“It doesn’t work like that,” I told her. “My radius extends in a sphere around me, not in a direct line between me and the nearest witch.”

“How do you know?”

I was sipping my coffee, but Jesse understood and answered for me. “Because,” he said, “the wolves can’t smell her when they’re in wolf form. We talked to a werewolf last fall who said she was a space in the smell.”

I nodded my head. “Their enhanced sense of smell comes from magic, and magic can’t interact when I’m around. As long as you keep your voice down, nothing you say can . . . go out into the universe,” I said, feeling silly about invoking the universe in a conversation. Witches, man.

Noring held my eyes, and I knew she believed me. But she still leaned back in her chair, folding her arms across her chest. “I’m still not going to say a word,” Noring said firmly. “Unless Scarlett promises to meet with an orthopedic surgeon.”

I snorted. “I didn’t know you cared, Doc.”

She gave me a piercing look. “You don’t get it, do you?” she snapped. “You’ve no idea what you even have here. Los Angeles isn’t like other cities. Haven’t you noticed the new members of Will’s pack? The new vampires who’ve made the city their home in the last few years? The Los Angeles Old World has gained a reputation for peace, for balance, and it’s growing.” She pointed a perfectly manicured finger at my chest. “You are part of that, Scarlett. Like it or not, you’re important to this town. You have to take better care of yourself.”

I stared at her. I didn’t want to admit that I’d had no idea that the supernatural population had been getting bigger. Was that why I’d had more crime scenes lately? I suddenly felt very stupid. And very young.

Luckily Jesse jumped in for me. Unluckily he said, “I’ll take her to the doctor. I promise.”

She eyed him up and down. “Swear by your honor,” she said finally. The word should have sounded silly—who talks about honor at a hotel coffee shop? —but she used it with such gravitas that it would be hard not to take her seriously.

Jesse flinched, and I knew he was thinking that his honor was tainted. Without thinking I reached out and covered his hand with mine. He gave me a startled, grateful look, and said to Noring, “I swear by my honor. I’ll take Scarlett to a surgeon as soon as she can get an appointment.”

“Excellent,” Noring said with a smirk. She reached into her wallet and pulled out a business card from a doctor’s office, the kind with the lines on the back for appointment times. “I’ve already scheduled you to see Dr. Shapiro next Tuesday. He’s the best orthopedic surgeon on the West Coast. You’re welcome.”

I withdrew my hand. “Wait,” I protested. “Jesse, I can’t just—”

“We’ll be there,” Jesse said firmly, shooting me a glare. “Please, tell us about the Luparii.”

Noring looked down at her empty coffee cup. “What do you want to know?” she asked, careful to keep her voice down.

“Let’s start with how they manage to kill werewolves on a regular basis,” I said promptly.

For the first time since I’d met her, Noring looked genuinely shaken. “They use a spell.”

“I thought you couldn’t use magic against itself,” Jesse pointed out.

Noring shook her head. “Not a spell against the werewolves. They use a spell to create a creature that can fight werewolves.”

Jesse and I exchanged a look. “What creature?” Jesse asked, his patience obviously thinning.

Noring drew in a breath and blew it out slowly through pursed lips. “It has a few names,” she said hesitantly. “I’ve heard hellhound, or demon dog.” She turned her mug around and around in her hands. “But witches usually call it a bargest.”

Chapter 30

“Isn’t that like a fairy-tale thing?” Jesse said, somewhat less politely than before.

Noring waved a hand dismissively. “There are many stories about the bargest. The Hound of the Baskervilles, for example. But the bargest is real, although it’s not at all natural.” She asked, “Do you know how modern hunters kill wild wolves?”

I knew about as much about hunting as I did about water polo—nothing—so I shook my head, but Jesse answered grimly, “They use dogs.”

Noring nodded. She glanced at the barista, who appeared to have nodded off on his stool with one hand propping up his face. She continued, “The Luparii used packs of dogs to hunt wolves for centuries. But when they tried to adopt the same plan to hunt werewolves, the wolves simply killed the dogs. They were too strong, too fast—even a single werewolf versus a whole pack of dogs. They tried crossbreeding different kinds of dogs next, even breeding the most vicious of them with wild wolves.” She shuddered. “There are stories about some of their creations, which I try not to think about.”

I winced. My mother had been a veterinary assistant, and she had spent more than one family dinner venting about recklessly negligent dog breeders. She’d firmly believed that anyone who breeds dogs should be required to spend a week in their dogs’ conditions.

Noring drained the rest of her coffee. Jesse looked impatient, but Noring didn’t seem in any hurry to continue the story. I prompted gently, “They crossbred dogs with wolves . . .”

The doctor hardened her face to keep any expression inside. “But none of it worked, so they incorporated their magic. The Luparii make things . . . twisted,” she said distastefully. “Corrupt. They still breed the dogs with wolves, as big as possible, and they channel a tremendous amount of magical energy into one dog, usually a male. As a side effect, the spell turns him coal black, which is where the stories about the black demon dog originate. But the main purpose of the spell was to design a creature, something they could control, that was able to keep up with a werewolf physically.”