Kitty Takes a Holiday (Kitty Norville 3)

I said, “So, ah, I guess you two know each other.”

“He’s my lawyer,” Tony said.

Small world and all that. I looked at Ben. He shrugged. “Guess I’m everybody’s lawyer. Cormac didn’t say it was you he’d called.”

Tony glanced at me with a sparkle in his eyes. “Cormac likes his secrets, doesn’t he?”

“I’m going to get some coffee.” I went into the house.

I turned around with a fresh mug of coffee for Tony to find him and Ben studying each other. Ben wilted under the scrutiny, bowing his head and slouching, and I suppressed an urge to jump between them in an effort to protect him.

Tony said, “When did that happen?”

That. The lycanthropy. Tony could tell just by looking.

“Couple weeks ago, I guess. I was out on a job with Cormac.”

“I’m sorry. That’s rough.” He pointed at me. “So you didn’t—you’re not the one who turned him, are you?”

“Do you think Cormac would have let me live if I’d done it?”

An uncomfortable silence fell. Tony took the mug I offered him, but didn’t drink.

Tony wasn’t here about werewolves, or about Ben. Cormac had called him here for the curse.

“Cormac thought you might know something about what’s been going on. He thought it was some kind of curse.”

“Yeah, he told me some of it. You still have any of the stuff? The crosses or the animals?”

I shook my head and tried not to feel guilty about getting rid of the bag of crosses.

He said, “That’s too bad. I might have been able to lead you right to whoever’s doing this.”

“Yeah, well you try living with a dozen skinned dogs hanging outside your house.”

“Fair enough. You know anything about who might be doing this?”

“We decided it has to be someone local, since they seem to want me to get out. Cormac thinks whoever it is doesn’t know what they’re doing. It’s been pretty messy, and it isn’t working.” In a low, grumbly voice I added, “Much.”

Ben said, “Can you really tell who’s doing this just by looking at the mess?”

Tony shrugged. “Sometimes. Sometimes there’s spiritual fingerprints. Even when two different people work the same spell, each of them leaves their own stamp on it. Their own personality. If the person is local, it might be as simple as driving around looking for that same stamp. If someone’s trying to put a curse on you, you can bet they’ve cast spells around their own place for protection.”

“Magic spells,” I couldn’t help but mutter. “Huh.”

“You don’t believe?” Tony said.

“Look at me, you can tell what I am. I have to believe in pretty much anything these days. It doesn’t make believing easy. Magic sounds like so much fun when you’re a kid, until you realize how complicated it makes everything. Because you know what? It makes no sense. It makes no sense that throwing a bunch of barbed-wire crosses around my house should scare the pants off me.” My voice rose in volume. This whole situation had made me incredibly cranky.

“Except it does make sense, because finding a bunch of plastic Mickey Mouses around your house probably wouldn’t have scared you so much, right?” Tony said, donning a half smile that creased his brown face.

My own smile answered his. “I don’t know. That’d be pretty weird. I always thought Mickey Mouse was kind of creepy.”

“Tony.” Ben sat in the kitchen chair, leaning forward on his knees, an idea lighting his eyes. “You can spot the type of magic of something by looking at it. Sense it. Whatever. There’s something else that’s been happening around here. Probably not connected to what’s been happening at the house, but who knows. You mind taking a look while you’re out here?”

“What is it?” Tony asked.

“Messy,” Ben said.