Twenty-Three
The leafless tree was bleached as pale as bone, gnarled branches reaching toward an unforgiving sun. A set of claw marks was scored deep into the dry bark. Summerlin was 'wolf territory.
The tree was only the first marker down the desert-dirt path that led to the gathering of shabby wooden houses. Bare wood as pale as the Summerlin tree, years spent beneath the full swathe of the sun.
Blaise moved slowly down the slender paths separating the houses, breezeless, soundless, deceptively deserted. She could smell the wild animal scent of suspicion, the musty scent of fur. She was not alone.
The growl of the bass reverberated through the house like a beast stalking behind the wooden walls. It was the last house on the block, a house in bad condition, stinking of human waste and underneath that the rotting of meat.
Blaise Harman covered her mouth and nose with a gloved hand as if it could stifle the stench.
She made her way up the splintered stair case to the porch, the broken down swing chair creaked on one chain.
She knocked on the flimsy door, ignoring the eyes that seemed glow from the dank doorways of the surrounding houses.
The door opened without much force and she stepped inside to escape the breath of the unforgiving desert heat. Inside was the heatrot stink of the abattoir, and she erupted into a series of coughs fighting not to gag.
"Hello?" Her voice hoarse, hesitant.
The bass had a thick meaty sound, crunching through the amp, far too loud for the rickety old house in Summerlin, far too loud for the middle of the morning. It was the sound of pain and urgency.
She pushed open doors with her feet, not wanting to touch or taint her fingers. "Charles?"
No reply just more chthonic sound. Eerie deep notes suspended like spells or the chorus of the underworld. She made it to the last door at the back of the house.
Charlie Barker's damp curls clung to his temples, his eyelids fluttered as he was dragged by the merciless groove, the grimy down tuned rhythms.
Blaise tapped the door open with her foot. "Charles?"
He was shocked from his moment of revelry, his eyes the blazing amber of an animal, his teeth sharper than they should be. Caught. His vision came into focus and Blaise Harman, a lotus amidst the silt of Summerlin.
He slid the bass to his back, his bare chest rising and falling as if he'd been running. The static hiss of the amp filled the silence between them.
Blaise's cool gray eyes appraising the room, collapsed mattress in one corner with sheets soaked through with sweat. The walls stripped bear save for CB ML forever scrawled as if in blood. His equipment was haphazardly strewn everywhere, the floor covered in tangles of cables, as thick as snakes.
"I can't help you." He said breathlessly.
Blaise's expression turned cold, her lips drawn together in a line. "I need to find my son. I need to find her."
"So you can string her up for kidnap?" He growled. "I don't think so."
Werewolves were known for an incredible sense of loyalty but never for their brains. They were animals with human skins, nothing more. The thought of it made Blaise shudder and Charlie knew what she was thinking.
"You should never have come here." Charlie said. It was true. It was dangerous for any stranger to come into Summerlin, people rarely left and if they did it was only every rarely in one piece.
She shook her head. "I know the truth, Charles."
He laughed. "What truth?"
"You know don't you?" She was sure he would have known, hoped that Saben would have told him.
"No she didn't tell me as it happens. No one did. Bt I could taste it on the boy." His tongue sliding over his sharp teeth. "Same as his mother." Blaise had the impression of vast mysteries and dreamscapes that were forbidden to her because she was not like Charlie Barker.
She closed her eyes. "I didn't know."
He shrugged. Switching the amp off, the static cut off abruptly and the room filled with a poignant silence.
"You can help me find her." Blaise voice was melodic and persuasive.
Charlie growled, lips vibrating, "I'm not a sniffer dog."
"You're her friend." Friend. Charlie could have laughed bitterly at the world. If Saben were a friend she would have gone to Charlie with her secrets. Trusted Charlie. But nobody truly trusted Charlie Baker, Summerlin breed. "Goddess, Charles, I need some help."
"You have your husband-"
She shook her head, no.
They held each other's gaze. The beast moved behind Charlie's eyes sussing the witch out. It was brave of her to have come all this way. He moved toward her, his body moving strangely, sinuously, rippling in the wrong places and Blaise was scared. He seized her hand and his skin was melting hot and she resisted the urge to pull her hand away.
Charlie slid the glove off her hand, he produced a pen and pressed the point hard to the surface of her skin. He looked into her face as he scrawled down the number in red ink. She grit her teeth against the stabbing tip of the pen.
She squeezed his arm and felt it go tense. "Thank you, Charlie."
He pulled himself out of her grasp. "Don't thank me." He wiped his nose with the back of his hand whilst shaking his head. "Don't thank me."
*
"My ears have been burning." Shen mumbled, cigarette bobbing between his lips.
Celsia Verain stood in the dim lamp light watching him closely. "I've lost something."
The back of the little clubhouse was grim and clogged with cigarette smoke and the underlying scent of the broken and bleeding human in the next room. "You?" Shen glanced up briefly from his deck of cards.
A smile lifted his lips from his teeth and his gold tooth winked in the semi darkness to think Celsia had not hesitated when she marched past the crucified body, unaffected by the smell of blood ripe and ready for the taking.
"She's about this high, dark hair, tattoos, attitude. You met her once, I think."
Shen rumbled with laughter. "I prefer my meat tall and blond."
"Shen." She hissed in warning, calm veneer cracking for only an instant. But that instant was enough for him to take pleasure.
"You've lost your little woman-child and you want me to find her? What a careless mother you are, Celsia Verain." He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and tsked beneath his breath. "She been a naughty girl?"
Celsia cool blond eyebrow rose to a point. "I'm not here to indulge your fantasies, dog, I just need her found."
"For a fee." He growled.
"You'll get paid once you materialise the goods." She began to walk away, pausing briefly to glance over her shoulder. "Oh, and Shen, don't get your paws all over her or you'll have hell to pay."
It never occurred to Celsia that Saben may have already been there. She strode out into the dying daylight, she slid a pair of shades over her eyes and the world was veiled.
As she walked she brushed past a stunning dark haired woman, the woman's face was half concealed by a dark hood, the sweet scent of magic was unmistakable. Witch. Celsia stopped and turned to watch the woman's progress down the street.
The woman paused in step and looked behind her shoulder. Their eyes met. Smokey grey colliding with icy blue.
Celsia's mouth formed a cold cruel smile.