I helped Will to a chair, gave him a quick once over after pressing a bandage to his head, then stood back. “You’re lucky she didn’t kill you.”
Will lifted tired eyes to mine. “She asked him if I was dead. He lied to her.”
I wanted to fist pump. I knew it! “She has him under a spell or something. He’s not like this.”
“So we shouldn’t try and kill him?”
I shook my head.
Will stood up. “Then I better tell the other guys that.”
My gut clenched, and I put a hand on his arm. “No, if he comes at them” —I swallowed hard— “he won’t hold back. It won’t be his fault, but he wouldn’t want other people to die just because of what’s happened. Not even to save himself.”
Will’s eyebrows climbed. “You know him that well?” The unasked question, 'You two were a thing?' hovering between us.
I answered both. “Yes.”
Will limped off and I leaned on the table, staring down at the paperwork. As if we could catch the Necromancer that way. This was the problem with the human law, with the rules and regulations that choked the life out of those doing the right thing, and allowed the assholes to climb through a loophole made up of paperwork and unjust laws. Looking around, I saw officers putting the office back together, watched them quickly settle back into their seats at their desks. Heads down, fucking heads in the goddamned sand. I knew what we were dealing with, knew that it was a Necromancer, so why weren’t we Tracking him, getting this case taken care of? Because someone hadn’t signed a sheet of paper giving me the right to go after him? Because the stupid humans thought they were safe behind their file folders and lists of procedures? Fuck this.
Enough was enough.
“Alex, Pamela. We’ve got to do some Tracking, we’ve got to end this case now, so we can get on to other things.”
Pamela looked up at me, her eyes shrewd. “Like saving that man, that werewolf?”
I touched the top of her head. “Yes.” My list just seemed to keep growing, as if someone was actively trying to keep me from going after Berget. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if that was actually the case.
Pamela took Alex’s leash and the two of them followed me through the chaotic office and out the front door. Yes, I left without telling anyone, and yes, I took a minor that technically I wasn’t guardian of. But shit, when had I ever followed any rules but my own? Besides, not one person even looked up as we left, so mired in their own world that they saw nothing else. Typical humans.
Outside, the crush of fear and swirling emotions subsided, and I locked onto Sophia, the little girl who’d first gone missing. Feeling the pull of her to the north, we headed that way on foot.
“What do you mean we are doing some Tracking?” Pamela asked, her hand buried in the ruff at Alex’s neck as we walked.
“It’s how I find kids. I was brought here to find a bunch that have gone missing over the last couple of years.”
She didn’t ask any more questions, seemingly lost in her own thoughts as we wove our way north, avoiding the main roads where possible. At least it wasn’t raining now, though the clouds hung low and heavy with the threat of it.
After walking for close to an hour, I stopped and Tracked a second kid, Benjamin. He was in the same direction. From what I could tell, we were maybe another hour away by foot. Really, they hadn’t been that far all along. If I’d been here on my own I would have found them within hours of talking to Jack instead of dicking around with reading sheets of papers that did nothing. Okay, to be fair, it was good to know what we were dealing with, but even knowing it was a Necromancer who’d taken the kids didn’t change anything. There was nothing different I would do.
Alex was blessedly quiet through the walk, my orders from earlier to keep his mouth shut finally kicking in. Pamela, on the other hand, started up with the questions again.
Why did I have a werewolf for a pet?
Were vampires real?
Who would train her?
Would she be coming back to the States with me? It seemed like once the questions started, the floodgates were opened and she didn’t want to stop.
I had a werewolf for a pet because his pack would kill him.
Yes, vampires were real.
A Coven would help with her training if she came back to the States with me.
“Am I asking too many questions?” She asked as we crossed the street, merging with the flow of people on the other side.
I shook my head. “No, its fine, but when we start to get closer, we have to focus on the job.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“What can you do?”
It turned out that, for an untrained witch, Pamela had learned quite a lot. Spells cast by someone like me, someone who wasn’t a witch, always needed an ignition word. But as a witch, Pamela—like all those who were very talented—could spell with her mind and a quick movement of her hand. Once she ran through the list of spells she could manage, I picked a few.