I leapt among Tristan’s trusted group, springing with all the vigor of a kangaroo. “Lana! Lana, can you hear me?”
Lana’s cry broke into the group’s discussion of what was keeping Tristan and Patricia. “Brandilynn? Honey, what’s wrong?”
Everyone silenced and turned to her. I jabbered fast and loud anyway, as if I stood in the middle of a monster truck rally. My volume control was badly lacking. “Tristan’s under attack. He needs help out by Sanderson Cottage on the island. Get everybody out there!”
Lana’s face creased in frowning concentration. She shook her head slightly. “Calm down, Brandilynn, I didn’t get anything past ‘Tristan’s under a flag.’”
I stamped my foot in frustration, and suddenly realized I was barefoot. And still wearing the bikini I’d donned to taunt the Judge. I sure looked cute in it. Too bad no one could see me.
Darn it, I was getting distracted again.
I tried again, talking faster than ever. “Tristan’s in trouble. He needs Gerald and the rest to go to—”
Lana interrupted me to speak to the others. “She’s too upset. I can’t make head or tails of what’s wrong.”
I squealed, jumping up and down. “Darn it all!”
What I did next was out of bounds, but I couldn’t see any other way. Tristan might be dying. Dead. For good. “Sorry, Isabella,” I said before forcing my way into her body.
We had a kind of metaphysical shoving match before her spirit fell back, letting me commandeer her physical form. The heaviness enclosing me took away some of my frantic energy, and I came down from the brutal high.
Taylor’s expression couldn’t have been more insulted. Whatever the outward appearance of my struggle for supremacy for Isabella’s body looked like, she knew what I’d done without me speaking a word. “Brandilynn, you don’t force yourself on a channel.”
I could feel Isabella gathering her resources to defy my usurpation. When she’d allowed me in before, she’d put herself in a state that left her unaware of what was going on. She was very aware now and didn’t appreciate sharing her body one bit.
I related the situation in a rush. “Tristan and Patricia are under attack at Sanderson Cottage. They’ll die if you don’t get over there and help!”
Gerald impressed me by not hesitating for a single moment. The big werepanther was off and running, shouting to his fellow paras. “Everyone to Sanderson Cottage now! Vamps and weres with me!”
The humans shrieked, cowering like children as vampires shot into the sky like rockets and weres shapeshifted into a menagerie of hogs, alligators, and even a couple of bears that moved much faster than their pure animal counterparts. The grounds of the old courthouse emptied of paras in an instant.
Isabella had grown quiet at my announcement, and I sensed her waiting patiently now for me to finish my mission. God bless her for her kindness.
To Lana I asked, “Have you seen Dan?”
The medium’s eyes widened. “He’s not with you?”
I shook my head. “I have to go. Isabella, I’m so sorry for my rudeness.”
As I fled the channel’s body, Taylor said, “Under the circumstances, I think she’ll forgive this.” She and Lana steadied Isabella as she regained control over herself.
I didn’t wait around to find out if I’d been pardoned. I fixed Sanderson Cottage in my mind and left.
Chapter Nineteen
Possessing Isabella and transporting to Sanderson Cottage took the edge off the energy overdose I’d pulled from the news van. I felt more like my normal self again, proving yet again how the Judge’s feeding had massively damaged my energy retention.
That concern moved to the back of my mind upon arrival. Security lights illuminated the front of the dollhouse cottage along with the Indian Mound and the stately oaks dripping moss on the front lawn. The illumination wasn’t nearly as bright as the lit-for-TV scene back at the courthouse, but it more than sufficed to bring the desperate battle into sharp relief.
Tristan and Patricia were still on their own, the cavalry I’d sent not having arrived yet. No trace of humanity remained in their bluish-white faces. All red-rimmed black eyes, switchblade claws and elongated fangs, the siblings stood back to back, slashing and biting any foe that dared to venture close enough. They were badly outnumbered, their skin and clothing slashed to ribbons in places where the overwhelming two dozen weres and vamps had scored on them, but neither gave an inch.
I noticed the wards floating in the air around them, giving them some semblance of protection. Without Erica to do her damage, Yelena’s magic remained in force here. As I watched, a weregator tossed a container of gasoline at them, trying to set the stage for burning the commissioner and his sister, much as I had the Judge. The liquid deflected back, spraying several of the traitors instead of the besieged vamps. Guns had already been abandoned, and I saw one shifter downed in a pool of blood, victimized by a ricocheted silver-infused bullet.