by Lori Devoti
“Was there any one guy the other girls showed interest in, or that showed interest in them?”
Busy pressing perfect ridges into the crust, Dana sighed. “All the guys showed interest in the others, especially the warriors.”
Some things never changed. “But no one in particular? Did Tereis and Aggie talk to the same boy?”
Dana poured the pumpkin into the crust, then tapped the spoon against the bowl’s lip. “Not that I noticed. Tim”-she touched her stomach, an unconscious gesture that told me who she was referring to-“tried to be polite, but they brushed him off. Had bigger fish to fry, I guess.” She carried the pie to the oven and jerked the door open. The rack inside rattled.
Then, as if remembering what had happened to the pair, she flushed. “Not that I blame them. I realize it’s important to pick someone strong. I just…” She stared down at the unbaked pie.
“Want something different.”
She looked up, her thumb gouging into the crimped edge of the crust. “Is that wrong?”
I took the pie from her and slid it into the oven, then ran a hand down her arm, just a light brush-my skin barely making contact with hers.
“Not at all.”
I spent another hour and a half wandering around the compound trying to convince some of the other Amazons to talk to me. A few did, but none were as forthcoming as Dana. The girl had a much better sense of who she was than I’d ever had, probably than I did right now, but I could tell we shared one thing. Neither of us truly felt as if we fit. I’d had friends, as it appeared she did, but living as an Amazon never felt quite right to me-like wearing someone else’s shoes. They might look right to the outside world, but you knew inside they weren’t, could feel it with every step you took.
She’d sought me out again before I left, shoving a cardboard box with the pie in it into my hands. My first pie. Okay, she’d done most of the work, but, still, I was strangely proud. I placed the box in the coveted position of shotgun for the ride home.
It was after two. I’d be able to make it back to Madison probably before Harmony arrived home. I might even be able to drive by the bar and see if Tim was working. If he worked at the place, he’d be familiar with the football players who hung out there, and probably more cognizant of who the girls went off with.
I was hoping one name would crop up for both. That would really simplify things. Unfortunately, I didn’t have pictures of either girl. Amazons weren’t big on photography. But I suspected a healthy American boy wouldn’t forget any of the Amazons too quickly.
I just hoped he didn’t ask about Dana. I wasn’t going to be sharing news of his upcoming daddyhood with him, but I didn’t relish the idea of hiding it from him either.
As it turned out, traffic was a bugger getting out of Illinois-some kind of mystery backup where a toll booth used to sit on Highway 39 in Rockford. I pulled into my drive at five. I wanted to see my daughter and my shop, sink into the life I’d built for myself. Visiting the Amazon camp had more of an effect on me than I’d thought it would when I had left earlier today. I’d had an itchy need to get home as quickly as I could since passing the traffic snarl. I’d almost been glad of the excuse to skip the trip downtown to the bar.
Harmony and her best friend, Rachel, stood outside the gym. Next to them, Pisto, the blond warrior who had confronted Peter’s client, demonstrated various stances with a staff. The pie box clenched in my arms, I walked up.
“I thought you spent the day at Rachel’s.”
Harmony glanced at me, her eyes wide, blue and innocent. “We did. She just walked me home.”
“And then what? You going to walk her back home?” Rachel lived two streets behind us. The walking each other home game had become a favorite ploy as soon as they were old enough that both Rachel’s mother and I felt secure to let them out of our sight for a few minutes. The “walk home” could take hours.
“No.” Complete indignation on my daughter’s part. “CleCle”-Harmony’s name for my mother-“said the tribe was taking in students. Rachel and I thought it might be fun to take some.”
“The tribe?” What had Mother done?
“Yeah. The self-defense group.” She frowned at Pisto. “Isn’t that what you called yourselves?”
Pisto tilted the staff back and forth in front of her. Her gaze caught mine. “We do.”
“Anyway, CleCle suggested it, and Pisto”-she nodded at the warrior-“said she’d work us in for free. You can’t beat that.”
“I doubt Rachel’s mother-” I started, but both girls cut me off, jabbering as only teenage girls can. Finally, Rachel’s voice won out.
“My mom will be thrilled. She’s been saying the school should offer some kind of self-defense class for girls. The killings really have her freaked out. Besides, in a few years we’ll be going to college. Everyone should be able to defend herself before that.” She pulled her body erect, speaking with all the authority of a middle-aged corporate executive-in other words, a perfect imitation of her mother. Her father owned a bead shop off Monroe. He was also head flapjack flipper at a local “pancakes for peace” event and had probably walked around the globe for various peace walks. I doubted the idea of his daughter learning to smash a man’s skull with a twenty-pound staff would hold a lot of appeal for him.
“Self-defense is an important skill for women in today’s world.” Mother had sneaked up behind me, like the cat that was tattooed on her breast.
I curled my lip, revealing a hint of the snarl that threatened to spill out. After everything that had happened, I couldn’t disagree with Mother. I could actually have been talked into letting Harmony train with her, but not with Pisto and the tribe. I couldn’t trust what they might tell my daughter. When she found out about the Amazons, it damn well had to come from me.
“Too bad the ‘tribe’ only has evening classes.” I glared at Pisto, daring her to disagree with my words. Her only response was a bored flutter of her eyelashes. I looked at my daughter, a have I got good news for you smile on my face. “I’ve already signed you up for classes after school. Your evenings are fully booked.”
“What?” I could see my daughter getting ready to dig in her heels, to scream about the injustice of being signed up for something without her full and prior approval. It didn’t stop me from sending her to gymnastics when she was five (something Mother had fully approved of), and it wasn’t going to stop me now. I shoved the pie box against Mother’s chest, trusting she wouldn’t let it fall to the ground, and looped my arm through my daughter’s. “Art class. A friend of Peter’s is teaching it.”
“Peter’s?” Rachel nudged Harmony in the side. I ignored the gesture. So what if Peter’s “friend” wasn’t exactly what they might be expecting. Far be it from me to shatter their hormone-ridden dreams.
Harmony quickly moved from objection to negotiation. “Can Rachel take it too? What kind of art will we be learning? Will I need any supplies?”
Once she mentioned shopping, even if it was for dry art supplies, I knew I had her.
I stopped to toss a smile back at Mother. She had lifted the aluminum foil cover Dana had placed over the pie and was staring as if the box contained a two-headed lizard. “It’s a pie,” she said.
“I know. I baked it for you. I was thinking some hearth-keeping skills might be a good thing for Harmony to learn too.”
The look on Mother’s face made my entire day worthwhile.
We had the pie for dessert after dinner. I ate well more than my share, just to enjoy the expression on Mother’s face every time I picked up the knife and sliced into the orange goodness. Bubbe seemed to be on to me, but Mother was as easy to provoke as a two-year-old who had missed her nap-at least when it came to hints of hearth-keeping. And honestly, I wasn’t just prodding her. Working with Dana had made me realize yet another part of life I’d missed out on. Being taught how to cook, clean, and take care of babies wouldn’t scar my daughter-it was one of Artemis’s aspects, after all, and key to survival.
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br /> No, Harmony learning a few skills wouldn’t be a bad idea. Me learning a few wouldn’t either. And there were plenty of classes available in Madison. When everything settled down, I just might see about enrolling us-a nice mother/daughter treat. Maybe I’d ask Mother if she wanted to join us.
All in all, I went to bed happy. I felt like I’d started fulfilling my promise to the dead teens. I’d gotten Harmony to agree to the art class. And I had a full-if somewhat bloated-belly. Life was as good as it could be with a gymnasium full of Amazons and a serial killer on the loose.
The last fact was where my mind went first when I woke at one A.M., but there had been no stone cast against my window. It was the dead girls. They were back.
I sat up this time, my sheet pulled around me, my back against the headboard. A nervous energy danced around the room, like the girls’ spirits wanted to tell me something but couldn’t figure out how to get the thoughts across.
After their last visit, I’d made a few preparations in case they returned. I pulled a bag of dirt and a candle from my bedside table’s drawer, along with the two totems I’d decided to keep. Not reinstating Bubbe’s serpent ward had told her I’d been snooping around her space. As soon as she made that discovery, I knew she’d immediately cataloged all her possessions and discovered they were missing. Why return them now?
I kneeled on the floor, then carefully dumped the dirt and formed it into one small compact pile. With the candle shoved into the middle and the two totems lying on the soil, I was ready.
The girls brushed around me, breaths cool, then hot, stirring the hair on the back of my neck, causing my worn T-shirt to flutter against my skin. They were agitated, even more than they had been on their last visit. The sadness I’d sensed then was still present, but pressed down by something heavier, darker…angrier…
Praying their movement wouldn’t make my job harder, I lit the candle with trembling fingers. The flame flickered but held.
If I’d known their givnomais, the process would have been easier. The combination of telios and givnomai was as unique as a fingerprint. No two living Amazons through history had shared the same matching combination. A priestess checked to assure this before she gave any girl her givnomai. This caused a lot of disappointment when a girl’s first choice was taken, but since the magic would be weakened if shared, they all got over it. They didn’t have a choice.
I could have drawn the givnomais in the dirt. It wouldn’t have given them their voices, nothing as dramatic as that, but it would have guaranteed no interference and no listening in-a private call versus talking on a party line.
But I hadn’t thought to ask while at the safe camp. Chances were, none there knew anyway. Because the combination was so personal, most Amazons kept their telioses hidden. A secret only their closest friends, relatives, and the artist who gave them the mark knew. I knew Mother’s, but not Bubbe’s. And I knew the fifty or so Amazons I’d tattooed before leaving the tribe. And I knew Zery’s. That was it.
The flutters changed to a flap, whispers to murmurs. I could almost make out a word. A hiss like a snake. The serpent from Bubbe’s ward? Were they warning me against it? Or against someone from the serpent clan?
Frustrated, I bent lower until my chin almost touched the candle’s flame. I placed a hand on each totem, willed my brain to understand what they were trying to say.
The smell of wax filled my lungs. A breath, strong, like a slap, hit me from the side. The candle went out.
Alone in the darkness, I heard it…“Zery…” and the girls were gone.
Chapter Twelve
I didn’t pause to think about what questions my bond with the dead girls might bring up. I didn’t pause to pull on pants or shoes. I didn’t pause for anything.
I leapt up and rushed from my room, ran straight down the fire escape. Once outside, I stared at the closed doors of my gymnasium. A few dozen Amazons slept inside. I couldn’t rush in, screaming for Zery. To do so would pretty much guarantee I wouldn’t leave with my head attached to my shoulders.
I took a breath, waited for my pounding heart to slow. I’d have to go in like a warrior: calm, controlled, and ready to fight whatever waited inside. I had my hand on the door handle when fingers wrapped around my upper arm.
“What are you doing?” Mother, fully dressed and armed for battle, squeezed my arm. Normally I would have flexed the muscle or pulled away, but honestly, I was just too darn glad to see her.
“Zery. Something’s happened to her.”
“How do you-?”
The expression on my face must have told her there wasn’t time to ask.
She pushed me behind her and knocked on the door with her staff, a fast but complicated rhythm that I had no hope of memorizing.
The door was flung open. An Amazon, wide awake and obviously on guard duty, slammed her staff across the opening, barring our entrance.
“We need to talk to Zery.” Mother had the art of body language down. Every inch of her said don’t question me.
The guard flicked her gaze from my intimidating parent to me, then twisted her lips to the side. “Not her.”
I moved forward, copying Mother’s stance as best I could, but it was hard to look intimidating in a stained UW Badger tee and no pants-or bra, for that matter. “Yes-”
Mother cut me off, with an elbow to my side. “We need to see Zery.” I couldn’t see her face, but I could tell by the other warrior’s that Mother’s expression had to be somewhere between pissed-off mother bear and starved lioness. The warrior stepped aside.
Mother left her staff by the door. I started to object, but she gave a terse shake of her head. “Their house. If something goes wrong, I’ll deal with it.”
I didn’t like it, but it wasn’t my choice. Already ten feet ahead of me, Mother cut to the right, weaving behind the sleeping Amazons who had tossed sleeping bags on the main gym floor. Zery, as queen, had taken an old office as a bedroom. It was in the basement, near the showers. I followed Mother down the steps. Behind me a warrior followed-not the guard. She must have awakened another to keep an eye on us while she stayed by her post at the door.
Mother waited for me by the closed office door. Her attention was behind me. “Pisto,” she said, giving a slight nod of acknowledgment. I glanced at the taller woman-the daughter my mother never had. She, like Mother, was fully dressed. Did they sleep that way or was speed-changing part of the training?
“What’s so urgent you have to wake the queen at this time of night?” she asked. Neither her body nor expression gave away any annoyance, at least to someone who hadn’t lived with a cryptic warrior all her life. But I could feel tension rolling off her like heat off a summer sidewalk.
Mother opened her mouth, but I decided it was time to take charge. “I just need to see her. If she’s angry because we woke her, she can take it out on me. You can all take it out on me.” Let her be in there. An angry Zery I could deal with, a…I cut my own thoughts off. I didn’t know why the spirits said her name. It didn’t mean…
Tired of the games, I pushed past the larger women and shoved open the door. The original furniture consisted of a metal desk and a chair. Zery had added a wooden box full of weapons and a cot. The cot was empty.
Panic flooded over me. I groped for the electric switch, somehow thinking in the dark I’d missed my six-foot, one-hundred-and-eighty-pound friend. But the yellow glow only revealed that the cot had been slept in. The pillow bore the indentation of Zery’s head, and the thin quilt lay bunched at the bottom of the cot, like she’d shoved it down before standing.
I started to move forward, to search for some clue, but a knife jabbed into my throat.
“Where is she?” The heat of Pisto’s body released the woodsy smell of the homemade soap preferred by Amazons. She was shaken. I couldn’t blame her. Her queen was missing.
My friend was missing. I was shaken too, and pissed.
I spun out of her reach and grabbed a weapon of my own, a flail, from Zery’s bo
x. I had no clue how to use the thing, but Pisto didn’t know that. I held it above my head as if ready to give it a swing, but my action seemed unnecessary. Mother and Pisto both stood back, staring at me as if I’d just performed a miracle. Which perhaps I had. I’d escaped the clutch of a seasoned warrior. How had I done that?
I didn’t have time to analyze the question. Instead I pressed my advantage-swung the flail until it twirled in a slow jerky arc. “You tell me. Where would Zery go? Is anything missing?”
Her brows lowered, Pisto stared at me. Her gaze tracked the round-and-round movement of the studded metal ball. My shoulder began to ache, and I realized I’d screwed up royally. I had no idea how to make the thing stop, not without bashing my own brains out.
Mother cursed, an unprecedented act on her part, then jerked the flail from my hand. The head hit the wall, knocking a foot-wide chunk of plaster onto the floor. I grabbed my arm, began massaging my shoulder.
“Her sword. Does she keep it here?” Mother asked.
I glanced at the box. There was no sword.
Lips pursed, Pisto nodded. “But she prefers a staff.”
Zery’s staff stood angled against the wall.
“Well, she has a sword. That’s something.” I tried to take comfort in the words. I tried to tell myself Zery was too strong to be taken by the killer-the girls he had taken were just that, girls-inexperienced and too full of their own emerging talents to realize danger. But it didn’t help.
Above our heads, the floors rattled-feet pounding as Amazons awoke and raced from the building.
“Pisto, it’s Zery. Come now.” The guard’s voice.
I didn’t wait for Mother or Pisto. I grabbed Zery’s staff and flew up the stairs.
The Amazons were back in my front yard. This time there was no fire, but there was an Amazon queen staked out spread-eagle.
Zery lay unconscious on the ground. She was stomach up, and dressed in a T-shirt and shorts. Her arms and legs were spread, her body forming a five-pointed star. Shoved into the ground next to her was a sword-the one missing from her room, I guessed.