The Watcher

CHAPTER 32

FREY IS NOT MOVING, BUT HE'S ALIVE. I KNOW BEcause his form has not changed. He remains a panther. When a shape-shifter dies he reverts to human form. I can't remember whether it was Culebra or Frey who told me this, but the important thing is, he's alive. But for how long?

My gaze shifts to the witch. She holds the crossbow to her shoulder, the bolt pointed at my chest. I'm fast, but can I out run an arrow?

Muscles tense to try.

Burke smiles and shifts the crossbow. The bolt is pointed now at Frey. "If you run, I shoot him again. Then I kill the woman. Then I kill Culebra. It's your choice.'"

I relax, letting the energy drain out of my system like water down a pipe. "What do you want?"

She gestures with the crossbow. "Join me."

I hold up my hands to indicate acquiescence and start for the stage. The coven follows at my back, snapping and growling like a pack of wild dogs. Their animosity shimmers around me, a black energy I can feel on my skin and taste in my mouth like acid or vomit. They want nothing more than to tear me apart. Perhaps that's what the witch has in mind.

She's taller than I remember, her lean body glows in the moonless night. She's stands erect and unashamed, her nakedness a challenge. She watches me come up the steps, the crossbow pointed at my chest and held with a steady hand. She has a smile on her face as she motions for me to come closer.

"You are Anna Strong."

If she expects that I will react in shock that she knows my name, she is disappointed. After all, I know now the warning she so dramatically delivered when I'd crashed into her wall was aimed specifically at me. To achieve this very result.

"Do you know what you have interrupted here?"

We are face-to-face. Her expression is calm, untroubled. She speaks as if to a recalcitrant child. I think I'd prefer it if she screamed. This air of mild annoyance is definitely at odds with the powerful rage I feel from her followers watching us.

I gesture at the people below. "Looks like they've been stood up. I don't think they're very happy about that."

She looks down at them. "They are angry. Understandably. The opportunity to raise Aswah will not come again for a decade. What do you suppose they would do if I threw you to them?"

But she makes no move to do it. Her tone is lazy, indulgent, a woman who likes the sound of her own voice.

"Pretty good special effects, Burke," I snap back. "But a little over-the-top, don't you think?"

She raises her chin and smiles. "You know my name?"

I nod. "I saw your mug shot at SDPD the other day. It was a very unflattering picture. You look short with clothes on."

"Foley was right about you. He said you have a smart mouth."

For the first time, she says something that surprises me. "Foley knows about"—I wave a hand around—"this?"

"Why don't you ask him?"

From the shadow behind the cross steps a figure. He, too, is smiling and he holds out a hand as if we're meeting in the most mundane of social occasions.

Agent Foley drops his hand when he realizes I have no intention of shaking it. Instead he puts one hand on Belinda Burke's shoulder while taking the crossbow from her with the other. It remains pointed at my chest.

"Well, Anna. It's about damned time."