I interrupted him because if he thought about that sentence he might figure out that I had just threatened his life. “I dropped the damn tree and I need to see what it’s doing.” Steady on my feet, the spike of adrenaline giving me energy I hadn’t had a moment past, I walked away.
“She cursed,” FireWind said softly, shock in his tone.
“I heard.” There was laughter in Occam’s voice and he jogged after me.
Someone had moved the car up to the shed when they put me into it, which was a good thing because my legs were not going to make it far. I reached the shed and the adrenaline gave out. I grabbed the wood corner of the shed as I rounded the back and I stopped, breathing hard, though how much was fury and how much was fatigue I didn’t know. I stared at the scene behind the outbuilding.
“Well, dagnabbit,” I cursed more appropriately.
The vampire tree was a good two feet high, but all the leaves on the lower branches were turning brown. The death and decay was stronger than the small bit of Soulwood soil that had spilled from the pot to the dead land. Or . . . Or the death and decay was enough to kill the tree. Maybe all the tree, everywhere, even on church land. If I could reproduce the dark magics.
Shock went through me that I would even think of using death and decay.
“Nell?” Occam asked.
“The death and decay is killing it. Which I’ve never seen happen before. And which is probably a good thing because otherwise it might take over the property and then we’d never learn—” I stopped abruptly and said instead, “Did you open the kettle?”
“Yes. Nothing in it but a thick, foul-smelling, tan liquid. Not soap, which is what FireWind was expecting, by the smell.”
I breathed out slowly, thinking about the death and decay that had grabbed me and tried to pull me under. I took up where I’d left off. “If the vampire tree took over, we might never learn how many people were killed, dissolved, and dumped out here. Because there’s a body in that kettle, or there was originally.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, but I can’t prove it. That military paranormal woman might be able to, though.”
“She and her team will be here shortly. Do you want me to cut down the tree?”
I crossed my arms over my middle and closed my eyes. “You’un better,” I said, fatigue driving the church-speak into my words. “You’un know what it can do and you’un’ll stay far enough away from it to keep from getting hurt.” I chuckled, the sound and the words sour and rough. “It might eat them crime scene techs, jist to stay alive.” I opened my eyes to see Occam studying me to see if I was serious. “It wasn’t a joke. The tree might really do that,” I whispered.
“I got an ax in my car. Hang on.” He trotted away. I leaned against the shed and watched leaves flutter to the ground as the little tree fought to stay alive and failed and continued to grow and die. A butterfly fluttered near and landed on the top of the tree. A vine whipped out and snared it, the yellow wings broken and quaking.
We were a mile from Holy Bear’s house, but Occam was were-creature-fast. He reappeared, an ax over his shoulder. He approached the small, hungry tree. Car and van engines sounded from out front as the rest of the law enforcement personnel arrived. We didn’t have much time.
“Be careful. It’s hungry,” I said, “and so is the death and decay under the ground.”
Occam made a cat chuff and ground his work boots into the dead earth for a firm stance. He took a two-handed grip and reared back with the ax. He swung. The blade bit deep into the narrow trunk and Occam wrenched it out. In the deeps of my mind I heard the beginnings of a scream. Occam swung again, and again. The trunk separated. The top two feet of the tree fell onto the dead earth. Its leaves shriveled and turned brown. Occam stepped away from it, the ax over his shoulder. With the top gone, the small roots that had tried to find life in the dead earth shriveled and died. The faint scream grew feeble and vanished.