Circle of the Moon (Soulwood #4)

by Faith Hunter

  The insult landed on me like a roundhouse blow. “Not exactly,” I said, putting my feet flat on the floor and drawing through the wood to the land for calm and steadiness. “What I’m wanting is for you to grow up into an honorable woman, not a sneak. Churchwomen sneak around because that is the only way they can ever find out things. You and me? We aren’t churchwomen anymore and I don’t expect you to act like one.”

  “That ain’t fair.”

  “It’s totally fair.”

  Mud’s lips firmed and she scowled. “But how’m I supposed to find out stuff if I don’t sneak?”

  “You could have asked,” I said calmly. “I happen to think you’re old enough to know financial things, so I’d have told you the truth. But you didn’t give me a chance. If you’re going to live here, we both have to be honest and respect my privacy and my rules.”

  Mud’s entire face puckered up in irritation and confusion and maybe a little culture shock, deliberating. She raised a hand and smoothed her hair as if noticing that it was bunned up. Absently, she removed the pins and finger-combed it down. “I’m sorry. I want to be an honorable woman. A city woman, but an honorable city woman. What do I do now to fix things?”

  I sat down at the kitchen table, thinking over the chain of logic and arguments that led us to this point. “Apology accepted. As to your request, your argument was succinctly reasoned and effectively debated. Sam help you with that?”

  “Only the sal’nt parts. But the delivery was all mine. So … Did my sneaking around keep us from getting a greenhouse?”

  “Salient. But you used it properly. There’s a lot of ifs and buts. If the custody hearing goes our way, and if we can afford the cost of the house upgrades, and if Sam and Daddy want to provide greenhouse labor, and if I can afford the greenhouse materials too, then yes.”

  Mud threw back her head and shouted, “Whoop!” and proceeded to dance around with a total lack of decorum. I was elated to see my sister being so happy.

  “We’ll still have to get a loan,” I said, over her whoops.

  Mud stopped. Scowled at me.

  “We’ll need a full plan, which also has to include legal and court fees for the custody papers. Bids for bathroom, laundry, AC and heat, and more solar panels. If we’re going to do this, we’re doing to do it right. Pavers, raised soil beds on both sides, and a path next to the walls. A separate cistern so I can make an aerated compost tea to feed the plants, add fertilizer, and deliver it without mess.”

  “You been thinking about this too,” Mud accused.

  “Forever. What’s a plant-girl without a greenhouse?”

  Mud spluttered in laughter.

  “I didn’t have the money until I started working for PsyLED. I barely have ten thousand dollars in the savings account, and even if I did, I don’t want to drain every single dime, because we’ll need a good ten thousand for me to get custody if Daddy contests it.” Mud started to argue that Daddy had said he wouldn’t contest it and I held up a hand to stop her. “Just in case. I’m not touching that money. And getting a loan takes time.”

  “Or Daddy could—” Mud stopped.

  “Or Daddy could loan us the money? Mud, was Daddy part of the discussion for this greenhouse?”

  “Yes.” Her scowl went deeper. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at the table, avoiding my eyes. “I reckon this is more a my sneaking. I’m sorry. Again.”

  “Did you tell Daddy about my finances?”

  Mud’s eyes jerked to me, hazel gray and shocked. “I’d never tell that. That’s family business. Our family, you and me.”

  Something warm spread through me at the words. “Okay. Good. In that case, as soon as I have estimates and know the court costs, I’ll talk to the bank. And we can have our first serious family talk about finances.”

  “Second. ’Cause this’un was pretty serious.”

  That decided, we started putting a meal together while chatting about the lawyer we had seen the previous week, in the first steps to custody. Discussed the upgrades to the house. Chatted about the public school Mud would be attending starting in August. She had been tested to see where she fit in scholastically. Mud was twelve years old, but a fierce desire to read everything and anything had placed her at tenth grade level in English and biology, and eighth grade in math. She was at sixth grade in computer, chemistry, and history.

  She would start school in eighth grade with remedial classes and be adjusted as needed, attending Cedar Bluff Middle School. The school’s emblem was a large green tree, and the motto was Go, Giants. The emblem was like the hand of God, or maybe Fate, pointing us in the right direction. We also talked about getting a scholastic tutor for the subjects she was behind on, and a computer tutor for immersion in the how-to of the future. And a new wardrobe.

  • • •

  We were in the middle of a late lunch when I felt an unfamiliar vehicle coming up the road. Mud looked up. “What?”

  “Someone’s coming.” And no one from PsyLED had texted me to say they were on the way up.

  Mud rushed to the windows and looked out. Checked the weapons that I kept near the front windows, under a chair. I placed John’s old single-shot, bolt-action shotgun across the chair arms and took up the double-barrel break-action shotgun. Both barrels held three-inch shells. I might dislocate my shoulder, but if I hit them, the trespassers’ blood would feed my land.

  Mud appeared at my side and lifted John’s lever-action carbine .30-30 Winchester. “Keep your hand off the trigger,” I said.

  “We shoulda given me more lessons,” Mud said.

  “We’ll remedy that soon. I promise.”

  A truck appeared between the trees on the one-lane road that led to my house, passed out of sight as it turned into the drive, and reappeared as it slowed to a stop. I hadn’t noticed the heat in the house until now, and I started sweating, feeling it trickle down my back. The overhead fans turned, pushing cold air around from the window-unit air conditioner. Not enough coolness in the heat of a late July day.

  A man got out of the truck, early twenties, lanky, medium height. Carrying a wilted bunch of flowers. I recognized the face but couldn’t place the name.

  “Dagnabbit,” Mud said, sounding frustrated.

  “Who is it?”

  “That’s Larry, second son of Brother Aden. Him and his first wife, Colleen, done signified an intent to court me.”

  “Daddy told him no,” I said. I’d heard about the interest of the Aden family back when one of the Adens had wanted to court me. “The church voted to disallow marriage of underage girls. They agreed to follow Tennessee law on marriage age.”

  “Don’t look like Larry is of a mind to listen to Daddy or the law neither,” Mud said.

  Larry started up the steps. He was an average-looking man with an obstinate jaw and broad shoulders. He looked capable if not kind, determined if not affable.

  “Has he been coming around?” I asked. “When you’re at Mama’s or Esther’s or Sam’s?”

  “He was at Sam’s when we was talking about the greenhouse—” She stopped, realizing that talking about anything in the presence of churchmen was dangerous.

  I looked Larry over. If he was armed, it was in an ankle or spine holster, hidden under his church-made jeans or his church-made, starched, ironed, cotton plaid shirt. “We’ll see what he has to say. But he’ll be talking to the business end of the shotguns.” I opened the door. Stepped out, shotgun at the ready. Mud moved out beside me. Larry stopped, his eyes going wide.

  He swallowed, the sound rubbery, and he wilted like the flowers he carried. “I …” He swallowed again. “I come to call on Miss Mindy.”

  “Mindy’s daddy told you no.”

  His chin went up. “I’ve been led to understand that you’un had taken custody of her, so I don’t rightly think it matters what her daddy done said.”

  I hadn’t been expecting that one. But he had a point. “No. Not now, not later, not ever.”

  “I’d lik
e to hear it from Miss Mindy herself.”

  “Mindy’s a minor.”

  “Not by church law.”

  “No,” Mindy said. “I ain’t interested in marrying into the Aden clan. I ain’t interested in marrying at all.”

  “Every woman wants to marry, little miss. Your witch sister been spreading her lies to you? Sounds like you’un’s needing some protecting from her and her devil talk and her devil ways. I aim to make you’un respectable and keep you’un safe from the world and its dangers.” He held out his bouquet and took the final step to the porch. “I brung you’un flowers.”

  “I said no,” Mud said, her voice as cold and hard as mine.

  “Okay. Let me make it plain.” I slid into church-speak. “Get offa my land or we’uns’ll fill you so full a holes the undertaker will have to hold your corpse together with duct tape and baling wire.” No. I’d feel him to my land. There would be nothing left but his gun, if he was carrying. Even his clothes and shoes would be gone, absorbed by Soulwood.

  Beneath me, the land came awake. And hungry.

  Bloodlust slammed through me. And for maybe the first time in my life, I laughed at a man who was threatening me and mine. “You can get off my land, church boy. You can stay away from my sister. Or you can die. Not many choices between life and death.” I stepped toward him, the barrel aimed center mass. “I said, get offa my land.”

  Something in my face made Larry Aden pale and his eyes dilate. He backed slow down the steps and headed to his truck. Somewhere along the way he dropped the flowers.

  I felt his fury as he strode across the land; felt the land’s response as Larry took his last step and got in the cab, started the engine, and backed away fast, throwing gravel. All along his trail between steps and truck, vines erupted from the ground. Vines with dark, thick green leaves and scarlet petioles, vines with thorns and self-will. Parts of the vampire tree.

  As Larry whipped his truck around and roared down the road, I fired into the ground, directly at the vines. Furious and angry and scared all at once. I yelled, “I told you to get off my yard. Don’t make me fight you, you danged tree!”

  “Nellie?” Mud asked, her tone doubtful.

  I pointed at the gravel parking space. “Two birds, one stone, as it were.” Then I saw my fingers and the fresh leaves uncoiling from the tips. “Dagnabbit!”

  Mud giggled, a tiny, tentative snurf of sound, took my elbow, and led me back inside. “I’ll make us some herbal tea. Somethin’ with chamomile and lavender.”

  “I do not need to be calmed down,” I said, holding my cell. “And it’s too hot for tea.”

  “Uh-huh.” She took my gun and pushed me onto the couch. Secured the weapons just like I’d taught her.

  “Leave my gun on the chair near the door,” I instructed into the silence.

  “Okay. Who you calling?” she asked.

  “Sam. Then Daddy. Then my boss.”

  “I understand family. Why your’n boss?”

  “Because I just fired a gun in a situation that might be construed as an attack on an unarmed man. Because who’s gonna believe I fired at a tree that likes to kill things?”

  “I reckon that’s a good point.”

  I dialed Sam. “Hey, Nellie,” he said.

  “Did you know Larry Aden was coming over here to court Mud?”

  “What? No! Absolutely unacceptable. We told him no, in no uncertain terms.”

  “Seems he’s decided that since Mud will be living with me, without a man present, that means our opinions and plans have no value. And that means he gets to ignore you. So you pass the word, brother mine. The next churchman or church boy who comes onto my land without my advance permission gets shot. Period. Are we clear?”

  “We’re clear. I’m sorry, Nellie. This shouldn’ta happened to you.”

  “You’re right. It shouldn’t have happened to any of the women or girls of the church, ever.” I hung up. I had broken out in a sweat during the conversation, and not just because the house was eighty-four degrees inside, but because I was so mad. And getting madder. I dialed Daddy. Gave my free hand to Mud to clip my leaves while I talked.

  “How’s my girl?” Daddy answered, his voice not as hearty as it once had been. We were three weeks past his surgery to repair a persistent bleeder and clean out a lot of scar tissue from when Daddy had been gut shot. The original surgery, while keeping him alive, hadn’t been quite enough, and the doctor had made it clear after this second one that he might need a third one. Daddy had been shot protecting his family. Remembering that, the worst of my anger simmered away. More of the anger bubbling through me cooled when I remembered that Daddy knew Occam was a wereleopard and hadn’t objected to us working together and maybe-sorta courting. He could have made my life very difficult, but he hadn’t.

  “I’m good. Mindy is good. But we have a problem.” I described Larry’s visit and he listened with patience. Made a few angry “Mmmms,” and few more sounds that sounded like growls.

  I took a steadying grip on the kitchen table, wood from Soulwood trees, wood that knew me. “I told Sam I’d shoot any churchman or boy who comes calling. I mean it. You spread the word.”

  “Nellie—”

  “Don’t ‘Nellie’ me.” My voice dropped. “You pass along the word. I got beefs with the church about a mile long. I’ll shoot anyone who comes here without a specific invite. Shoot ’em dead. Got it?”

  “I understand,” Daddy said softly.

  “You make sure the churchmen know my rules. They come to my house? They die.” I punched end.

  Mud put a big glass of iced herbal on the table. I had seen the new jar next to my mint tea. Plopping down on a chair at the kitchen table, I picked up the glass and rolled it across my forehead. Mud took the glass and placed it in my other hand so she could clip the leaves on the free one.

  I sighed, a long unhappy sigh full of pathos. Or maybe self-pity, if I was honest.

  Mud released my neatly trimmed fingers and I sipped the tea. The florals were amazing together, which was handy since I really wanted to change the subject. “Is this your blend? It’s wonderful.”

  Mud flushed with pleasure. “Organic. I’m thinking about going into business making organic soothing, calming teas. Most teas need sugar. I’m gonna make sure mine don’t and can be enjoyed hot or cold.”

  “Business?”

  “When I turn eighteen. I’ll already have my blends and recipes and flowers growing.”

  It hit me what she had done and I chuckled. “And you plan to move them to the new greenhouse.”

  “Yep. So I got a question. I overheard Sam talking today. What happened to Brother Ephraim?”

  If I’d had leaves at the moment I think they might have quivered at the question. “Um …”

  “‘Um’ ain’t no answer. You know something, don’tcha.”

  I sighed and decided on honesty, if not total and complete. Mud deserved as much of the truth as I could give. I put the glass on the table and took a cat up in my arms for the comfort. It was Cello, the quietest of the mousers and the least loving, except to the werecats who came calling from time to time. Right now, Cello let me hold her and I put my head to hers. She started purring, which was soothing. “It isn’t my story to tell, not all of it. But what I can tell you is that Ephraim came here to try and force me back to the church. He attacked me. Then he attacked an officer of the law. This was before you and I got to know each other. And it’s the darker part of our magic.”

  “You kill him?” she asked, casually, as if murder was fine and dandy.

  “Not exactly.” This was the part of the story that wasn’t mine to tell. I went on with what I could tell. “He was injured and dying. So I fed him to the earth. To Soulwood.”

  “He tasted bad, didn’t he?”

  I spurted a laugh that was as much relief as amusement. “I reckon he did. The land didn’t take him at first. He caused a few problems before I found a way to … absorb him. I reckon that’s a good enough wor
d.” I pushed away the glass, and condensation made trails across the wood. “I killed him,” I said, softer. “That’s murder. Manslaughter at the very least.”

  “I heard Sam say one time that some men need killing. I reckon the man who punished Mama fits that description.”

  In church parlance punished meant raped. I hadn’t known that Mud knew that story. I tilted my head, less in agreement than to indicate that I’d heard the same argument.

  “Your’n friends at PsyLED know about it?”

  “Rick LaFleur guesses.” Paka knew everything. If she came back that might be a hold she would have over me. But Soulwood had a hold over her, so maybe they would cancel out each other out. Maybe.

  “I think it’s best that we keep it between us, then, don’t you?” she asked.

  I nodded. “You okay knowing all this grown-up stuff?”

  “I’ll keep our secrets. And I’m good, long as you ain’t totally shutting out the possibility of a greenhouse. But, since we’un’s chatting, I need some clothes for school. I need two pairs of khaki pants to start the year on account of it being so hot. And some sneakers. I got a list. I been looking on my tablet and I like the prices at Kohl’s and Walmart.”

  I smiled and drank some of her tea. “We can shop. You really want to go into business making teas?”

  “Yep. Soulwood teas. Only the very best local ingredients, hand grown, hand harvested, organic. That’s what it has to say on the tins. But you gotta make up to Daddy so he’ll build us that greenhouse. You hung up on him. He’s gonna be mad.”

  “Well. Okay, then. He’ll be mad.” I picked up the phone and dialed Rick LaFleur, my up-line boss at PsyLED Unit Eighteen. He didn’t answer, so I left a message telling about Larry and the shotgun blasts.

  Mud and I spent the hottest part of midafternoon outside, deciding where to put the possible greenhouse, how to situate it so it got the best sun in fall and winter. But it was too hot to stay out for long. I had to work come evening, and so I called it a day in late afternoon, took another cool shower, and grabbed an hour’s nap.