“Maybe we should give the spell a go,” Baer prodded.
“Yeah, we might need to try this a few times to get his exact location, but I figure we’ve got a good beginning point here. And after the spell, we are talking lunch, ’cause I’m gonna be hungry!”
Wiley had searched for a hotel as close to the center of town as possible. He’d explained that it would give him the best reach.
Holding his hands out over the map, Wiley paused to look at the spell book one last time before he started a soft chant. Gio couldn’t quite catch what he was saying. It didn’t sound like it was in English, but he couldn’t identify the language. At first, he didn’t think anything was happening. Maybe he just wouldn’t be able to see it because he wasn’t magical in the least.
But then there was a gentle prickling of energy along his arms. The fine hairs on the nape of his neck stood up and he gasped as the crystals around the maps started to glow one by one as if lit by an inner light.
A breeze stirred in the room, ruffling the curtains and shifting through his hair, despite the fact that there was no open window or door to the outside. The cool wind circled the area and then moved to the map. The small pile of reddish dirt shifted and slowly spun, caught in a tiny eddy. Wiley fell silent as the eddy turned into a three-inch high tornado of dirt that twisted and danced across the map.
Gio jerked away, shoving to his feet. He backpedaled and found himself immediately ensconced in Lucien’s strong arms while Calder cuddled close, taking a small step in front of him as if he meant to shield Gio with his own body.
“The missing Weaver is the Air Weaver,” Lucien said softly as if he didn’t want to disturb the spell. “We don’t know exactly what that entails. Can he control the wind? Or the weather?”
“The tornado happened the last time in St. Louis, but on a much bigger, messier scale. Wiley put a little too much energy into the spell that time,” Baer added, but his mate didn’t react to his words. Wiley’s entire focus appeared to be on maintaining the spell.
The tiny whirligig moved across the map and into one of the many bays around the Charleston area until it finally wound down, leaving a tidy pile of dirt in one spot.
“Is that it? Is that where the Weaver is being held?” Calder asked, taking one step toward the map.
Gio nearly chuckled that Lucien hadn’t relaxed his grip on him despite the fact that the spell had ceased completely. Not that Gio was exactly fighting to get free either. Lucien had really great arms for holding a person. He was a natural when it came to hugs.
“Yeah, I think it is,” Wiley replied breathlessly. He swayed and Baer immediately sat on the love seat next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, just drained. Food and sleep are gonna be needed soon. But we can do this first.” Wiley carefully shifted the dirt from where it was on the map so he could get a closer look at the location. The young man frowned and turned his attention across the room. “Gio, you know this area?”
Stepping out of Lucien’s arms, Gio crossed to the table again and kneeled to get a closer look at the map. Now he saw the reason for Wiley’s frown. The pestilents had found an excellent location for holding a Weaver captive. It was going to be hell rescuing him.
“Yeah, Sewee Bay. Popular place for a day of boating and fishing. Lots of secluded inlets and islands. Most of the islands are in part of the state park, but there are quite a few that have private docks and small vacation homes.” He lifted his gaze to take in the men surrounding him. “But you’re going to need a boat. It’s the only way to reach these islands.”
“Great,” Lucien muttered, sounding less than enthusiastic about this plan.
Calder shrugged. “So, we rent a boat and ride out to check the islands. No big deal.”
Wiley snorted. “Says the Water Weaver. Some of us have never been on a boat.”
Baer shook his head. “And it’s not going to be easy to sneak up on the pestilents this way. They’re going to notice if a boat approaches them. I’ll need to shift and do a little reconnaissance alone. At least to start.”
“My brother, Marcello, has a nice thirty-nine-footer he uses for fishing trips and family parties out on the water. I can give him a call, see if he’d let me borrow it. We could pretend to be a bunch of drunk vacationers out for a day of fishing.”
Calder nodded. “That sounds good. The less people who remember us, the better. We need to get in and out of Charleston before all of the pestilents know we’re here.”