The Isis Collar

23

I called Rizzoli on my way to see Dr. Jean-Baptiste. I wanted to know how Mikey was doing, and Julie, and all the other kids who had been infected. I thought of all those doses of medicine hidden somewhere while Glinda waited for the price to go up and I wanted to hurt somebody—preferably a certain platinum blonde.

Rizzoli didn’t pick up the line, but he called me back as I turned into the doctor’s parking lot. I could hear exhaustion and strain in his voice the minute he said hello.

“How’s Mikey?”

“Better. They aren’t making any promises, but he’s improving. Julie’s still hanging in there, too. But…” He paused, and I steeled myself for bad news. “Willow Harris didn’t make it. The hospital crematorium’s getting quite a workout today.”

I couldn’t help but remember that feisty little girl with the big brown eyes. Tears blurred my vision and I slammed my fist against the steering wheel. Damn it!

“The drug company says they’re running out of the antibiotic, and that they’ll have to scramble for the immunizations as well.”

One death is bad enough, but I was seething that they were willing to let others die, too. “They’re lying. I was calling to tell you about a vision a powerful psychic I know had. Glinda and the drugs are hiding in the same place. But the worst part is, she’s getting ready to ship them out of the country. I swear I’ve been to that warehouse before, but I just can’t remember where or when. I’m walking into the doctor’s office right now to get the memory corruption spell removed. I’ll call you the second I know.”

There was a long silence. When he finally spoke it was very quietly, his voice intense, but controlled. “We need those drugs, now. You do whatever it takes to make that happen. Whatever it takes. And when you find the bitch responsible for this…”

“Hey, why tell me? I’m turning the whole mess over to you guys, Rizzoli. I don’t plan on running into her at all.”

“Yeah? We’ll see about that. Let’s call it a hunch you see her before I do.”

He hung up without saying another word. Just as well. My mouth was a desert and my mind, well … my mind was reeling. I’d had too many shocks today. It didn’t seem possible it was the same week when I’d been working out with Dawna, let alone sunset of the same day.

Sunset … the realization hit me at the same instant my inner vampire washed through me in a wave of power, hunger, and need. I hadn’t eaten, hadn’t even thought about eating. I froze with my hand on the door handle. My chest started to heave like I’d run a mile.

I should go back to the car, check and see if there were any shakes or baby food in the trunk. I should. But I didn’t want to. I wanted to go through those doors and find the nearest source of fresh blood. I wanted to stalk my prey until the adrenaline filled their system and take them down. I could feel them inside, feel their tiny lives that could be mine.

My hand pulled so I could explore and a burst of chilled air hit my face. I shuddered, swallowed convulsively, and wiped a long line of drool from my chin before it dripped down my shirt.

Slowly, carefully, I made myself let go of the door handle. I forced myself back to the car. I could do this. I would do this. But it was so hard. Part of the problem was physical. The food in the trunk would take care of that. The other part was mental and emotional. I felt such rage at what Glinda had done to innocent children, to John. The vampire part of my nature drew power from negative emotions, and it was harder to control right now than it had been since the very first night after the bite. I kept my eyes closed as I guzzled three nutrition shakes in a row and then liquid vitamins, shuddering at the taste—not because it was bad, but because it wasn’t what I wanted, needed. I rested my palms on the trunk lid and lowered my head, trying to get control as the liquid hit my stomach. If I just stayed very still, concentrated on feeling the shake slide down …

A male voice behind me made my breath catch. Fingers turned to claws, convulsing with lightning speed. I struggled to keep them in place on the shiny paint. “Ms. Graves, are you coming in for your appointment or not? I have plans later this evening.” Dr. Jean-Baptiste tapped his watch with one finger.

His voice pounded my temples and I struggled to stay calm. “I need to grab a bite to eat.”

He scowled. “Couldn’t it wait?”

“No. It couldn’t.” I turned red eyes toward him. They had to be red and glowy because I could see him only as bands of color. “Not if you like your staff and don’t want to be sued by the families of your deceased patients.” I opened the last thing in my arsenal, a cherry-flavored sports drink. I chugged half while continuing to stare at him. His pulse was speeding up, but fortunately, my stomach was now full of liquid. I’d mostly stopped feeling vampirey. Of course I’d have to pee something fierce in about a half hour, but there you go.

I twisted the cap back on the bottle and stuck it in the trunk of the car. Slamming the lid shut, I followed him through the front doors and empty corridors and into his office. “Where’s Simone?” I was surprised she wasn’t here. It was late, but not nearly as late as my first appointment. In fact, the whole place was deserted. I was surprised only because the office was open on the weekend and closed on Monday and Tuesday. I got the impression that it was a religious thing.

“You needn’t have worried. I let the staff off early.” He held open the door to the back hall. “Go all the way back. I’m going to want to use the big summoning circle. John Creede explained the situation fully.”

I did what he asked, but I was puzzled. John had made it sound like this would be no big deal. But I wasn’t the doctor, or a mage. I was just a patient. A very impatient patient, so I didn’t ask what would normally be really obvious questions.

I can be so freaking stupid.

I didn’t even hear the sound of the Taser charging until it was too late and I lay twitching on the cold, hard linoleum. At first, I wasn’t too worried. I’ve been tased before and heal from it pretty fast. But I hadn’t expected that he would push the button over and over before my muscles could recover, sending charges of electricity through me until I was screaming. I’d heard you could stop a heart with enough jolts, but he didn’t stop until I was totally helpless, nearly unconscious. I couldn’t stop him from taking my cell phone and keys away, then dragging me by my feet into the casting circle set into the floor to join a wide-eyed Simone, who was gagged and bound with layers of silver duct tape—her arms fastened behind her and her legs strapped so tight her ankles were already swelling. I only noticed because they were right next to my nose.

Soon I looked just like her, shiny with silver tape, except for my mouth. Damn it.

Jean-Baptiste took a step away from the circle. With will and a word he powered up the magic, creating a barrier that would be impassible from the inside. Any living creature could break it just by crossing from the outside to in. But there was no one in the building to do it. I was just as much his prisoner as Simone.

He strolled over to the phone on the wall next to the chicken roosts. With nimble fingers he pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and dialed a number. Someone must have answered, because he said, “Tell Glinda I’ve got the siren. I’ll turn her over tomorrow at midnight in exchange for a hundred thousand dollars.”

Son of a bitch.

He frowned at whatever the person on the other end said. “No, that’s not negotiable. Tell her to have the full amount ready. I’ll call with a location.” He shook his head in wry amusement as he hung up the phone and addressed us like we were pals in the process or something. “Really, can you believe the gall? Trying to dicker? Please. If I were actually doing this for the money I’d be furious.”

I was still lying on the floor unable to move. I couldn’t really even think clearly yet. I knew I needed to, vaguely and distantly. But the surge of electricity through my body seemed to have affected my ability to feel as well as think clearly or act.

My captor walked calmly up to the very edge of the circle, but was careful not to cross it. He peered at me for a long moment, lips pursed. Apparently he didn’t like what he was seeing, because he went and put on a headdress. When he returned he started muttering: first a spell, then profanities.

“You, Ms. Graves, are extremely annoying. The spell I put on the front door was not a weak one. You should have been overwhelmed with uncontrollable bloodlust that would send you hunting the nearest humans. You should have torn into Simone like a ravenous beast.”

I still wasn’t capable of movement, but my mind was starting to clear, enough that I could hear Simone trying to curse him through the duct tape. She strained against the bonds, the sinews in her neck stretching taut with rage and terror. And I didn’t feel a thing.

He tapped his lip thoughtfully with one finger. “Perhaps I should have used a lower setting. You’re not a large woman. But I couldn’t take the risk, particularly after you fought off my spell.”

He was talking to himself more than to me. I’d seen it in a couple of other doctors in all my medical visits of the past few days. It was almost as if I wasn’t real to them as a person, but bedside manner requires they at least act like they care. So they’d talk, but they really didn’t want or expect a response. Good thing in this case. Strength and clarity were seeping back into me, but it was a slow seep … a trickle of water through the solid stone of frozen muscles.

He stripped off the headdress and turned away. Setting it on the counter next to the monkey staff I remembered so well, he said, “You’ll have to excuse me. I need to e-mail my wife that I’m going to be late. I’ll be back in a few minutes to check in on you and see how things are progressing.” He left, closing the door behind him. The instant he was gone Simone began working her arms back and forth, trying to loosen the duct tape and free her arms.

Good luck with that, I thought. I’ve been bound like that before. Duct tape is a lot sturdier than most people realize from casual use.

If you have a better suggestion, I’d love to hear it.

Her voice in my head was acerbic. I blinked. You’re a telepath.

Yes, which means I have absolutely no excuse for him getting the better of me. Fool that I am I trusted him. By the way, what is wrong with your voice? It’s really garbled and rough, like fingernails on chalkboard. I can only understand about every third word. It hurts my head.

Apparently I sound like a gull. Or so say the other sirens. The pain in her mental voice was scalding. “Sorry.” I tried to say the word out loud. It came out sounding like I’d just come from the dentist, but the fact my mouth actually was working at all was good news. In a few minutes I might actually start feeling like a human being again. I was looking forward to it.

I’ll do what I can to pull the words out of your head, so you don’t have to send them. It’ll give me a migraine in the morning, but at least we might have a morning if I do. Can you function at all? He won’t be gone long.

The way she said that “he.” Ouch. They’d been lovers and it had ended badly. I could just sense it. So there was no chance she was going to survive this. I had even less chance. Could I function? I sure as hell was going to function, whether or not I could. I tried moving. I was still a little uncoordinated, but I managed to get my arms and legs to work enough to start dragging myself across the floor. Movement was helping. The energy and will I’d lost were coming back more rapidly now and I knew that in a few minutes I’d actually be more like myself again.

Simone moved with a combination of rolling and an awkward caterpillar crawl until she was lying next to me, her back turned so that I had a clear view of her bound wrists. He’d done a fine job of it. I really needed a knife to cut her loose. I could tear the tape if I could get both hands in position, but the force it would take would probably snap her wrist.

I worked myself awkwardly into a sitting position and tried to work at the tape with my fingers, back-to-back. But it was too tight. Lack of circulation was making her arms swell up, the sticky fabric digging painfully into the skin.

Use your teeth.

I shook my head. Bad idea. The way your skin’s swollen up I’d be bound to nick your skin. I didn’t want to think about what would happen next. Yes, I was full. But the same adrenaline that was bringing me back to my senses was bringing the inner beast to the forefront. Tasting blood would be really, really bad.

Well, we have to do something! He wants to turn you completely. He’s not just a mage. He has necromantic magic as well. I saw it all in his head just now. He wants to use you to get close to Glinda, then kill her. Then he’ll take the collar for himself.

Wow. That was unexpected and yet totally logical. How does he even know about the collar? It was supposed to be a myth.

She let out a harsh breath through her nose, obviously still annoyed with herself she was in this predicament. He had it years ago, but George Miller stole it from him. Or so he claimed. Obviously, I’m starting to doubt anything he told me. But I do know when he saw the memory spells affecting you, he knew the collar was being used. It wasn’t rocket science to figure out by whom. Who else would it be but a pretender to the throne? After all, Miller had power. John Creede has power. He would just keep it locked away the way Miller had. So it had to be someone new to the game. He did a tracking spell and there she was.

So maybe the way to Glinda was through the doctor. Backward, but it could work. Does he know where she is?

I don’t think so. But he doesn’t need to. She wants you dead. He believes she’ll come to him.

How did he know she wants me dead?

I don’t know. But he does. Are you making any progress?

I’d been pulling at the edge of the tape with my fingernails and had managed to get an end loose, but he’d gone around her wrists enough times that it wasn’t exactly progress. We needed a better plan. As I pulled at the tape binding her I looked around the room.

Just use your damned teeth!

No. Damn it, you just listen with your mind and let me know if you can sense him coming.…

Her head turned almost backward. Her amber eyes were flashing with frustration and fear. Thankfully, my nose wasn’t working worth a damn, so it didn’t make my stomach rumble. I can’t! The circle blocks my talent. Otherwise I would just have used my ability to call for help. He did it specifically to guarantee you wouldn’t be able to use your siren talents on him. He’s heard rumors you killed someone that way. She paused and held very still. Did you?

I worked really hard to hide that answer in the depths of my mind. Apparently it worked, because eventually I felt the tickle of her mind back away from mine. Instead, I got back on point. Could you at least use your ears? I have an idea.

Once before, I’d been able to use my affinity with gulls to save my butt from a lesser demon. But as I tried to direct my thoughts at them … I hit the smooth, solid wall of the casting circle.

Crap.

Fine. Help would have to come from outside. At least he hadn’t put tape over my mouth. I whispered quietly at first and tried to send out panic from my pores.

It wasn’t hard.

“Ivy? Can you hear me?” I called my sister’s ghost, hoping she’d come, worried she wouldn’t. She’d wanted to stay in her borrowed body as much as Mom had wanted her there. She could be angry with me.

She didn’t come.

But someone did.

The temperature in the room dropped at least ten degrees in as many seconds.

What’s happening? Simone’s mental voice wasn’t panicked, but she was definitely nervous. Couldn’t say as I blamed her.

It’s a ghost, or spirit of some sort. I’m not really sure what it is.

And this helps us how?

“Oh, ye of little faith.” The voice was amused, male, and audible. “What did you have in mind, Celia?”

“If you throw one of the chickens over the edge of the circle it should break the casting.”

“And why would I want to do that?”

“Please?”

A pause and then an almost eager confidence that made my stomach roil. “You’ll owe me a favor.”

Simone was nodding vigorously. I could hear her mental voice ordering me to do it. Do it now! Do it!

I swallowed hard and tried not to overthink this. I have control issues and always try to make decisions that won’t wind up coming back to bite me. “Tell me who you are first.”

“You know who I am.”

Did I? I thought it was Jones. Maybe. Or possibly a demon. I didn’t buy the theory of the angelic. I could never be that lucky. “No. Actually, I really don’t.”

A low chuckle raised the hair on my arms and the back of my neck. It was distinctly male but not at all familiar. Damn it. Or perhaps … damn me. “Then you’ll have to take your chances. Do we have a deal? Yes, or no?”

It was hard to tell over the sound of the waterfall, but I thought I heard hurried footsteps coming down the hall. We were running out of time. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, resigning myself to whatever future would get me out of the present. “Do it.”

Things happened fast after that. There was an indignant squawk and a big red hen came flying across the room at me. It skidded the last few feet on the ground, trying desperately to keep its balance on the stone floor with clipped claws. But it worked. Wings flailing, it broke the chalk circle with a flare of power that lashed against my senses like a bullwhip. I leapt to my feet as Jean-Baptiste burst into the room. I dived out of the circle at the same instant he released his will to power it back up. Magic seared whatever hair was still inside the circle when it rose, assaulting my nose with the sizzling strands. Not exactly how I’d planned to get a haircut.

He chased me around the room with careful blasts of power that erupted from the mouth of the monkey on the end of his casting staff. I managed to stay just one step ahead of him. There was nowhere to go unless I abandoned Simone, and I wasn’t willing to do that. At least by chasing me, Jean-Baptiste was wearing himself down, and not sacrificing the woman in the circle.

I was afraid my freedom would be short-lived, but the entity went above and beyond the call. I felt my arms burst apart from each other, the tape separating, dissolving like a spiderweb before flame.

I might be the vampire, but it was Jean-Baptiste who hissed in fury. I saw a flare of colors as he threw a spell at the entity, banishing it in a flash of sulfur-scented smoke.

But somehow I didn’t think he’d actually performed a banishing. I got the feeling the entity simply decided to leave. Maybe it would be back, maybe not.

I had no doubt we’d meet again in the future. I tried not to think about that.

With practiced ease Jean-Baptiste grabbed one of the ceremonial knives used to kill sacrifices and began circling toward me. His movements were smooth, coordinated, but not skilled. He wasn’t used to actual infighting and he wasn’t a professional.

I am.

I’d rather he have the dagger than the casting staff, so I actually rushed him, surprising him so much he didn’t have time to stab at me. I grabbed the monkey staff before he could blast me again, and turned quickly away. He used that the second I was turned to move in, as I’d known he would. I twisted, using my leg to scythe his legs from under him. And in a single, smooth motion I swung the club with all my strength, burying the wood deep in his temple.

I felt the impact in my shoulder as the wood connected with the thickness of his skull and then the abrupt give and soft finish as it shattered—spraying me with blood and other, thicker things.

Dr. Jean-Baptiste fell to the floor and didn’t move again.