by Harvey Click
She handed Amy the page she had printed out. “The words are Latin, but I’ve typed them out phonetically so you can easily pronounce them. I want you to have them memorized by tomorrow. There are only two short sentences repeated over and over, so that shouldn’t be very hard. Eventually I need to teach you some Latin, but that can wait.”
“I can’t sing,” Amy said. “I never could.”
“Ah, but I heard you singing last night, and you were hitting every note perfectly.”
“I wasn’t singing out loud,” Amy said. “I was just doing it with my mind.”
“If you can do it with your mind, you can do it with your voice box. Anyway, it’s just a simple chant that doesn’t have many notes to hit. Mary, we’re going to learn to join our powers. We’ll be the two witches of the west, and we’ll be able to beat anything that comes our way.”
“Weren’t they the wicked ones?” Amy asked.
“Well, we won’t be wicked, maybe just a little naughty. I’m not giving you a talisman to hold today because there won’t always be one around when you need it. Make a fist with your right hand, concentrate on your fist and the bookend and chant along with me.”
Neoma moved her fingers in the air as if she were weaving a web and began to chant. Amy stared at the phonetic words on the paper and began to sing along very quietly, feeling awkward because she knew she was off-key.
“Louder,” Neoma said.
Amy sang louder, hoping that Shane couldn’t hear her downstairs. She was stumbling over the words and feeling annoyed and embarrassed, thinking that the two of them must sound like a couple dumb hippies singing nonsense in a hot little room while all the others were outside doing useful chores instead of trying to lift bookends with their imaginations.
After two or three minutes she forgot that Shane was sitting downstairs eavesdropping on this weird duet, and with the self-consciousness gone her voice began to blend better with Neoma’s. Though she was still staring at the page with the phonetic words, she turned her mind inward, trying to find that calm and secret place, and pretty soon she realized that she was staring at the bookend and no longer needed to look at the page to know the sound of the words.
Her voice joined Neoma’s perfectly on one of the words, and they effortlessly swung to the next word like trapeze artists somersaulting together from one swing to the next. Suddenly the electric charge was surging through her again as it had last night, the exhilarating power that connected both of them to a field of energy blazing like a star.
She raised her fist, and the bookend rose into the air. Her empty fist felt heavy and so did her brain, and for a while it was all she could do to keep the bookend hanging there in the air. She felt sweat breaking out on her face and torso and thought she would have to let the hopelessly heavy object fall, but she focused on her chanting, listening to the way her voice blended with Neoma’s, and she felt the electric charge tingling like liquid light in her arm, giving it strength.
Now to bring it to the table. She moved her fist closer to her body, and the bookend shot toward her much faster than she wanted, so fast that she panicked and dropped it with a loud clatter to the floor, afraid that it would smash into her.
As she tried to lift it again her arm began to tremble with exertion, and her brain seemed to be doing the same thing, but somehow she forced the bookend to rise. She slowly reeled it toward her until it hovered a foot above the table, and then she carefully set it down.
She was dizzy and exhausted. She rested her face in her hands and tried to make her head stop spinning. The hot room wasn’t the only thing that was stifling; the incredibly intimate linkage she had just experienced with Neoma hadn’t entirely faded, and Amy felt overwhelmed by it, as if her own personality would somehow drown in Neoma’s.
“I’m gonna go down and have some more coffee,” she said.
“No,” Neoma said. “I’ll have Ivan bring you up a cup. We need to talk about some things.”
“Can’t we talk downstairs?”
“No.”
Amy felt her temper beginning to flare. She held it in check with difficulty and said, “Look, Neoma, I think I’ve been doing a pretty good job lately of obeying you as my commanding officer. I understand that somebody has to keep order in this outfit, and I’m okay with that, but I don’t want to be controlled every damn minute like a grade school kid.”
“Is that what I’m doing?”
“Yes. I don’t think the security of this camp will be compromised if I go downstairs to drink a fucking cup of coffee.”
“Okay, fine, get out of here,” Neoma said. “Just don’t forget you have saber practice in fifteen minutes.”
As Amy was heading down the stairs, Ivan was heading up with her coffee. She grabbed the cup from him so brusquely that some of it spilled on the step. But the dining room was empty—Shane had already left.
Neoma came down a minute later and said, “Oh dear, did I cause you to miss your old high school chum? My bad.”
Amy went outside and sat at a picnic table, angry and disappointed. Last night’s rain had washed some of the heat and humidity out of the air. The sky was clear and blue, and there was a pleasant breeze. By the time she had finished her coffee, Leo was walking toward the clearing with their swords and gear.
He bowed as she stepped out to meet him. “Pay heed to your footwork today,” he said. “The grass is slippery, but warriors must sometimes fight on slippery grass.”
It was. Someone had dragged away the fallen limb, but the ground was still soft from last night’s deluge. Amy used short steps, almost like a dancer, as she moved in for her feints and attacks. Today Nyx wasn’t sitting there to sneer, and immediately Amy put Neoma and Shane and all other thoughts from her mind as she concentrated on her saber and her feet. She was much better at this now, her fencing skills transitioning smoothly into the more brutal moves of a sword fighter. As usual, she was drenched with sweat when they finished, but she wasn’t breathing as heavily.
She was helping Leo carry his gear back to his place when she noticed Shane’s gray Jeep parked in front of one of the cabins. Before she could knock on the door, he stepped out and asked if he could have a word with her.
They walked to the same path that she had patrolled two nights before. It seemed like a different place now, birds chirping in tree branches instead of demons hiding behind tree trunks. Shane didn’t say anything for a while, but that was all right with her. It was pleasant—more than pleasant—just to walk beside him. She thought she recognized the cologne he was wearing but didn’t know the name. It was spicy and masculine, with a husky note of oak moss or something like that, and she felt embarrassed by her own smell, sweat mixed with incense ointment.
“I’m told you’ve become quite the demon slayer,” he said.
She smiled and said, “Two notches in my sword so far.”
“I’ve only killed one,” he said. “The one that was attacking you.”
“I thank you for that one.”
“But you probably don’t thank me for bringing you here,” he said. “It was the safest place I could think of, but of course it’s far from safe.”
“I’ve survived a week so far. And I must say, it’s been a very interesting week.”
“I’m sure it has. How are you getting along with Neoma?”
“I think I’d have to write a novel to answer that. She keeps me very close, too close. Sometimes it’s suffocating, but I guess I’m starting to…admire her.”
Amy knew that wasn’t quite the right word, but she couldn’t think of a better one.
“I have a hunch she’s going to make her move pretty soon,” Shane said. “I guess you understand that after we attack Sandoval, nobody’s going to be hanging around this camp. Even if we manage to kill him and most of his men, the law will be after us, and nobody’s going to be sitting around here waiting for police cars to show up. Everybody here has their own safe place to go, and they’re going to scatter to their hiding places as soo
n as the last bullet’s fired. Since nobody in Blackwood knows anything about them, they should be pretty safe.”
“What about you?” she asked. “Everybody in Blackwood knows you.”
“Yes, but I’ve been preparing for a while,” he said. “A month ago I started telling everyone that I’d met a woman on-line, and every week I add more juicy details to the story. So now I’m supposedly moving to Roanoke to marry her. Last week I sold the bar to my assistant for a few dollars, and yesterday a moving van picked up most of my junk. They’re moving it to a storage shed in Roanoke, where it will gather dust until the storage company auctions it off, or whatever they do. My few valuables are in my Jeep, and I’ll be staying here in Scotty’s old room in Lucky’s cabin until we make our move.”
“Oh,” she said.
“So what’s your plan?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I guess if Sandoval’s dead I can go back to Columbus. Neoma thinks he probably hasn’t said anything about me to his superiors.”
“That’s more than one if,” he said. “And even if he’s dead, you’ll have some explaining to do. Your carjacking story made the news, and cops are going to want to know why you suddenly show up in Columbus, especially right after a murderous attack on a rich and respectable man right here in your home town.”
Amy’s stomach was churning with anxiety. She had thought of this problem, but only vaguely because she had been too busy to think of anything very clearly. Her worries about the attack itself had been growing for the past couple days, and now having to worry about what would happen afterward seemed like too much.
“I’d be very pleased if you’d come with me,” Shane said. “I have a house and thirty acres in New Mexico that nobody knows about. I bought it last year with some money I inherited when my father died. I know how to cover my tracks pretty well, and I think we’ll be safe there.”
His voice was usually soft and confident, but now it sounded softer and somewhat shaky. She believed he was offering something more than temporary sanctuary, and she wasn’t sure what to say.
“We don’t know each other very well,” she said at last.
“That’s true. But in New Mexico we’ll have plenty of time to get acquainted, and there won’t be any strings attached. If you don’t like living with me, I’ll help you find another safe place to live.”
They walked for a while without speaking, and then she said, “I think I’d like living with you and I’d be very happy to give it a try.”
He grasped her hand and they kissed. It was a quiet, solemn kiss, nothing like the hard, sloppy kisses that her ex-fiancé Mark used to give her, and she didn’t want it to stop.
“She wants to see you,” someone said.
Amy turned and saw Red standing in the path staring at them.
“Why? What does she want?”
Red shrugged. “She didn’t say.”
“You’d better go,” Shane said. “We can talk later.”
Amy followed Red to the house and found Neoma sitting at the dining room table working on what looked like an astrological chart.
“What’s so important?” Amy asked.
“I want you to spirit-travel.”
“Right now? Can’t it wait? I haven’t even had lunch.”
“Ivan, bring her a sandwich. As soon as you’re done eating we get started.”
Amy sat down and glared at her. “What’s the fucking hurry?” she asked.
“I have an itchy feeling, that’s all.”
Ivan brought Amy a ham sandwich and she rhymed itchy and bitchy in her head and glared some more while she chewed it, but Neoma ignored her and continued making pencil annotations on her chart. The moment the last bite of the sandwich was in her mouth, Neoma said, “Let’s go.”
Amy followed her to the bedroom and lay down on Neoma’s bed without bothering to remove her muddy shoes.
Neoma handed her a sheet of paper and said, “Here are the phonetic words for the spirit-travel chant. I want you to speak them out loud until you’ve memorized them, and then we’ll chant them together.”
There weren’t many words fortunately. Amy recited them maybe a dozen times and then said, “Okay.”
“Practice them over and over again today,” Neoma said. “You need to know these by heart. Remember, if we ever become separated, you can use spirit-travel to find me because when you’re traveling we have a telepathic link.”
Amy thought she heard something in Neoma’s voice that she’d never heard before. It sounded like fear or anxiety.
“Memorize the melody too,” Neoma said. “It’s just as important as the words. Now sing along and shut your eyes when they feel too heavy to hold open.”
She wove her hands in front of Amy’s face and began to sing quietly. Amy sang along with the strangely haunting melody, like some ancient lullaby, and soon her heavy eyelids fell shut.
Again she was perched in the tall maple in Billy’s front yard, and again the sunlight was too bright for her eyes, but she was still singing the melody in her mind and it seemed to give her strength to tolerate the light.
She heard Neoma’s voice in her mind saying, “Where are you, Mary?”
“Billy’s front yard,” she said, and once again she was startled by the odd effect of hearing her own voice coming from somewhere far away.
“Any signs of activity?” Neoma asked.
“No.”
“Today you need to make it to the woods,” Neoma said. “Are you ready to fly?”
“Yes.”
She spread her wings and flew. The light was painfully harsh, and partway to the woods she perched in the sycamore tree near the lane so she could shut her eyes for a moment. She began singing the lullaby in her mind, and soon she heard Neoma’s voice join with hers, and then her wings felt stronger and the sunlight didn’t matter so much, so she flew the rest of the way to the woods.
“Where are you?” Neoma asked.
“In the woods. I’m resting in a tree, then I’ll go to the knoll.”
“Do you see any changes?”
“The storm brought down some limbs, but otherwise everything looks the same. I see some tire tracks, but they’re probably my own.”
“You’re sure they’re not more recent?”
“I can’t tell. But I’m sure they weren’t made since the rain last night. They’re not deep enough.”
“Shane had to drive back there last week to tie the ribbon on the tree,” Neoma said.
“Yeah, I guess that’s probably what I’m seeing.”
“Fly to the knoll and look at Ebbing’s field,” Neoma said.
She did and was surprised to see Sam Ebbing down there mowing the field with his tractor.
“What do you see?” Neoma asked.
“Ebbing’s down there mowing his field.”
“Okay, come back now and open your eyes,” Neoma said.
Amy opened her eyes and saw Neoma standing above her flexing her fists with a strange fire in her green eyes, a look of excitement or fear or maybe both.
“Ivan, call everyone to the barn immediately,” she said. “We’ll be making our move tomorrow.”
Chapter 15
“How do you know it won’t be tonight?” Manda asked.
“Some days are propitious for sacrifices and some aren’t,” Neoma said. “Today isn’t, tomorrow is.” She was standing in the barn, and all the others were sitting on chairs listening to her.
“What makes you think it will happen at dusk?” Brook asked. “The last one took place in the early afternoon.”
“Different times are propitious for different days,” Neoma said. “It’s all according to an astrological formula that’s specific to the particular demon you happen to be serving. Last week, thanks to Shane, I found out that Sandoval serves Zahbeezul the Skin-Eater, so I was able to draw up a chart. It shows that tomorrow at dusk is an especially propitious time to call up Zahbeezul. Add to this two more facts: last night Dilkens arrested someone, and today Sam Ebbing is
mowing his field.”
“Are you sure that’s enough information to risk everything on?” Brook asked.
“I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m getting goddamn tired of sitting around here on my ass doing nothing,” Bloody Joe said. “I say let’s get out there tomorrow and do it and get it done with.”
“Sandoval will bring twelve men with him to form his coven,” Neoma said. “I want three snipers in the woods. Brook, obviously you’ll be one. Lucky, you’ll be another, and the third sniper will be John.”
“Fuck that shit,” Nyx said. “I can outshoot that diaper-ass kid in my sleep.”
“Maybe so, maybe not,” Neoma said, “but you’ll be more useful in the group attacking the house. Snipers, this afternoon make sure you get your rifles scoped in just right. The best time to shoot will be when Sandoval and his coven have moved into their protection circle. Then they’ll all be in a nice little bunch easy to pick off. Mary, when the snipers are looking down into the field, what direction will they be facing?”
“East.”
“That’s perfect. The setting sun will be behind you, so it won’t be glinting off your scopes—but of course I want you to keep the lens caps on until the whole coven has moved into the circle. Mary, the tree where they hang the victim, is that between Sandoval and the snipers or on the other side?”
“On the other side.”
“Good. Then they’ll all be facing the tree with their backs to the snipers.”
“This sounds easier than Sexy Sally on a Saturday night,” Lucky said.
“Or not,” Neoma said. “Last week Shane killed a demon in the woods and poured quicklime on it instead of dismissing it.”
“What else could I do?” Shane asked. “I can’t dismiss demons, and if I tried to bring it back here it probably would have come back to life in my car.”
Neoma ignored him and said, “According to Manda, it was an intermediate-level demon called a mazzikin. They’re highly intelligent, and since it wasn’t properly dismissed it undoubtedly made a new body and told Sandoval what had happened. In other words, Sandoval now knows that someone in the woods witnessed his last sacrifice, and he’s going to be prepared this time. He’ll have someone or something guarding the woods, men or demons.”