AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I didn’t ask her how she knew what had happened to Lilith Black. The spirits in the summerlands generally seemed to have a pretty good idea of what was going on in the mortal plane, even if they weren’t exactly what you could call omniscient and were definitely detached from the drama of human life.
“Unfortunately, yes,” I replied. “The Tarot isn’t giving me much to work with. I was hoping you might have some insights.”
She closed her eyes for a moment. While I doubted she would come right out and tell me who had murdered Lilith Black, I still hoped she could point me in the right direction to find the clues that would solve the mystery.
The crystal ball remained cool under my hands. Sometimes it warmed to my touch, but not that day. Since there didn’t seem to be much rhyme or reason to the sensation, I’d come to believe it didn’t mean a whole heck of a lot.
Grandma Ellen’s lashes — thick and dark — lifted, and she stared straight at me. “You need to go to the clearing at nine o’clock tonight. If you do that, you’ll find the answers you seek.”
“Why nine o’clock?” I asked, although I knew it generally wasn’t a good idea to question a spirit guide’s utterances…even if the spirit guide in question was your own grandmother. Honestly, I wasn’t thrilled about the thought of wandering around alone in the dark in a place where two people had met violent ends. Even though I knew Lucien’s ghost was long gone, that didn’t mean Lilith’s spirit might not be lurking around somewhere. And I sort of doubted she’d be in a good mood.
At any rate, it seemed much safer to head over there during full daylight. Much less chance of getting ambushed that way.
“Nine o’clock,” my grandmother repeated, her tone almost sharp. She sounded like a woman letting her child know what would happen if they kept offering her any sass.
“All right,” I said wearily. Might as well admit defeat. It just wasn’t smart to go against advice from your spirit guide. “Nine o’clock it is. You want to tell me why?”
Her eyes narrowed, but the quirk of her pink lipsticked mouth seemed to speak of some secret amusement. “I already told you. That’s how you’ll find the answer you’ve been seeking.”
And she winked out, leaving the crystal ball clear and empty.
Great. I suppose I could have pleaded with her to return and give me more clarification, but I had a feeling that would just make her cranky. Once a spirit had made her pronouncement, she really didn’t like to be disturbed.
Okay, then. I’d head out at a little before nine o’clock, and I’d make sure I was armed with my pepper spray and a walking stick I’d bought at Odds and Ends, a store down the street that sold a little bit of everything, including hiking supplies. The stick was a sturdy piece of burnished oak with a raven carved near the top — it had been made by Lou Foster, a local artisan — and I figured it would do well enough as a weapon in a pinch if my pepper spray failed me.
Now all I had to do was wait for the fateful hour.
* * *
As I drove away from my apartment, Globe was sleepy and dark; the place wasn’t known for being a party town, especially on a Wednesday night. Archie had asked a couple of questions, but since I’d been there to feed him and make sure the schedule was maintained, he didn’t seem too worried about me wandering around in the woods after dark.
“Try not to get yourself killed. It would be most inconvenient,” he said, then curled up on the seat of my favorite armchair.
That was probably a display of affection…for him. Or he was just worried about who would feed him if I ended up getting axe-murdered in the pursuit of truth.
The moon was up, though, nearly full and shining brightly enough that I probably could have gotten by without the flashlight I’d brought along. I parked as close to the spot as I could manage, noting how the ground showed the dusty tracks of multiple tires, and the way the grass had been crushed by the pressure of hundreds of feet. Hopefully, the area wouldn’t take too long to bounce back, especially once we started getting those mythical summer monsoon storms.
I’d put on jeans and my hiking boots, so I figured I should be set for poking around. Honestly, I didn’t know much about investigating a crime scene, although I told myself that wasn’t really the point. Calvin and his deputies had already been out here and hadn’t found a single piece of useful evidence. No, I was here to discover the things that couldn’t be seen with the naked eye, to try my best to pick up the vibrations of violence. The idea was a little unsettling, but I’d been through something similar before.
Once again, though, I had to hope I wouldn’t encounter Lilith’s ghost. Lucien’s howling, barely intelligible shade had been bad enough during our first meeting…and he’d actually been kindly disposed toward me. An overtly hostile spirit would be an order of magnitude worse.
Fighting back a shiver, I moved through the trees, dead leaves crunching under the tread of my hiking boots. The sound seemed far too loud, and I did my best to lighten my step, even as I wondered if my heart was beating hard enough for anyone — or anything — else to hear.
As I’d expected, the clearing was empty. At the center lay the remains of the bonfire, not much left to mark the spot except a ring of stones and a couple of mostly consumed logs. I wondered why Boden and Tansy hadn’t come back to get rid of the detritus, since it sounded as though the San Ramon tribe wanted the place cleared out as soon as possible.
Maybe Boden had decided to wait until I’d finished my own investigation, fearing that any disruption of the site might make it harder for me to pick up the vibrations there.
Speaking of which….
I paused a foot or so away from the fire and pulled in a breath. The faint scent of wood smoke seemed to still hang in the air, and underneath that I could smell the mossy dampness of the river a few yards away, and something drifting on the wind that might have been dry grass, still warm after baking in the sun all day.
The back of my neck tingled, although I couldn’t really feel anything here. It wasn’t like the time when Lucien’s spirit had stirred up the wind and tugged at my hair. No, this particular night felt almost deadly still, although underneath the quiet, I could somehow sense the wrongness of the place. Too many deaths in this spot, I supposed.
When this was all over, someone needed to come back here and smudge the living crud out of the place.
The faintest rustle of dead leaves reached my ears, and I sidled over to a cottonwood tree, slipping behind it even as one hand tightened on the walking stick it held and the other gripped the pepper spray I’d slipped into one pocket.
Was the killer returning to the scene of the crime?
