by Harvey Click
Amy was seething; it was as if she was being blamed for Scotty’s death. She went to the downstairs bathroom and stripped off her clothes, feeling as if she was being punished by a teacher. They both rubbed the ointment on her body without speaking.
“Keep this jar with you,” Neoma said. “If you get very sweaty you need to rub on some more, and you especially need to renew it before your patrol duty. If it’s any consolation, I’m told it makes terrific mosquito repellent.”
“I’m sure I didn’t attract that thing,” Amy said as she pulled her clothes back on. “I’m sure I didn’t cause Scotty’s death.”
“I don’t think you did either, but I’m responsible for the lives of everyone here and I have to take every precaution. All of us are grateful to you for killing the herky-jerky, and nobody thinks you’re responsible for Scotty’s death.”
Neoma’s voice sounded gentler than usual, but that didn’t help much.
“What the hell are we waiting for anyway?” Amy said. “I mean, if the demons have found us, why don’t we make our move? I’d rather get killed that way than the way Scotty did. Why don’t we storm the Phillips house or whatever it is you intend to do and get it over with?”
“Because we don’t have helicopters and bazookas and the law isn’t on our side. The Phillips house is like a fortress, and it’s always filled with armed men. As far as we can tell, Sandoval has at least twenty men working for him, plus he can get Dilkens on the phone and he and his goons will be there in five minutes.”
“So what can we do?” Amy asked.
“All we can do is wait for the right time—and I’m depending on you to let me know when that time comes.”
“Me?” Amy said, but Neoma was already leaving the bathroom. “What the fucking hell?” she muttered to herself. Then she shouted at Neoma’s back, “Well, I at least need a goddamn fanny pack or something. This fucking jar won’t fit in my pocket.”
Before the funeral service, Neoma had everyone gather at the picnic tables for a short meeting. “We’ve lost Scotty, and we don’t want to lose anyone else,” she said. “Bloody Joe says that some of the ingredients we use in our protection bags don’t smell right. I ordered some more from a different supplier, but they won’t arrive until the middle of the week. In the meantime, all we can do is make more bags with the ingredients we have, so I want everyone to set aside some time today to do that. Bloody Joe will organize a team to hang them before nightfall, and we’ll put up as many as we can.
“It would be good to be able to double up on the night patrols, but we don’t have enough personnel to do that. What we can do, though, is be more vigilant during the day, because demons can show up any hour they want. From now on I want everyone to carry a sword and a police whistle at all times. If you’re practicing martial arts or involved in some other activity where a sword would get in the way, keep it close by, close enough that you can get to it immediately if you have to. When you’re not training or busy with some other necessary task, I want you to watch the perimeter. No more parties in the barn or two-hour weenie roasts at dinner time. From now on we’re going to be vigilant at all times so we don’t lose anyone else.
“And there’s one other matter. I truly hate to bring this up on such a sad day, but we’re broke. Mary was generous enough to donate more than two thousand dollars when she arrived, but that barely covered rent and a couple other bills. That’s why this bucket’s sitting here on this table—if you can spare a few dollars please throw them in.”
“I don’t have no extra nickels,” Jake said. “My brother promised to send me some, but he’s damn near broke himself.”
“You always have money for beer,” Neoma said.
Leo bowed and said, “I regret to say that Lucky appropriated my last dollar at the poker table.”
“How the hell are we supposed to make money sitting around here on our asses doing nothing?” Bloody Joe said.
“Manda and Brook have been making jewelry and selling it to a retailer,” Neoma said. “So try to think of something you can do in your spare time.”
“Okay, after the funeral I’ll throw my paltry winnings in the bucket,” Lucky said, “though they’re the fair wage of my honest labors.”
The funeral service was held in the barn. Brook, who was an ordained minister, read a few verses of scripture and a hand-written eulogy, and then a few others told anecdotes about Scotty or briefly praised him.
Six pallbearers carried the coffin to a small clearing hidden far back in the woods where a grave had been dug. Brook recited the passage about ashes to ashes, and the pallbearers lowered the coffin into the ground. Neoma threw in the first handful of dirt without saying anything, and then John and Jake began to shovel in the rest.
Amy was leaving the graveside when Nyx stepped up to her and said, “Why are you wearing incense ointment?”
“Because Neoma told me to.”
“Why? Does Sandoval have your DNA?”
Amy didn’t answer. Leo, Bloody Joe, Siliang, and some others were close enough to hear, and she noticed a couple of them turning their heads to hear better.
“I said, does Sandoval have your DNA?” Nyx repeated loudly enough that everyone could hear. “Is that why you’re wearing incense ointment?”
“Yes,” Amy said.
“So I guess that’s why Scotty got killed,” Nyx said.
Amy hurried away without replying. When she got back to the house, Neoma was waiting for her in the dining room.
“From now on you won’t have time to take classes in the barn,” Neoma said. “And no more archery—we won’t be using you as an archer, so I don’t want you wasting time on it. From now on just saber practice, martial arts, knife-throwing, and some very intensive work on telekinesis and spirit-travel.”
“I’d rather skip the knife-throwing,” Amy said.
“No, it’s a useful skill,” Neoma said. “A sanctified knife can kill a demon just like a sword or an arrow, and there’s nothing better than a knife when you need to kill someone silently. Plus knife throwing is a good way for you to practice telekinesis.”
“So is that Nyx’s secret?” Amy asked. “Is that how she hits the target like that?”
“Didn’t she tell you? She’s supposed to be working with you on the telekinetics of knife throwing.”
“I guess she forgot to mention it.”
“I’ll have a word with her,” Neoma said.
Amy was tempted to say something about Nyx’s accusation, but she had never been a tattletale. She followed Neoma upstairs to her study, where Neoma set up various objects and chanted and wove spells with her hands, trying to trick Amy’s mind into moving the objects, but Amy’s mind was too preoccupied with other matters to cooperate.
After an hour Neoma was angry, and she telekinetically moved an object herself: she hurled an empty wine bottle at the wall, where it smashed into pieces and left a dent in the plaster.
“Damn it, Mary, you can do better than this. You’re wasting our time, and we don’t have any to waste because I think the shit’s going to hit the fan very soon. Ivan, bring up a broom and clean up this goddamn glass.”
Ivan wasn’t anywhere upstairs, so far as Amy could tell, but he always seemed to hear Neoma no matter where he was.
“I guess I’m not cut out to be a witch,” Amy said.
“You have no idea what you’re saying,” Neoma said. “You have three remarkable powers. You can spirit-travel, you can move objects with your mind when you’re not too fucking lazy to try, and yesterday we found out that you’re telepathic, at least when you’re spirit-traveling. Do you know how many people have three remarkable powers? Maybe one in a million, maybe fewer. A few people at this camp have one remarkable power, but except for you and me nobody has more than one. You and I are the two witches of the west, and if you can learn to harness these powers you can help all of us.”
Ivan had come in with a broom and dustpan while Neoma was saying this, and now he was sweeping up brok
en glass. Amy waited until he left before saying anything.
“None of this makes sense,” she said. “A week ago I was an ordinary person. I didn’t leave my body and I didn’t make stuff sail through the air unless I threw it at my boyfriend. Once in a great while I had a dream that came true, but I think everybody has those sometimes. Now all of a sudden you expect me to be able to fly around on a broomstick and turn frogs into princes.”
“Yes, and tell me what’s different between this week and last,” Neoma said. “I’m what’s different. Why do you think I chant and make gestures in the air? I’m using my powers to bring out yours. I’m unlocking your doors and finding the powers you’ve kept hidden your whole life. I’ve done the same thing with everyone here, but I’ve never unlocked such a goldmine before. I’ve never before found so many powers locked up in one person, and I’ve also never seen any person who gives less of a shit about the powers she has.”
“I guess I’m just tired,” Amy said. “It’s been a rough week.”
“Okay, we’ll have some lunch now, and after you eat you can go outside and get some fresh air. Saber practice at 1:00, knife throwing at 2:00, and this time I’ll remind Nyx to show you how to guide the knives with your mind. Then I want you back here at 3:00 to practice spirit-travel. Ivan, put our lunch on the table.”
“How does he hear you?” Amy asked. “I mean, he’s downstairs, isn’t he?”
Neoma smiled faintly. “Ivan could hear me if he was a thousand miles away. You see, Mary, these talents can come in handy.”
“Isn’t it a little awkward?” Amy asked. “I mean, do you want him hearing all your thoughts?”
“He doesn’t hear them unless I direct them at him. That’s why I usually say things out loud when I want him to hear—it’s a way of directing my thoughts to him.”
“So telepaths don’t just go around hearing every little thing that someone thinks?”
“Maybe a few of them can,” Neoma said. “A few adepts. But even then you can block your thoughts. If you think someone’s trying to read your mind, bury your thoughts behind something else. Just think of a brick wall and put it in front of your mind, and that’s all the telepath will be able to see.”
“Is Ivan mute?” Amy asked. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard him say a word.”
“Oh no, Ivan can talk—he just doesn’t like to. He thinks people jabber too much, and he’s right about that.”
When Amy stepped out after lunch for her saber practice, she saw Nyx standing by the picnic tables whispering to Siliang, Lucky, and Bloody Joe, and they all stared at her without speaking as she walked past them. The three men left while she was donning her saber gear, but Nyx sat on a table and watched while she and Leo fought. Usually when Amy fought with sabers there was no room in her mind for any extraneous thought, but now she kept distracting herself by thinking of Nyx sitting there.
After about ten minutes Leo stopped and said, “Mary, your mind is elsewhere today. Let’s stop before somebody gets hurt.”
Nyx clapped loudly and said, “Well, that was just fucking brilliant.”
Amy had forty-five minutes to kill before her knife-throwing lesson, so she went to the barn to make protection bags. Bloody Joe was sitting there with Siliang, Brook, Red, and Lucky, but whatever quiet conversation they’d been having stopped the moment she stepped inside the door. Nobody welcomed her as she pulled up a chair and started filling bags, though before long Bloody Joe said, “No good. Get more onycha in there. Cheap Chinese crap.”
After that there was just silence in the stifling heat, and she was almost relieved when her watch showed that it was time for her knife-throwing lesson. Nyx was waiting for her near the big foam target.
“Had to go tell on me, didn’t you?” Nyx said.
“What are you talking about?”
“You know goddamn well what I’m talking about. I just got my ass chewed out because of you. You told the missus that I didn’t teach you nothing about telekinesis. You had to run and tell the teacher, didn’t you? Teacher, teacher, Nyx was mean to me, Nyx pulled my pigtails. Well okay, you want to learn how to guide knives with your mind, let’s see you do it. Pick ‘em up and throw ‘em and let’s see you guide ‘em right to the bull’s-eye with your brilliant mind.”
Amy saw her two beat-up knives lying in the grass in front of Nyx so she had to kneel at her feet to get them. She had no idea how she was supposed to hold them or throw them because Nyx still hadn’t told her, but she threw them the best she could. At least they both stuck in the target this time, but they were nowhere near the bull’s-eye at the center.
“Well, that was just fucking brilliant,” Nyx said. “I told you to guide ‘em with your mind, but maybe your mind don’t know a bull’s-eye from a brown-eye. Don’t just stand there, go get ‘em and try again. We don’t have all fucking day.”
Amy didn’t say anything, and this seemed to infuriate Nyx all the more. As Amy went to the target to retrieve her knives, Nyx began to rant even more loudly.
“You can attract demons to our camp and get Scotty killed, but I’m the one who gets my ass chewed out,” she said. “That’s because you’re the teacher’s pet. You get to sleep in her bed with her nice air conditioning and eat her good food because she likes the way you lick her pussy. Everybody knows that. Everybody knows that’s why the missus don’t care if you attract demons and get us all killed, because she likes the way you suck her pussy.”
Amy pulled her knives from the target. As she was turning around something flew through the air past her head, nicking her right ear. She stepped back against the target and froze as more knives flew past her, each one nicking a shoulder or elbow or thigh before it embedded itself into the foam.
When Nyx had emptied her sheaths of all twelve knives, the two women stood motionlessly staring at each other with rage. And then a third woman stepped out from behind a thick tree. It was Neoma, and her Smith and Wesson was aimed at Nyx.
“Nyx, lay your pistol and sword on the ground and come with me to the barn. Ivan, call everyone to the barn for a trial in fifteen minutes.”
Ivan, of course, was nowhere to be seen.
Nyx began to tremble as she threw her weapons to the ground. “If you’re putting me on trial, then I’m gonna put Mary on trial too,” she said.
“On what charges?” Neoma asked.
“On the charge that she’s attracting demons to the camp and she caused Scotty’s death.”
“Very well,” Neoma said. “Mary, go to the house and clean those cuts and then come to the barn for your trial. There’s some antibiotic in the downstairs bathroom.”
Amy cleaned her cuts with hydrogen peroxide and put bandages on them. None of them were deep enough to need stitches, but the one on her right thigh was probably going to leave a small scar, and the quarter-inch slice in her right earlobe was surprisingly painful.
She already knew what the verdict would be—she knew it from the way people had been staring at her and avoiding her all day—and she hoped the punishment would be nothing worse than expulsion. She wanted no more whippings and certainly didn’t want a firing squad, but she had a hunch that whatever justice the Unseen meted out would be stern.
She wondered what she would do with no money and no car, and she hoped that Neoma would at least have someone drive her to a bus station and give her enough money for a ticket to Memphis, where she had an aunt and uncle who might be willing to put her up until she heard news of Sandoval’s demise—if that news ever came.
She felt ashamed of herself as she made her way toward the barn. Probably Nyx was right; probably she had attracted the herky-jerky that killed Scotty; probably Shane should never have brought her here.
Neoma was seated behind a card table with a gavel in her hand, and all the others were seated in folding chairs facing her. Neoma tapped her gavel on the table and said, “This court is now in session. Mary, approach the bench and face the jury.”
Amy stood beside the card table and fac
ed eleven stony faces staring at her. Bloody Joe was frowning more deeply than ever, and even Manda’s face wore a stern expression. No one was moving a muscle except Nyx, who was squirming nervously in her chair and scowling.
“Nyx has brought charges against Mary,” Neoma said. “Nyx, come forward, face the jury, and state your charges.”
Nyx came up and stood on the other side of the table. “Mary is attracting demons to the camp,” she said. “She attracted the demon that killed Scotty, and she should be punished for his death.”
“What’s your evidence?” Neoma asked.
“Sandoval has her DNA. She told me so. That’s why she’s wearing incense ointment right now, but I know she wasn’t wearing none yesterday. She went on patrol last night not wearing any ointment, and a demon came to get her but it killed Scotty instead.”
“Do you have any more evidence?” Neoma asked.
“We never had no demons at this camp before she came here,” Nyx said. “She comes here and goes on night patrol without no ointment, and now one of us is dead. How many more of you want to die?”
Bloody Joe folded his arms across his chest and frowned more deeply. Even John didn’t look sympathetic; his mouth was turned down and his boyish forehead was furrowed with solemn knots.
“Anything more?” Neoma asked.
“That’s enough, ain’t it? She’s gonna get us all killed if we don’t do something.”
“If that’s all, you may stand down,” Neoma said. “Mary, do you have anything to say in your defense?”
“It’s true that Sandoval has some of my hair,” Amy said as Nyx scowled her way back to her chair. “Or at least he probably does—one of my hairbrushes went missing. But the demon that killed Scotty last night wasn’t coming after me. When I heard Scotty blow his whistle he was far away, probably at least a hundred yards. And even when I got there it seemed more interested in Jake than me—it was coming after him when I killed it.”