After Kelly wandered off to her own bed and I lay back down on my cot, my thoughts continued to whirl. My gut had told me Chiquita was a problem, but no way had I guessed how big a problem.
So what was she? There were so many variations on witchcraft throughout the world. I wasn’t that familiar with all the cultural differences, especially the ones coming out of South America. Off the top of my head she could be a brujería, a hedgewitch, a curanderos, or a shamani. If South America was where she was from. She could be Puerto Rican, or with a background coming out of the Caribbean Islands, which opened up all sorts of other possibilities.
If I remembered correctly Puerto Rico even had a city called Pueblo de los Brujos, or something, which meant city of witches. Then there were the voodoo practitioners, Orisha rites, Hoodoo, Kumina and dozens of other variations of witchcraft, Satanism and magic use.
But why use anything against her fellow teammates unless she thought to eliminate some of the competition? Was that her goal or something else?
I was still chewing through possibilities and trying my hardest to ignore the pain coursing through my hand, when I heard Vaughn get up and creep out of the dorm. She brushed my shoe as she tiptoed past my cot.
I rose and followed her, amazed at how quiet she could be. A shifter, Were, or vamp might have heard her but not many humans.
The minute we stepped out into the chill night air I started to speak, but Vaughn put a finger against her lips and whispered. “Shhhhh. Too close.”
To what? Or whom?
I nodded and followed her, keeping away from the gravel paths, stepping on dormant grass or even the rims of flowerbeds until we stopped at the main house. The original property where I’d heard the offices were located. That and lodging for Ling Mai and Stone.
What were we doing here?
Breaking and entering? Checking fellow recruit files? Going for a late night snack? What?
Then Vaughn really blew my mind when she inserted a metal key into the back door lock, only turning my way as she pushed open the door.
“You first,” she whispered. “We’ve got to hurry to disengage the alarm.”
Was she kidding? Someone had tried to kill me earlier and now she wanted me to walk ahead, into a dark hallway. Who knew what could be waiting there? Was Vaughn the black magic user?
She wouldn’t be the first beautiful witch or one who’d glamoured herself to appear beautiful.
“You first,” I snarled, the hackles on my neck rising.
She shrugged and stepped inside, her footfalls as stealthy on the parquet floors inside as on the dirt outside.
Stopping at a nearby panel which was making strangled beep sounds increasing in volume, and obscured by the shadows, she punched in a series of numbers which cut the noise off.
Only then did I start breathing.
Who was she that she knew her way into the Manor House and where were we going? And how did she know the alarm’s key code?
My shoulders were tensing and my stomach knotting. Enough to make me nauseated.
“This way,” she whispered, still keeping her voice low. I didn’t blame her. I felt like I was creeping into a church or a prison, someplace I didn’t belong and didn’t want to be.
“What are we—”
She cut me off by raising her hand.
So I followed, remembering my dad’s lecture about just because my brothers jumped off a nearby bridge didn’t mean I should follow their lead, even if they did live to crow about their exploits.
I’d had enough. It’d been a horrible day, my hand screamed pain, and I knew I was walking toward more trouble, not away from it.
We’d padded down one hallway when Vaughn paused at a crossway and held up her hand to stop. She glanced in both directions before heading to the right.
“Just a minute,” I snarled, keeping my voice as low as temper permitted. “I’m not going another step until you tell me where we’re going.”
But it wasn’t Vaughn who answered me. It was Stone.
Busted.