Under Witch Curse (Moon Shadow Series) by Maria Schneider

Author:Maria Schneider [Schneider, Maria]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: werewolf, shape shifters, magic, weres, witches, urban fantasy, warlock, moon shadow series
Publisher: BearMountainBooks
Published: 2013-03-30T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 23

Morning dawned cold and not so clear. I phoned Lynx first thing and left him a message that was upfront about what we needed, but didn’t divulge all the nitty-gritty. His phone was never turned on when he was working. He’d show up when he got around to it if he didn’t leave town entirely and refuse to ever do business with me again.

Tracy had returned to build more walls, and the roofers arrived to start the lab roof.

While I scrambled eggs for breakfast, I asked Tracy if he knew the homeless guy we had discovered at the nail salon. Describing the guy was difficult and came out as a rambling list of his clothing. I had never seen the color of his eyes and his hair had been so dirty it was impossible to know if it was gray covered with dirt or a brown combination.

Tracy listened until I stuttered to a stop. “There’s a lot of us. Some hobos, lots of winos, some families. There’s this one guy. He rides trains all the time. Tried it with the bus system, but he ended up locked in the luggage compartment for three days. Almost died.”

“The guy I’m talking about liked beer and was hoping for a warm place to sleep,” I remembered.

Tracy nodded. “Maybe Nick. He’s a wino. He’d go anywhere for a beer. Warm place for the night, maybe not, but a beer or wine, yeah.”

“Did he have any tattoos?”

Tracy nodded again, never once looking up as he shoveled in a final bite of food. Before he finished chewing, his plate was in the sink.

Since Tracy didn’t offer anything more, I pressed. “What did they look like?”

He stepped outside and hummed an almost inaudible tune, a greeting to Mother Earth. My bracelet vibrated once as if hit by a silver tuning fork. This house would be an artistic monument when he was done.

I followed him to where the house met the outside. “Do you remember what the tats looked like?”

He paused, but then resumed removing the plastic sheeting that protected the kitchen. “I don’t remember.” He scratched his nearly bald crown and then added, “I need to light the brick oven.”

“Any idea at all?” I grabbed a jacket and trailed in his wake.

He wasted no motions, but every now and then, he’d hum his little greeting. Finally he said to me, “He wore his coat mostly. But he had some on his arms. Blue, faded. A lot of lines.”

“Dragons?”

He shook his head.

“Did he have one in the shape of a dog?” I could name shapes all day and get nowhere. “Any idea what the shape was?”

“Was more like a cross, but not exactly because there was a sun in the center or something like that. He said he had them done in the army.”

Ah. Maybe we could trace him through there. “Do you know his last name?”

Another head shake. Something told me that homeless guys didn’t offer up too much personal information. “Are you a wino?” Martin had been.

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