Sisters of the Mist by Eric Wilder

Author:Eric Wilder
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: urban fantasy, mystery, new orleans, fantasy, paranormal, action and adventure, shifters, hardboiled, witches and wizards
Publisher: Eric Wilder

Chapter 22

The big gator finally gave up his wait for another marshmallow and disappeared into the shallow depths of the brown water. Overhead, a pair of bald eagles circled as I racked my brain for an explanation why we didn’t call the police after discovering a murder scene.

“Our trail of information led us to an orphanage run by Father Fred. He was dead when we got there, Exethelon buried in his heart. Two guards were also dead and all the people staying at the orphanage gone.”

“So why didn’t you call the police?”

“The place caught fire and burned to the ground before we had a chance to.”

“Who started the fire?”

“It combusted spontaneously,” I said.

“I’ll buy lots of shit. I ain’t buying that,” he said. “Someone had to start the fire.”

“The sorceress,” Rory said. “She is also the person who slew the three men and allowed the prisoners to escape.”

“Prisoners? You said it was an orphanage.”

“We have it on good authority that Father Fred was trafficking in human slaves. He and Sister Gertrude bought and sold people like cattle. I believe retribution was the motive for his death.”

“And this sorceress lives somewhere in the Honey Island Swamp? How do you know that?”

“I learned as much when she commissioned me to craft Exethelon,” Rory said.

“But you don’t know where in the swamp?”

“We were hoping you did,” I said.

J.P. pulled a cell phone from his pocket and dialed someone. We listened to the one-sided conversation until he’d finished.

“The orphanage burned last night,” he said. “You weren’t lying about that. There were no bodies found by the investigators. You sure you saw three dead people?”

“Like I said, maybe Abba and I had a group hallucination.”

“Abba?”

“Now that I think about it, it seems more like a dream,” she said.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll worry about what you just told me sometime in the future. How do we go about finding this sorceress?”

“I’ll admit, I haven’t a clue,” I said.

Abba nodded. “Me either.”

“Then where the hell do we start?” J.P. asked, looking at Rory.

“Exethelon,” the giant Scot said.

J.P. rolled the dagger in his hand. “Maybe you better explain to me how that’s supposed to work.”

“Return it to Wyatt, and you will see,” Rory said.

I felt the power of the blade once I again held it in my hand. J.P.’s expression changed to disbelief when it began to radiate a golden glow.

“What the hell!” he said.

“Wyatt retrieved Exethelon from the dead man’s heart. It is now forever his, along with all the powers it possesses. Its magic will only work for him. It will lead us to the sorceress.”

“You aren’t exactly dressed for a trek through the swamp,” J.P. said. “You and Abba look as if you’re on your way to a day of sightseeing in the French Quarter. Rory’s wearing a kilt, and none of you have boots. I can’t let you go deeper into the swamp dressed like this.”

“This is the way Wyatt and I were dressed when we left home yesterday morning,” Abba said. “Needless to say we haven’t had a chance to change.

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