Chapter 24
Serpent of Evil
“You need rest. Humans aren’t meant to stay up this long.” Decker trailed Laurie back into the saloon.
“Willa and Sister Inez haven’t slept.”
“They should.”
Rest wasn’t going to be entertained by any of the three women. They’d stuffed the carcass in a flour sack and waded through drifts of locusts to see how the others fared.
Laurie took a deep breath and sighed. “I’m close, Decker. I’ve transcribed what things we’ll need for the…ritual,” he said, stumbling over which words to use. “Safine should be able to get everything for us from Three Hawks or the mercantile.” His brows knitted together. “I just—I don’t understand. The other passages talk about the nature of the curse born from such a deep, virulent hatred that it directly contradicts nature. I wouldn’t have dreamed of it a month ago.”
“You would have called yourself mad,” Decker supplied.
He straightened from the table. “I suppose so.” Picking up the journal, he flipped to where he left off, tracing the neat, slanting writing. “I feel like I’m still going mad. The longer I look, the more familiar it all seems.”
Decker slotted a finger in the book and tugged it down so Laurie looked at him. “Rest,” he said. “The transcription will be useless if you make a mistake.”
Laurie snapped the journal shut. “I need to check on one thing at the chapel.” He gathered his notes and tossed over his shoulder, “Come with. I won’t be long.”
“As a neighbor?”
The pink creeping up Laurie’s neck could have been from the falling night whispering through the door. Then he smiled. “If you’d like.”
This is what I’d like, Laurie Lane. Comfort in companionship.
Decker’s lips twitched. “The way you’ve been looking at me all night, I thought you’d changed your mind.”
Laurie made an indignant sound as he breezed out of the saloon. “Youwere looking atme.”
“You pressed your leg against mine when I taught you to play faro.”
The front door of the chapel groaned when Laurie pulled it open and stepped inside. Rogue locusts scattered from the disturbance. He turned and leaned in the doorframe, his attempt at confidence betrayed by his breathlessness. “Are you that undone by me, that my leg has taken your common sense?”
Decker tilted his head, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth.
A game of cat and mouse.
Buried under their quips was a quiet sincerity, like the comfortable silence of a friend.
“I find it difficult to not be undone by you, Laurie Lane.”
“Even as neighbors?”
“Especially as neighbors.”
A smile touched his face but then it was gone, replaced by a focused press of his lips as he rushed headlong, spilling his thoughts. “There’s entries about witchcraft and magic;realmagic, like changing nothing into something and bending it to your will. From what I’ve known of Whitton…” He trailed off, seeking agreement.
“He preferred more…physicalapplications of magic,” Decker said.
“And the handwriting doesn’t quite match…” Laurie murmured half to himself. “I have to grab a letter, I’ll be back,” he said before disappearing into the chapel.
“Laurie—” Decker started, but he was already gone. He resigned himself to leaning one shoulder against the door, listening to the preacher rattle open drawers and shuffle papers.
Pits of sunlight speared the floor through the holes in the roof, and dying locusts left drifts of red-flecked bodies in the corners. New pine boards Laurie and Cricket painstakingly laid for the floor were already weathered and rotted, like the roof had been leaking for months.
But the hail was recent. The chapel had been fixed before.
