CnC 5 One Hex of a Wedding (23 page)

Oh, thank God! I couldn’t take another shred of bad news. “How are the folks? Dad holding up okay?”

“He’s fine. Mother’s keeping it together for both of us. You know, I think I understand her a little better now,” Rose said, and I could hear the wheels turning in her head. “I always blamed her for being cold and aloof, but between all the emotions running so high in our house, I guess somebody had to be the rock.”

I thought about what she’d said. Nanna and I’d been off in our own world. Dad had been yanked around by Grandma M., who was always threatening a heart attack. Grandpa M. just wanted to hide out from Grandma and so gave in without an argument on every issue.

And then there was the infamous War of the Grand-mothers, as Rose and I’d dubbed the continuing rivalry between Nanna and Grandma M. Old World Europe versus Irish lace and linens. Yeah, that had been a riot. It had fallen on Klara’s shoulders to remain the voice of composure.

“Well, Grandma M. couldn’t stand Mom when she married Dad. She was a foreigner. That alone was enough to damn her in Grandma’s eyes.” I was taking a chance, knowing how much Rose idolized Grandma McGrady, but what I said was the truth. She surprised me, though.

“I guess you’re right. Maybe I never gave Mother the credit she deserved. Okay, I’ve got to go, but I’ll call you again tomorrow morning, unless something happens before then. Love you, Emmy.”

“Love you, too, Rosy.” As I hung up, Joe came through the front door.

“We’ve got to clean up this mess,” I called out, pushing myself to my feet. As I reached for the nearest pile of magazines, I saw his face and stopped. “What’s wrong?”

He motioned me into the kitchen. “I need a Coke, and I know you’re going to want some of that black death you love so much once you hear what I’ve got to tell you.”

Uh-oh. Not good. Anytime anybody warned me to hit the caffeine, they usually had bad news. “What happened?” I asked, grabbing a soda out of the fridge and handing it to him. I quickly ground beans for a double-shot espresso.

“I just talked to Roger, who talked to the fire investigation team. It’s not going to take a detailed examination to figure out why Jimbo’s house caught on fire.” He popped the top on the Coke and took a long swig.

“Was I right?” I asked, holding the mesh cup full of grounds.

“Yeah, arson. They found gasoline containers outside. It looks like the outside of the house, all around the foundation, had been doused with gasoline. Jimbo must have been sleeping while it happened. His truck and chopper were outside, so it was apparent he was home.”

I slowly inserted the cup into the holder and fitted it beneath the espresso spigot. “Then whoever torched his house—”

“Was definitely trying to kill him.”

Eleven

 

 

 

AT PRECISELY TEN A.M. I pulled into Jimbo’s driveway. White Deer was already there, leaning against Murray’s truck and drinking a latte, and I saw the fire marshal’s car pulling onto the road. As I jumped out of my SUV, the smell of smoke and charcoal filled the air, and I gazed silently on the charred remains of what had been Jimbo’s house. There was nothing left. Nothing except blackened timbers and heaps of ashes.

I made my way over to White Deer’s side, carrying my own iced mocha. “Fire marshal done with his investigation?”

She nodded. “Yeah, but he wouldn’t talk to me. Doesn’t look like they took much away as evidence.”

I glanced around at what was left. The fire had managed to torch one of the sheds, but the big one—where Jimbo worked on his cars and kept his goats—had survived. The vegetable garden had taken a hit, but only in the rows closest to the house. An uneasy silence loomed over the land, and I could feel a creeping malevolence seeping through the air, through the downed timbers of the house. It was as if some shadow had moved through, leaving in its wake wave after wave of flames.

“What the hell?” I asked, looking slowly at White Deer. “Jimbo’s land has never, ever felt this angry and un-welcoming before.”

She blinked, not taking her eyes off the ruins of the house. “You’re right, and I’ll tell you another thing. The gasoline may have set off the fire, but something else left this wave of hatred behind. It’s almost as if the land’s been tainted, saturated with …” Pausing, she glanced at me, as if she didn’t want to say what she was thinking aloud.

“With jealousy,” I said, putting a name to the energy. To name something might draw it out, but it also gave us some measure of control over it. “Envy, jealousy, greed … can you feel it?” My skin prickled.

White Deer nodded. “Yes, I can, and it’s strong. Emerald, whoever this is, is so focused that his desire has taken on a consciousness of its own.”

I thought about Murray’s house, her bedroom in particular, and what I’d felt there. White Deer had nailed it on the head. Whoever he was, he left footprints. And if we followed them, maybe we could track him down.

“Perhaps we can trace him,” I said, not looking forward to the prospect, but it was the only option we had.

“We’d better get busy, whatever we’re going to do. I promised Jimmy and Anna that we’d check on the animals first. I’ll go over to the neighbor’s and fetch Roo, if you’ll check on the goats and chickens.” She headed down the road in a light jog.

I looked at the barn, and the chicken coop beside it, not relishing opening those doors and peering into the darkness. With a sudden pang, I wished that I’d agreed to let Joe come with us, but hindsight is twenty-twenty. I pulled a flashlight out of my Mountaineer and slowly approached the chicken coop. Might as well start there—where it would be harder for someone to hide out in the small space.

As I cautiously made my way across the rocky dirt to the sounds of the breeze rustling through the trees, the thought of coming face-to-face with Murray’s stalker began to loom larger in my mind. But he wouldn’t be so careless as to be here this morning, would he? And surely the fire marshal and his crew had looked through the outbuildings, so everything should be safe.

Holding on to that thought, I opened the gate to the chicken run and threw open the door to the coop. Silence. What? Shouldn’t there be chickens clucking and running around looking for their breakfast? I flashed my light inside the weathered outbuilding and saw a series of nests, but no chickens. In fact, nothing stirred in the building except what looked like a mama mouse and three babies. I backed into the fenced-in run and shut the door, then with a final look around, closed and fastened the gate. No chickens. That was odd. Jimbo usually had quite a handful of birds around. He raised them for eggs, as well as meat.

Curious now, paying less attention to the shadow that had cast a pall over the biker’s land, I headed over to the big shed. Once a barn, Jimbo had turned it into a multipurpose outbuilding. It now served as mechanic’s garage, goat hotel, tool shed, and storage locker.

I hesitantly pulled on one of the huge doors that opened out and threw it wide so the light could shine in and illuminate whoever—or whatever—might be inside. As I checked to either side before stepping into the main room, I noticed that like the chicken coop, the barn hung heavy with a shroud of gloom. The scent of goat permeated in the air, along with motor oil and fragrant sweet hay, but save for the scurry of what had to be mice, no sound emanated from the stalls or loft.

I peered over the first goat stall. Hay, droppings, food bin, water trough, nothing else. The same with the other three. Nada. I flickered my light around to the corners of the room, but nothing. Relieved there was no one there, I headed outside, back into the light, and shut the door behind me. As I did, I saw White Deer jogging into the driveway, Roo at her side.

“The goats and chickens are gone—” I started to say.

“I know,” she cut in. “The neighbor took them home last night. He’s got them down there for whenever Jimmy’s ready to bring them back.” She paused, staring around the yard. “That may be quite a while, from the looks of things. So much was destroyed.”

“Yeah, so I noticed,” I said. “And somehow, I doubt Jimbo had homeowner’s insurance.” I leaned down to pet Roo. The little three-legged dog was panting happily, and she rolled over onto her back as I patted her tummy. “At least he got out with his life, and the lives of his animals. Isn’t that right, Roo? You’re such a good girl! You saved your master, didn’t you? What a good girl.”

White Deer shaded her eyes, looking around the yard. “Let me put Roo in my truck so she doesn’t run off and get herself in trouble, and then we’ll do a check around the area and see what we can dredge up.”

Dredge up. I didn’t like the sound of that, but I had the feeling that’s exactly what we were about to do. “Be sure to crack a window for her. It’s going to be warm as the day goes on.”

While she led Roo over to the truck, I took a deep breath. This wasn’t my idea of a fun outing, but I kept Jimbo and Murray in mind. Their safety was paramount.

I prepared myself by grounding and centering, searching for the earth mana that ran deeper than the malignant energy hovering around us. I plunged my attention down past topsoil, past the tendrils of grass and bush, following the roots of the trees into the depths of terra firma, down past the shadow that gathered over the land. Reaching out to the brilliant green light that made up the pure element of earth, I locked onto the energy that came directly from the soul of the world. Steadied, I inhaled deeply and looked up as White Deer returned.

“I’m ready,” I said.

She glanced at my eyes and nodded. “Then let’s go.”

We headed first toward the remains of the house, careful to skirt the sodden lumps of charcoal that had only yesterday made up the walls and roof of Jimbo’s home. As we approached what had been the door, I could feel a quiver—a faint discord plucking at the outer strings of my awareness.

“White Deer, I want you to guard me. I’m going to cast out, to see what I can find. I don’t think we’ll have to go much farther than the house. The energy is focused here—a steady stream of anger.”

She took up a spread-legged stance, arms raised to the sky. I could see a rainbow of sparkles flickering faintly around her. White Deer was a powerful medicine woman in her tribe, and even if I hadn’t been able to see energy, I would have felt it around her. She was strong enough to make others take notice, and she carried the Lynx within her—the strong, silent teacher who gave up her secrets only when she was ready.

A wave of protection spread out from her, a warding against hatred and anger, against fear. I made sure I was within the boundaries of her guardianship before I settled myself cross-legged on the ground, sitting directly in front of her, and closed my eyes.

Downward, inward … I followed the spiral, casting my awareness out of my body, moving onto the astral, letting the world around me fade as I entered the domain of spirit that was forever connected to our own physical realm, but so seldom noticed by the majority of people.

From here, I could no longer see the yard or the remains of the house, but I could see energy. It was as if I looked on the world with alien eyes, my perception picking up the unseen forces running amok. I let out a deep breath. On the astral I could see almost better than on the mundane realm for other senses strengthened my sight—a gut
knowing
as to what certain forces had in mind.

The area that had been Jimbo’s house was oozing with sludge—mottled brown and sickly. I shivered. It was as if the residue left by whoever torched the place had morphed into a mindless jelly that was seeping through the yard. The energy didn’t notice me. It couldn’t notice anyone. It simply
was
—without thought, without form. And it devoured joy, and light, and peace of mind.

I sought for a clue on how to neutralize it. There was no way anyone—animal or human—should stay here until the place had been cleansed and purified. Sage and Florida water wouldn’t be enough, that much was clear. Just like the Will o’ the Wisps that had inhabited the lot next door to my house, this was bigger than a simple warding could take care of. The ooze might be mindless, but that didn’t mean it was safe, and it could only be residue of a troubled and twisted mind. Murray’s stalker was one sick puppy.

White Deer stiffened behind me. From my vantage, her energy spread over us like an invisible umbrella, a shield to keep out the danger that might lie within this leechlike amoeba. I reached out, touched her lightly with my mind.

“I’m going in. I’m going to follow the trail,” I whispered to her without speaking a word, but she caught my intention and I felt her nod as she strengthened her focus.

I inhaled deeply, let it out slowly and renewed my connection with the glowing earth, then used the energy to propel me toward the massive blob. I skirted the edges, looking for anything that might link it to its originator. Finally, near the place where the fire marshal had found the gasoline cans, I saw a cord leading off into the mists that continually rolled through the astral plane. Steeling myself, I plunged into the roiling clouds, following the trail.

As I drifted along, buoyed by a gust of etheric wind, I suddenly stumbled and, once again, I found myself in the dark forest, filled with bog and quicksand. Shit! I didn’t like this place. Perhaps it was only a metaphor for the chaos that existed within his mind; nevertheless, it had developed a life of its own, creating a massive shadow that followed him wherever he went.

I carefully sidestepped a puddle of bog water. Maybe I should have a closer look at these woods. They might give me a hint as to who lived in this little world, and right now we needed every clue we could find. The more I saw of what was going on, the more frightened I was that Murray would end up on the wrong side of this guy’s psychosis.

The trees were tall timber, Douglas fir and tamarack, but many of them were snags—widow-makers that had been struck by lightning, burned and charred along the sides. The undergrowth contained the usual fare for our area: huckleberries and junipers, ferns and salmonberries, but when I examined several of them closely, I saw that they were infested with caterpillars and aphids. I pulled my hand away as a bloated spider crawled out from beneath one of the leaves and raced toward my fingers.