the feel of the death and decay at Stella’s farm, that stark absence of life.
“All of earth is magic,” I whispered. “All of the land, everywhere. Even the land tainted by death. The magic of the land is still there. It’s just been changed somehow.”
Maybe, just maybe, I could help the land to heal the death and decay. Maybe I could help the witches to neutralize the energies that they had currently shielded, but which were also leaking into the earth. Maybe I could do that without claiming the land or sacrificing a human. Or dying for the land.
The bone-wood in the circle of stones . . .
Had she lost control of the land? Had she begun to become a tree, like I had? Occam said I had been learning control. Had I learned enough control to try to heal without spilling the blood of an enemy? Without needing to harm myself? Without my friends needing to call in a military strike to take out the dark yinehi that I could become?
Occam got back in the car. “Nada,” he said. “Not a single blip. Hugo’s mama’s as human as they come. She’s the last of her female line. The Ames witch blood dried up.”
“But, maybe like with Margot, there were some genetics leading to a gift of some sort,” I said. “We need to find Hugo’s wife. And we need to know who stayed before at the rental trailer where Cale lived.”
* * *
* * *
We walked into the local county law enforcement center, which was bustling and overcrowded. We were just in time to hear JoJo on the para freq channel, saying, “LaFleur, FireWind. I got something.”
Both bosses waved us all into a small conference room, we shut the door, and Rick called HQ on his cell. He put it on speaker and said, “LaFleur here, with FireWind, Ingram, Occam, Kent, and Racer. What do you have?”
“Hugo Ames’ estranged wife is one Carollette Myer Ames. Until two weeks ago, when she quit, she worked part-time at Merry Promotions as needed. With her husband. She worked there while Stella was on tour. I tracked her phone for the day the T-shirts were delivered to the horse farm. Guess who made the trip from her own home to the horse farm that day?” Everyone in the little room perked up until JoJo added, “Only problem is, there is no record of Carollette being a witch.”
I turned her name over in my mind. “Did we read the woman . . . What was her name? The one with the cigarettes and the liquor?”
“Ethel Myer,” T. Laine said. “Hugo’s landlady.” Her eyes lit up with more life than I had seen for days. “Myer! Ethel Myer and Carollette Myer Ames, Hugo’s wife. I’m betting good money Ethel and Carollette are related.”
“She knew an awful lot about the families and the affair.” I looked up at Occam. “When we got to Ethel’s house, not a one of us opened her file. Not a one of us read her. Why didn’t you read her with the psy-meter?” My face scrunched up. “Why didn’t I read the land when we got close to the house?”
“Daaaaang,” T. Laine said. “I bet good money it’s because there was a suggestion, a compulsion to listen, believe, and get out of there.” The light left her eyes. “I didn’t catch it.”
“And if she’s a paranormal death practitioner?” FireWind asked softly.
“We had our chance to take her out,” Occam said. “She won’t be surprised again.”
“She’ll hit us with death and decay if we go back there, or she’ll just be gone,” T. Laine said. “JoJo, does she have a cell? Can you track it?”
“Already on it,” Jo said through the cell phone speaker. “Already looking up DL, voter registration, social media presence. And one thing to know. Our country hick chick had me research who rented the property before Cale Nowell moved in. That mobile home is where Carollette Myer Ames grew up with her mother, Reba Myer, single parent, deceased. No father was listed on Carollette’s birth certificate.”
“So it’s just coincidence that Cale moved into that same trailer? No way. They have to be connected some way,” T. Laine said, pulling up her tablet. “Checking witch family ancestry sites for Myers.”
“Cale was in the commune,” I said, pulling myself out of my mental mire. “Hugo was in the commune. They likely knew one another there. It’s also likely that Hugo would have known where his wife grew up. Maybe Cale