Storm Of Magick Part 20

"It's Logan. I've got a bit of bad news about the Ripper. We've been doing some research and it seems that there's a good chance there will be more victims," I said.

"I would love to hear about this, but we're getting ready to do a county-wide search. We'll be leaving in an hour," Doyle said. I heard his lighter flick and papers being moved. There was a lot of talking in the background.

"Could you use an extra person?" I asked.

"If you help, you'll have to stay in touch," Doyle said sternly.

"I will," I said.

"I mean it, Logan," Doyle said.

"I'll be good, I promise. Where do I go?" I asked.

"The farms in the eastern part of the county. The area is about twelve square miles. I have several officers covering it now," Doyle said.

"I'll be there," I said. I closed my cell and put it in my pocket. I turned to Paris. "We have to go see if Ronan and Ailin have finished the potion yet. I have to be out of here in a half of an hour or so."

"You mean 'we,' don't you?" Paris said, trying to correct me.

"No, you can't go. Tonight is the first night before the full moon," I said. I couldn't believe he'd forgotten that. How a lycanthrope can forget about a full is beyond me. Lycanthropes shift the nights before, of, and after a full moon. It's only a myth that shape shifters change only one night a month. The Kitsune heads to Rafe's land on those nights to hunt. He owns two hundred acres of woods south of the city. I really didn't know what the bear clan did. I'd never asked Caleb.

I had to get Alex straightened out before I worried about anything else. "Ready to go see if the potion is done brewing?" I asked Paris.

I could feel his aggravation dancing along my skin. I wasn't sure if it was because tonight the moon dictated what Paris did, or because he felt useless. Either way, I didn't have time to stroke a moping man's ego. I had to do the binding and pray to the G.o.ds that it worked this time.

Once again, I had to walk through the living room. Jarod was leaning against the wall behind Alex. I just kept going. I wasn't apologizing again. This s.h.i.t was so getting old.

"Wait up," Paris called to me.

I slowed a little so he could catch up. The corridor was wide enough for both of us to walk down side by side with no problem. In the kitchen, there was a sweetness in the air, like cherries with licorice. My boots made a clicking slap with every step on the tiles. The room looked like something that belonged in a Tuscan villa, with warm brown cabinets and salmon-colored walls. It was a beautiful room. Apparently, I was too p.i.s.sed to notice it before.

"Is the potion finished?" I asked, walking to the stove. Ailin put the final ingredient in, then stirred it one last time and turned the flame off.

"It will have to cool, and if it turns blue it will be ready," Ronan replied.

"Do you have ice? I don't have time for it to cool slowly. I have to leave in about twenty minutes," I explained.

"Yes, there is ice. What has happened that will take you away from us?" Ronan asked face carefully blank.

"The police are getting ready to search for the Ripper. I'm part of the search party," I said. I walked to the refrigerator and got a handful of ice cubes. I dropped the ice into a tall clear gla.s.s, which sat on a beautiful black granite counter. "Do either of you know how we're going to get Alex to drink this? I mean he's not in the most cooperative mood," I asked, looking from one to the other.

"I do have an idea," Ronan said.

Ailin used a ladle to scoop the liquid from the stainless steel pot. When making potions, only use stainless steel or cast iron. Cast iron is best. Anything else will screw up the potion. Ailin filled the ladle with clear liquid. I handed him the ice-filled gla.s.s and as soon as the liquid hit the ice, it turned blue. It was totally weird but that's the way potions work.

"Let's give the binding another shot," I said.

Ronan picked up the gla.s.s. Ailin and Paris left, leaving Ronan and I to walk out together. Standing this close to him, I smelled jasmine. It was so strong I could taste its sweetness on the back of my tongue. It was times like now that he made my body tighten, maybe even ache for him. I didn't want to admit it, but a small part of me wanted Ronan. In a sweat between the sheets way. I shook my head, trying to get past what I was seeing.

"Your past feelings for me rearing their ugly head at strange times. I can feel your body's reaction to me," Ronan said in a bedroom voice, and he c.o.c.ked his head as if trying to read my thoughts. Thank the G.o.ds he couldn't. At least, I didn't think he could.

"Don't get your panties in a bunch, Ronan; it's not going to happen. We will never be lovers," I said and it was believable, even to me. "Let's just stick to business."

"I can do that. Can you?" He smiled wickedly. "Now, I will do a spell. It is like playing Master Says. I will tell Alex to drink the potion. We will do the spell and hopefully everything will work," he explained all business again.

I didn't like the confusing feelings, and I thought if I ignored them enough, they would go away. Only time would tell. We walked into the living room. Ailin stood by the gla.s.s table. Paris took up his post next to the fireplace. Jarod was still standing behind Alex and he looked tired, but he wouldn't rest until Alex was back to normal. Well, as close to normal as we could get him. I didn't get close to Alex. I didn't trust his reaction; he tended to go flaming psycho when he saw me.

Ronan said a spell that sounded more like a song. He chanted it three times in Gaelic. I didn't understand what he was saying but it was beautiful. Alex slowly raised his head and looked at Ronan. There was nothing in Alex's eyes to say that anyone was home, only emptiness.

"Alex, can you hear me?" Ronan asked, standing in front of him.

"Yes," Alex said. It reminded me of a zombie rising. He was an empty sh.e.l.l.

"Alex, you are very thirsty. You have not had anything in days. Would you like some ice tea to drink?" Ronan asked.

All Alex did was nod his head. Ronan put the drink into his hand. "Now drink it all, Alex," Ronan said.

Alex did as he was told. He even was nice enough to hand the gla.s.s back. Ronan chanted the spell, again three times, and Alex's head fell forward. He was back under my sleep spell. I walked further into the room. Before I could say or do anything, a white glow enveloped Alex.

"What is that glow?" Jarod asked, refusing to move.

"Mine and Ronan's binding spell is working," I said.

The white glow faded. I stood in front of Alex. I knew it had worked and he would soon be back to normal. I whispered the waking spell. Alex started to come around. He lifted his head and opened his eyes.

"What happened?" he asked. He looked around, as if he didn't know what the h.e.l.l was going on.

"Well, I have to get ready to go," I said. I'd had my fill of Alex. I had to get away, if only temporarily. I held out my hand to Paris. "I need to use your SUV, please," I said nicely.

"I want it back in one piece, Logan," Paris warned, getting the keys out of his pocket and handing them to me. "Be careful!" He was upset that he didn't get to go but he would have to shift later.

"Thank you and I will," I said, taking the keys, and pausing with my hand in his.

I turned and started for the stairs. It was actually nice to get away and be alone, even if it was to search for a serial killer. I climbed the stairs to the side door. To my surprise, when I opened it, there stood Frost. For the first time in days, the night was cold but no more than it should've been. The outside streetlight shone bright over the SUV. Frost looked totally out of place here.

"I thought you would be gone. You must know that Palmira is dead," I said to the pale blue man.

"I wanted to thank you. Palmira's death has indeed broken her spell on me and I am free. Your winter will go back to normal now," Frost said.

In a blizzard of wind and snow, he was gone. I opened the SUV door and started the engine. The air was crisp and fresh, and the sky was a perfect shade of deep blue. The stars were bright against its backdrop. It made me feel good.

The black ice that had covered the road earlier was gone, and I drove out of town without problems. The shops were lit up in all their Yule and Christmas glory. People walked with bags in their hands, looking happy. I took a deep breath. I had a job to do.

I left town and pa.s.sed farm after farm. As I drove, I thought about each murder, which got me right in a killing mood. I was close to the meeting place Doyle had told me to go to. Past a sign that said 'Millers Field', there was a small area to pull into. The name was similar to that of where the Ripper's last victim, Mary Kelly, was found.

"I hope that's far enough," I said to myself aloud. All I needed was for something to happen to Paris's SUV. He would never let me live it down, or drive his precious vehicle again.

I grabbed the flashlight off the seat, got out and closed the door. The only light was a streetlight about two hundred feet away. A single house on the road sat close to the streetlight.

I started walking away from the road, through a large field. The ground was frozen and there was about a foot of snow. With every step, the snow crunched under my feet. I paused when I reached the tree line. "Well here's hoping I come back out," I muttered, entering the woods.

A large cloud moved in the sky, giving way to a brilliant full moon. Paris and the others would be shifting tonight whether they wanted to or not. I continued to walk, so far into the woods that I could no longer see the streetlight. I'd been walking for a long time. I was probably a couple miles or better from where I parked.

In the distance, I thought I could see a light. It struck me as odd, out here in middle of the woods. It was a good distance away; it was small and didn't move. I pulled my Ruger just in case. I mean, I was searching for a possessed serial killer.

I started in the direction of the light, walking with my gun close and pointed towards the sky. I neared a small shed, the light coming through a single window. I slowly walked towards the building, looking around as I did. With the moon so full, things were pretty well lit and I didn't see or hear anyone.

I looked through the window. What I saw disturbed me to the core. I went around the side of the building and opened the door. I had to get a better look just so it would register. The body was lying naked in a b.l.o.o.d.y mess in the middle of the bed. I took a step closer, staring at it. I put my gun away and took out my cell, dialing Doyle.

Suddenly a scarf dropped over my face and round my neck. I dropped my cell, hearing the dial tone distantly, hoping Doyle would pick up before I died or something. I couldn't breathe with the scarf tightening around my throat. I struggled and jerked around. Then I felt a sharp pain in my side. The tension on the scarf released. I moved away and pressed my right hand to the source of the pain. My hand came away b.l.o.o.d.y. I looked behind me at the person who had entered the shed. I couldn't believe my eyes.

It was Sheriff Sonny Cooper. He was dressed in his sheriff's uniform, but he carried Jack the Ripper's surgical case. I looked into Cooper's eyes. They were black. In fact his whole persona felt different to the snappy, edgy man I'd met before. I was not in the room with the good sheriff. I was with Jack and just the thought made my stomach tighten. I was in deep s.h.i.t and had no way out. What could I do to keep myself alive? I slowly reached for my gun. It was gone.

"Are you looking for this?" Cooper asked with a British accent, Jack's accent. He was holding my Ruger.

"Who are you?" I asked. Yep, talking was a good thing. Talking would hopefully keep me alive.

"I was given the name 'Jack the Ripper' by the media," he answered.

"How did Cooper get a hold of the surgical kit?" I asked.

As long as I didn't move around, I didn't hurt. But, I didn't want to stand so close to Jack. Without thinking, I took a couple steps towards the mutilated body, which wasn't any better. It lay on an old iron bed, filling the small s.p.a.ce with the stench of sewage and the metallic scent of blood. I inched away, but there wasn't really anywhere to go that didn't have me walking close to a serial killer.

"The kit was stolen months ago. The original thief went to Cleveland where I could perform my art, and then we traveled to New Orleans. On the way back through Little Rock, the young man was pulled over," Jack explained. "Cooper saw my kit in the back of the car and he couldn't resist picking it up. Now I have a new person to ride. But, enough about me. I want to create something extra special with you," he said, blade in hand. He threw my gun to the corner of the room, out of my reach.

I whispered a spell but nothing happened. s.h.i.t. He was technically a ghost, so my defense spells were useless against him. The only advantage I had was that he was solid. I launched into a front kick to his face, but with him being about six foot six, I only clipped his chin.

He lunged forward and stabbed me in the right thigh. I fell back with a cry. Now I had to pull my leg around, the muscle didn't want to move without a h.e.l.l of a lot of pain. There really wasn't much I could do to protect myself. He slashed my upper left arm. The leather coat didn't help at all to protect my flesh. I could feel blood running down my arm, leg, and side. I felt sick to my stomach and dizzy from the loss of blood. Oh, pa.s.sing out would be a very bad thing right now.

"I have had enough of this playing," Jack said. He was aggravated.

"Well, geez what do you think I'm going to do? Just let you cut me up like poor Mary over there?" I asked, pointing at the body. "I guess you're s.h.i.t out of luck, Jack."

Doyle should be here soon. The police could track my cell phone and find me. Just a little longer, I told myself.

Jack came towards me then stopped at the tool kit. If I could get to the door, I could try to run for it. With my injuries, I knew I wouldn't get far.

Jack picked a different surgical tool, something sharp and long, and came at me. There was nowhere to go except over the body. Doyle would kill me for destroying evidence. Plus, there was no way I was getting up close and personal with that mess. I had nothing to lose. I rushed him.

I don't know what I was going to do, but we both went down on our sides. I was lucky enough to land on my wounded side. Yeah.

Jack was incredibly fast. He was up before I could get to my feet. He bounced my head off the wood floor over and over. The last thing I remember seeing was his face and then everything went dark.

I woke up tied to a d.a.m.n chair again. My head and face throbbed. Oh, I was not having a good day. In fact, my day pretty much sucked.

Jack walked around to my back. All of a sudden, I felt a snap and a sharp pain in my right forearm. I screamed, watching him walk back to the blades lying on a small table. It was as if he was trying to decide which blade to use. In the end, he went for another long, shiny blade.

"You will be my favorite," he said.

"Screw you, a.s.shole," I said through gritted teeth.

He laughed and stabbed me in the shoulder, then raised the blade over his head. I was steeling myself for a killing blow when I heard a gunshot. Jack fell forward and rolled down my legs to the floor. The door burst open and Doyle stood in the doorway. A sniper shot at Jack again through the window. I looked down and saw blood coming from the back of his head.

"Don't touch the surgical tools or the kit with bare hands," I shouted hoa.r.s.ely.

"Okay, Logan. Evans, collect that d.a.m.n thing up and lock it in the truck of the car," Doyle said.

"I'm on it," Evans said, putting gloves on.

"d.a.m.n Logan, you've always got to be deep in the s.h.i.t. You look like h.e.l.l," Doyle said.

"Geez, Doyle, my head is swelling up from all the compliments," I said in a low, weak voice.

"I'm going to untie you, but it's going to hurt your broken arm," he warned me.

"I'm ready," I said, not looking forward to more pain.

I watched Evans pick up the last of Jack's tools off the floor. At least I didn't have to worry about anyone getting a hold of those for now. I could feel Doyle getting the knots out of the rope. I gritted my teeth to stop myself from screaming.

"Farrell, hold her arm so it doesn't cause more pain," Doyle ordered.

Farrell walked towards me and gently held my arm in place. Doyle took off the rope. I let out a scream and Farrell let go of my arm. I screamed again. Doyle lifted my arm and placed it on my lap. I took a couple of deep breaths, trying to control the pain.

"My Ruger is over there somewhere," I said, looking the way I thought it was.

Farrell looked around. He picked up my cell and my gun from the far corner, and then handed them to me. I put the gun in my holster, and then returned my cell to my pocket. The paramedics arrived but they couldn't get the gurney into the small building. Doyle helped me up, trying his best not to hurt me any further. I lay down on the gurney with a grunt of pain, and they covered me with a blanket.

"Doyle, can you get Paris's SUV back to the Realm of Relics?" I asked giving him the keys before the paramedics took me away. He a.s.sured me he'd take care of it.

It was a b.u.mpy and painful ride, but I guess it could've been worse. They got me into the ambulance. I hurt all over, and I was so tired. I closed my eyes. I couldn't help it. I tried to keep them open but I had to rest.

"Ms Wolf, you can't go to sleep," the paramedic said.

It was too late. All I could see was darkness. Next thing I saw was lights pa.s.sing as I was wheeled down a hall. I smelled disinfectant and heard several people talking.

"Logan, we're taking you to surgery. You've lost a lot of blood," someone said. That was the last thing I heard.

Chapter 23.

I opened my eyes and knew I was still in the hospital. I've woken up in them too many times not to know. Paris sat next to my bed in the most uncomfortable chair I'd ever seen. It looked more like a torture device. I started to cough. My throat was dry and I really needed something cold to drink. I tried to sit up and Paris jumped out of the chair to help.