with her, or are you going to let them run over her?" Vanzir slapped the back of the seat behind Menol y. "Either of you bother to let your father know how you real y feel about this?"



I darted a quick glance at Menol y, who looked rather nonplussed. And it took a great deal for Menol y to look nonplussed. "We sent messages back to him with Trenyth . . ."



"Messages? Like, Gee, Daddy, I don't like what you did to my sister? You two are such a piece of work. How can you be so deadly, so beautiful, and such wimps at the same time? Hah." Vanzir leaned back, crossing his arms, and shook his head. I glanced in the mirror, and he gave me that arched-eyebrow look that says gotcha.



"He's right," I said after a minute.



"Yes, but I wasn't going to let him know for a while. Al ow me a shred of dignity." Menol y let out a sigh--purely for effect.



Must be nice at times, I thought, to be able to avoid inhaling in the perfume department or the laundry soap aisle. Shaking my head, I brought my mind back to the subject at hand.



"So, are we going to fire up the Whispering Mirror and give Father hel ?" I asked softly.



Whistling softly, she nodded. "Looks that way, doesn't it?"



Vanzir laughed gently from the backseat.



As I parked along the street, I had a creepy feeling. Doug's house was a two-story monstrosity with smal windows dot-ting the surface. No lights burned from within, and the yard looked overgrown, even for this time of year. The only light came from the lamp on the front of the house, il uminating the porch steps. Or rather, the stone slab landing that passed for a porch.



As we climbed out of the car, a set of broken stone steps led up to the yard, which sloped up to the house. I glanced at the mailbox on the curb. It was partial y ajar, and when I yanked it open, mail spil ed out. Frowning, I gathered the letters back up, glanced at the name on them--Doug Smith, so yes, we were in the right place--and shoved the bundle back in the box.



Leaves in burnished shades of copper and brown and yel ow littered the overgrown weed patch that passed for a lawn. The walkway itself was cracked, foliage growing through the patches to further push apart the stone path. Ferns and low-growing evergreens ringed the house, nestled beneath the windows and wal s.



The house was old, weathered and wind-worn. The paint peeled from the sides, chips as big as my hand missing. The windows opened in, and screens had been nailed over them rather than properly set into place. The front door was located up yet another steep set of stone steps--I counted fourteen of them. An ironwork rail guarded both sides, and I was cautious not to touch it as we climbed the narrow stairs to the landing. The last thing I needed was a nasty burn.