His feet started moving, and he began a tour of the grounds, investigating every small thing. Every nuance of the estate became more interesting. He finished walking the grounds and stared at the house. He should try to get back inside. Maybe it would help. But he’d been inside the church and that hadn’t offered any protection.
The compulsion pushed him again, this time to inspect the house. He walked around it. The new security lights did a decent job of dispelling shadows, but the eerie feeling of being watched through his own eyes hung on him like a desperate woman.
The thought brought Aliza’s name to the forefront of his thinking. He knew in his gut she was behind this. Ignoring his suspicions wasn’t going to make the truth go away. When he’d passed through the smoke that had set Fi right, he’d somehow put himself under the witch’s control. He’d known that was a possibility when he did it, but being whole again had been too strong a temptation.
Now he was paying the price.
He was back at the front door, but his feet wouldn’t take him inside. “Fi!”
His body turned him around and started moving him around the side of the house toward the garage entrance. It wanted him in the car. He yelled for Fi again as he tried to resist by dragging his feet. “Fi, get out here, now.” Nothing. Dammit. “Velimai! Fi!”
The compulsion was screwing with his head, pushing him back to where he’d felt it the last time. Preacher’s. Under no circumstances did he want to step foot in that freak’s joint without backup. Preacher’s need to protect his child had turned his crazy up to eleven.
Doc searched his brain for some way to fight Aliza off, but in the fog of the spell, the only thing he could think of was to shift.
Like an involuntary shiver, it was upon him and done. In leopard form, he stood on the cobblestoned sidewalk that led from Chrysabelle’s circular drive and connected the main house to the guesthouse and secondary garage. Beneath his paw pads, the stones were warm from the day’s heat. All traces of the compulsion were gone. Shifting had kicked it out of his system like a bad habit. He let the nocturnal sounds roll over him. The low buzz of insects filled the air more than usual. He inhaled and his nose wrinkled at a sudden wash of bitterness. There was only one kind of monster that smelled like that. Vampir—
Leave the property. Go back to where you last felt the compulsion.
The need to warn the people in the house weakened until he couldn’t hang on to it. He took a few steps forward, yowling softly in his throat because it was the only opposition he could manage. There was something he needed to do, to tell Fi. Go. He trotted toward the gate, which he nudged open with his big head, then slipped out and started down the road, his direction clear.
The gate clanged shut behind him and the last unaltered thought faded from his brain.
Shifting had made the spell stronger.
Chapter Fourteen
Tatiana came back together wasp by wasp as Laurent did the same beside her. They’d left the car parked near a boat ramp in a public park not far from Mephisto Island. If things went as planned, they’d be driving straight to the hangar and be in Corvinestri for breakfast. For now they were on the back edge of the comarré’s property, near the waterline. A few charred pilings were all that remained of the dock. She smiled. That destruction was her handiwork. As was this whole brilliant plan.
The front gate wasn’t visible from here, but her ears easily picked up the sound of the pedestrian entrance opening and closing. As they’d flown overhead, they’d seen the leopard on the front drive headed toward the gate. A shifter no doubt, here to protect the comarré maybe, but he was leaving. Why, she didn’t know, didn’t care. The animal was gone, one less thing to worry about.
Laurent brushed himself off, but his head was lifted, his nostrils widening to take in the air. His fangs were out and his mouth open. “No mistaking there’s a comarré nearby with that scent in the air, is there? Hells bells, I miss mine.” He gave his jacket a tug. “I cannot wait to be home.”
“Nor can I.” She fished in the bag at her hip and extracted two pairs of earplugs. “Here.” She tossed a pair to Laurent, then wiggled hers into place. The specially designed iron-mesh inserts negated the effects of a wysper’s scream. He put his in while studying the landscape.
They couldn’t get into the house without an invitation, so the plan was to make enough noise to bring someone outside, then use that someone as a negotiating point to get the comarré. Unless they got lucky and the comarré was the one who came out to investigate. The girl was so stupid there was a good chance she would.
Laurent pointed toward the house, then indicated that Daciana should go to one side to make the distraction while he went to the front to capture whoever came out. Tatiana had planned it that way to feed his ego and protect herself. Her metal hand was proof of the comarré’s dangerousness. If he ended up ashed, she’d still have time to scatter and save herself. It was perfect, really.
They headed toward the house together, she with a fat roll of fireworks and he with chloroform, steel cable zip ties, and a body bag for the captured comarré. When the path separated around the pool, they did, too. He had sixty seconds to get into place near the front door before she lit the combustibles near the guesthouse.
Counting off the time, she slipped through the shadows, working her way toward the edge of the property. She started across a small patch of grass. A tiny click sounded when she lifted her foot, a sound so soft she knew human ears would never have picked it up. It hadn’t sounded like an insect, but in this hellish jungle of a state, who knew. She ignored it and kept going. She heard it a second time when she reached the guesthouse. It seemed like it had come from the grass. She stomped her foot down and ground it into the grass. Whatever was living in there wasn’t anymore.