Circle of the Moon (Soulwood #4)

by Faith Hunter

  “You’un got no right to call our women harlots,” Gad said.

  “You’un got no right to bring your witchy sister here among God-fearing people,” Esau said. “A witch dressed in pants like the whore of Babylon.”

  Anger flushed through me, but I kept my voice calm. “You need to learn your scripture. The whore of Babylon wore scarlet and purple. Not pants. And I’m not a witch.” I chuckled low and added a social media quote that would go over their heads. “Mama had me tested.”

  “I will not speak to this whore and witch,” Esau said, his face turned away from me. “I will not be led into temptation.”

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Daddy assist SaraBell and the mamas between two pews toward a different exit.

  “She should be burned,” Gad muttered of me. He slapped his truncheon into his palm with a soft smack. “Burned at the stake.”

  I was turned at slight angle from them, behind Sam, and I eased my weapon free. Dropped my hand, the Glock GDP-20 at my thigh, my hand comfortable on the grip, trigger finger on the slide. There was no round in the chamber. I needed to remedy that, except that would be obvious and right now we were teetering on the sharp edge of violence. Racking the slide might push us over into bloodshed.

  Daniel, who bore a strong resemblance to his daddy, stepped closer to me. Unlike his brothers, he had no trouble looking me over. “There might not be a punishment house anymore,” hemuttered, “but I’m inventive. I’ll take care of the whore.”

  Mama Grace and Mama Carmel shoved the young’uns down, where they crawled under the seats toward the door. The Nicholsons always had an exit plan.

  “And then she’ll be burned. Her and all her ilk,” Judah said. “Her sisters and—”

  I raised my weapon.

  “That’s enough, boys,” Brother Aden said, stopping me before I fired. “There will be no talk of taking the law into our own hands. Vigilantism is outlawed by church charter.”

  Not to mention murder. But I didn’t say it.

  “Your’n son is in jail because of this whore!” Gad said.

  “Larry is in jail because he kidnapped an officer of the law. I love my son, but he has shamed himself, his family, and this church.” Brother Aden shook his head. “I brought my sons up to know better. To do better. I have offered up my son to the elders of the church for banishment.”

  The silence in the church was so thick I could have bounced on it like bouncing on a balloon. “Banishment?” Judah repeated. “But …”

  “The scripture tells us to test the spirits,” Sam said, “and that means to test ourselves, our elders and deacons, each other, and our understanding of scripture all the time. You want to teach a sermon on an opposing viewpoint, feel free next time your name comes up in rotation.”

  Sam took a step close to Judah and Gad, and the group of five moved back. Sam followed them and maneuvered his body between them and the rest of the Nicholsons. Without taking his gaze from the threats, he held out a hand, indicating that we should all go outside. I walked past, not making eye contact with the cadre of would-be attackers. At some point I might need to show some aggression, but not now while Sam’s wife was still waddling down the stairs and the littlest young’uns were still escaping out the back pews into the safety of the day.

  • • •

  The adrenaline spike was long gone by the time the last of us got back to the Nicholson house. A teenaged boy was armed and watching out a front porch window, his face in shadow. The windows upstairs were open and I could see gun barrels resting on the sills. Inside, the young’uns had been sent to the third floor to play under the care of two girl children with unbunned hair.

  Sam helped SaraBell into a rocker and propped her feet up, looking her over top to toes for problems. “I’m okay,” she said softly, flapping a hand at him. “Go on. Take care a things.”

  He asked the teen boy at the window by the door, “Zeke. Placement of shooters?”

  “Me on the lower floor. Harry on the third floor at the front. Rudolph at the back of the house on the upper floor.”

  “Barn?”

  “Judith,” Zeke said, “positioned to see the greenhouses. Bernice just checked in; girl shooters are in place, one at your’n place and one walking home with Esther and Jed. Four girls are in the storage caves. All quiet.”

  “Girl shooters?” I asked.

  Daddy eased into his rocker with a breathy grunt. “You’un taught us our girls can fight. So Sam and the boys been teaching ’em to shoot. Mud too, if’n you’un approve.”

  “Yes,” I said. Girl shooters? In the church?

  Grimly, Sam said, “They wear handguns under their dresses at all times.” He stared hard at me. “Things’ve been hard around here, Nellie.”

  “Anything I can bring charges against?”

  “Nothing we can prove,” he said. “Petty vandalism in the greenhouses. Theft from the storage caves. Accusations with no evidence.”

  I frowned. Theft and vandalism had never happened in all the years of the church. But Sam was preaching an end to polygamy, so … things were changing and there was always resistance to change. “You get witnesses or photos, you let me know.”

  “So far nothing on the cameras,” he said, even more grimly. He led the way to the back of the house, to a closet once filled with baby clothes. The shelves had been cleaned off; instead of onesies, they now held a series of small computer screens and a piece of electronic equipment that handled all the camera input. There were twelve screens, each with multiple views showing from all the Nicholson clan houses, the storage caves where the church kept its supplies and seeds, the vampire tree, multiple views of the church and its parking area, the entrance, and the main roadways.

  “Wow,” I said. I didn’t know what else to say. While the church freely used solar and wind power, they had previously not allowed TVs, computers, e-readers, or anything else of a worldly personal electronic nature. Now they had a security system and my brother was running it. I had known about it, but seeing it was disconcerting.

  From the front of the house Zeke shouted, “Ben’s here. So’s Caleb, Fredi, and Priscilla. And Caleb’s hurt.”

  Caleb Campbell was half carried into the house by Ben Aden. Caleb had been beaten; he had a black eye and a broken nose and was holding his ribs. Fredi, Caleb’s senior wife, was big pregnant, maybe eight months along, with her third, and Priscilla, my eldest sister, was nursing her second. The three squalling toddlers were carried out of the big room by Mama Grace and my mama, and Priscilla threw herself into a chair. “This is your’n fault,” Priss said to me, stern as a frozen ax.

  “Priss. No,” Caleb said softly. “Nell was a trigger, nothing else. The church has been heading down this path a long time.”

  “I ain’t gonna let you divorce me,” Priscilla said, sounding stubborn, as if this had been often discussed and debated.

  Fredi, Priss’ best friend, burst into tears. And that sparked SaraBell’s tears. Pregnant and nursing hormones and emotional triggers were not a good mix.

  Thankfully, Sam’s cell phone rang. He spoke quietly for several minutes before saying into the phone, “Stand down. Everyone get home. We’re going Tomatoes.”

  “Tomatoes?” I asked, confused.

  “Today’s password for all is good and we can relax,” Zeke said. “I’ll make the calls and get the shooters back here.”

  Just that fast, it was over. “Come on, Mud. We’re going home.”

  Mama followed me to my truck and stood in the open truck door, blocking my exit, her face set and sad. “Mama?” I asked.

  “You think I’m sinning being with your’n daddy.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “Mama, the church has never followed the laws of Tennessee. As to sinning, I went to a church in town. They got this plaque on the wall with the Commandments of Christianity. The first one is, ‘Thou shalt not judge.’ Only God can judge morality and whether someone is heaven bound or heading the other way. Whether you’r
e sinning is between the Almighty and you, Mama.”

  The lines in Mama’s face creased tight in some emotion I couldn’t describe.

  I touched her shoulder. “I was John’s second wife, and if Leah had lived, that would have been a relationship I entered into, knowing exactly what it entailed. That said, my job is all about the laws the church ignores, and the law says you can’t be legally married to Daddy because Mama Carmel married him.”

  Mama looked away, the frown lines beside her mouth deep grooves. “You’un gonna marry that Occam?” she asked, staring out over the trees.

  “I ain’t planning to marry at all, Mama. But if things change between Occam and me, you’ll know it right away. I promise.” I started the truck and Mama backed away so I could close the cab door. “We’ll see you in a day or two,” I promised, through the open window.

  “I love you, baby girl.”

  “I love you too, Mama.”

  She whispered, “You’un take care of your’n sisters.” And she walked away.

  A chill in my soul, I drove out of the yard, down the gravel drive, past the vampire tree, and out the gate toward Soulwood. On the way home, I pulled over and texted Brother Thad. He wouldn’t respond anytime soon, as his church services lasted from ten in the morning until two in the afternoon, with a break for lunch on the grounds. My text said, I’m free tomorrow if you want to send me the cost of upgrades. I had to get Mud away from the church. I had to push for custody.

  Seemed like I’d be going into debt for sure.

  TWELVE

  While I slept, a heat wave from the Gulf swept through, with the accompanying thunderstorms, high winds, slashing rain, and temporary cool temps. I loved storms and so did Soulwood. The land enticed me deeply into sleep as the sky watered our leaves and roots.

  The cool didn’t last, and my sleep didn’t either. The storms were followed by muggy, miserable heat and by late afternoon, I woke from confused dreams to find myself drenched in a soggy sweat. I twitched the sheets back to let them dry and dragged myself to the bathroom for a tepid shower. In the heat wave, I was almost ecstatic that my underground cistern kept my well water at a cool sixty degrees. It certainly woke me up fast. I dressed in cotton and followed the smell of coffee outside to the brazier, which had a percolator coffeepot on it. Two mugs were on the table nearby, and I fell into one of the two chairs someone had placed in the shade of the house.

  I poured a cup and sipped, watching my sister as she measured out a potential area for the greenhouse. She was dressed in my old overalls and work boots, toiling in the heat, working up a sweat as she hammered stakes into the ground. Stakes she had made herself, if the pile of split wood was an indication.

  Two of the cats lay in the garden beneath the bamboo-cane trellis, in the shade cast by leafy green bean vines. Torquil was lying at the edge of the woods at the base of a tree. All three cats were flat to the ground in the heat. “You’re gonna get eaten by a hawk,” I warned her. The cat ignored me.

  “Ain’t no hawk gonna eat the cats,” Mud yelled, brandishing a mallet. “I’m too big and too mean and I scare them off.” She stomped over and fell into the other chair. Sipped her coffee.

  “When did you start drinking coffee?”

  “While you were disabled. Mama says if you drink hot coffee on a hot day it’ll cool you off. I think Mama’s delusional, but let’s keep that one between us.”

  “Yes,” I said, smiling into my cup. “I think that would be wise.”

  “I got news about the church. It’s dividing along the lines of multiple wives and pretty much all the Jackson side is ready to kill you and burn out the Nicholson side. There’s been talk of the church splitting for nigh on a year now, and the lawyers is ready to fight it out in court.”

  “Oh. Lawyers, huh?”

  “According to Sam, polygamy was designed by menfolk to get more sex,” Mud said. “Is that what you think?”

  I looked up at the sky and said, “Save me.” God didn’t. I had no idea how my sister and I ended up having part of the conversation that most church mamas had on the wedding day of their far-too-young daughters.

  My cell rang and I thought, Saved by the bell, and answered without looking at the screen, because I needed to be saved, even if it was by a robocall. “Ingram.”

  “Yellowrock,” the voice snarled. The connection was staticky, parts of words dropping out. “Why are you calling my people?”

  I looked at the screen then and a jolt of a different sort went through me. “Jane? You sound … strange.” I had almost said she sounded awful, like a sick, wet cat, but that wasn’t smart.

  I could hear her breath blow across the phone and she replied in a tone that was more diplomatic, if not serene. “Sorry. I’ve been … Never mind. What’s up?” She sounded better, but the connection was still awful. I decided not to ask her to call me back over a different cell or landline. She might not bother or she might be on the progression—whatever that was—mentioned by Ming, and I’d lose this chance. And since I didn’t know what Jane did or didn’t know, I had to cover a lot of bases fast.

  “A vampire named Godfrey of Bouillon, or Godefroi de Bouillon, attacked Ming of Glass, the MOC of Knoxville. Ming and her people won, but it was a narrow margin and there were a lot of injuries and deaths. The Shaddock Clan Home in Asheville was also attacked, and because Shaddock was in Knoxville helping Ming fight, he lost his lands and his people. Witches are attacking Ming too, possibly the same one who is attacking”—I almost said Rick but changed it—“our people, though that hasn’t been verified.”

  I heard a voice in the background and realized I was on speakerphone. Alex said, “Lincoln Shaddock and Ming have some of the best fighters in the States. Your boss is Ayatas FireWind. Why do they need our help?”

  Jane said, “There’s nothing I can do that they can’t.”

  “That’s garbage.” I scowled at the world and Mud’s eyes went big. I flapped my hand at her and mouthed, Not you. To Jane I said, “You’re the Dark Queen. You have resources.”

  Jane chuckled and the sound was different from her previous laughter, disheartened, maybe even depressed. “Yeah. The all-powerful Oz, that’s me.” She continued before I could respond. “This much I can do. Alex, will you chat with Unit Eighteen’s Jones? See if you can send them some information on Godfrey.”

  “Sure,” Alex said. “I like a woman with a rep. File will be prelim data and I’ll send more later. Watch for a file named ‘Godfrey of Bouillon One.’”

  Alex was a former hacker and he knew about our Diamond Drill.

  Jane went on, “If things get dire, I’ll call the governor. I know you think I’m some kind of genie in a bottle, but I’m not. I can’t fix Ming’s problems, short of depriving her of her city and clan and taking over. And frankly, Ming would challenge me to a blood duel if I tried.”

  “I’m not—”

  “I’m tired of killing, little yinehi,” she said. “Take what you can get. And if you want a job with Clan Yellowrock, ask for it. I could always use a … a gardener.” Her tone suggested that she knew I was far more lethal than an ordinary gardener. The call ended.

  “Was that the vampire hunter?” Mud asked, her eyes still wide. “The demon one what killed a demon from hell and that old vampire? On the TV?”

  “Yes. And no. That was Jane Yellowrock, but she isn’t a demon. Demons don’t fight demons. Remember your scripture.”

  “A house divided against itself will not stand, meaning demons don’t fight demons. But Sam said—”

  “Sam’s wrong,” I interrupted. “Jane is a shape-shifter. And that old vampire she killed on TV was the emperor of the European vampires, and he was gonna kill a lot of innocent humans just for spite. Killing him made Jane queen of all the vamps, one of the most powerful people among the vampires everywhere.”

  “She don’t seem to think so.”

  “Something’s wrong. I don’t know what. But, you know how the church is dividing into factions? Well, th
e vampires are even worse. She’s also Mr. LaFleur’s ex-girlfriend. Things are complicated.”

  “I’m’a be a townie girl. Townies like complicated.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yep.”

  My cell dinged again and Mud arched her neck to read the screen. I read the text, holding the cell so my nosy true sib couldn’t see it. The text was from T. Laine. I might be able to break the black-magic calling Rick, but I can’t do it alone. Rick tried again to get the local coven to help. Copied is their reply: NO!.

  The cell dinged again with a text from JoJo: Heard from Alex Younger of Yellowrock Securities. He sent info and offered to provide assistance tracking the fangheads who attacked Ming. TY.

  “That was fast,” I said. I texted back with an acknowledgment to both agents and laid the cell facedown.

  “You got to go into work tonight, don’tcha?” Mud asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll stay with Mama and Daddy tonight, okay? I got greenhouse stuff to do.”

  At which point I realized I hadn’t discussed child care with Mama and Daddy while I was at the church. The threat of violence had driven it out of my mind. “Okay. I’ll take you on the way in to work.”

  “I’ll be working on my tablet. I think I’m gonna need me some tutoring in math. Okay if I look for one online?”

  I grinned at her. “Female, with her own transportation and excellent references.”

  Mud grinned back.

  I tugged my laptop to me and began to run a search for Isleen and Loriann, vampire and witch, last names unknown.

  • • •

  I was driving along Main Street in Oliver Springs at about five thirty, merging onto East Tri County Boulevard—officially Tennessee Highway 61—on my way into HQ when the cell dinged with a text. By feel, I found the cell and hit a button to have the phone read it to me. “Text from Jo Jones,” the androgynous voice said. “Call to FBI tip line. Witness saw teenaged girl snatched out of her front yard. Caller said attack was inhumanly fast. Racer took call for FBI and PsyLED. Sending GPS and address. Get there ASAP.”