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I nodded. Harold’s group had managed to summon a goshanti. Could they have other surprises that might account for the increase in spirit activity from the Netherworld that we’d been seeing? And if so, how the hell were we going to figure out all of the damage they’d caused?
Shaking off the speculation, I looked back at the box, a wave of sadness rushing through me. “Let’s start by sorting out the bones. We can purify and bury them.”
Rodney reached down and started separating the bones to one side. For once, he remained quiet.
I stared at him. “What? No wisecracks? No dirty jokes up your sleeve?” My voice had a bitter edge to it and I realized I was looking for someone to take my anger out on.
The skeleton looked up at me for a moment, then shook his head. Still silent, he returned to his work.
CHAPTER 5
“So we have to bury the bones first?” Delilah asked.
Morio nodded. “If we don’t, they’ll just keep infusing her with energy.” He stood up, taking the box from Rodney, who had put the jewelry back in the pouch, leaving the bones out. “We need to bury and salt the bones, then sanctify the ground and cast a spell to calm the spirits. I wonder what happened to the rest of the bodies?”
“Other than Sabele, I have no idea.” I looked around, not entirely sure I wanted to know. “I just hope that they were dead when Harold chopped off their fingers. Those are pretty severe hack marks and they weren’t done with a surgeon’s skill. I doubt he’d use anesthesia.”
Even as I spoke, I knew the fear they’d felt had fueled the Hellions—fueled their rituals and their sadistic pleasures. And then, without warning, I could hear them. Whispering screams on the wind. Women begging, Please stop, please let me go, please don’t hurt me anymore.
“I wish we’d let Menolly kill the whole lot of those pricks,” I said softly. “If they were here now, I’d do it myself.”
Delilah shook her head. “Not if I got to them first. I can hear them, too,” she said, pale and somber.
Surprised, I glanced up at her. Her eyes were cool, flashing emerald, and I caught the scent of bonfire smoke that suddenly whipped up around her. Her tattoo—the black crescent scythe on her forehead—flashed with gold specks. The Autumn Lord must be riding her soul today.
We were all changing, evolving into freaks. But if we had to live out on the fringe, at least we were going off the deep end on the right side.
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.”
