Spells for the Dead - Faith Hunter Page 0,49

Deputy Stanhope,” Occam said. “We’d appreciate it if you could turn off the outside lights and the security lights for a bit. We need to measure the energies of the house and the grounds in the dark.”

“Can do. You catch the witchy-woman who did this and I’ll help you burn her at the stake.”

I flinched, a motion too tiny to be noticed by anyone but Occam.

“You talking about burning women, Officer?” Occam said, both conversational and warning.

“Joke, my man. Joke.”

“Uh-huh. Lights, please.”

Footsteps crunched away. One by one, the lights went out. In a nearby pasture a horse snorted. I heard the sound of hooves as animals moved in the gloom. Slowly, the moon and the stars brightened in the sky and the reflected moonlight illuminated the white-painted house and the white four-board fencing, visible even to my human eyes. Plant-people didn’t have better-than-human night vision.

“Ground, near the front door,” I said softly.

Without turning on the flash, Occam led the way to the front, one hand on my elbow to help me. He stopped twenty feet from the door. “Here okay?” he asked. When I agreed that it was fine, he released my arm and spread the frayed pink blanket on the grass.

I sat on the blanket and he placed the vampire tree in front of me. I rubbed a few grass leaves between the fingers of both hands. Happy. Content. Well-nourished grass. Gently, I wormed my index fingers through the blades and the roots until I touched soil. “No death energies,” I said. “Nothing that feels like death and decay. Nothing that feels like witch magic of any kind. Just the utter self-satisfaction of grass that isn’t getting eaten, gets cut with sharp blades, and has plenty of nutrients.”

“House lawn grass is self-satisfied?” Occam asked. “What about pasture grass?”

I handed him the potted plant and raised my arm for a hand up, letting him help me. “House grass is the most self-absorbed, self-centered plant on the face of the earth. Pasture grass knows its purpose is to be chomped on and it’s a little less pretentious.”

“Okay,” he said, not disagreeing with me. And more importantly, not laughing at me. Or at grass.

“Other side of the driveway,” I said, this time taking the plant and the blanket so he could keep his hands free.

We repeated the process and I found nothing there either, except more complacent, self-assured lawn. The groundskeeper was doing a great job.

We tried again at the back of the house, close to the witch circle made by Astrid and her witches today. Nothing. Nada. Standing, my blanket over one arm, I stared around the dark grounds. “Talk to me,” I muttered. “Where is death and decay?”

The only death magics I had seen up close were the kind that resulted when salamanders from another dimension began to reproduce on earth. Wherever they walked, those energies had killed every living thing they came in contact with. Every blade of grass, every tree, everything had begun to die, a by-product of their reproduction and lives. Witch death magics were reportedly different. Witch death magics weren’t a by-product, they were a weapon in the hands of a killer. Death and decay? I had no idea what it was, but it was killing things and I was good at figuring out about things that killed.

“Over there.” I pointed. Occam led the way to the lawn nearest the barn and, when I nodded, arranged the folded blanket on the grass. I assumed the position and took the potted plant, placing it between my legs.

With one fingertip, I touched the grass. Shock and horror and fear shot through me. I jerked my hands to myself and stood up fast. Nausea rose in my throat and I shook my hand to restore the circulation.

“Nell?”

I snatched up the plant and the blanket, remembering Etain saying she could feel death through her shoes. She had been standing almost here. For a moment, I considered that Etain had known where the death and decay came through because she had brought them onto the property. I tucked that one into the back of my mind. Being part of PsyLED had made me suspicious of everyone.

“Nell?” Occam said again, his tone sharper.

“Oh. Sorry. Got it,” I said. “Right here. They came through here.”

“They?”

“The death and decay and the person who brought it on the property.”

“Can you tell from which direction?” Occam asked.

My fingers clutched on the vampire tree’s clay pot. I really, really did not want to touch the ground again.

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