Wicked Circle

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

I circled the Cleveland Cold Storage building and saw only one wærewolf on the rooftop. By the placement of this wolf, I knew it was Beau’s son. Still unconscious, he hadn’t moved so much as an inch. It was cold, so, despite his being covered with fur, I collected the other men’s piled clothing and covered him up with several T-shirts, topping that with layers of jeans.

I spiraled down the building and flew into the parking area. The guys in the Audi were still asleep.

At the stairwell, I could hear grunts and snarls of wolves, far, far up. The sound wasn’t getting closer or louder. Only two questions remained: Would the gates continue to detain the thirty-some wæres tearing at it, and could I coerce them to their kennels? If the others figured out Johnny’s man-mind wasn’t dominant, they’d suspect this whole thing was my wrongdoing.

Hovering away from the stairwell, I noticed the elevator wasn’t here. I opened the bug-eaten gates and peered up. The carrier was dark up in the shaft, but it was nowhere near here. The last wæres out must’ve left via the stairs as Johnny escorted me up in the elevator.

I intentioned the broom into the metal and cement tube and slowly rose to the fourth floor. Forcing the doors open a crack, I listened. From the sound, the wæres were blocked just around the corner. They were none too quiet, so I forced the doors wide enough to let me dismount the broom.

I’d been here before, when the Omori had first arrived. The dirija’s office was on this floor, as was the big gymnasium-sized meeting hall.

Cautiously, I skimmed along the wall between the elevator and the stairwell. When I was able to see the gate, my stomach almost dropped out of me. Wæres were crammed against the iron bars and shuffling around each other and upon each other, more irritated by the lack of room than organized about destroying the gate.

With man-minds, they’d be out by now.

But with man-minds, they’d be immune to bloodlust. That wouldn’t take effect until the next transformation under the full moon.

I backed slowly away, leaned on the elevator door, and ran fingers through my hair.

My head was bleeding. Or it had been. When I’d fallen backward on the rooftop, I must have split my scalp. Flying just afterward, the cold November temperature and the rushing wind probably helped me not notice, cooling the blood on my skin and crusting it before it had a chance to run down my neck.

I brushed the flecks of dried blood from my fingers.

When the first wære snorted, I understood how thoughtless that action had been. The dozens of wærewolves around the corner intensely sniffed the air. And the iron bars creaked like they were bending.

I had to do something.

Straddling the broom and ready to hover into the elevator shaft, I firmed my resolve and intentioned the broom to hover, then slowly descend. How was I supposed to get them to their kennels? All they want is meat.

Or blood.

By the time I got to the bottom, I had an idea. Then I shot it down.

They’ll smell me. Those noses will detect me and they’ll be after me and there’s no way out except the stairwells and elevator.

I flew up to the roof and landed to assess what magical items I had with me. The stones were hematite, green aventurine, bloodstone, and coral. Coral, if worn where all can see, is broadly protective. It can guard against simple things like accidents or violence, or it can ward away demons. Hematite was great for healing purposes, but it was also grounding, as in attuned to the physical plane. The aventurine was a lucky stone. I could use luck, but it was also noted for increasing perception, and I didn’t want to bring it near the wolves and chance that they’d be more inclined to see me. Bloodstone lends courage and . . . when smeared with heliotrope, affords the wearer invisibility!

But where can I get heliotrope in the next minute?

My breath caught. My gaze slid to the duffel.

Caramel-sweet and vanilla.

I pounced on the duffel bag and clawed through it. Pushing aside the flask of crystal water I’d used when calling the element of water, I found it: the little bottle of essential oil that Zhan had been so keen on.

Beau had dropped it into the bag with the rest of the items. I’d blessed it with everything else, distracted by my visit from Creepy. I twisted the small bottle to read the label and about choked.

Heliotrope.

Thank you, Hecate!

Another thought popped into my head: They may not see me, but they’ll still smell me.

Even if I had enough of this oil to bathe in, I’d not change my scent, I’d just temporarily mask it with something else they’d detect and know was unusual. I scanned around. And again.

I didn’t have anything that wouldn’t alert the wærewolves to something “other” being close by.

My gaze caught on William.

Smell like one of them.

Scurrying over to him, I stole about ten hairs from his furry head and scrambled back to the duffel bag, where I opened the Baggie of salt I’d used when calling earth. I threw a sprinkling of it around me in a circle. After speaking the swiftest of invocations, I chanted. I opened the essential oil bottle, smeared the bloodstone with dabs of oil and envisioned it cloaking me in invisibility.

I wasn’t literally capable of pulling an Invisible Man act, but this was just enough that the wolves would fail to notice me should I be still and far away.

Invoking Beau’s charm, I made doubly sure of that.

Then I wrapped William’s fur strands around the stone. They stuck readily with the oil coating. And I envisioned the wolfish scent of William surrounding me. Using magic directly on a wærewolf in wolf-form was as dangerous as using it on one in human-form . . . but I wasn’t using it on him. I was actually drawing a tad off him and wrapping myself in it.

I put the stone in my front jeans pocket.

I was about to end my quickie ritual, but when I spied the water flask I had another idea. I unscrewed the cap, then dug my fingernails into my hair, dragging my nails over the clots of dried blood in my hair, being careful not to reopen the wound. Then I scrubbed the globs from my fingertips on the edge of the flask so it all fell into the water.

I replaced the lid and gave it a good shake.

Saying a brief but heartfelt thanks to the deities and elements I’d invoked with the first spell, I jogged a widdershins path and released the original circle and the smaller one I’d just employed. Truly, the first ritual was ended and this was mostly irrelevant, but it was the right thing to do. Farsighted Hecate had influenced Zhan this morning. All the more reason for me to spend a few seconds honoring the blessings I had before leaping into the wærewolves’ den.