The crowd tried closing in on us again, but Cortez barreled through, pulling us in his wake. We'd gone about ten feet when the mob swelled. Others joined the newspeople, and the tone of that single, shouting voice went from predatory excitement to vicious rage.
"--killer--"
"--Satanist--"
"--witch--"
A man shoved a newswoman out of our path and stepped in front of Cortez. His eyes were wild and bloodshot. Spittle flew from his lips.
"--Devil's whore! Murdering bitch--"
Cortez lifted his hand chest-high. For a moment, I thought he was going to deck the guy. Instead, he simply flicked his fingers. The man stumbled back, tripping over an elderly woman behind him, then wheeling to scream deprecations at her for pushing him.
Cortez steered us through the gap. If anyone didn't move fast enough, he shouldered them aside. If they tried to block us, he flicked his fingers at waist level, propelling them back with just enough force to make them think someone had pushed them. After five long minutes, we finally reached the porch.
"Get inside," Cortez said.
He turned fast, shoving Savannah and me toward the door as he blocked the porch steps. I fumbled to unlock the door, my mind racing in search of a spell, something that might distract or repel the mob until Cortez could get inside.
Mentally thumbing through my repertoire, I realized I had nothing. Yes, I knew some aggressive spells, but my selection was so limited that I had nothing to suit the situation. What was I going to do? Make one person faint? Rain down fireballs? They probably wouldn't even notice the former, and the latter would attract too much notice. The rebel Coven Leader, so proud of her forbidden spells, was useless. Completely useless.
While we got inside the house, Cortez staved off the crowd, physically blocking the narrow steps, one hand planted on each side of the railing. It lasted just long enough for us to get through the door. Then someone pushed hard, and a heavyset man pitched against Cortez's shoulder.
Cortez backpedaled just in time to avoid being knocked over. His lips moved and, for a moment, the crowd held at the steps, stopped by a barrier spell. Cortez shot for the door and undid the spell before it became obvious. The front row of the crowd tumbled forward.
I threw open the screen door. Cortez caught it. As he dashed through, a shadow passed overhead. A young man leaped off the side railing. The spell flew from my lips before I had time to think. The man stopped short, head and limbs jerking back. The binding spell broke then, but he'd lost his momentum and fell onto the porch several feet from the door. Cortez slammed the screen shut, then the inner door.
"Good choice," he said.
"Thanks," I said, choosing not to mention that it was my only choice and that I was lucky it worked for even those few seconds. I bolted the door, cast lock and perimeter spells, then collapsed against the wall. "Please tell me we don't have to go out again ... ever."
"Does that mean we can order pizza for dinner?" Savannah called from the living room.
"You got the fifty bucks for a tip?" I yelled back. "Ain't no pizza boy coming through that mob for less than a Ulysses S. Grant."
Savannah let out a cry, half-shriek, half-shout. As I raced into the living room, she said something I couldn't make out. A man's body flew across the rear hall. He struck the wall headfirst. There was a sharp crack, then a thud as he collapsed in a heap on the carpet. Savannah stepped from her bedroom doorway as Cortez and I arrived. He dropped to the man's side.
"Out cold," Cortez said. "Do you know him?"
I looked at the man, middle-aged, receding hairline, pinched face, and shook my head. My gaze traveled up the wall to a four-inch hole with cracks radiating from every side, like a giant spider.
"Leah," I said. "She's here--"
"I don't believe Leah did this," Cortez said.
There was a moment of silence, then I turned to look at Savannah.
"He surprised me," she said.
"You knocked him out?" I said.
"She has excellent reflexes," Cortez said, fingers moving to the back of the man's head. "A possible concussion. A definite goose egg. Nothing serious. Shall we see who we have?"
Cortez reached around and pulled the man's wallet from his slacks. When I looked toward Savannah, she retreated into her room. I was about to follow when Cortez lifted a card for my inspection.
As I took the card, the phone rang. I jumped, every frayed nerve springing to life. With an oath, I closed my eyes and waited for the ringing to stop. The machine picked up.
"Ms. Winterbourne? This is Peggy Dare from the Massachusetts Department of Social Services ..."
My eyes flew open.
"We'd like to speak to you regarding Savannah Levine. We have some concerns ..."
I ran for the phone. Cortez tried to grab me as I passed and I dimly heard him say something about preparing and phoning back, but I couldn't listen. I raced into the kitchen, grabbed the receiver, and whacked the stop button on the answering machine.
"This is Paige Winterbourne," I said. "Sorry about that. I've been screening my calls."
"I can well imagine." The voice on the other end was pleasant, sympathetic, like that of a kindly neighbor. "There seems to be a bit of excitement at your place these days."
"You could say that."
A mild chuckle, then she sobered. "I do apologize for adding to what must be a very difficult time for you, Ms. Winterbourne, but we have some concerns about Savannah's well-being. I understand you're undergoing a custody challenge."
"Yes, but--"
"Normally, we don't interfere in such matters unless there is a serious threat of harm to the child. While no one is alleging Savannah has been mistreated, we are concerned about the current climate in which she is living. It must be very confusing for Savannah, having her mother disappear, then once she's settled in with you, this happens."
"I'm trying to keep her out of it as much as possible."
"Is there anyplace Savannah could go? Temporarily? Perhaps a more ... stable environment? I believe there is an aunt in town."
"Her great-aunt. Margaret Levine. I thought of letting Savannah stay there until this is over." Yeah, right.
"Please do. As well, I've been asked to pay you a visit. The board is anxious to assess the situation. A home visit is usually best. Is two o'clock tomorrow afternoon convenient?"
"Absolutely." That gave me less than twenty-four hours to clear the circus outside.
I signed off, then turned to Cortez. "The Department of Social Services is paying a home visit tomorrow afternoon."
"Social Services? That is the last thing--" He stopped, pushed up his glasses, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "All right. We should expect they'll take an interest. A minor concern. Tomorrow afternoon, you said? What time?"
"Two."
He pulled out his DayTimer and made the note, then handed me the card I'd dropped while running for the phone. I looked at it blankly for a second, then saw the unconscious man lying in the hallway and groaned.
"Back to crisis number twenty-one," I said.
"I believe this is twenty-two. The angry mob was twenty-one. Or, given that they show no signs of leaving, I should say they are twenty-one."
I moaned and collapsed onto a kitchen chair, then lifted the card. The unlucky B&E artist's name was Ted Morton. If anyone had told me a week ago that I'd be sitting at my table, collaborating with a sorcerer about how best to dispose of a stranger that Savannah had knocked out cold, I'd have ... well, I don't know what I would have done. It was too ludicrous. Yet, considering all that had happened in the past week, this really wasn't so bad. It certainly ranked a few rungs below watching a man hurtle to his death or seeing his shattered corpse come to life before his family and friends.
Mr. Morton was a so-called paranormal investigator. I have no patience with these guys. I've never met one who wasn't in serious need of a real life. Maybe I'm being intolerant, but these guys are a bigger nuisance than cockroaches in a Flori
da flophouse. They poke around, inventing stories, attracting con artists and, once in a while, stumbling onto a bit of truth.
All through high school I worked at a computer store where my boss was head of the Massachusetts Society for Explaining the Unexplained. Did she ever explain how I vanished every time she came looking for someone to make a fast-food run? She'd walk into the back office, I'd cast a cover spell, she'd murmur, "Gee, I could have sworn I saw Paige come back here," and go in search of another victim.
"Figures," I said, tossing the card back to Cortez. "How do the Cabals handle these people?"
"Chainsaws and large cement blocks."
"Sounds like a plan." I glanced over my shoulder at Morton and sighed. "Guess we should do something before he wakes up. Any suggestions?"
"Chainsaws tend to be quite noisy. I don't suppose you have a ready supply of quicklime?"
"Tell me you're joking."
"Unfortunately, yes. We require a somewhat more discreet solution. Our best answer would be one that sees Mr. Morton outside the house, but does not require taking him far, which would risk calling attention to the endeavor. It would also be preferable if he could be made to forget having been inside the house which, again, would risk attention when he retells the story. You wouldn't know hypnosis, would you?"
I shook my head.
"Then we'll have to settle--"
Savannah appeared in the doorway. "I have an idea. How about we dump him in the basement, right beneath the hatch. We can break the lock on the hatch, maybe leave it ajar. Then, when he wakes up, he might think he came in through there, fell, and hit his head."
Cortez nodded. "That might work. Paige?"
"If it means we don't have to go outside again, it works for me."
Cortez got to his feet and headed for the back hall.
"Sorry," Savannah said. "I didn't mean to cause more trouble. He surprised me, that's all."
I squeezed her shoulder. "I know. We'd better give Cortez a--"
Someone rapped at the back door. This, unlike the ringing phone and doorbell, was a first. When I'd looked through the kitchen window earlier, my backyard had been empty, possibly because no one dared be first to climb the fence. Now even that sanctuary had been invaded.
As I listened to the impatient rapping, anger surged through me and I stomped off to confront my newest "visitor." I glanced out the back door window to see Victoria and Therese. Worse yet, they saw me.
CHAPTER 22
THE THREAT
I backed into the living room.
"The Elders," I hissed at Cortez, who was in the bedroom returning Morton's wallet to his pocket. "It's the Coven Elders."
"Don't answer the door."
"They saw me."
He swore under his breath.
"I'm sorry," I said.
"It's not you. Hold them off. Count to five, let them in, then stall for a few minutes. Keep them in the hall."
I ran back to the rear door, pulled open the sidelight curtain, and motioned that it would take a minute to open the door. Then I undid the lock spell and perimeter spell and spent so much time turning the dead bolt, you'd think I had fifty of them. Then I ushered the Elders inside while blocking their path down the hall.
"You made it through the crowd?" I said. "Geez, it took us--"
"We had to come through the woods," Victoria said. "A most unpleasant experience. Therese has ripped her blouse."
"We had to come," Therese said. "Is it true? What they say? About poor Grantham?"
"We came because you lied to us, Paige. You said there wasn't a sorcerer in town."
"I never said--"
"You implied as much, leaving us all vulnerable to attack. Look what's happened now. This sorcerer brought Mr. Cary back to life."
"No, that was the necromancer. Sorcerers can't raise the dead."
"Which makes us feel so much better," Victoria said, her face contorting into a most unladylike snarl. "We have been invaded, Paige. Not only by a half-demon, but by a sorcerer and a necrophiliac--"
"Necromancer," I said. "A necrophiliac is someone who has sex with dead people. Necromancers don't--or, at least, I hope they don't ... On second thought, let's not go there."
"Paige Winterbourne! I have had enough of your--"
Thud! Something crashed in the stairwell. Then Savannah's whisper floated up, "Shit! I'm sorry, Lucas. I slipped."
He shushed her, but too late. Victoria thrust me aside and strode toward the cellar door. I ran after her and caught up when she was one step from the basement stairs. I lunged to slam the door shut, but I was too late.
"What in God's name--"
"Oh, my lord," Therese said, looking over Victoria's shoulder. "They've killed a man."
"We haven't killed anyone," I snapped. "The guy broke into our house and ... and I--"
"There was a struggle," Cortez said, from the bottom of the steps. "I accidentally knocked him unconscious. We're moving him to the basement where he can leave through the hatch. Having been struck on the head, he'll be disoriented and will likely believe he fell in that way. As you can see, we have everything under control."
"Under control?" Victoria wheeled on me. "Is this what you call having things under control, Paige? Dead people wandering around mortuaries? Mobs of strangers on your lawn? A sorcerer in your house, dragging a half-dead man into your basement? You took a simple situation and with each passing day, no, with each passing hour you have made it worse."
"Victoria," Therese said, reaching for her friend's arm.
Victoria shook her off. "No, it has to be said. We asked her to leave things alone--"
"I haven't done anything!" I said.
"You disobeyed us. Blatantly disobeyed us as you have been disobeying us for years. For your mother's sake, Paige, we put up with it. In accordance with her dying wish, we let you take the child, though God knows I wouldn't trust a parakeet to your care."
"That's enough," Cortez said, starting up the stairs.
I waved him back and turned to Victoria. "Tell me what I've done wrong. Please. I consulted a lawyer, as you advised. I cooperated with the police when Leah killed that lawyer. I sat in the police station and I answered their questions and I waited for help. For your help."
"The Coven doesn't exist to help those who bring trouble on themselves. You took the girl, knowing this demon woman was after her, knowing she was Eve's daughter and therefore didn't belong anywhere near the Coven."
"The Coven exists to help all witches. No one doesn't belong."
"That's where you are mistaken." Victoria looked down the steps at Savannah, then back at me. "You have twenty-four hours to make alternate arrangements for her care. Permanent arrangements. If you do not, you are no longer welcome in the Coven."
I froze. "What did you say?"
"You heard me, Paige. Fix this now or you will be banished."
"You can't banish me. I'm the Coven Leader."
Victoria laughed. "You are not--"
"Victoria," Therese said again. "Please."
"Please what? Please continue this charade? We're too old for these games, Therese. We should have put a stop to them last year. You are not Coven Leader, Paige. Do you really think we'd allow ourselves to be led by a girl so incompetent she manages to turn a simple custody challenge into an all-out witch-hunt?"
Cortez appeared at my shoulder. "Please leave. Now."
"Or you'll do what? Knock me out and put me in the basement with that poor man?"
"He's not the one you should be afraid of," said a soft voice. Savannah climbed the steps and smiled at Victoria. "Would you like to see what my mother really taught me?"
I shushed her with a quick shake of my head. Victoria strode from the kitchen, Therese at her heels. Before reaching the back door, she turned and met my eyes.
"This is not an idle threat, Paige. Find a home for the girl and clean this up--or you aren't welcome in the Coven."
What did I do next? Retreat to my bedroom, have a good cry
, and wonder where my life had gone so horribly wrong? While the temptation was there, I couldn't afford the luxury of self-pity. I had a feeding frenzy on my front lawn, an unconscious paranormal investigator on my stairs, and, somewhere out there, an entire Cabal special projects team devoted to ruining my life. At this point, getting kicked out of the Coven seemed the least of my worries. Deep down, I knew that it was a threat that could destroy my very purpose in life, my mother's dream that I would lead the Coven into a new age, but I couldn't worry about that now. I just couldn't.
I headed for the kitchen and began listening to messages. I made it through two before Cortez slipped behind me, reached over, and hit the stop button.
"You don't need to listen to that," he said.
"I do. Robert ... or someone ..." My voice quavered as badly as my hands. I clenched my hands into fists and tried to steady my voice. "I should listen. It could be important."
"You can check the call display records, Paige."
I shook my head. "I need--I need to do something."
He hesitated, then nodded. "I'll make you a coffee."
"She likes tea," Savannah said from behind us. "Here, I'll show you."
He followed Savannah to the pantry and I resumed telephone detail.
Caller number six was a familiar and welcome voice.
"Paige? It's Elena. Jeremy read something about you in the paper. Sounds like you're in a bit of trouble. Give me a shout when you get a chance."
"Can I call?" Savannah asked, bouncing down from her perch on the counter, where she'd been supervising Cortez's tea-brewing.
"I'd better," I said. "You can talk to her when I'm done."
I went into my room, phoned Elena, and explained everything that had happened. It felt good to get it off my chest, to talk to someone who'd understand. She offered to come and help, and I can't describe how good it felt to hear that. Unfortunately, I had to refuse.
Leah and Elena knew each other from the compound, having both been captives. Leah had befriended, then betrayed Elena. Later, when we returned for Savannah, Elena's lover, Clayton, had killed Leah's lover, Isaac Katzen. Undoubtedly, Leah still felt she had a score to settle with the werewolves. If Elena showed up here, Leah might very well decide to take her revenge, and the last thing any of us needed right now was a werewolf/half-demon grudge match unfolding in downtown East Falls.