Amazon Ink

by Lori Devoti

  You can take the Amazon out of the tribe…

  Peter’s long gait closed the small space I’d put between us. “He’s starting an after-school art program. He used to teach high school. I told you I’d known him awhile.”

  A response didn’t seem necessary. I concentrated on trying to regain the lead his longer legs had stolen from me.

  “He has a shop not far from the school. He’s starting a class next week. I think they’ve got permission to paint a mural for some business off Regent. They’ll even get paid, but he’s going to work with the kids a bit first.”

  “So, the classes…?”

  “Are cheap, might even be able to work out a trade. Makis wants me to do some touch-up work on one of his older tattoos.”

  Free class, some extra lip-gloss money for Harmony, and an opportunity to keep her away from spear-tossing Amazons who just might decide to enlighten her on her own heritage? Yeah. I am interested.

  Peter told me he’d leave Makis’s contact information on my desk. I bent to tie my shoe while he walked in the front door. I considered going back down the hill to make sure no signs of the sketches were left behind-if we’d missed a spearhead, who knew what else might have slipped our attention? It had been late and dark, and we had been far from relaxed.

  As I was weighing the risk of Peter seeing me back at the scene of the crime and raising new questions in his mind, Bubbe stepped out of the basement, escorting yet another workout-attired suburban mom-this one dressed in matching baby blue hoodie and capris. What these women spent on clothing supposedly meant for sweat boggled my brain.

  Bubbe tapped a finger on the railing. “Don’t judge.”

  I yanked my attention from the blond ponytail bouncing toward the parking lot and frowned at my grandmother. “I wasn’t.”

  “Ha.” She pursed her lips, a light forming in her eyes I didn’t care for.

  I tried to cut her off. “Could you do another sweep of the front lawn? Peter was down there. He found a spearhead.”

  She lifted one shoulder in a so what? gesture. “You brought him here.”

  My eyes narrowed. “Don’t judge.”

  She dropped her gaze to the hand still resting on the banister, but before she did, I would have sworn I saw a sparkle in her still-young eyes. “My snake is missing. Have you seen him?” She lifted her eyes and her brows-the challenge and her real question clear.

  “You have a snake?” I let my lips pull down in a moue.

  She shook her head. “Secrets. So many secrets. Why keep them from me?”

  Or try, she meant.

  I let my hand slip down the strap of my messenger bag to the keys clipped there. Pretending to struggle with the carabiner, I continued walking.

  The old fraud. Like she didn’t have plenty of secrets. My grandmother was a bundle of secrets. She probably knew the whereabouts of Jimmy Hoffa, Amelia Earhart, and Atlantis. Hell, she might have been responsible for the disappearance of all three.

  Muttering under my breath, I climbed in my truck and headed south.

  I pulled into the dirt driveway that led to the safe camp and flipped off the truck’s motor. I’d been here only a few days before, but this was different-it was day and I was expected. What lovely greeting party would Alcippe have planned for me?

  I’d thought Bubbe or Mother might have offered some advice for me-but neither had. Neither had even mentioned my trip, although I knew both were aware of it. My family…pretty much of the sink or swim on your own mindset.

  I gripped the steering wheel for a few moments. The tendons of my hand shone white from the stress. I could do this. I could walk back into that house, even into the room where I’d lost my son. Maybe I’d gain something from this visit. If I could beard this lion, I could do anything.

  The engine turned over so smoothly, I didn’t even realize my hand had turned the key.

  Determination a hard rock in my heart, I continued down the drive.

  The Amazons were out, exercising the horses, working in the garden, and, of course, fighting. The big guns were back at my house, but what looked like a pair of younger Amazons faced off with staffs, performing moves that would easily qualify them for a role in a Jackie Chan movie.

  When I pulled in, horses were reined to a stop, pruners stilled, and staffs slowed. All eyes watched me. Resisting the urge to place my hands on my head, I stepped from the truck.

  Before both of my feet met gravel, Alcippe was out the front door, her hands held deceptively at her sides, palms facing me. With the theme song from The Good, the Bad and the Ugly scrolling through my head, I stepped onto the path that led to the front door.

  Alcippe shared my grandmother’s love of a flowing wardrobe, although hers didn’t scream of any one culture-more just hippie-shop chic. Her gray hair was pulled back, making her jaw look more square, her eyes more piercing.

  “Why are you here?” She looked like she wanted to spit.

  “Not to see you.”

  She muttered something under her breath, and I was instantly on alert. A high priestess muttering was much like a gunslinger’s finger flickering near his six-shooter-or worse, it could be the bullet. But nothing happened, nothing I could see or sense anyway.

  “Zery wants to trust you. I don’t,” she said, then turned in a whirl of purple and red, heading back inside.

  Ah, an insult. Telling the tribe she was so unafraid of me, she’d turn her back.

  I picked up a rock and tossed it in my palm. I considered throwing it, just to get out some aggression, and for the satisfying feel of pelting it against her back. Instead, I forgot myself even more, allowed myself to use magic. Even though I’d been hiding my growing skills from my family, I couldn’t resist pulling them out when faced with Alcippe. I murmured a tiny incantation, just something to get her attention-not show my true strength, not yet…unless I needed to.

  I closed my other hand and blew into my balled fist.

  As I’d guessed, Alcippe’s turned back was a ruse. She hadn’t lowered all her defenses. She immediately sensed the magic and froze.

  A tornado whirled within my grip-innocent now, but if I released it, said the few words it would take to let it grow…could it reach the old woman, suck her up, and swirl her away before she had a chance to fight back?

  Alcippe didn’t give me an opportunity to find out. She whirled, her hands rising from her sides. Grass shot up at my feet, wrapping around my legs. A nearby tree lurched, the roots shifting beneath my feet, knocking me onto my knees.

  Then three of the young warriors were beside me. Three staffs jammed against my throat. Alcippe appeared, her face upside-down from my present state of viewing.

  “Be grateful Zery gave you safe passage…this time.” Then she did spit, inches from my face.

  The tornado spun in my fist, growing with my anger. My fingers loosened. I wanted to let it go as badly as I’d ever wanted anything, but I wasn’t strong enough to control the magic, not yet. I could create it, but then it would feed on my emotions, uncontrolled by my head. I might get Alcippe, but I’d also get every Amazon in the camp. I’d be unable to do anything except watch as the entire place was flattened, then the remains swept up and away.

  Gritting my jaw until I thought the bone would pop, I forced down my anger, smashed my palm into the dirt and ground the life out of my spell.

  “You heard her. Zery gave me safe passage. Who do you follow, the queen or her?” I muttered.

  Alcippe had started moving away; at my words she stopped, but she didn’t say anything. She knew I’d called her hand.

  The warrior most visible, the one whose staff was jabbed against my throat, licked her lips, but she didn’t glance at the others. I kept my focus on her, steady and sure.

  With no warning, she stepped back. The others quickly followed.

  Rubbing my throat with one hand, I pushed myself out of the gravel with the other. Bits of it clung to my jeans. I brushed off the backs of my legs, pretended not to feel Alcippe’s
glare on the top of my head.

  How I wanted to rise up and attack, but this wasn’t about me, and Zery had risked a lot by giving me passage. If I attacked Alcippe now, the priestess would win. She’d be proven right, her standing elevated-even if I killed her, she’d survive in martyrdom. I couldn’t have that. I wanted to take from her what she’d taken from me-what we each valued most. For me, it had been one of my children; for her, it would be her standing in the tribe.

  I wanted her to mess up, and I wanted to be the person to expose her. I wanted to take her down.

  I stood, and captured Alcippe’s gaze. “Another time?”

  “Soon,” she responded.

  I smiled, then turned my back on her as she’d done to me earlier. The warriors parted, and I took a breath. Adrenaline pumped through me, but I needed calm to gain trust. Calm and strong, that was the persona that would enable me to get more. I squared my shoulders and grabbed the attention of the warrior I’d pegged as the leader.

  “Anyone here know either of the girls who were killed?”

  Her gaze flowed down my body, assessing me. I angled my head, showing I expected an answer but was confident enough to wait for it.

  Finally…“All of us. At least somewhat.”

  “But some more than others?”

  “Some.”

  Ah, the joys of conversing with a warrior. Knowing I wasn’t going to get many clues from her, I surveyed the rest of the tribe, looking to see who seemed most interested and most nervous. One of the women working in the garden showed a sudden interest in removing a stubborn weed. She bent down and hid her face.

  I stepped away from the warriors, on a straight path to the hearth-keeper now up to her neck in pumpkin leaves.

  I bent down beside her and rolled over a pumpkin, checking for rot. She glanced up. “Are you a hearth-keeper?” she murmured. She was young and pretty, with a round face and caring eyes.

  The pumpkin was solid, orange, and ready for picking. I gave it a thump for effect, then twisted it off the vine. “I’m not anything. I take care of what needs taking care of.”

  A line formed between her brows. She was having a hard time fitting my words into the tidily divided world of the Amazons.

  “You know why I’m here.”

  She glanced up. One of the older hearth-keepers picked up a hoe and chopped at the ground. I moved to the side, blocking her view. “Zery sent me.” It was a stretch, but close enough. “I heard some of the girls were sneaking off to Madison. You know anything about that?”

  Her gaze danced around the clearing, but when it landed back on me, I could see she’d made a decision. “A few of us. We’ve been doing it for a while.”

  Jackpot. I jerked another pumpkin from the vine and shoved it into her hands. “Don’t we need to put these somewhere cool? So they don’t rot?”

  “Good idea.” She rubbed dirt from her pumpkin with a rag she had tucked in her jeans, then stood. We walked past the glarer, neither of us sparing her a glance. I changed my walk, putting as much warrior swagger into it as I could muster. I could have tossed a little magic her way, but that would have just got Alcippe back on my ass. Besides, Bubbe always said the greatest strength was great restraint. Not something I usually practiced, but now seemed like a smart time to start.

  We passed Alcippe on our way around the house. Her fingers twitched as I walked by. I smiled at the girl walking beside me and attempted chitchat, saying something nonsensical about which pumpkins made the best pies-as if I knew. The young Amazon played along, and we both passed the high priestess without darting a glance in her direction, but the hair on the back of my neck curled upward, and my eyes scanned the terrain ahead, watching for another attack. Earth was Alcippe’s element of choice-not that she couldn’t call on one of the other three-but since it seemed to be her steady fallback, like air was mine, I assumed it was her area of strength.

  We made it to the root cellar intact, but as the girl started to descend the steps, I stopped her. Being under a pile of earth and stone with Alcippe so close did not seem like a good plan. “Is there somewhere else we could go?”

  She adjusted the pumpkin, wedging it against her hip for a better grip, then glanced at the back of the farmhouse. “We could make pies. You were just talking about it.”

  I was? “How private…?”

  “Plenty. Everyone’s outside. It’ll be fun and get me out of cooking later.” She laughed. “Not that I mind.”

  Yeah, who would mind standing over a hot stove, slaving away for a bunch of ungrateful warriors? I suppressed a grimace. Instead, I stepped back and held out one arm. “Lead on.”

  A bounce in her step, she headed toward the back door. I smacked my palm against the pumpkin pressed against my stomach. I was going to bake a pie. Mother would love this.

  Chapter Eleven

  Luckily, the back door led directly into the kitchen, not a room I’d spent much time in during any of my stays at this safe house. Future warriors, which had been my mother’s plans for me, did not learn to cook; future priestesses, my grandmother’s plans for me, were considered a threat to all things culinary. Their tendency to play with the elements, especially fire and wind, wreaked havoc with recipe outcomes.

  By the time I’d settled into my own artisan plan as an adult, there had been no reason for me to enter the kitchen.

  So, the room happily held no bad memories. I could almost pretend I wasn’t in the house where I’d lost my son at all.

  Almost.

  “Is there a problem?” Dana, she’d told me her name a few minutes earlier, stopped in the process of pulling an apron over her head. Her face showing curiosity and a little concern, she watched me as I stared through the door that led from the kitchen into the rest of the house. The dining room I remembered. Things hadn’t changed much in ten years-same battered oak table and chairs, same ugly 1970s gold chandelier. Memories started creeping back.

  “No, nothing.” I shoved the swinging door closed with my foot and turned my back on it.

  Dana chattered merrily, pulling pie pans, spoons, butter, and other necessities from cupboards, drawers, and the refrigerator. In the kitchen, or maybe out from under the other Amazons’ watchful glares, she was a different person-confident and content.

  I grabbed a knife and did the only job I knew for sure I’d be able to master. I chopped the pumpkin in two and scooped out seeds, dumping the stringy stuff onto a cookie sheet Dana had set out for the purpose.

  “The trips to Madison…” I prompted.

  “They were fun. Maybe because we knew we weren’t supposed to be going there.” While Dana pulled out various ingredients, she watched as I cut the pumpkin into pieces. When I was done, she tossed them into a bowl with water, covered it with a lid, and put it into the microwave.

  Pumpkin-cooking under way, she cut butter into a bowl of flour with a fork, sprinkled some ice water on top, and started kneading the mixture with her bare hands.

  I watched, somewhat fascinated. It was like watching Bubbe perform a new spell. How this mess would work out to dessert was beyond my understanding.

  After only a few seconds of kneading, she flipped the dough out of the bowl onto the flour-covered tabletop and held out a rolling pin. “Make it that size.” She nodded toward a pie pan.

  I wiped my hands on my pants. Horror shot through Dana’s eyes. I spun, expecting Alcippe or a band of warriors to be standing behind me, but aside from Dana and me, the kitchen was still vacant.

  With a shrug, I picked up the rolling pin and did my best to flatten the dough. “So, Madison. You went there to…?” I prompted.

  Dana edged around me and took the now-steaming bowl of pumpkin from the microwave. After dropping the pumpkin into a blender and pureeing it smooth, Dana replied, “Boys, of course.”

  Of course. “You find any?”

  A tiny smile curved Dana’s lips and her hand moved toward her middle. “We did.”

  “You’re pregnant?” The rolling pin fell from my fing
ers with a thud.

  “I’m twenty-two.”

  Well, then that was okay, another few years and her eggs would have been all dried up. I ground my teeth together to keep my sarcastic thoughts to myself. Thanks to the priestesses, Amazons had had control over their reproduction for centuries before female humans had. Because of our long lives, most of us waited into our eighties to have a child.

  “Were the other girls…?” The thought made my stomach lurch. I hadn’t sensed spirits aside from the girls’, but I was far from the most experienced in such deductions.

  Dana poured the pumpkin back into its bowl along with a mixture of sugar and spices. Stirring, she replied, “I don’t think so. None of the other girls who went with us are-just me.” Again with the dreamy, too-stupid-to-know-better look.

  I mean, I loved Harmony. But at twenty-two, I’d have no more been able to take care of her than-I glanced around-than bake this pie. And that, of course, was the difference. Dana was a hearth-keeper and obviously one content with her fate. The whole maternal thing was probably as natural to her as casting a spell was to Bubbe or tossing a spear was to Mother. I’d never been that natural at anything. I was good at art, but even that didn’t come to me like breathing.

  “So, boys. What kind did you meet?”

  “College boys, mainly. Most of the girls were warriors. Tereis was. Aggie was an artisan.”

  No one had told me the dead girls’ names, but it was easy to guess who she was talking about.

  “They both wanted athletes.”

  Of course.

  “The bar we went to. A lot of UW football players hang out there.”

  “And your guy?” It wasn’t really a piece of information I needed to know, but I was interested.

  “He worked there. Part-time. He wasn’t as…you know.” She mimicked broad shoulders with her hands. “But there was something about him. I don’t think he was stronger than the guys the other girls went after. Just different.”

  She walked over to survey my work. It must have passed muster. She flopped it into the pie pan.