Circle of the Moon (Soulwood #4)

by Faith Hunter

  Without looking at me, Rick said, “I want you to read and collate all the files on this case. See if we missed anything. Then at dusk, call your fanged friend at the clan home of the MOC and see if she knows anything new.”

  “Files I can do. And talk to Yummy.” Since there was a dog and a little girl at my desk, I took my laptop and tablets to the conference room and opened up multiple screens. Instantly, I discovered that Loriann had been released from the null room and sent to her hotel to get some rest. Leaving the witch in pain, without charging her, would have been illegal according to witch law. I figured someone was watching her, either through arcane or mundane means.

  I found a note from Occam, which said simply, I wanted to stay and see you, Nell, sugar, but I’m tuckered out. I’ll come in early and bring breakfast. It wasn’t much, but it warmed me inside and out, and made my assigned job seem a little less tedious. Not everything in police work is high-speed car chases or shoot-outs. Most of it is boring paperwork. Very boring. Even with the sun still bright through the western-facing windows, I had to take quick breaks to stay alert, so I checked on Mud and her dog several times, taking the dog out twice to potty, just to have something active to do. Once I caught Rick kneeling at my cubicle, petting the dog, and I remembered the barrenness of Rick’s home. Rick seemed like the kind of man who would have pets, but only cats could survive his hours.

  Around eight p.m., which was close to sunset in July, I was standing at the opening of my cubicle while Mud was in the locker room taking a potty break of her own. I automatically reached for the plants on the desk as I waited, and studied the dog, trying to see if she needed to go for a potty break again too. Her tail slapped the floor and her entire body wriggled under my scrutiny. More likely, she needed a run.

  My fingers were in Soulwood soil. Touching a small rosemary plant.

  I felt the sunset happen, up through my bones. I blinked. I had never—

  Through the soil, the earth moved. I tilted, nearly fell, landing hard against the padded edge of the cubicle half-wall. Earthquake? Except the immediate sensation rising into my bones was filth. Foul. Something bad. On/in/through the soil.

  Everything happened fast, overlapping. I wasn’t sure, later, in what order it all occurred.

  Mud screamed, “Nell!”

  Soulwood reached for me through the earth. Wrapped itself around me, much like Cherry had wrapped her legs around Rick. Or like roots wrapped around a rock in the earth. Danger, came from Soulwood. The communication wasn’t a word. It was more like lightning striking or rain flooding or wildfire roaring—

  Rick, I thought. In his office. Not in his cage. With Mud here. My sister, in danger. I turned, dropping the plant. Running. Drawing my weapon. Knowing regular ammo would do nothing against a wereleopard. Hearing the pot shatter behind me.

  A grindylow sped down the hallway from nowhere, sliced the air near my face. I dodged out of its way. It dove into Rick’s office. Screams of the two shattered the air.

  Someone—Jason—was working the Circle of the Moon. Even with the moon below the horizon.

  “Blood!” Mud shouted, staggering into the hallway. “Lots of blood!”

  I recognized it then too, and would have sooner but my first thought had been Rick. Someone, somewhere, was pouring a blood sacrifice onto the earth. A huge one.

  In Rick’s office, just ahead, out of sight, fresh blood flew, splattering on the walls.

  I knew it. I felt it. Bloodlust woke in me. I stumbled toward the blood.

  Want … It rose in me like water in a well. Want … I wanted to feed Rick to the earth. Wanted to help the blood-witch feed the earth. I wanted—Mud tore up the hallway after me, Cherry at her side. The dog was terrified, which I didn’t understand. So was Mud, also not something I understood. Except that Soulwood might have claimed my sister too.

  “Get in the locker room and lock the door!” I commanded Mud. “Now!”

  I didn’t look to see if she obeyed. She was church trained. She would hide. Sprinting the last steps to Rick’s office, I readied my weapon, held it in a two-hand grip, a round in the chamber, my finger on the trigger. If Rick had shifted, I’d need to shoot fast, empty the clip and hope I slowed him enough to get to safety. From the office came a strange sound, like cloth and rubber and metal rubbing together. And a soft, almost silent whine. And panting. I slammed my back to the wall and edged closer. Feeling the blood on the walls.

  A metallic clang echoed through HQ. Rick’s cage door, shutting.

  I whirled into the office doorway, weapon first. Feet planted. Took everything in fast.

  Rick was in his cage. With the neon green grindylow. Rick’s fingers still holding the cage door he had, somehow, managed to shut.

  My boss was a tangle of skin, human hands covered with black fur, cat legs, and bloody clothes. Blood splattered the walls in three long sweeps, like a crime scene. Blood … Want …

  “No,” I whispered to myself and to my land. “No.”

  I forced the want down. Away. Studied the scene in the office more thoroughly.

  Rick’s hand fell off the door and his fingers made little crackly sounds as they tried to become paws. He was in half shift. Inside a silver cage. That was supposed to be impossible. Jason’s calling was stronger than silver.

  Rick’s bones shattered and ground together, the sound popping and cracking and splintering. He was bleeding from his mouth and nose. It looked messy. And painful. The grindy, Bean, I thought, hissed at me and flashed her claws, telling me something. She looked at the padlock.

  “Oh.” Rick could still get out if he wanted. He still had fingers on one hand. “Right. Right,” I said. “Yeah. Ummm …”

  I didn’t want to move closer. I couldn’t catch were-taint, but I could be killed and eaten. If wereleopards ate plants. A hysterical laugh burbled in some crazy part of my brain.

  I eased closer, hesitating before I holstered my weapon. I needed two hands.

  Breath coming fast, my mouth dry, I stretched, reaching to the cage, and latched the padlock.

  I backed from the office and closed Rick’s door. It wasn’t enough. I sped to Occam’s cubicle because it was closest and began to drag his desk out, intending to ram it up against Rick’s door. Which was stupid because the door opened inward. I stopped and repositioned the desk. Leaned on it and let myself breathe.

  “Nell!” Mud. Screaming. Her voice muffled behind the locker room door. My sister didn’t know I was safe. She was terrified that I was going to be hurt.

  I shook myself like Cherry might and put my shoulders back. And went to tell my sister everything was okay. But it wasn’t. I still felt Soulwood’s bloodlust. And my own. If I was a cursing woman, I’d be repeating JoJo’s words about sex. Saying them over and over.

  I pushed on the locker room door, but it didn’t give. I wondered what Mud had dragged up against it, just as I had tried to do with the desk. Sisters, well trained to protect ourselves and others. I knocked, saying, “It’s me. You can open the door.”

  “What if Rick has claws to your’n throat making you say that?” she said through the door.

  A laugh stuttered in my chest. “I promise I’m good. On the soul of my land.”

  I heard something heavy being slid across the floor. The door cracked open. A dog snout stuck through, then Mud’s right eye. The door went all the way open and Mud and the dog threw themselves at me, Cherry running in circles, wrapping us both in her leash. There was a line of benches stretching from the door to the wall opposite.

  “I was scared,” Mud said into my shoulder. Into my shoulder. With her head ducked. She was growing so fast. Not a little girl, no matter how I still thought of her.

  “It’s … not good. But it’s okay,” I said. “We’d make tea in the break room, but something’s happening. I need to get to work.”

  “Something bad. I know.” She eased away and met my eyes, our eyes nearly on a level. “If it’s okay with you’un—with you—I’ll be in the sleeping
room with Cherry with the door locked.”

  “That’s good. Drag in a desk and a chair and anything else you need. I love you, sister mine.”

  “Barricade. Yeah. I can do that. I love you too. Be careful.” My sister raced to my office, taking whatever she needed to be safe in the makeshift sleeping room. I went to the conference room and logged on to the communications channel of PsyLED. There were messages already waiting. I opened the one from the local witches, who had been avoiding this case and Unit Eighteen as if we had the plague. The greeting was to T. Laine, but the e-mail had gone to the PsyLED address available to the general public. It read:

  Tammie Laine Kent,

  A demon is being summoned.

  The Knoxville Coven of Witches

  I sent the message out as an emergency text to the cells of every PsyLED member, which was the easiest part of the communications I needed to transmit. I then sent them a text about Rick and the grindy, which was a little more complicated. If someone was listening in or reading the text, I had to make sure they understood that Rick had gone into the cage voluntarily, not been forced into his cage by the grindy. Then I had to tell the unit about Soulwood’s reaction, the most tricky part. I hadn’t exactly told them that my land was semisentient or that it wanted to be fed blood. I wasn’t going to tell them that now, either. I reread the last part twice before I sent it. It said simply, I felt it through the earth. A large blood sacrifice. I may be able to track it but need protection. I didn’t add that I needed protection from roots trying to grow into me. Or that the blood was still flowing. Or that Soulwood was awakening, reaching toward the blood. So many things I couldn’t add.

  In less than thirty seconds I had replies from Tandy and T. Laine and the rest of the team. They were in vehicles, coming to HQ. Coming to me. Then a text came from JoJo, private, to me. Call FireWind. We need him.

  I was shaking, so I made a pot of Community coffee, which was all the unit drank, wondering why Jo didn’t call our new boss. I poured a cup. Added milk and a lot of sugar to combat my shakes. I ate the last donut in the box, and it was stale and crumbly and it wasn’t the blood my land wanted, but it settled my stomach. I drank down the coffee for the caffeine.

  Ayatas FireWind’s number was in my cell. We all had his number. I punched it. He answered.

  “FireWind. Nell Ingram, right?”

  “Yes.” I stopped.

  “Ingram?”

  I was shaking again, not sure why talking to the boss I hadn’t yet met was making me so shaky. “Are you in Knoxville?” I managed.

  “Yes. I just checked in to my hotel.”

  “You might want to come to HQ. The …” I hesitated and found the proper term in my memory of Spook School classes. Remembering it settled me. I could do this. Steadily I briefed FireWind. “The blood sorcerer has begun a major sacrifice. He’s using a lot of blood. Rick was called to his cat and climbed into a silvered cage with a grindy before he shifted. The team is on the way in. I’m going to read the earth and see if I can locate the sacrifice site. If I can, we might need you for backup since mundane cops won’t be any help.” We didn’t know what effect the curse would have on humans. FireWind wasn’t human, and the effect on his species was in doubt too, but I didn’t say that.

  From Rick’s office I heard a heavy body hitting metal. The cage rattled hard. Rocked up, slamming down. I peeked through the glass office wall and saw a black leopard in a cage. The calling/curse spell had forced my boss into his cat, inside of silver. That might have forced Rick-the-human to sleep and allowed the wereleopard to take over. And the leopard was trying to get out of his cage. Ramming the walls. The grindy screamed. I felt more blood.

  “Is LaFleur being summoned?” FireWind asked.

  “Yes.” I wanted to see if I could calm Rick, but the blood sacrifice that was attracting Soulwood’s attention might make things worse.

  My cell buzzed and I glanced at the screen. Yummy. Dagnabbit. The vampires might be feeling the spell too.

  “On my way. ETA fifteen,” FireWind said. “I’ll bring Loriann Ethier.” The call ended.

  I answered Yummy’s call but no one was there. No voice mail. I sent a fast text. Spell of calling. You okay?

  I realized that Loriann was likely staying in the same hotel as FireWind. The curse and the blood pulled at me. I wanted. I swallowed. Groaned. Sat down. Missed my chair, spilling the last sip of my coffee from my mug. I leaned my back and head against the wall. Time passed.

  And then Occam was kneeling beside me. He murmured, “Nell, sugar. I’m here.” He touched my shoulder.

  I threw myself into his arms. And burst into tears.

  • • •

  The spell of childish tears didn’t last long, but it was enough to ease my misery. It helped that Occam was murmuring sweet nothings into my ear, his jaw by my temple, his chin bristly with scruff. He was sitting on the floor with me, holding me. “I gotcha, Nell, sugar. You done good. It’s okay.”

  “Not really,” I said. “I tried to drag your desk in front of Rick’s door.”

  Occam chuckled. It sounded growly through his chest.

  “FireWind is on the way in,” I said. “He’s bringing Loriann. And Mud is barricaded in the sleeping room. Is FireWind gonna be mad that she’s here?”

  “Do we care?” my cat growled.

  I thought about that. “Not really.”

  Occam stood and hauled me to my feet as the outer door opened. I smoothed my clothes and said, “Thank you. I feel better.” And I did. Soulwood wasn’t yanking on my brain so much. I found my chair and this time managed to sit in it. Occam told Mud I was okay, then cleaned up the coffee mess I had made, rinsed out my metal mug, and poured me a fresh cup. JoJo and T. Laine came in from dropping things off in their office cubicles. Rick slammed against his cage again. The grindy chittered in anger. Tandy came in, carrying a bowl of fresh fruit. My coworkers poured coffee. Took their seats. Tandy passed the bowl around and I took a banana. Peeled it. Everyone looked exhausted. I had waked some of them up after too few hours of sleep. The schedule was getting to all of us.

  “I’m thinking I can read the land through the soil on the roof,” I said to them.

  Occam stilled, thinking. “How?”

  “You and Rick put Soulwood soil there for me to plant things in. The soil is touching the roof. The roof is touching the earth through the three stories and the foundation. So maybe I can read the earth and track the blood without accidently getting rooted, since there aren’t any roots in the dirt.”

  “Or maybe the earth will send up magic-roots and swallow the whole building trying to get to you,” T. Laine said, sounding grumpy.

  I gave our witch a small smile. “Soulwood soil will protect me from other pieces of the earth trying to claim me.”

  “Is that what the roots are trying to do when they grow into you, Nell, sugar?” Occam asked. “Claim you?”

  “Or merge with you and with Soulwood,” T. Laine said.

  It was a possibility that had already occurred to me. I didn’t know what would happen if I once again communed too long with land that grew roots into me. I might lose myself, might become a tree for real and forever. I took a breath that showed nothing of my apprehension, but Occam touched my shoulder again and I knew he could smell the anxiety coursing through my veins.

  Suddenly talking fast, T. Laine said, “FireWind’s here, and he’s got Loriann Ethier with him. Tandy, open the null room door. Nell, are you going to be okay with him observing?”

  “Oh,” I said. Not really. No. Make him stay away. “Sure,” I lied. Because I had no choice. I had called FireWind in. He was here.

  I heard the upstairs door open and swiveled in my chair to see two figures enter and one disappear into the null room. It didn’t appear to be voluntary. The door closed and Ayatas FireWind walked up the hallway. He was half a foot or so taller than Tandy, taller even than Occam or Rick, maybe six feet three or four. Rangy. His stride was long and purposeful and smooth, as
if he walked barefoot. Long hair flowed behind him in an ebony wave. He was dressed in black jeans and a white shirt that contrasted with his coppery golden skin. A strong nose. Black hawk-wing brows. He was Cherokee; I remembered that.

  The rest of the unit had worked with him. I hadn’t even met him.

  FireWind paused in the doorway, his eyes on me. He was sniffing the air. And … Ayatas FireWind had yellow irises. No one had mentioned that. I took another breath, this one less steady. I didn’t know what to do. How to react. I knew what yellow eyes meant. “Skinwalker,” I whispered. I had known that Ayatas FireWind was an unspecified paranormal, but not a skinwalker. That had to be need to know. Or need to figure out. But Rick knew. He had to.

  Suddenly all sorts of things made sense. Thoughts raced through me, tiny pieces of puzzles I hadn’t known were even in play slipping into place. His official history was full of holes. He was Cherokee and looked like Jane Yellowrock, who was a skinwalker. And I had just outted him.

  FireWind dipped his head at me. It wasn’t quite a bow. More in the nature of a formal greeting. And he didn’t smile. Not. At. All. My blood froze through me like ice water, chilling me from top to toes.

  “It is true,” he said. “You scent of yinehi.”

  “How do you know that?” I asked. “Nothing like a fairy or elf or troll has come out of the paranormal closet.”

  FireWind smiled slightly. Finally. It was like watching an iceberg thaw. “The little people are said to smell of oak and running water, sweetgrass and white sage. And just a little of the blood of the earth.”

  Occam poured himself a coffee, scrutinizing our new boss, now that the skinwalker was out of the closet. He nodded thoughtfully as if what he now knew agreed with what his nose had been telling him about FireWind.

  “The children of our family were taught that the little people would steal us and eat us if we were not careful. They were the boogeymen of the forest, used as a warning and a punishment if we were bad. Though no one I knew ever saw one, we were trained to be aware and to run back home if we smelled them.” His smile fell away. “Mine was the last generation to be taught to smell out the little people, as there were none where I grew up.”