“That part, I almost understand,” he said. “But you can’t put out the fire. Stay here and keep the Kennedys in line or they’ll be rounding up your friends and shooting them.”
Startled, she studied his expression, but wearing his mirrored sunglasses, he played his inscrutable card. Last night, in his arms, she’d thought she understood him. Today, not so much.
Remembering Carmel at the graveyard at midnight, she had to consider his conclusion, but she shook her head in disagreement.
“The Kennedys may be a negative force, but they’re not the wrongness seeping through this soil. I’ll hold them off with my new stick,” she suggested facetiously, yanking her arm out of his grasp.
Last night had been a moment out of time, one she’d never have again, she feared. He was the Null voice of sanity and authority, and she was just a crazy Lucy, apparently. She stalked off toward the lodge.
She discovered the walking stick had a belt that she could strap around her arm or waist or anywhere that suited her. She fit it to her waist and hefted a toddler wandering after his father, who was bogged down in bags of toys and coolers.
“People are more important than things,” she warned the mother racing up to fling diaper bags in the back of their van. Sam handed her the kid. “Get out now, before the fire spreads.”
Both parents glanced in alarm at the flames licking down the hillside. Thank all the stars, the wind wasn’t blowing hard, but it would take only one gust. . . Following Sam’s advice, they fastened the kid in his seat and climbed in without going back for suitcases.
Turning around, Sam came face to face with Carmel. The older woman looked as if she’d like to spit in her face. “Out,” the older woman said in a threatening tone. “Get out of town now.”
“And hello to you, too, step-grandma,” Sam said. “I’ll invite you to tea sometime, but right now, you have a bigger problem we should address first.”
That wasn’t like the old her to talk like that. She now knew she was normally cautious and determined, hunting for niches where she might fit in. She wasn’t comfortable with this new aggressiveness, but maybe she should learn.
Carmel looked so stunned, Sam couldn’t regret the wild freedom surging through her. Turning her back on the lodge, she threw caution to the winds and jogged over to where Harvey strode up the path toward the exorcism clearing.
Behind her, the Nulls were being sensible. Walker was directing traffic. Her Uncle Kurt was helping the last few straggling guests. She could hear fire engines screaming up the road, and a plane flying over the mountain.
She refused to watch helplessly if there was any small part she could play in saving a town that had taken her in. But she didn’t have bulldozers or even a hoe. All she had was a pulsating stick and the Lucys’ foolish superstition. If she wished to be an objective, open-minded scientist, shouldn’t she at least experiment?
She unclipped the carved staff and held it in her hand, not like a dowsing rod this time, but as a walking stick. It seemed to amplify the vibrations she’d sensed when she’d climbed out of the car.
“What the hell am I supposed to be doing?” Sam asked as she caught up with Harvey.
“Find the source of the fuel?” He lifted his thick black eyebrows in question as she approached.
“We find a source of malice? That could be the entire damned world,” she said, biting back her fear that they were all crazy. But she’d found the old church grounds earlier. . .
“Is that what this energy is? Malice? Sounds about right. It’s all a learning process,” he said with a shrug, proceeding onward now that she’d caught up with him.
“Swell. We won’t learn anything if we burn to death.” The acrid stench of wood smoke filtered down on the breeze, but the fire was still a few miles away.
“Fitting end for witches, I suppose,” he said fatalistically, hiking on.
She should follow Walker’s sensible advice and get the hell out of here. But she didn’t—because she could feel what Harvey was talking about. Her scientific observational skills required tracing the source of this energy, if only to prove its existence.
“There are no such things as witches,” she protested. “We may have a sensitivity to faults in the earth or uncannily strong senses of smell for pollution, but magic isn’t real.”
“Magic explains the inexplicable,” he said, covering ground in long loping strides. “I suppose one could substitute God, but too many nebulous variables attach to that concept. I try not to offend more people than I already do.”
He was luring her with his voice, she knew. She followed easily, keeping her eye on the distant flames. “I just offended Carmel, again. I apparently offend her by existing. So I’m guessing whatever magic voodoo you think we do isn’t the only reason people find us offensive.”
“I carve wood,” he stated flatly. “I imbue no magic into it. Tell me these vibrations are the magic of my carving.”
She held the rod out and watched it quiver. “I’ve never felt wood vibrate before, but people have been using dowsing rods for centuries. Aren’t they supposed to be forked?”
“I’m hunting energy, not water or gold,” he said irritably.
“Fine then, I’ll experiment and try to keep an open mind.” Energy dowsing sounded better than hunting for malice.
He didn’t bother acknowledging her attempt to understand. Harvey had a bit of a chip on his shoulder, she suspected.
Sam tried to sense a path with the staff, but the energy it amplified was widespread. She swung around in a circle, holding out the rod, but one side wasn’t stronger than the other. She glanced up the hill. The stench of wet charred wood was heavy. The plane had dropped its chemical load between the fire and the lodge, leaving flames to lick downhill in the other direction—toward town and the bulldozers. She didn’t sense danger, yet.
She created a distance between herself and Harvey, spreading their range. The ground was relatively clear of brambles, but she kept an eye out for fleeing critters—like snakes.
“Did you find Cass?” Harvey poked through the dead leaves with his black staff.
So much had happened that she’d forgotten they hadn’t had time to share the news. “We left her down in Hillvale, bossing everyone around.”
“Long story best told over a fire with a bottle of wine?” he suggested.
“A whole barrel of whiskey might be required. Cass has to live here. I’ll leave her to tell the tale, or the part she considers suitable.”
“Yeah, she keeps secrets. You and Walker an item?” He was ahead of her as he asked that, so she couldn’t read his expression.
She didn’t know how she felt about that, or the intriguing man asking her. She wasn’t in a place yet that let her think about relationships. Last night had been necessary for both of them, but they were worlds apart. “Not sure. He helped me and Cass, but he’s here for his own reasons.”
“Aren’t we all?” He glanced toward the fire line creeping closer despite the chemical retardant. “May be time to get out.”
Sam felt a tug on her staff. She halted and tried to sense the energy flow. Was this how she had chosen the best areas to plant back on the farm—without the need of a stick? Neighbors had claimed she had a green thumb, but she’d assumed it had more to do with paying attention as to when to plant, water, and fertilize. Choosing the ground for planting had involved sun and the chemical composition of the soil and she’d let instinct guide her.
“I don’t know enough,” she said in frustration, swinging her stick over the area that had drawn her.
“There’s underground water around here somewhere,” Harvey reminded her. “That’s the reason for the well.” He dug his stick into the ground as if hoping it would create a magical fountain.
“Water, oil, evil, who knows what we’re sensing? I had no classes in earth vibrations and what they mean.” But the urge to slam her stick into the ground next to Harvey’s was strong.
Their sticks vibrated hard enough to disturb the groun
d. To her shock, a few drops of water trickled out, leaving a shiny streak over the rock beneath their joined sticks.
“Does that mean you’re leaving Hillvale?” Harvey asked, twisting harder, as if he wished to flood the valley.
“I’m not certain I ever knew who I was or where I belong.” There was part of her dilemma. Was she the Samantha who wanted to escape her stultifying environment? Or the Sam who wanted a family? Or some weird Sam she didn’t know but who liked walking sticks and found water?
Instead of fleeing for safety, she excitedly twirled her staff deeper. Jade had taught her feng shui. If one could feel chi, it might feel like this. “This is more than water.”
“It’s flowing from the direction of the Menendez land.” Harvey gazed eagerly toward the heavy smoke above.
From his expression, she judged he was more interested in water than chi. Everyone here had a damned agenda.
Threads of fire caught on dead pine debris on the hill above them. Tiny lava flows of sparks aimed straight for the lodge.
“We should have brought shovels, not sticks.” Ripping her staff from the ground, Sam ran for the parking lot, in a path parallel to the fire line. She knew the wind could change and spread it in any direction. What was she doing here anyway? Had Cass made her stupid?
A snake slithered across a rock ahead, and she froze, trying not to scream. Animals ran from fire. They had more sense than she did.
“Samantha!” The warning came from a distance. Had they walked that far?
A flaming pine crashed on the ridge just above them.
Chapter 17
Noon, June 20
* * *
Smoke and ash polluted visibility worse than morning fog. In the distance, the fire crackled, shooting red-hot flares through the black cloud engulfing the ridge.
Coughing and hacking, Walker controlled his gut fear by rigidly following emergency procedures and hurrying terrified families into cars—until one of the Lucys shouted for Sam and the flaming pine crashed on a pathway near the lodge.
Sam!
Debating protocol, he froze to assess the situation the same way he had when Tess had pulled out a gun.
To hell with protocol. Instinct won—he couldn’t let another crazy self-destruct.
Covering his nose with a mask the lodge staff was handing out, Walker crashed into the underbrush. Rivulets of fire crept down the mountain. Hot ash coated the dusty path and his eyes watered from the thick smoke. Tearing pain in his thigh muscle reminded him of his past mistakes. The fire crept closer, beneath the underbrush, through the bed of pine debris. Even the mulch smoldered. Damn, but the whole place could go up like a torch.
Where was Sam?
There was a whole damned hotel full of people he needed to help. . . Why was he chasing the one crazy?
He almost forced himself to turn around—when through the smoke, he saw a slender figure racing toward him. Heart pounding, he increased his pace through the heavy smoke. Without apology, he seized Sam by the waist and flung her over his shoulder.
She beat his legs with her crazy stick, but he refused to drop her.
“I’m fine! Put me down. You left Harvey back there, you know! He thinks he’s found water.” She wiggled enough that when they reached the parking lot, he had to set her down. She put her hands on her hips and glared at him.
He’d never seen anyone more beautiful and alive.
Walker wanted to strangle her for risking that life for nothing. Her face was coated in sweat and soot, looking the way his felt. He resisted the urge to shove loose strands of hair off her moist cheeks. “You followed an idiot into a burning forest to find water? What the hell do you think they’re carrying in those trucks?” He jabbed his finger toward the tankers on the dirt path to Menendez land.
“If they could pump water from the ground, they wouldn’t have to keep going back for refills! Talk to Harvey.” She swung around to indicate the man sauntering from the woods, eyeing them askance. “Tell Walker there’s water up there and how to find it.”
Harvey shrugged his broad shoulders. “I needed Sam to find it. As I’ve said before, I’m just a facilitator. You want the aquifer, we climb the mountain.”
“You’re crazy if you think either of you is climbing that mountain now,” Walker shouted his frustration.
“But if they had digging equipment, they could probably reach the aquifer,” Sam argued. “The snow cover is still heavy higher up. The aquifer will be full.”
“Use your damned brain, Sam! Basic fire equipment works if we don’t have to waste time saving people who have no business up here.” Walker jabbed his finger at the nearly empty parking lot. “Get a ride out of here, now, or I swear, Sam, I’ll lock you up. Only trained professionals belong here.”
Before Walker could turn on him, Harvey loped off, shouting “Hoses! This way!” at the staff unreeling the lodge’s equipment. He was pointing at the trickle of fire that had followed them out. At least that task was in hand. Now all he had to do was remove this newly irrational woman.
“Harvey and the staff aren’t professionals,” she argued.
“They’re trained volunteers. They know to stay the hell out of the way.” He glanced over her shoulder and shouted at the woman preparing to leave, “Mrs. Kennedy, take Sam down with you, will you?”
Even knowing Walker was right, Sam fought irrational fury as she swung around to see Carmel climbing into the backseat of her Escalade. A ride with Mrs. Arrogant ought to be a real barrel of laughs. She debated swatting Walker with her stick just because, but he was already striding off, duty done. Wretched, miserable. . .
But with Carmen in her gun sight, Sam strode across the lot and opened the door behind the driver. “Official orders,” she declared, sliding in, appalled by her own abrasiveness.
Dainty, diminutive Jade had taught her to stand up for herself. “Behave as you mean to go on,” she’d said, shoving a young Sam onto the stage to explain her science experiment. Her mother had shown her how to face up to school bullies, and later, how to deal with driving instructors who wanted more than her money. In their rural community, with hostility toward her different parents rampant, it had been necessary to stand up to the bullies and name callers just to survive.
It had been Wolf who had caught her before she could take a swing at a shrew who’d called him a name. Wolf had taught Sam that some fights weren’t worth picking.
So she was both her parents’ daughter now—the fighter her mother wanted her to be, and the patient scientist her father had encouraged.
She missed them desperately, but she was a whole woman today because of them. In Wolf’s memory, she waited politely for Carmen to fire the next round.
“You called me step-grandmother,” the lady said under her breath, apparently not wanting the driver to hear. “What do you mean by that?”
“You’re the one who has lived here for. . . how long? Thirty years? Have you never talked to Cass?” Sam realized she’d left her purse and backpack in Walker’s car. Damn.
“Cass and I do not see eye-to-eye,” the older woman said stiffly, staring straight ahead. “And I do not exactly live here. My home is in the city.”
“And the townspeople are beneath your notice? Not smart, if so. Then we probably have nothing else to say to each other. You may continue living in ignorance. I don’t mean to disturb your narrow world.” Well, she did, apparently, or she would never have said anything. Unreasonably, it rankled that the Kennedys had never acknowledged Cass and her birth father, even if she’d just learned about it.
Carmen shot her a glare that should have killed. “You’re a stranger who knows nothing about us. You cannot come in here and pretend to be family. I will not give up what I’ve fought so hard to keep.”
“Isn’t it just a little dangerous not to tell your sons they have relations they don’t know about?” Sam said, with only the slightest malice.
Malice! She might occasionally be defiant but she’d never been mean. But ev
en knowing she was behaving abnormally, she couldn’t stop. “Someday they might need an organ match or know about an inherited disease or that they’re dating nieces. That’s all I’m saying.”
Carmen looked as if she’d swallowed a mouse, but she gathered her considerable resources to produce a withering tone. “They know Cass is a distant relation,” she replied as if it hurt to say the words. “Their father’s family was small, and the rest have passed on. My sons have better taste than to date women not of their social circle. Are we letting you out here?” she asked with false politeness as the car slowed down in town.
Sam offered a tight smile. “Yes, please, it’s been lovely talking with you. And rest assured, I want no part of what is yours. Apparently your husband left my father well off, and the executors have taken better care of the money than anyone did his family.”
She got out in the parking lot without watching for Carmel’s reaction. She felt oddly drained and wondered what she had thought she was accomplishing. Carmen had been here eighteen years ago when Walker’s father had died. She had just told a potential murderer that she was a danger to her precious family. What on earth had possessed her?
Possessed—an ugly word with more than one meaning. Remembering the evil the Lucys kept preaching about, Sam went around back to Dinah’s shed where she’d stored the few garden tools she’d gathered. Walker had made it clear that she knew nothing about fire-fighting, so she’d stay out of the way. In the meantime, she needed grounding.
While men bulldozed a dirt boundary around town, she filled her meager watering can. A breeze off the ocean pushed the oily smoke east, back toward the ridge where the fire had started. The flames were no longer visible, so the worst was under control. She could do nothing but watch helplessly, so she returned to the new flowers flourishing in Dinah’s planter. She supposed she could prepare sandwiches and drinks for the firefighters, but right now, she needed her fingers in earth, or she might ignite new fires.
She looked up a little later when Xavier’s shadow fell over her as she dug in leaf compost. The rental agent and his green blazer looked even grayer than usual.
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