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“So, either your mother or father or both had to be an earth dragonette?”
“Correct,” Fancypants said. “As to which parent we take after, it’s random. And within a clutch, each egg will be either one or the other—they don’t have to all be the same unless both mother and father were from the same element.”
I finished my latte. “Will you be all right while I’m gone tonight?”
“Of course. Just leave me food for a snack, if you would.” Fancypants twined his neck, waving it like a snake. It was both mesmerizing and beautiful, like a dance.
“All right, but if something happens—”
“It won’t. Go and enjoy yourself. Or rather, enjoy yourself tonight. I rather doubt you’ll enjoy hunting for a ghost next to a fresh body.”
I snorted. “Right, thanks for reminding me. I’msolooking forward to this.”
Arnie was due to arrive in fifteen minutes. I looked for something to do. The house was clean—I liked order and I never let clutter build up, so I told Fancypants that I’d be outside, and set out a snack of dry kibble along with water for him.
I was nervous, and one of the reasons was that a little part of me was afraid that the killer might be spying, hidden away. And if so, would they target me, thinking the ghosts told me who they were? I tried to walk off my nerves by looking in on my new herb garden.
The raised beds were beautiful, the smell of the plants filtering through my senses. I could smell the basil and the sage, the dusty scent of thyme. The sprouts of dill were tiny, but they were growing. Everywhere around me, I could feel the emergence of new life, the burgeoning awareness of the movements of the sun and moon, the approach of the rain, as the young plants dug their roots deep and spread their leaves.
I ran my hands over the leaves, my magic intermingling with the magic that came from all living beings bound to the earth by root and tendril. Crystals and stones had a different sort of bond with the Mother, and I cherished that connection as well. But there was something about plants—they had that spark of life to them. Stones were sentient in a different way. Almost alien, they sensed life through the slow drip of time, the creeping hands that passed on a geological level. Plants needed water and air for life, and the sun. Stones could live in a vacuum.
A moment later, the sound of tires on gravel alerted me and I turned around. A deputy stepped out of a sheriff’s car. He hesitated when he saw me, then started over my way. I saved him the trip and hustled to his side.
“Deputy Fryer?” I asked.
“One and the same,” he said, inclining his head as he tipped his hat. He was a pleasant-looking fellow, with short black hair and hazel eyes. “Ms. MacPherson?”
I nodded. “Call me Elphyra. Let me grab my purse.”
I hurried back into the house, where I found Fancypants curled up in the corner of the sofa. “Would you like me to turn on the TV?” I asked.
He crooked his neck and let out two puffs of smoke. “Do you have a nature channel?”
I nodded. “GeoEarth—the shows are situated around science, animal, and nature documentaries. Will that work?”
Fancypants shifted, looking interested. “Yes, thank you. I believe it will.”
I took hold of the remote, turned on the TV, and found the channel. “I’ll call May and ask if she can come up at some point to make sure everything’s okay.” Although Fancypants seemed perfectly capable of taking care of himself, I still didn’t want to worry. As I waved goodbye and left the house, locking the door after me, I texted her.
may, can you come over and check on fancypants? i’ll be gone all afternoon and evening and i’d rather not have to worry about him. he’s fine on his own but you have a key. would you be able to peek in on him and let me know everything’s okay? i’ll be with sheriff parker for a while—there’s been another murder—and then i have—I paused, feeling awkward. But finally, I shrugged and typed in,i have a date with faron.
As I locked the door, she texted back.
of course i can check on fancypants. let me know when you get home. i’ll be over in about thirty minutes.She didn’t say a word about Faron.
* * *
Arnie Fryer wasan excellent driver and—surprisingly—a funny man. On the way to the newest murder scene, he told me about his youngest daughter. Normally, I wasn’t all that interested in stories about children, but apparently, he had a budding comedienne on his hands. I found my nerves calming as we approached a wooded thicket on the south side of town.
He sobered. “I have to warn you, they’re still processing the scene, and the remains of the victim are still there. I hope you have a strong stomach. I recommend wearing a mask so you don’t… It smells pretty rank.” He motioned to the glove box. “There’s a packet of masks in there. You should take one.”
I pulled out one of the paper masks and slid the bands over my ears. My nerves were drumming a steady tattoo in the back of my mind and drops of cold sweat beaded on my forehead. As Arnie cautiously pulled onto the narrow access road, I tried to block out the memories that were cropping up unbidden of watching as the Butcher mutilated Rian.
And the rats…I hated rats as much as I hated vampires.
We pulled into a clearing where several of the sheriff’s deputies’ cars were parked. A group of people farther down the road were dressed in what looked like biohazard suits.
“Why are they wearing those suits?” I asked as Arnie brought the car to a stop.
