Phone still in hand, Clay puffed out his cheeks. “We’ve got an ID.”
“Really?” I frowned at his reaction. “That was fast.”
“The Kellies use facial recognition software to help identify agents killed in the line of duty these days.” He flashed his screen at me. “That was Annie Waite.”
“A Black Hat black witch,” I supplied as I skimmed the bio the Kellies attached from her file. “No way was she powerful enough to reanimate a gnat, let alone a wendigo. Lovely. That means she’s got a partner, a more powerful black witch, out here somewhere.”
“Rogue agents?” Clay cut his eyes toward the darkened trees. “Anyone else experiencing déjà vu?”
First David Taylor, then Annie Waite, and now a third black witch gone dark side?
The Bureau hit bumps in the road, sure, but that was to be expected when you blackmailed, kidnapped, bought, stole, traded, or threatened agents into service rather than recruiting them through, say, hiring fairs. But this much upheaval? It was dangerous. For humans, for agents, and for the director.
“How much power is required for reanimation?”
Asa was back, his transformations giving me whiplash, and his wounds seeped with fresh blood.
The ironclad grip Clay kept on my arm kept me rooted to the spot as I tuned in Asa’s heartbeat.
Ba-bum, babumbabumbabum, ba-bum.
“You can’t hold that form.” I tuned him out just as fast. “That’s why you keep shifting back and forth.”
Upon hearing that, Clay released me to inspect his partner’s wounds. “The bullets were cold iron.”
“Yes,” Asa hissed on an exhale, as if giving up the charade of invincibility hurt worse than the injuries.
“Let’s get him back to the cabin.” I circled them. “We need to make sure he purges those bullets.”
“You two go ahead.” Clay stared off in the distance. “I’m going to make the circuit, see what I see.”
“She came armed for fae.” I wedged my shoulder under Asa’s armpit to help support him. “That’s more proof she knew who and what she was luring here.”
A bullet was a bullet as far as witches go. The expensive upgrade had nothing to do with me.
Thanks to my previous dietary habits, and my genes, I would most likely survive anything short of having my heart pulped or my brain scrambled. But cold-iron rounds were specific ammunition for hunting fae.
That witch, whoever she was, had expected Asa and come ready to take him out.
Did that mean she was targeting him? Or simply that she knew Clay was the unstoppable force?
Bullets didn’t much matter to golems either. He would repair the damage within hours.
“Call if you run into trouble.” Clay kissed my forehead. “Be careful, Dollface.”
“You too.” I returned my attention to Asa. “You okay to walk back?”
“I can manage,” he grunted and pulled away from me. “I shouldn’t put so much weight on you.”
“I can take it.” I tightened my arm around him, forcing him to lean on me, and we set out toward the cabin. “Trust me.”
“I do.” He rested his chin against my temple for a beat. “Thank you.”
“You got shot protecting me. This is the least I can do.”
A rustle in the leaves drew my eye toward the branches overhead, and I half expected for Annie to make her demands of me again. About the time I talked down my paranoia, an ominous prickle stung the base of my neck, and a low growl spilled into the cool air. The foul stink hit next, blurring my vision with tears.
Asa was in a bad way, worse than I first thought, if he hadn’t clued into the problem yet.