Read Online Ghost Key by Trish J. MacGregor - Free Book Online
Authors: Trish J. MacGregor
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virus.”
“Got my orders, Hank.”
“This is such bullshit,” Clem said angrily. “The point is the body, not the dog.”
Wayra whirled around and raced down the other side of the mound, the men still shouting at each other. The hawk shrieked nearby, and when Wayra glanced back, he saw it diving toward the cop, who stumbled back, lost his balance, and tumbled out of sight, down the other side of the hill of garbage. Wayra raced on into the trees, Dominica’s smell still so thick in his nostrils he continued to follow it through time.
She had seized the young man while he was snorkeling in the gulf with his girlfriend. It seemed that Dominica was instructing another brujo on how to seize and control humans. Once she had shown her new recruit how to do it, she’d leaped out of the man and into the girlfriend, and the other brujo had taken the young man. Neither human realized it until they were on one of the deserted islands and brujo lust had overpowered them. Both of them bled out within minutes. Later, the rising tide washed their bodies out into the gulf.
Even though Wayra’s sense of smell provided an abundance of information, it didn’t give him everything. Huge gaps existed in his knowledge. How did the man’s body get to the landfill? What had happened to his girlfriend’s body? Where had Dominica left Maddie’s body while she’d been teaching her recruit how to seize humans? He needed to look at a map and find the quickest way to the gulf.
As he neared the end of the woods, he shifted into his human form again, grateful that the man who had transformed him so many centuries ago had done so while Wayra was clothed. It meant that whenever he moved back to his human form, he would still be dressed in whatever he was wearing when he had shifted. It meant that anything he was carrying in his pockets would still be there. He didn’t know why this was so; it simply was. As he slapped his hands against his dusty jeans, he heard the squeal of a siren—distant, but headed this way.
“They’ll be looking for a black dog, Wayra,” said Charlie.
“Idiots. What’d you make of that hawk?”
“You owe her. She probably saved your ass from being shot.”
“Have you ever seen a hawk do anything like that?”
“No. But hey, you’re a hell of a lot older than I am. Have you ever seen a hawk do something like that?”
“Never.”
Wayra emerged from the trees, slipped inside the truck, dug out his keys. He sat there, studying a map. Two cop cars raced past the shopping center, sirens wailing. No black dog around here, boys.
“So where to next?” Charlie asked, now occupying the passenger seat.
“Cedar Key. It’s the closest island in the gulf.”
“Onward, amigo.”
Four
Dominica pedaled her bike through the dusk, the most magical time of day for her. As it settled across the island, it transformed the old buildings in downtown Cedar Key into a city of gold. She felt as if she were riding her bike through a land of legends and myths, of dragons and knights, kings and queens and princesses trapped in towers. She conjured just enough fog to create an atmosphere of mystery and danger, and imagined herself on horseback, racing toward Wayra in the days centuries ago when they had still loved each other.
But the memories of those days were open wounds. She shook them away and tried to find her way into a better story, one in which Wayra had joined her and they had taken over Esperanza and turned it into a city of brujos . That story fit the fantasy of myths and legends, but it wasn’t how it had happened. That blow still plagued her and, in her darkest moments, brought back the bitterness and despair of everything that had gone so horribly wrong.
She stopped in front of the Island Hotel, her headquarters since her arrival in January, and unlocked the courtyard gate. She pushed her bike inside, set it against one of the palm trees. From the basket attached to the back of the bike, she carefully
“Got my orders, Hank.”
“This is such bullshit,” Clem said angrily. “The point is the body, not the dog.”
Wayra whirled around and raced down the other side of the mound, the men still shouting at each other. The hawk shrieked nearby, and when Wayra glanced back, he saw it diving toward the cop, who stumbled back, lost his balance, and tumbled out of sight, down the other side of the hill of garbage. Wayra raced on into the trees, Dominica’s smell still so thick in his nostrils he continued to follow it through time.
She had seized the young man while he was snorkeling in the gulf with his girlfriend. It seemed that Dominica was instructing another brujo on how to seize and control humans. Once she had shown her new recruit how to do it, she’d leaped out of the man and into the girlfriend, and the other brujo had taken the young man. Neither human realized it until they were on one of the deserted islands and brujo lust had overpowered them. Both of them bled out within minutes. Later, the rising tide washed their bodies out into the gulf.
Even though Wayra’s sense of smell provided an abundance of information, it didn’t give him everything. Huge gaps existed in his knowledge. How did the man’s body get to the landfill? What had happened to his girlfriend’s body? Where had Dominica left Maddie’s body while she’d been teaching her recruit how to seize humans? He needed to look at a map and find the quickest way to the gulf.
As he neared the end of the woods, he shifted into his human form again, grateful that the man who had transformed him so many centuries ago had done so while Wayra was clothed. It meant that whenever he moved back to his human form, he would still be dressed in whatever he was wearing when he had shifted. It meant that anything he was carrying in his pockets would still be there. He didn’t know why this was so; it simply was. As he slapped his hands against his dusty jeans, he heard the squeal of a siren—distant, but headed this way.
“They’ll be looking for a black dog, Wayra,” said Charlie.
“Idiots. What’d you make of that hawk?”
“You owe her. She probably saved your ass from being shot.”
“Have you ever seen a hawk do anything like that?”
“No. But hey, you’re a hell of a lot older than I am. Have you ever seen a hawk do something like that?”
“Never.”
Wayra emerged from the trees, slipped inside the truck, dug out his keys. He sat there, studying a map. Two cop cars raced past the shopping center, sirens wailing. No black dog around here, boys.
“So where to next?” Charlie asked, now occupying the passenger seat.
“Cedar Key. It’s the closest island in the gulf.”
“Onward, amigo.”
Four
Dominica pedaled her bike through the dusk, the most magical time of day for her. As it settled across the island, it transformed the old buildings in downtown Cedar Key into a city of gold. She felt as if she were riding her bike through a land of legends and myths, of dragons and knights, kings and queens and princesses trapped in towers. She conjured just enough fog to create an atmosphere of mystery and danger, and imagined herself on horseback, racing toward Wayra in the days centuries ago when they had still loved each other.
But the memories of those days were open wounds. She shook them away and tried to find her way into a better story, one in which Wayra had joined her and they had taken over Esperanza and turned it into a city of brujos . That story fit the fantasy of myths and legends, but it wasn’t how it had happened. That blow still plagued her and, in her darkest moments, brought back the bitterness and despair of everything that had gone so horribly wrong.
She stopped in front of the Island Hotel, her headquarters since her arrival in January, and unlocked the courtyard gate. She pushed her bike inside, set it against one of the palm trees. From the basket attached to the back of the bike, she carefully
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