Meg would pitch a hissy if she figured out I was summoning her in plastic, but she would have to deal.
After prying it from his tense fingers, I filled it with water. “I’ll make it work.”
Cross-legged on the bed, I sat with the ice bucket cradled between my thighs. A prick of my finger with my athame produced the drop of blood required for a dial tone to call my mother’s oldest friend.
“Megara, I summon thee.” More blood, more intent. “Megara, I summon thee.”
No surprise, she made me jump through flaming hoops before she deigned to answer. Business as usual.
“Thrice I bid thee.” Even more blood, even more intent. “And thrice I tithe thee.”
I ran a fingertip along the edge of the bucket, and the water rippled in dark eddies.
“Hear me,” I called in a resonate voice. “Arise.”
A face appeared wreathed in smoke, not from theatrics, but from the cigarette hanging from her bottom lip. Her makeup was smeared, and her lipstick was smudged across her chin. Her hair was tousled, and a feline grin told me she was downright proud of herself.
“Darling,” she answered, taking a long draw. “How can I help you?”
“I’m working a case, and I was hoping to ask you a few questions. If you’re not too busy.”
“Just finished up, actually.” Her smile grew sharp. “Ask away, but it will cost you.”
Her consultation fee went toward providing for the pack she had left behind, so I didn’t mind the bill.
“No problem,” I assured her. “Transfer incoming.”
“Then I’m at your disposal.” She leaned forward, fingers steepled. “You need legal advice?”
“I need lore advice.” I debated how to break it to her but decided she liked it straight. “Old Man Fang has been resurrected. Kind of? We’re waffling on the lingo. He was summoned, and he made his first kill tonight. Can you tell us where he was buried? I’m hoping the daemon can track his scent from there, give us some idea who took his bones.”
A temper I had only ever seen provoked by mention of my parents’ deaths cut a snarl across her face.
“They. Did. What?”
“He’s the latest in a string of old boogeymen that have risen and begun killing innocents.”
“The only ones who knew where he was kept were pack. Even then, only his direct descendants were told.” She took a calming breath. “Whoever did this has a familial warg contact, one who knew the exact location of his ancestors’ burial grounds.” A growl pumped through her chest. “I’ll contact the head of the family. They’ll be in touch after they’ve questioned their own people.” Her eyes glowed. “And dearest? There’s no charge for this. Thank you for bringing it to my attention.”
“We appreciate any help you can give us,” Asa assured her, “and we’ll be paying that fee.”
Her anger dropped a notch, and she nodded at Asa. “You found one of the good ones, Rue.”
“I can tell you a different type of horror story,” I offered, “if it will make you feel better.”
I hated to upset Meg, hated more that she couldn’t act on her fury, that she was dependent upon others to do what she would have done gladly. Maybe a side note might break the ice and let her temper cool.
“This must be good.” She gestured at Asa. “His scowl says he’s ready to murder over it.”
“The High King of Hael has a crush on me.” I kept my voice light. “He wants me to have his babies.”
A loud crack jerked my head around to find Asa had broken one of the bedposts. Snapped it clean in two and left him with what resembled an ornate baseball bat. He frowned at his hand, at the wood, at me.
“Looks like your mate finds your anecdote as amusing as I do.” She lit another cigarette. “If Stavros has his eye on you, you must be careful.” She flicked Asa a glance. “Or you’ll wake up with Asa’s brother in your belly.”
The snap of Asa breaking his bat in two startled me to the point I almost dumped out Meg.
“I was trying to lighten the mood.” I wavered on who to comfort first. “Asa, it’s all right.”