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A year earlier, we’d been softer. Now, we were as bloodthirsty as those we fought. What would we be like by the end of the war? Or would we even be alive? My thoughts spiraled into a pit as black as the clouds and I tried to stave off the mood but it was as entrenched as the rain soaking us to the skin.
But even as the water trickled down my face, making my makeup run, I could tell the downpour was letting up. We’d have at least a few minutes free from the deluge.
“Where do we bury the bones?” I looked around for a suitable place. “Does it matter that the land is butt-ugly with turmoil from the crap that went down here?”
Morio shook his head. “No, because we’re going to calm some of that turmoil.”
And then I saw it. The perfect place—a yew tree. The tree of eternity, the yew was a sentinel of death and rebirth. As I headed over to examine it, I heard Morio grunt with approval. The evergreen sighed as I knelt beside its gnarled, ancient roots and leaned against the trunk. As I pressed my head to the roughened wood, I felt the tree take a deep breath and shudder ever so lightly.
“We have need for your protection, Ancient One,” I whispered, sending my words to dig deep, to touch the roots. One of my abilities as a Moon Witch was that I could talk to plants and herbs, though I tended to steer clear of doing so in the woodlands over here Earthside. There were too many angry plants who feared and distrusted humanity, and anyone who was kin to FBHs. And I was half-human.
“What do you want?” The thought was so strong it almost blew me back, and I glanced up at the tree, half expecting to see a face there. But the burls and knots remained fixed in place.
I rested my hands against the trunk and focused my attention again. “Have you felt the unsettled spirits on this land? The women who were murdered?”
“Yesssssss . . .” The answer was drawn out on the breeze, a long susurration that ruffled my hair.
“We have bones that need to be purified and buried in sanctified ground. May we bury them beneath your branches?”
Part of me didn’t want to ask, I wanted to just bury the bones and hope for the best. But the tree might say no. So I decided not to take the chance because if we didn’t have permission, we ran the risk of not being able to quiet the ghosts.
I enjoyed communing with herbs and flowers, but tree devas scared the hell out of me. They were powerful and old and they had a subtle magic all their own that no one—be they witch or wizard or necromancer—could harness. Only the dryads and floraeds and wood sprites could truly embody the power of the forests.
Morio settled on one knee behind me, but kept his hands to himself. He was proficient enough to know I was in a trance and wouldn’t disturb me. After a long, long pause, the yew stirred again.
“Cleanse and bury them and I will keep them safe. But there are other spirits here who still walk the earth, restless and searching. The thread of energy that runs through this land has been awakened and sings strong and vibrant, but off-key, summoning ghosts to journey its length.”
The yew fell silent again and I sat back.
“She’ll guard them,” I said. “But she said there are more spirits around this lot, and she mentioned a thread of energy that’s attracting ghosts here. I’m thinking the ley line? We know one connects Harold’s house to the Wedgewood Cemetery. The same ley line runs through the Wayfarer—where the portal is—and two of the rogue portals.”
Morio stroked his goatee. After a moment, he nodded. “That sounds right, but what do we do about it?”
“We’ll figure that out later, but for now, let’s get these bones buried while there’s a lull in the rain.” I motioned to Delilah. “Can you start digging a hole at the base of the tree? Try to position it in the shelter of the roots. Meanwhile, I’ll get the salt and Morio—will you set up the candles?”
As I scattered a ring of salt around the yew, Delilah dug away at a hole for the bones. Morio settled a black pillar candle at one side of the hole, a white one at the other.
Rodney, who had been watching us silently, let out a loud huff. “You bitches forgetting something?”
Great. The jackass was back in action. “What do you want now?”
“You didn’t mix rosemary into the salt. Any necromancer worth his nuts knows you have to mix rosemary into the salt.”
Gritting my teeth, I exhaled a thin stream of air as I tried to keep my cool. “For one thing, we aren’t necromancers, although we’re working death magic—”
“Smart, real smart.” He made a dinging sound. “A headstone for the broad with the high beams!”
I reached over and thunked him one with my forefinger and thumb. “Will you just shut the fuck up and listen? Rosemary is for summoning. We need sage for purification, but only inside the grave. Now keep your mouth shut and let us work.”
Rodney gazed at me for a moment and then, with a baleful fire burning in his eye sockets, he started to grow. I stumbled back as he rose to the height of a good-sized man within seconds.
“Holy hell!” I stopped as he started toward me. A wreath of fire surrounded him, glowing like a thin nimbus in his aura, burning brightly around his pelvis bones, and he laughed softly. I jumped back a step. A super-sized Rodney was not on my list of must-haves.
“You’re one fine bitch, all right, and I’m going to have myself a field day,” he said.
I squeaked and went scrambling toward Morio, who looked up from arranging the candles.
“Ooph,” Morio grunted as I knocked him over in my haste to get away from the advancing Rodney. He leapt up, stopping short as he took in Rodney’s new and not-so-improved size. “What the—knock it off! Enough!” He jumped up and grabbed Rodney’s wooden box.
