Thunder Moon (Nightcreature 8)

“Hence your assignment to my fair town.”

He dipped his chin.

“Does the Raven Mocker have to possess a Cherokee?”

“Not necessarily. Anyone in possession of the spell can call the Raven Mocker, and since it’s an ancient legend, there are no doubt a lot of old ones who know it. Although the Raven Mocker is a Cherokee spirit and therefore the incantation must be spoken in Cherokee, if someone read the words—”

“My great-grandmother always said a spell would only work if the caster spoke the Cherokee with true understanding.”

“Understanding would only require a translation, which is easy enough to get if you really want to. Even if the Raven Mocker does need to be of Cherokee descent, around here that could be anyone.”

There were very few full-blood Cherokee left, but just about everyone could claim at least one ancestor who had a drop or two of Aniyvwiya blood. Basically, we were screwed. However, I didn’t plan to just lie down and let everyone in town get their hearts ripped out by an invisible raven witch.

Try saying that five times fast.

“I guess you’d better get cracking on that translation,” I said. “I’m going to find a hotel.”

Ian had already knelt and started gathering the tumbled sheets, but at my words he glanced up. “You don’t have to.”

“Yes, I do.”

He stood, hands full of paper. “I’m going to work all night. You can sleep in my bed.”

My lips tightened, but he didn’t notice. He’d already turned away and begun shuffling the mess into some semblance of order.

“As soon as I find something, I’ll come and get you. It’d be easier if you were already here.”

Since he had a point and I was tired, I gave in. He’d slept with me to get Grandmother’s papers. Now that he had them, I doubted he’d be crawling between the sheets with me any time soon.

I don’t know why that bothered me. I should be glad I wouldn’t have to keep fending him off. I should be happy it had ended before someone—me—got really hurt. I should remember that he had a wife. Somewhere. But all I wanted was to take him by the hand and lead him to his own bed.

And because I wanted that, I turned and left.

* * *

“Grace!” Someone shook me.

I’d fallen asleep easily, deeply, the scent of Ian’s sheets, of him, more soothing than it should have been.

My eyes snapped open. Papers rustled; a switch clicked. As shards of light pierced my brain, I moaned, then flipped the covers over my head.

Ian tugged them right back down. “I found something.”

That woke me quicker than a cold shower and a hot cup of coffee. “What?”

He scooted next to me on the bed as he laid the papers on my lap and pointed. In the jumble of words I recognized one.

“ ‘Kalanu Ahyeli’-ski,’ “ I said. “Raven Mocker.”

“Yes. The word actually means ‘killer witch.’ “ He shrugged, and his shoulder rubbed against mine. “Same difference.”

I’d removed my uniform and stolen a T-shirt from his drawer to sleep in. Beneath the sheet my bare legs tingled with goose bumps. I gritted my teeth and willed them to go away.

“My great-grandmother’s papers did contain the legend.”

“Better than that,” he said. “She included a way to banish it.”

The goose bumps, which had been fading, came back. “How?”