Cold Blooded

Marcy had never mentioned a cousin her own age, so it was a good assumption Tally’s other child was no longer living. Children of leaders were vulnerable for many reasons, but I wasn’t about to ask. We followed them into an adjoining room, which was clearly the playroom. Tally set the child down at a little white table decorated with pale pink flowers and grabbed a box of art supplies from a nearby shelf. Two other witches were already in the room.

“Maggie, did you see Aunt Marcy in your dreams today?” Tally coaxed, setting down an array of crayons and several sheets of white paper as she knelt by her side.

The child nodded as she picked a brown crayon and started scribbling circles on one of the blank pieces of paper.

“How did she look?”

“Boy,” the child murmured quietly.

“She was with a boy?”

The crayon stopped moving as the child’s eyes fluttered and her head tilted up toward the ceiling. When she brought it back down, her eyes were completely white—like when you pulled your eyelids up and rolled your eyes back to freak out your friend kind of white.

And they stayed like that.

I covered my mouth to stifle a yell, but not very well. My wolf bared her teeth in my mind and we took a step back, knocking into Rourke’s chest.

Tally glared up at us.

“Sorry,” I squeaked.

Nick was pale across the room. Shifters were concrete creatures. Witchiness of any kind made us uncomfortable. Rourke stood behind me, a low rumbling in his chest. We were all a little freaked out. Not because the child could harm us but because what she was doing was so creepy and unnatural.

“You must be quiet,” Tally snapped. “She only has visions when something pivotal in our world happens. This means something. And it’s no coincidence she asked for the female wolf. She could have the answers to where my niece is, which would mean—”

“Boy, he help her. They get away,” Maggie interrupted in her little voice.

That was great news. “They get away” had to mean James had successfully tracked Marcy and they were out of danger. I blew out a big breath. “Ask her where they are so we can go pick them up,” I urged.

Tally shot me a death glare and I shut up.

We all watched as the child started drawing circles again, which quickly bled onto the tabletop. I leaned forward as she discarded one crayon and picked up another. A crude drawing started of what appeared to be a wolf. It had pointy ears, so it was as good a guess as any. Then she drew a stick figure holding hands with the wolf. It had long hair and was smiling. It must be James and Marcy.

The child’s eyes snapped shut and her head bobbed down like she’d suddenly fallen asleep.

“So are you telling us that Aunt Marcy is okay, Magdalene?” Tally prodded in a voice full of love and patience.

“They running.” Maggie’s head came up and I was relieved to see her eyes were back to normal.

“Is someone following them?”

“Bad men.”

“Is Marcy going to come home?” Tally coaxed.

Brief pause.

We all held our breath.

The child nodded. “Auntie Marcy. Home again.”

Whew. “Ask her when?” I pressed. I couldn’t help it. A toddler having visions was a crazy thing to witness, but when she delivered good news, it made it less so.

The child’s small face turned toward me, her gaze locking on mine like a clamp.

I shivered.

Her eyes rolled back to white as I watched. I cringed, but didn’t yell. I didn’t have time to congratulate myself, because I was crossing my fingers too fiercely, hoping like a madwoman her eyeballs were receiving the story from her brain so she could fill us in on Marcy’s location. I flinched back as she continued to stare at me with that milky stare. Rourke drew me to him, comforting me once again by wrapping his warm arms around my middle.

Maggie pointed at me, eyes still frightening. “Finds you.”

“Marcy finds me?” I asked hopefully. “When?”

“Oracles don’t do time.” Tally shook her head like I was a moron. “Things shift. People make choices. They affect outcomes. There is never a time frame involved.”

That sounded somewhat logical.

Abruptly, Maggie turned her head back to her table, her pudgy little fingers grabbing another crayon. This time she drew right on the tabletop.

A simple picture of a face emerged, this one with pointy teeth.

She dropped the crayon and reached for a red one.

“Is that supposed to be blood?” I whispered as Maggie started scribbling like mad. She added more pointy teeth and more red. “A vamp, Maggie? Are you drawing vampires?”

Tally hovered over her daughter protectively. “She doesn’t know what a vampire is yet. That would be highly unlikely—”

“Yes,” Maggie said simply. “Vampires.” It sounded like van-pirates in her little rasp. So much to know when you’re only two years old.

My heart broke a little.

Surprise laced Tally’s expression. She was wary watching her daughter go through this ordeal. This was her baby, and knowing she would never escape these visions, this life, had to be incredibly tough.

“Is Marcy with the vampires?” I asked. That wasn’t ideal, but my insides relaxed knowing James was with her.

“They’re coming.” This time her soft voice sounded ominous. She glanced up at me as her eyes slid back to normal. For the first time I noticed they were the brightest blue.

We weren’t talking about Marcy any longer.

All the hairs on my arms and neck shot to attention. Nick coughed and Rourke ground his teeth.

Maggie picked up another crayon, this time in her left hand, and started to draw like something had possessed her. Her eyes fluttered and she rocked back and forth in her chair, chanting, “Run, run, run, run.”

All of us moved closer, craning our necks over the table, including her two witch nannies. This little child was going to run out of steam in about two seconds.

“What is she drawing?” I whispered. “Hurry, we have to figure it out before she stops.”

The drawing was a jumble of stick figures, all layered on top of each other. There were more wolves with pointy ears; some looked like they were ejecting something from their mouths. There were a lot of them.

“I think that’s the Vamp Queen,” Rourke murmured in my ear as he pointed to a stick figure with fangs and a long dress. It was a decent guess.

“What’s she doing?”

“Biting,” Rourke said.

Indeed, the Vamp Queen looked as if she was trying to bite someone. A wild guess said it was me. The victim had long hair like my own and she was screaming.

Perfect.

Maggie’s focus shifted slightly to the right and she started scribbling a single circle over and over again. It got bigger and bigger as she went. Then she uttered one last word.

“Demon.”

It sounded like denim, but we all knew she wasn’t talking about a pair of jeans.

Tally reached down and plucked her daughter out of her chair. Maggie sagged in relief, dropping the crayon and resting her head on her mom’s shoulder. “It’s okay, lovey.” Tally kissed the crook of her sweaty neck. “You did great. It’s time for us to take a break. Auntie Meryl is going to take you downstairs for some cookies and milk.” One of the witches strode forward, her arms outstretched.

Maggie’s head rose with effort. She was exhausted. “Okay, Mommy.” Her face was even more flushed now. As Tally shifted her toward the waiting Meryl, the child turned.

“Bad men coming”—she pointed her little finger directly at me—“for you.”

Tally paced over a well-worn Oriental rug to stand in front of a huge picture window that faced the lake. Rourke and I sat close together on an antique chaise, which almost wasn’t big enough to hold the both of us. We were in a well-stocked library that appeared to double as Tally’s office. It was lined with thousands of books, and from their crumbling leather bindings, many of them appeared to be ancient. Nick sat across the room in a high-backed chair, his hands clasped in his lap, his short brown curls falling around his worried face. This day wasn’t starting off very well and it wasn’t even dawn.

“You can’t stay here. Not with a Demon Lord after you,” Tally said.

Since Maggie had signaled out the demons, there had been little use to hide it, so I’d just finished telling her what had happened in Selene’s cave once the Demon Lord had showed up. “I understand your concern, but you’re the only one who can help us figure out how to defeat them. We know very little about demons, or their laws,” I countered. “It said I had a court date in the Underworld. There has to be some way to stop it, some information to help my case.”

“I’m sorry, but helping you is out of the question. Witches and demons are sworn enemies. Our magics have battled each other since the dawn of time. Our power is of the earth and theirs is of the blood.” She turned from the window and walked toward the large desk situated in the center of the room and sat. “If I involve myself in your mess, I bring the entire House of Witches, and potentially every Coven in the world, into your fight. I will not do it, so don’t ask me again.”

I scooted to the edge of the settee. “What about a simple swap of information? Nobody has to know you gave me anything, and to be clear, I’m not asking you to join my fight. I’m only seeking data, anything that can aid me, something to bolster my odds of winning a court battle or of finding a way out of it entirely. And we both know the only way to do that is by obtaining intelligence about the demons and their habits, of which I currently know nothing.”

She rested her hands on the desk and leaned over. “What kind of information do you have that I could possibly want enough to risk putting my Coven in jeopardy?”

She had a point. I was short on supernatural info. “Okay,” I said, thinking quickly, “what if the witches made a formal alliance with the wolves? Then you’d be privy to any information the Pack had, within reason.” It wasn’t unheard of for some supernatural Sects to join together during times of strife when it was advantageous. In those rare cases, there were formal agreements to sign, but certainly my father had something of value to give to the witches. I knew he would be agreeable if it kept me out of the Underworld. “The witches could also benefit from more protection, and in return you agree to give me something on the demons. Tally, you know it’s the only real chance I have. Knowledge is the only way I’ll be able to talk myself out of this sentence.”