Instinct

George and KitKit Save the Witches By Faith Hunter[1]

KITKIT WATCHED HUMAN-WITCH-KITTEN CALLED Angie standing in open doorway. Angie-kit waved her hand in front of pride alphas, called the Mama and the Daddy. She pushed power-magic into the room where the Mama and the Daddy witches slept. Angie had much magic-power. It was in many shades of greens and yellows to KitKit’s eyes. Power was to make the Mama and the Daddy pride alphas sleep.

This was, “Not allowed,” according to the Mama. This was “Oh, Angie. I’m ashamed of you,” bad. This was the smell of an alpha swatting a kitten. Though the alphas were lax in using their claws, to KitKit’s way of thinking.

KitKit was the Mama’s familiar though the Mama did not understand or accept this. And because there were four witches in the den, and only one KitKit, she had to leave her alpha-witch and follow the little witch.

Angie was not silent like KitKit. Humans, even witch-humans, were noisy no matter how silent they tried to be.

KitKit followed, cat-silent. She sent ahead warning to George the Stupid-Dog. Angie is coming. Angie did bad thing.

KitKit had allowed George the Stupid-Dog to communicate head-to-head in the cat way. Cat familiars were not allowed to share with stupid dogs, but it had to be done to protect so many foolish human-witches.

Angie inched forward, around the reclining sofa, past the unlit Christmas tree and the wrapped boxes that KitKit had not been allowed to tear open and play with. KitKit smelled and saw George the Stupid-Dog and the smaller-male-human-witch-kit called EJ on the sofa. Both were awake in the dark.

“Hey, Sissy,” EJ said.

Angie made a little squeaking sound and stopped. KitKit laughed in cat laughter by twitching her tail tip. It was funny.

A bright light hit Angie’s face.

“Turn that off,” Angie hissed like a cat. The light went out.

KitKit moved to a corner and watched.

Angie used her magic to see in the dark and spotted EJ under a blanket in the Daddy’s spot. EJ giggled. Angie frowned.

“You’re a son of a witch on a switch.” Which was the Mama’s swear words, in the same way a hiss was KitKit’s swear words.

EJ giggled.

“How did you know I was up?” Angie demanded.

“You’s magic was singin’”

“Magic doesn’t sing. It sparkles.”

“Sings. And the magic from the woods is singin’ louder. It hu’ts my ea’us.”

KitKit raced to the window. There had been magic on the hill behind the house all day, different magic from the residue of death magics that had killed everything alive there. This was fresh magic. This was danger. And the alphas would not listen no matter how KitKit yowled and talked and stared at the magic on the hill through the windows. KitKit not could make them understand, even when she scratched the Daddy.

For some reason, they couldn’t see it and they had refused to listen to their own kits, too, when the little-ones said magic was on the hill.

The Mama and the Daddy said nothing was there. As KitKit watched, it grew brighter. It was big magic.

“It sings like a wolfie and a bird and the bells in the church,” EJ said.

George the Stupid-Dog joined KitKit and the human-witch-kits at the window. George growled, a deep menacing vibration. KitKit hissed and arched her back.

George the Stupid-Dog put his head against KitKit. I will watch the kits. You wake the biggers.

Biggers is what George the Stupid-Dog called the Mama and the Daddy alphas.

“A wolf?” Angie asked.

“Yup. And a bird and bells.”

Angie said, “It shines the color of Uncle RickyBo. That might make it a were-animal.”

It was not a were-creature, or even any kind of normal animal. KitKit and George knew this. KitKit raced to wake the Mama and the Daddy.

Dog eyes were not as good in the dark as cat eyes, but George’s nose was the best dog-nose of any Bassett Hound ever. And George had been smelling the magic all day and all night. It was not were-creature magic. It was not purely witch magic. It was other.

This magic smelled like witch magic mixed with normal human machines, what humans called tech. George needed to call for help, but he did not know how to get help.

He nudged Angie. Hard. His legs tangled in EJ’s trailing blanket and he bumped the table. The cell phone the Mama Bigger had left on the table rattled. Angie looked at the cell phone. He nudged it again, but Angie turned back to the hillside.

Angie did not move for a long time, watching the hill where the bad smell came from. Finally, Angie picked up the cell phone to call a helper.

George huffed in satisfaction.

EJ said, “Sissy? Its bells is comin’ c’oser to the house. If it’s a animal like Unca Ricky-Bo, it can maybe get in the ward.”

George’s hackles rose. His floppy lips pulled back showing his teeth.

KitKit raced back into the room. Angie did a bad, she thought at him. The Mama and the Daddy are magicked asleep, and I cannot wake them even with my claws.

Still holding the phone, Angie grabbed EJ and hauled him toward the Biggers’ room, his blanket dragging behind hm. He and KitKit followed, KitKit meowing. George growled softly, looking at the door to the hillside. The Biggers’ ward around the land should protect them. But the smell that came through the cracks in the door said they were in danger.

Angie made a witch gesture and said, “Wake up.” The smell of magic rushed out and back, snapping hard, hitting the little witch with the smell of burned things.

“Ow!” She shook her hands at the pain of her own magic ending too quickly.

“Mama! Daddy!” she shouted.

In the dark, Mama Bigger rolled over. “Kids? What are you doing up at this hour?”

And then the outer ward made a gong, GONG, GONG!

Daddy Bigger sat up, still asleep, one arm waving in the air, his other reaching for his flute. Mama Bigger raced clumsily to the window and threw open the drapes, looking up the hill, holding her little baby bump. Bright light blasted in. Mama Bigger said a very bad word.

“Evan, what is that thing?”

EJ’s hands covered his ears. “It’s louder! Bad bells hu’ts my ea’us.”

A smell rushed against the windows, through the ward that let in air. George sneezed at the stink. Sneezed again. The smell was bad. Very, very bad. And that meant the magic was very bad too. Whatever the magic users had started out doing, they had made it much worse just now. Much stronger. As the Biggers would say, they had activated a curse spell.

“I told you it was out there,” Angie said, and pulled EJ closer, under her arm, standing in the doorway. George leaned into them, his soft growl vibrating, telling them he would protect them. KitKit raced around the room. Jumped to the window ledge and stared out. Jumped back down. Everyone ignored her except for George. He knew her power.

The Biggers poured magic into the wards, smelling of many wonderful smells, like pine trees, and rosemary and mice and sounding of good human music. The thing on the hill started gonging again, louder and louder. It threw lights at the ward. Hammering it.

The ward began to hum and echo, brighter and brighter.

This was bad. This was very, very bad. George tangled into EJ’s blanket, as close as he could get.

EJ, hands on his ears, cried in pain. KitKit leaped onto the bed, her eyes on the Mama, stalking her across the mattress.

The Mama screamed over the gonging, “I don’t see anything!” Her scream hurt KitKit’s ears. Their fear-smell flooded the room. The Mama’s bad magics began to rise.

This was KitKit’s job. To stop the bad magics. She stalked closer, ready to pounce.

“Me neither,” Daddy said. “But the ward is fracturing.”

“Evan!” Mama shouted over the magical noise. Terror in her tones.

“Angie,” Daddy yelled. “Make a personal ward around you and your brother. The strongest one you can. Now!”

“But you said—”

“Do it! Use all you got,” the Daddy shouted over the gongs.

He took a deep breath and blew a long, high-pitched note full of magic on his flute. With his magic, the Daddy made a personal ward for the Mama. KitKit was inside the small ward with the death magics that were rising. The Daddy was sweating and breathless. The Mama was panting, fighting her bad magics.

KitKit watched Angie pull the Mama’s and the Daddy’s bindings off EJ, bindings meant to contain their magic. It was taking too long. Beneath the bindings on the kits, colors began to shine. Colors of light and power. Angie made a ward around EJ, George the Stupid-Dog, and her. It was a lot of magic.

“Ohhh,” EJ said. “That feels good.”

The Daddy’s music magic filled the room. The magic shapings shivered.

But the gong got louder. Faster.

The Mama’s bad magics rose with the noise. Her powers went black as a cave, death magics all around her, enclosed in the ward the Daddy had made. Enclosed with KitKit.

The Mama did not know how to control them. Now they had two ways to die. The magic attack on the hill, and the magic in the room. KitKit hunched, ready to attack the Mama. Ready to stop the bad magic.

“Sissy, I’m sca’aed.”

“Me too,” Angie said.

The Daddy stumbled, sweating, his magic sputtering as he started a personal ward for himself.

KitKit hissed and yowled to George the Stupid-Dog. Be ready.

To EJ, Angie said, “I learned how to do this in magic camp. You trust me?”

EJ threw his arms around her waist, knocking them to the floor, George under them.

KitKit watched as Angie reached inside and found her magic. She looped and twisted it with EJ’s. She made it strong. And then she added the other magic, the Angel magic that no witch should know how to reach. It glowed brighter than any magic anywhere.

The gonging got louder. EJ screamed.

The Mama’s magic went pure black. It hit the Daddy’s new, yellow ward.

KitKit leaped, claws out, cat-screaming, for the Mama. She hit the cloud of death magics and she stopped. In midair. The death magics, the ward, the gonging froze. The Mama froze, her eyes caught in the moment of terror and fury, blazing with dark magics. She didn’t blink. Nothing moved. Everything was still.

Through cat familiar head talk, KitKit had been told about time magic. About time bubbles. She and the Mama were trapped in a time bubble. And KitKit had to get them free.

KitKit was frozen in midair. Things were not right in the Biggers’ room. Things were very, very bad.

Angie said softly, “Safe.” Finally, finally she called for help on the cell phone. But it wasn’t for Lincoln Shaddock, who George trusted. It was another.

An unfamiliar vampire voice, soft and full of power to George’s beautiful ears, said “Angelina?”

“My Dark Knight. We have troubles,” Angie said.

Angie’s Dark Knight was Edmund. Edmund was a strong vampire like Lincoln Shaddock.

“Come save us,” she said. She smelled of tears and snot and fear. “Hurry!”

“The Everhart-Trueblood place is under attack,” the unfamiliar vampire said, his voice even softer, as if he was speaking to someone else. “Call the family. Angelina, are you in danger?”

“No. Because EJ and me are under a strong personal ward. But Mama and Daddy’s in their bedroom and they aren’t moving.” She whispered, “I’m afraid.”

George looked back. The Biggers were not moving. George did not know what to do except to guard. He scooted closer and smelled the pee-child-sweat-tears-fear on the littles. He licked EJ’s snotty face. It tasted good.

“I’m on the way,” Angie’s Dark Knight said. “Tell me what happened. Tell me what you see.”

“Our ward was being attacked from the hill in back of the house. Daddy said to make a small hedge, as strong as I could, for EJ and me. I started making it. Daddy made one for Mama. Then he started one for himself. Then Mama’s magics—” She stopped.

Carefully, the vampire said, “I know about the death magics, Angie. It’s okay.”

Angie sobbed. “Okay. Everything happened at once, Edmund. Mama’s death magics shot out. Daddy started his ward. I got our hedge up and it’s really strong. But now everything’s stopped, even the glowing thing in back of the house.”

“Explain ‘stopped.’”

“Daddy’s glow got dim and the gonging on the ward stopped. Mama’s standing at the window with her arms out and her bad magics stopped like a cloud. KitKit’s hanging in the air in the middle of a jump. Daddy fell and his head is bleeding everywhere.”

“How did you know I was close?” the vampire Edmund asked.

“I felt you in my blood.”

George thought the vampire sounded shocked when he took a breath, but he was too far away to smell, so George wasn’t sure. “I’m only a few minutes away, Angelina. Tell me about…about the dog. Where is he? Will…will he bite me?”

George snorted.

“No. George is under the hedge with us.”

“Tell me about him.”

“George is my Basset Hound and Mr. Shaddock gave him to me. I’m teaching him to fetch, but his legs are short and he keeps tripping over his ears. George. Not Mr. Shaddock.”

George snorted again, less happy this time. His ears were magnificent. Long and soft and floppy and beautiful. But Angie made up for it as she talked and talked about his beauty and his skills, and she stopped smelling so much of fear and started smelling of happy. She petted George’s ears and head and he snuggled close. Occasionally he opened one eye and watched KitKit in midair, wondering if she could hear him if he talked to her in cat talk.

KitKit? You there?

She didn’t answer.

The vampire said, “I am here, Angie. I’m going to scout the edges of the hedge, up the hill. I need to end our call to be silent. I’ll call you right back. Is that acceptable?”

“Okay, Edmund. I saw your car lights. Bye.”

George blew out his breath and closed his eyes, letting his nose and his beautiful ears work for him. It was impossible for this Edmund to be as a good a vampire as the Lincoln Shaddock vampire, but he might be good enough.

The vampire moved silently, like wicked KitKit when the cat was stalking George, planning to jump on him from some great height. Edmund’s vampire smell was rich and strong, and he wore the stench of blood. Not his own blood. The smells that came into the house were of the blood of others. Several other vampires. This was good. He had killed or defeated his enemies.

With his beautiful ears and his magnificent nose, George followed Edmund’s sounds and faint smells around the ward outside the house and up the hill.

After time passed, Angie’s cell rang, and she answered. The vampire Edmund said, “Angelina, let down your personal hedge, please, and come to the front of the house.”

“Ummm. I tried.” Angie sounded odd, the way KitKit sounded when George startled her. “I can’t make it go away.”

“We’s stuck!” EJ said. “And I gotta peepee!”

George smelled the pee on the witch human. How did Angie get stuck? George sniffed the ward. It stung his nose, but it was Angie’s ward so she should be able to get free.

This was bad, bad.

“Angie,” the vampire Edmund said, “do a seeing working and tell me if you detect a thread of your magics tying your ward to the hedge of thorns around your home.”

She whispered, “Ohhhh. I tied them together. Edmund, it’s worse,” she whispered.

“My protection ward has tails. One goes to the back of the house. Somehow, I tied my ward to the magic that was breaking through the hedge. And… Oh no. It’s tangled in Mama’s death magics and to angel magic too.”

“Angel magic?”

“Whoot!” Angie shouted, and George jerked. Bassett Hound ears were not made for witch children’s noises. “I got it! I can’t make it go away but I can move it. Me and EJ are scooting to the front door.”

“Angelina, wait. Take some pictures of your father and mother and send them to me.”

“Okay.” There were many clicks with the Bigger’s cell phone and then Angie and EJ started scooting toward the front door.

George grunted. Bassett Hounds, while perfection to look upon, had very short legs and his lower parts easily dragged on EJ’s blanket when scooting. Knowing he had no choice did not make it any better. He chuffed and whined, a very unhappy pup, but a very, very brave dog who was rescuing his witch charges. Lincoln Shaddock would be proud of him.

At last, they reached the front door and Angie opened it. The smells raced through. Vampire and night and bats and mice and a rabbit and many, many, many wonderful smells. George raised his nose and smelled and sniffed.

Angie and EJ crawled down the steps and along the drive. Here George got his legs untangled from EJ’s blanket and could walk just fine. He had time now to inspect the magic around them. Angie’s magic was a low-lying, moveable ward, the upper dome of which was just high enough to allow them to sit up.

“I’m hanging up so I can push,” Angie said.

George heard two cars coming, one close. The first car pulled up behind Edmund’s car and stopped. The engine went silent and the ginger-haired twin, the Everhart witches, Cia and Liz, joined Edmund at the hedge. This was good. They would save the Biggers and KitKit and kill and eat the bad magic behind the house. And KitKit would stop the Mama Bigger’s death magics. It was going to be fine.

“Oh dear,” Cia said. “I had hoped Shaddock was mistaken about an emergency.”

George whuffed. His Lincoln Shaddock had sent them. This was better and better.

Puffing, the children reached the hedge. “Hey, Ant Liz and Ant Cia,” EJ said, waving.

George did not know why the humans were called ants, except that Lincoln Shaddock called them so, and Angie liked Lincoln. George liked Lincoln Shaddock too. He was the best vampire. George wished that Lincoln Shaddock was here with the Edmond vampire.

Angie straightened her nightclothes and wrapped EJ and George in the blanket they had dragged with them, petting them both equally. George liked being petted. He shared some of his slobber with her hand.

Liz said, “EJ. Angie, is there some reason you called a vampire instead of family?”

Angie scowled. Edmund smiled. Edmund showed a bit of fang. George thought KitKit would like Edmund.

“The attack isn’t witch magic,” Angie said, her smell defiant and stubborn. “It’s a were-creature or something else, and I didn’t want you to get bit by a werewolf or something.”

“Big teefs to eat you with!” EJ said.

“Ah,” Liz said, still composed. “Next time, please call us too.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Angie said, lying, by her scent. Why did Angie need to lie?

The second car pulled up and Angie transferred her antagonism to the new vehicle.

“Who’s that?”

A dark-haired witch emerged from the car.

“Melodie?” Cia called out.

George caught her scent and growled deep in his throat.

Danger…

Angie said, “Mama said not to talk to people I don’t know.”

“Angie,” Liz said sharply. “Manners.”

But Angie’s anger smell grew worse as the third witch approached. And George nudged her hand, adding his low growl to her worry. This witch was bad, bad.

Melodie said, “I’m sure the child has been through a lot tonight. I’m Melodie Joy Custer-Luckett from the Custer witch clan, Angie. I’m renting a room from your aunt Elizabeth while I finish a course at the university.”

The witch lied. The stink of it filled the air. George bumped Angie but the young witch only petted his head.

The danger witch added, “I was studying late and saw you rush off, Liz. I’m a paramedic. I thought I should follow.”

Angie’s smell said she didn’t like the Melodie witch. He nudged her again. You are right. Do not trust this one.

Angie said, lying also, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miz Melodie.”

She elbowed her brother, and EJ pulled a slobbery finger out of his mouth to say, “Pweasure meet you.” And stuck his finger back in his mouth.

Why did Angie lie? KitKit would know. George wished KitKit was here. Lying and secrets were cat things, not dog things.

“Edmund,” Angie said, sounding very grown up, “Ant Liz, Ant Cia, Miz Melodie, we must break the ward and save my mama and my daddy. And KitKit.”

“Breaking an Everhart ward will be difficult,” Melodie said.

But she smelled of…hunger. Like a dog who wanted to steal a treat.

Liz and Cia nodded, but Angie’s scent went smelly like lemons at Melodie’s words.

Edmund had been listening and his scent was full of caution and a predator’s alertness. George would not want to make Edmund mad.

“Sissy, I havta peepee,” EJ whispered. “And I’m hungwy and cold.”

“We’ll be free soon,” Angie said. She tucked the blanket tighter around them, to give EJ some heat.

George promptly pretended to fall asleep, drooling on EJ’s leg. Bassett Hounds were wonderful droolers. He drooled and drooled, fooling all the witches and even the vampire.

The visitors discussed the “situation,” as they called it, and looked at the pictures Angie had sent Edmund. Liz said, “Tell me what happened, Angie Baby, and very carefully, walk me through what you did to make such a strong ward.”

“I messed up,” Angie said. Angie described what had happened, emphasizing the colors of the magical working and EJ piping in with its sound—a drum beating slowly.

George drooled.

“You twined the magics together,” Cia said. Her scent was worried. Like the smell of a squirrel when a hawk was near.

“Yes,” Angie said. “It’s what Mama and Daddy do to our magics when they bind ’em so we can’t use ’em.”

“And you can see the magics? The energies they use to bind you?” Melodie asked.

“It’s why it’s so easy to get out. But this is different. Mama and Daddy and KitKit are all frozen.”

Liz asked, “Could she have triggered a temporal disengagement?”

“Or a temporal deactivation,” Cia said.

Those big words sounded very, very bad.

Melodie said, “Temporal… You Everharts are an interesting bunch.” Her scent was stronger. Full of hunger.

“I gotta peepee!” EJ said. “I gotta peepee noooow!”

“First thing, then,” Liz said, “is to get my favorite nephew out of the protection ward so he can go potty.”

“He’s your only nephew,” Angie said crossly, smelling of jealousy. “And I gotta use the bathroom too.”

“Alrighty then,” Cia said. George opened one eye to see Cia witch unwinding a ball of string and starting to trace a protective circle.

EJ muttered, “Hold it. Hold it. Hold it. Hold it. Sissy, I gotta go now!”

“You’ll need three of us. Where do you want me?” Melodie asked Liz.

Smell of hunger, hunger, hunger rising. Danger, George thought at KitKit.

There was no answer. And then, slowly, KitKit thought back, Betrayal. She. Wants. All. The. Tuna.

KitKit loved tuna. She was telling George that the Melodie witch was trying to take everything.

Yes, he thought back.

Let. Me. See, KitKit thought, so slow.

He opened both eyes to see. Bassett Hounds did not have very good eyesight, so he breathed in to verify everything he saw.

“North is here,” Liz said, walking to a different spot, “so each of you to the side in a triangle pattern.” The witches sat and closed the circle, the powers flaring into place with a flash of light.

George had seen and smelled an Everhart witch circle open. But this one smelled different. Not right.

Very. Bad, KitKit agreed.

“Oh my…” Melodie said, staring all around. “I’ve never seen anything like this. Do you Everharts do this kind of”—her hand made little circles in the air—“working often?”

Hunger, hunger, hunger. She wanted it all.

“No. But there’s always a first time,” Liz said, smelling grim. “I’ve never seen one so tangled. Cia, Melodie, can you determine the first step?”

“The strand from the top of the hedge, perhaps?” Cia said. “Except we’d never get to it.”

“No. But Angelina can reach her end. Angie,” Melodie said. “Do you see the energy strand trailing from the hedge, one you twined into your smaller ward?”

“Yes,” Angie said.

Melodie said, “Good girl. Reach up to where it touches the top of your portable circle and, gently, tweak it loose.”

Angie smelled of worry. She knew the Melodie witch was lying. So did the Edmund vampire. But he frowned and nodded at Angie.

Angie reached up and tapped the top of her magics. George didn’t watch her. He watched the Melodie witch and tried not to growl.

There were sparks and flickers of color over George’s head.

Melodie’s hunger smell continued to rise, and she kept glancing at Edmund. The vampire knew he was being watched, though he pretended not to. KitKit should be here.

She could keep all the lies straight.

“Question,” Edmund said to Melodie. “If the small ward falls, won’t the children be caught in the same temporal displacement as their parents?”

“Angie, stop!” Liz said.

George liked Edmund. He would mark the vampire’s shoes and pants to show his approval first chance he got.

Angie’s fingers stopped moving.

For an instant, Melodie’s lips flattened. Her pores emitted the sour stink of frustration, on the night air. She lowered her head and schooled her expression to concern, but George was Bassett Hound. He could not miss the scent change.

Edmund said, “If Angie peels away the power she is drawing from the hedge of thorns, might that also destabilize the entire ward, resulting in a release of energy?”

Cia said, “We could have blown up the entire hillside.”

“We’d have been fine under our own circle,” Liz said, “but at the very least Ed would have been toast and the kids would have been stuck or killed.”

“I gotta peepee! I gotta peepee now!”

“Elizabeth,” Edmund said to Liz, “what would happen if the children simply pushed their small ward through the larger one?”

“We’d have… I don’t know. Cia?”

“I gotta peepee!”

“I think…the smaller ward would peel away and the kids would be free?” Cia said.

“But—”

“Good. We’re coming through,” Angie said.

“No!” both twins shouted.

George pulled his short but powerful legs under him. Angie touched the edge of her protective shield against the outer ward.

I gotta peepee! I gotta peepee! I gotta peepee!” EJ’s voice shrilled.

Angie shoved the small shield hard against the larger one. George helped. Angie smelled of effort and fear sweat again. The edge pressed through, and she and EJ and George followed. Her small ward did not explode. It was too strong. Stronger than the house ward.

Angie smelled proud but her ants smelled mad. “What?” she asked.

George growled very, very low. Dogs did not growl at family, but the ants smelled mean.

“You disobeyed us,” Liz said.

“I been studying the wards and how the energies worked. I figured it would be okay.”

“I gotta peepee!”

Angie’s magics made a cracking noise and fell in sparks. EJ jumped upright, his feet tangling in the blanket; he nearly fell. Edmund caught EJ and carried him behind a tree.

“I get to peepee on the tree? Sissy, I get to peepee on a tree!”

Edmund stepped back around the tree looking amused. George followed the little boy. He had to peepee too. And check the mail. Other dogs had peed here. The smells were…amazing. He had not been outside the ward in… Not ever. There were so many wonderful smells. He smelled EJ’s peepee and then peed himself in the same spot to show he owned EJ, and then he started smelling everything everywhere.

Angie said, “He is such a paaaaaain.”

George smelled magic. Strong bad magic on the wind. And guns and gun powder.

He looked up. Barked. Raced to Angie. Barked again. No one listened to him.

Scratch. Bite. Kill, KitKit thought.

Melodie raised her hands. She shot at Edmund. With a gun.

Edmund said a bad word and dove back on top of EJ, pushing him to the ground.

George saw lights and smelled strange smells as Liz threw magics at Melodie.

Edmund popped beside George and Angie, moving fast, the way vampires did, so fast the air popped. Edmund picked them up and raced behind the tree where EJ was hunkered down.

As fast as his powerful legs could, George leaped on top of EJ’s butt.

Edmund smelled dangerous and George liked his blood smell. Edmund was a good predator. Maybe better than KitKit.

Edmund said, “Angelina. Stay. Behind. The tree.” The smell of vampire magic rolled out over them, what the witches called vampire mesmerism. George should have barked and resisted, but he was suddenly so sleepy.

More gunshots rang out.

The vampire was gone with a small pop of sound.

George blinked his bad eyes. He was supposed to be doing something.

Angie petted George and EJ, who snuggled up against her, muttering sleepily about wanting a hamburger. Thankfully, the blanket was warm, and the smell of little-boy peepee and George pee was a happy smell.

Angie muttered something, broke the compulsion.

George whuffed in surprise. The Edmund vampire was a strong vampire, to put them all under his mesmerism. If KitKit was here, she would have known it was happening and she would have scratched the vampire with her claws. George was ashamed that he did not know the vampire was using his magic. Next time, he would know, and he would bite the vampire.

Angie duck-walked on short legs like a Bassett Hound around the tree to see better.

George walked around the tree to smell better. Sweat, anger, magic, desperation, and hunger were hot on the air.

The twins hit the Melodie witch with magic. They tackled her, restrained her, and left her. Melodie smelled unconscious. Everhart witches were excellent fighters. Even KitKit would approve. Snowflakes began to fall. George had never seen snow. It was beautiful!

Good. Witches. Happy. Freaking. Snow. But. We are. Dying, KitKit thought at him.

Liz asked, “Why would she shoot you?”

Edmund’s scent changed. It was deadly. Predator ready to kill. He said, “Perhaps I was the greater threat. Take me down and then take down the less powerful witches.”

Liz snorted like a Bassett Hound. It was a glorious sound. “Greater threat? I don’t think so. We were prepared, you weren’t. And what good would it do to take us down?”

“I assume that this particular witch is working with the humans attacking the ward,” Edmund said. “There have been tales of black ops government groups and even of private armies kidnapping witches for personal use.”

Liz secured the unconscious witch’s ankles and said, “Fangheads too. Witches for the power, bloodsuckers for the blood.”

George heard something with his beautiful ears. He whoofed softly.

Edmund whirled. “Movement cresting the hillside. The two back there may have backup.”

“Melodie’s gunfire alerted them,” Liz said. “Damn.”

“Keep the children safe,” Edmund said. He was gone with a soft pop.

Liz made a fierce face and smelled of deadly anger. It matched Edmund’s. “Give no quarter,” she shouted.

Angie’s family witches grabbed up EJ, George, and Angie, and raced behind their car. It was fast and George’s middle was sore. But that was better than being dead. The witches set up a protective, warming working.

EJ rolled over and George drooled on EJ’s back. This was nice. He did not like winter cold, and EJ was warm and smelled of the wonderful scent of pee that had splattered on his clothes.

Angie lay down, her scent confused, her face scrunched up in the way that George had learned meant she was thinking dangerous bad thoughts. He licked her face. She pushed him away and he thought she didn’t even notice the lick.

He followed Angie’s gaze to the top of the magics that protected the house. The hedge of thorns ward of energies. The energies had spiraled up to the high center of the hedge’s dome in whirls. The energies looked like something KitKit made when she got into the yarn basket.

Angie sighed, smelling of sadness, but her eyes focused something dangling from the top of the dome.

George followed her eyes to see a small strand, glowing yellow with magic. On the other side of the ball of magics was a lightless strand of death. He didn’t know why, but he thought this was a dangerous thing for her to be looking at. He nuzzled her hand and she petted him, which made him happy but also worried him.

The darkness of the death magic strand wiggled slightly and grew just a little.

Angie frowned harder and her scent changed again, smelled like she did when she was going to do something that the Biggers thought was foolish and bad.

From high on the hillside came the sound of gunfire. Then someone screamed and stopped. Edmund’s fury-smell came to them on the wind with dead-human smell. Good. They are dead, he thought at KitKit. Much evil human blood.

George heard the back door of the house-den open. Evan the Bigger, smelled of his own blood and the scent of…shock? Bitter and sharp like bad cheese. George had never smelled such a smell. The Bigger had been bleeding when he crawled away. But if the Mama Bigger was still in the frozen ward with KitKit, what did that mean about the Daddy Bigger being free?

“Evan,” Edmund said.

“My children?” the Bigger gasped.

“Safe.”

“Update me,” the Bigger gasped.

George raised his head. He smelled witch blood. Evan Bigger was damaged. Angie said he hit his head. George had not noticed. He had been derelict in his duty. KitKit would be mad. Worse, Lincoln Shaddock would be disappointed.

Edmund told the Bigger everything.

Evan Bigger, his voice harsh and parched and tired, said, “They were…going to kill us.”

“Yes.”

“I’m not a violent man,” Evan said, “but…”

“They will not trouble you again,” Edmund said. “My military and tech team are analyzing the people and the device. They will be dealt with.”

“Good.” Mixed scents of self-loathing and satisfaction came from Evan Bigger on the steady wind down the hill, tart and acerbic. “What did he tell you?

“He is with a group called DTP. Death to Paranormals. Starting with the Everhart/Trueblood family. There are two more warriors and two ‘suits’ over the hill in a van. We must assume they will be along presently.”

Gunfire rang out. George smelled more blood. Vampire blood.

He heard the sound of bodies falling. He whoofed softly.

Gunshots echoed from the hill.

Too fast for him to react, Angie broke the warming ward and reset it, leaving EJ and George safe. George barked, but no one noticed. He barked and yowled and howled. No one noticed or cared. Angie scrambled around the car and froze at the sight of Liz and Cia on the ground, twitching beneath magics that writhed like red snakes. They had been attacked and George hadn’t noticed this either.

Melodie struggled to get loose from the straps on her ankles.

Angie raised her hands and hit the evil witch with sleep. Melodie fell over.

George whuffed, proud of his human. So very, very proud!

Angie ran to her twin witch ants who smelled just alike underneath, and on the surface of different soaps. She studied the energies trapping them. To George’s eyes the trapping working was all squiggle lights, but witch Cia was turning blue. She wasn’t breathing. She was dying. So was Liz.

George whuffed again. KitKit! Witch twin is dying!

Get me free. She sounded faster. KitKit the familiar was making progress in breaking the death magics, but not fast enough.

I cannot get to you! You are trapped, he thought.

Idiot dog!

Angie took a deep breath and shoved her hands into the energies all around her ants. She jerked as if she had been hit with a human fist. She shook. Bit her tongue.

George smelled Angie’s blood. He raised his head, panting. Worried.

Angie directed the energies attacking her ants down into the earth. He had no idea how, but she drained the magic into the ground. She fell over. Cia sucked in a breath. Liz groaned and sat up, coughing.

George barked and barked and fought out of the blanket until he was on top of EJ, protecting his small human witch.

Behind the house, George heard Edmund speed up the hill. He tackled a human that George had not smelled. Downwind. Danger! The sniper’s rifle skittered off a rock, firing a shot into the sky.

George heard a crack as Edmund broke the shooter’s neck. Like a human wringing a chicken’s neck. Vampire and human blood carried on the wind. George knew that Edmund was feeding from the paralyzed human’s neck to heal. The sound of his footsteps burdened by extra weight told George’s beautiful ears that the vampire carried the still-breathing human down the hill. He dropped him. By the smells, Edmund then healed the Bigger. The Daddy Bigger was still alive; his blood smell was strong.

George heard as Edmund called Lincoln Shaddock. Finally, they called the Mama Bigger’s sire. Though the Mama Bigger did not know she was part vampire because she did not have a Bassett Hound nose.

Evan Bigger staggered around the house to Angie and sat heavily on the inside of the ward. “We don’t have good options, Angie. You, EJ, and I will go home with your aunts, and we’ll try tomorrow—”

“No.” Angie crossed her arms over her chest just like Daddy Bigger did when he was being alpha. “Mama’s death magics are growing. They’ll kill her and the baby by morning.”

George asked KitKit if that was true and KitKit said, Yes. I am dying.

Daddy Bigger smelled of tears. “We have to stop it now. But none of us knows how, Angie.”

“I do.” She pointed up. “We have to find a way to get up there and unravel the knot of death and heaven.” Daddy didn’t reply. He just shook his head.

Edmund said, “Evan, you have a concussion.”

Whatever that was.

Edmund also said, “Shaddock is taking care of the bad guys on the other side of the hill.”

George lifted his wonderful nose into the air and sniffed. Lincoln Shaddock was here! Lincoln Shaddock should kill and eat the bad guys, though no one asked him. But things were not fixed yet. KitKit was dying. He hated KitKit. But he wanted her back.

This was confusing.

“The top of the hedge is twenty feet above the roofline,” Edmund said.

George thought Edmund must be seeing through the Daddy Bigger’s magic blood to know this.

“The hedge of thorns feels slightly warm,” he said, “with a faint vibration. I can leap and climb to the top, provided the hedge is as solid at the top as here.”

“Even if you got up there, over the house, in the air,” Cia said, her voice rough and hoarse, and her body smelling of exhaustion from the spell Melodie witch had hit her with, “even if the hedge held your weight and didn’t fry you like bacon, you aren’t a witch. You can’t unravel the working.”

“Hell,” her twin said, “I don’t think we could.”

“The hedge won’t hold more than two hundred pounds,” the Daddy said.

“I can do it,” Angie said.

“No, Angie. You can’t,” Liz said.

“That isn’t happening,” Daddy Bigger said.

“In a moment of panic,” Edmund said, “Angelina merged all of these energies. I fear that if this temporal deactivation explodes, time-warped-space and broken death magics might destroy the surrounding area. Might perhaps result in worse consequences.”

Liz cursed. Daddy looked mad. George had no idea what that meant.

Angie said, “Edmund can carry me up the hedge. I can pull the threads through and unravel all but the last strands. Then we can slide back down with me holding them. On the ground, I can pull them. The hedge and the temporal thing should fall.”

She tilted her head, watching her family. She smelled satisfied, the way a pack leader smelled when they were right and expected the others to bow down and show bellies in submission.

Edmund said, “You figured that out on your own?”

She sighed. “Somebody hadda. It’s my fault.”

“You didn’t do this on purpose, Angie Baby,” Cia said. “If your mama hadn’t drawn on the death magics, they wouldn’t have been there to get tangled up in your shield.”

“If Mama hadn’t used them, then EJ and me woulda watched Mama and Daddy die.”

Daddy Bigger sucked in a breath and smelled of bitter fear.

Edmund said, “As viewed from a military perspective rather than a personal one, Angie is correct. It will take all of us to stop this, and only Angelina can untangle the energies.”

Daddy started to argue, but he stopped, staring at Edmund. “You swore to protect my family.”

“Even to my undeath. Yes.”

Cia said, “Angie needs food and water first.” She went to her car and brought back a bottle of water and a banana. She smelled angry.

Angie ate and drank and went behind the tree where EJ had peed. When she was done, Edmund held out a hand and Angie placed her small hand into his.

Edmund adjusted Angie on his back, wrapped her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist. “Hang on tightly.”

She did. He stepped back several yards, toed off his shoes, and raced at the hedge fast, fast. Fast as a vampire possibly could. Air popped.

George raised his head and watched and smelled. The vampire loved Angie. This was a good thing. A good love.

Edmund sped up the side of the hedge. At the top of the magics, he stopped and swung Angie off his back, sitting her on the slightly curved dome of energies, the blanket that had kept George and EJ warm, around her. George hadn’t noticed when it was taken.

Full of fear and courage, Angie said, “Can we run like that when I’m not scared and cold?”

Edmund chuckled. “If we succeed, Angelina, I will take you on a full moon run. For now, can you untangle the magics?”

She pressed her fingers against the energies of the original ward and pressed through them, her tiny fingers twisting back and forth. She pulled a strand of yellow energy up and up and had to stand on the dome of energy to continue. Edmund steadied her to keep her from slipping, and still she pulled the energy strand through the small opening she had made. She tossed it and began another.

Much time passed.

George went to pee again. He snuffled the wonderful smells near the road. Rat, raccoon, opossum, weasel, squirrels, bird—and vampire and Angie in the air, up high. More time passed as George snuffled, and sunrise had begun to tint the sky gray when Angie sat back from the opening, leaning against Edmund’s legs in exhaustion.

George raced closer to the hedge on his stubby powerful legs and watched.

Angie held her hands in front of her. He saw flashes of light and pulses of power in them, though there was nothing real to focus on.

“I’m done,” she said. She spoke so softly that George knew the others didn’t hear. Only his beautiful ears heard. “Being an Everhart is hard.”

“Why is that?” Edmund asked.

George knew. Power is dangerous.

Hurry, KitKit whispered.

“We have to save the world sometimes. Like Ant Jane.”

“Ah. That is indeed a heavy burden. Do you have the strands you want?”

“I have two. I can’t ride down on your back. You can carry me like a bride!”

“Oh, Angelina.” Edmund said, sounding sad and…depressed?

Angie said, “We’re never gonna get married, are we?”

“It is unlikely,” Edmund said gently, helping her to stand.

“I woulda made a beautiful bride.”

Edmund choked back a laugh and lifted her into his arms. “Coming down,” he shouted, and leaped. His bare feet caught the surface, skidding along the frozen energy.

He dropped to his backside when the angle became too great to maintain balance. They hit the ground at a run.

“Twenty minutes until sunrise,” Liz said. “Cutting it close, fanghead.”

Edmund set Angie on the ground and said to her, “Give me one minute to get in back to take out the time-frozen humans there. Then I want you to say, ‘One, two, three,’ and yank the strands of magic on three.”

He looked up. “Cia and Liz will rush in the moment the magic falls and help your mother. Evan, you’ll have to carry Angie to safety. Are you up to it?”

“Yeah. I can do that.”

But George thought he smelled weak, as if he was about to die. George whined softly. Edmund glanced at him in what George interpreted as kindness and strength.

George went silent.

“On three,” Edmund said again. “I’ll hear you.” He raced away.

A moment later Angie said, “One, two, three!” She jerked the last strands from the energies. The hedge of thorns shrieked. It fell.

Daddy Bigger picked up Angie and carried her away from the screeching energies and the sparks and the lightning power. He placed her in the front seat of Edmund’s car with George and EJ and left her there. George licked her face. She had been crying and smelled of grief and fear.

Screaming a war cry, KitKit leaped on the Mama and clawed her leg. Clawed through the death energies. Disrupting them. She yowled with victory.

Mama Bigger shrieked with pain. Swatted her familiar. But KitKit was already on the other side of the room.

The cloud of death magics faded back into the Mama’s bloody wound.

KitKit sent a report to the council of familiars. She had done her job. Satisfied, KitKit walked to George’s bowl and ate his food.

Edmund was back, bloody and fanged, inside the car with them, raising the convertible roof. His fangs clicked closed and he turned on the engine and the heat.

Softly, he said, “You did it, Angelina. I’m proud.”

Angie began to shiver. A moment later, Angie threw up. All over Edmund’s expensive leather upholstery. And Edmund.

George chuffed and tried to clean up the vomit. It smelled of pizza and tea and lollipop.

Edmund shoved him away.

George growled at Edmund, but the vampire ignored him as he hadn’t shown his teeth.

The morning came fast. At dawn the vampire was gone. The witches were gone, including the witch, Melodie. The day was quiet. Mama Bigger was quiet. Everyone was quiet, including KitKit who sat on the shelf above the fireplace watching everyone, her tail twitching. George hunkered under Angie’s bed, hiding.

At dusk, Evan Bigger left the witch house and the wards went up stronger than before. When he came back, the pack leader smelled of Lincoln Shaddock’s barbeque restaurant and the Bigger was more quiet than usual. Outside, snow was a steady fall.

Evan Bigger looked at George and KitKit who were sitting together on the sofa in his spot, curled around each other. He looked away. Then back to the Bassett Hound and the familiar. He studied them. KitKit hissed at him. George whined softly.

“I know you can understand me. Can’t say how or why I know, but I know. I’ll need all the help you can offer raising the kids. You know that, right?”

KitKit curled her tail up and looked away. It was cat talk for, “Of course.”

George whuffed and sneezed in agreement.

KitKit got up, dropped from the special place where Evan Bigger usually sat, and walked away.

George got up, dropped heavily to the floor and walked to the big witch. He licked his hand. Evan Bigger petted him. As was his due.

Evan Bigger smiled. “All for one and one for all.”

George had no idea what that meant. But it was enough. It was good, good.

Gwendolyn Faith Hunter is an American author and blogger, writing in the fantasy and thriller genres. She writes as Faith Hunter in the fantasy genre, and as Gwen Hunter in the thriller genre. She also has collaborated on thrillers with Gary Leveille, jointly using the name Gary Hunter. Hunter is one of the founding members of the blog, MagicalWords.net, a writer assistance blog, and has developed a role-playing game based on her Rogue Mage series.

To learn more, go to: http://www.faithhunter.net/wp/