Black Moon Sing (The Turquoise Path Book 1) (8 page)

CHAPTER EIGHT

E
llery was huddled on Sylvia’s front step, hugging her knees to her chest, when her friends returned from their search.

“Did you find anything?” River asked.

But when Ellery made no reply—only hunched there, grim-faced and trembling—he sank down on the step beside her.

“What’s the matter, Ell?”

She drew a shaky breath. “Something happened. Something bad.”

“Vivi?” Sylvia’s voice was thick with fear.

Ellery shook her head. “I didn’t find any trace of her. But I shifted, and then I lost focus, and I…”

She swallowed hard and tried another way of explaining. “Remember that creepy feeling I told you about? That
call
?”

“Yeah,” Sylvia said cautiously.

“It seemed to take over while I was in my coyote form. It was like that force chased all conscious thought away. I just went toward it without thinking, and I ended up in traffic—”

“Oh my God!” River pulled her close in a protective hug.

Gently, Ellery untangled herself from his arms. “I’m okay now. I’m shaken up, but I’m all right. It’s just…” She drew a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to dispel her nerves. “That was really, really scary.”

“I bet.” Sylvia unlocked the front door and held it open. “Come on inside. I’ll make you some tea.”

“Is there anything you can do, Sylvia? Do you know any spells that can break this thing’s hold over me?” Ellery sank onto Sylvia’s couch and pressed her palms against her eyes, trying to ward away the memory of screeching tires and howling horns. Sniffling, trying her best not to cry, Ellery added, “I’m really afraid that the call took Vivi, and now it’s after me, too. I don’t know how to fight it. Is there any spell you know? Anything to keep it away from me? Anything at all!”

She felt the couch cushion shift as Sylvia joined her. “I don’t know,” the witch said softly. “I don’t know the source of this power, so I’m not even sure a spell exists that can defeat it. And if a spell does exist, is it one I know how to use? Without knowing what this thing is, what it wants—”

“It wants traders specifically,” Ellery said. “Unless either of you know any local weres who can tell us whether they’ve been feeling it, too.”

Sylvia and River both shook their heads.

“We don’t know that this…
thing
, whatever it is…is responsible for Vivi’s disappearance,” River said.

“
I
know it is,” Ellery insisted. “Somehow, whatever is behind this calling force is targeting traders. The trader who was killed nearby, and William Roanhorse—”

“Hold on,” River broke in. “I know you’re upset, but we can’t get carried away. We have to be clear-headed about this. We have no idea whether those murders are connected to each other, let alone to the calling force.”

Ellery bit back a growl of frustration. “You’re right; I know you’re right. But I have this gut feeling, this certainty that all these mysteries are connected. And that makes a kind of sense, doesn’t it? If local traders are being targeted in one way, why not in another way, too? And why not by the same person…or people…or whatever is responsible.”

Sylvia shrugged. “Honestly, that makes as much sense as anything else. Until we find any evidence to the contrary, we might as well assume the same force is behind anything that targets the trader community.”

She stood and paced the room for a few moments, lost in thought. Then turned back to Ellery. “Do you still have that turquoise bead?”

“Of course.” Ellery pulled it from her pocket and held it out to the witch.

Sylvia set the bead on the coffee table and crouched down beside it. She closed her eyes, raising both hands until they hovered just above the smooth, polished turquoise. Then she began to mutter, so softly Ellery could scarcely hear the whisper of her breath. Sylvia’s lips moved with the words of the spell, and Ellery shivered as a mild chill drew across her, followed by a wave of warmth.

Sylvia was manipulating the elements through her spell—or so Ellery assumed. As a Changer, had only the most cursory understanding of how spells worked, how witches and other Casters wielded their particular kinds of magic.

After the warmth passed over and around Ellery, she felt a strange tugging sensation ripple through her middle. She leaned with it, tipping toward the small bead that lay beneath Sylvia’s hands. It almost felt as if gravity itself was bending toward the bead—bending into it, and pulling Ellery along with it. She shuddered, reminded uncomfortably of the unknown force in the northeast. She leaned away, and was surprised that it was easy to resist that particular pull—unlike the thing that called to her from the Rez.

Finally, Sylvia sat back, opening her bright blue eyes behind the lenses of her thick-rimmed glasses. She picked up the bead and examined it. “There. That’s the best I can do.”

“What
did
you do?” River asked, sounding a little wary.

Paras were always more understanding with their fellow magic-users than Typs were, but even so, it was a strange feeling to watch someone use foreign magic, or to feel the effects of a magic that didn’t belong to you. That was why the mere thought of the path through the stolen turquoise—a roadmap that might teach a non-shifter how to shift—gave Ellery such a sick, sinking feeling.

“I broke this bead’s connection to its fellows,” Sylvia said. “I convinced it that it was never a part of the missing beads. So now, whoever has those beads—
if
they realize the beads contain a magical path—can’t gain any influence over
this
bead, at least. My hope is that, if our villain learns the secret of the turquoise, he won’t be able to find any path in this particular bead. Because this bead is, no doubt, already picking up Ellery’s magic. And mine. And yours, River.”

River frowned at the piece of turquoise. “How can something as simple as a bead seem so creepy?”

“It’s not creepy; it’s just the nature of the stone. But I hope my spell will neutralize the effect, or at least slow down whoever now has the rest of the beads from this strand—make it harder for them to figure Ellery out, harder for them to get to her.”

She held the bead out and dropped it in Ellery’s palm. “And also, I put a protection spell on it. It’s the strongest protection spell I know. I honestly don’t know whether it will give you any relief from that weird calling sensation, Ell, but it’s better than nothing. It was the most useful thing I could think of.”

Ellery smiled gratefully at her friend. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“Since I’m an earth elemental, the spell’s effect will be magnified by minerals and metals. Any stone or any kind of metal should give at least some boost, but something with silver or iron in it will be strongest. Pure forms of the metal are ideal, but anything metallic ought to make the spell significantly stronger. I usually cast this spell on silver or copper or steel medallions, but turquoise will have to do. Keep the bead on you, and the spell’s protection will surround you.”

“Metal,” Ellery said, “got it.”

She pulled her bone-handled utility knife from its sheath on her belt. She’d found the knife useful many times in the past, especially for deterring creeps on the street. She had developed the habit of wearing the blade without really thinking about it, unless she needed it to slice open some stubborn packaging or trim loose threads off her clothes. Now it seemed the knife had a better purpose.

Ellery loosened a bit of the leather sinew that wrapped the knife’s handle, strung the bead onto the leather, and knotted it again as tightly as she could.

On the instant, she felt the pulling sensation ease. She was still aware of the summoning force, pulsing and throbbing at the edge of her consciousness. But it was as if she’d stepped inside a sound-proofed room and shut the door; a deep peace enfolded her, a soothing barrier between herself and her looming fears.

She grinned at Sylvia. “Wow!”

“It’s working?” Sylvia seemed rather surprised.

“It seems to be. I can still sense the force out there, but it’d distant now. I feel like I can concentrate—like I can trust myself to shift if I need to.”

“Do you want to try shifting again?” Sylvia asked.

“I don’t know,” River said. “Considering what happened to her earlier…”

Ellery rose from the couch. She felt energetic, confident—ready to face whatever was out there, preying on her kind. “It’s all right, River. I’m ready to try it again. I’ve got the best senses of any of us, especially when I’m shifted. If I can help pick up any clues about Vivi, or about anything else that’s happening to Flagstaff’s traders, I’m willing to try.”

River nodded slowly. He watched Ellery for a moment, appraising her with those strange, deep-seeing, beautiful fae eyes. Then he said, “I trust you to make the right decision. But if at any time you feel the force grow stronger… if the protection spell seems to falter… let us know as quickly as you can. We’ll come and help you, wherever you are.”

“You got it,” Ellery promised. She headed through Sylvia’s house toward the kitchen, to its back door that led out onto the rear patio. The patio was a peaceful little refuge from the wider world, brick-floored and surrounded by pots full of Sylvia’s carefully tended herbs.

“I’m going out as the owl again,” Ellery called over her shoulder. “The coyote’s nose didn’t tell me much, but the owl’s eyes might.”

CHAPTER NINE

E
llery paused for a moment in the little garden, gathering her energy and her thoughts. The garden was surrounded by a cinder-block wall, which was overgrown with scraggly, summer-dried vines. She breathed deeply, taking in the smell of herbs in the warm air, an earthy, soothing scent, enjoying a moment of peace before the struggle began again.

Her body still ached from the long flight earlier that day, and she was certain Ghost Owl would be sore and cranky, too—even crankier than usual. Bracing herself for another argument with the recalcitrant bird spirit, she reached through the bracelet and contacted him as gently as she could.

To her relief, Ghost Owl was much more willing to cooperate than he usually was. Ellery felt his spirit come toward her willingly, and though she could sense his caution she could clearly read his eagerness, too. It seemed the brush with traffic had scared Ghost Owl almost as badly as it had frightened Ellery and Dusty. He was prepared to fly with her again. She could feel him clack his beak in impatience, and she knew he wanted to get the whole business over and done with as quickly as possible—to solve the bothersome mysteries that surrounded them and return to their usual routines, their usual lives.

I can’t argue with that
, Ellery told the owl.
I hope this is the last long flight we’ll make for a while
.

With the usual water-like rush of blue light and cool energy, Ellery traded places with Ghost Owl. Riding in his small, light-boned body, she flew up over the garden wall and struck out across the northern fringe of Flagstaff.

As night advanced, she could sense the changes in air currents and pressure, and climbed the ladder-like ridges of the thermals, feeling her way with the sensitive feathers along the front edge of her wings. Soreness and tiredness aside, Ghost Owl’s body flew very well. It was remarkable what Ellery could accomplish with the owl when he was willing to cooperate.

And she thanked her lucky stars that he was cooperative tonight. Bird vision was no other kind of vision that existed on Earth. In Ghost Owl’s body she could see entire spectra of light that were invisible to her own eyes, or to Dusty’s. Ultraviolet light was bright and attractive; it always seemed cheerful to her with its vivacious, purple glow. But magnetic light was especially fascinating, the way it danced and coruscated in arcs and ripples, bending with the subtle curve of the earth.

Most useful to her tonight, though, was the special, bright-blue light Ghost Owl could sometimes detect as it flowed through the ley lines.

No one had ever been able to give Ellery a satisfactory explanation of what ley lines were. Paras and Typs had their pet theories, of course; most Typs who espoused a New-Age worldview thought the leys were networks of life force… or some vaguely described “energy” that served as links or conduits among spiritually important locations around the world.

The majority of Paras whom Ellery had ever interviewed on the subject—which wasn’t many, to be sure—all seemed to agree that ley lines were closely tied to magic use. But that was the extent of anyone’s agreement. Nobody could explain precisely how leys influenced magic. There was no doubt, however, that more Paras lived in the vicinity of large, active ley lines than in places where the leys were weak or nonexistent.

Clearly, leys played some crucial part in Paranormal life. But Ellery was damned if she knew what role they served, or how they worked.

After years of working with Ghost Owl and seeing the leys for herself, Ellery had begun to suspected that they were not conduits of energy. Rather, she thought they might be cracks in the invisible walls of the world—
this
world, the one where mortal humans lived. The light that splashed over Ellery during a shift shared many qualities with the light that shone through the ley lines—the light she could only observe with a bird’s eyes. When she flew at night in Ghost Owl’s body, she could make out the nearest leys as a faintly visible network of bright blue, coruscating and shimmering in intricate angles across the sky, pulsing and glowing with the exact water-blue color that accompanied her shifts.

Ellery hadn’t met any other traders who worked with bird spirits—not yet, anyway—so she couldn’t compare notes, couldn’t ask them whether they saw the same unmistakable webs of blue light when they traded places with their bird partners. Someday she hoped to meet more bird traders, and then she would finally have the chance to confirm her suspicions. But for now, she had to trust that her observation was correct.

As twilight approached, the tracery of light grew stronger in the upper atmosphere. Ellery flew steadily along the northern edge of town, assessing the leys, searching for any difference in their appearance since the last time she’d used Ghost Owl by night. Perhaps a change in the leys could provide a clue that might lead Ellery and her friends to the source of their troubles.

The sun sank lower in the west. As full night gathered, the ground far below rippled with the magenta and greenish-golden coils of magnetic light. But the glow from the leys overhead was nearly as intense—far brighter than usual. Ellery turned the owl’s head as she flew, cocking one eye up toward the velvet of the sky. The leys glowed with an eerie strength, and high up in the air, she could almost feel the same rush of water-like energy that accompanied her shifts. That ripple of power was unending, though it ebbed and flowed in a pulsing tide.

Strange. That doesn’t feel right
.

She turned northeast. The mysterious pull was still there—she could sense its grip around her, could feel the same dragging sensation. But the protection from the turquoise bead was still effective, even with her human body dwelling
wherever it went
during a shift. Buffered against the summoning force, Ellery felt free to observe it, to draw closer to its source without fear of being overwhelmed.

The leys burned with brilliant intensity as they snaked toward the northeast. Out across the desert, in Navajo land, the blue lines seemed to converge on a distant point, a cerulean glow that beat like a heart—waiting, but not patient.

Ellery aligned the owl’s body with the thickest ley line and flew below it, following it out into the depths of the desert. A constant rush of the ley’s power moved over and through her as she made steadily for the reservation and the mountains at its heart. The highway was an even line of darkness below, a trench of smooth blackness against night-dimmed red sand, showing clearly through the ripples of magnetic light. Road below, ley above, she glided on the night wind toward the convergence of the summoning power.

She would find out what was out there, waiting for her in the desert. Tonight, if she could. The light of the leys was vibrant on her pale wings as she pressed on into the night.