by L. M. Hawke
“Hold on,” River broke in. “I know you’re upset, but we can’t get carried away. We have to be clear-headed about this. We have no idea whether those murders are connected to each other, let alone to the calling force.”
Ellery bit back a growl of frustration. “You’re right; I know you’re right. But I have this gut feeling, this certainty that all these mysteries are connected. And that makes a kind of sense, doesn’t it? If local traders are being targeted in one way, why not in another way, too? And why not by the same person…or people…or whatever is responsible.”
Sylvia shrugged. “Honestly, that makes as much sense as anything else. Until we find any evidence to the contrary, we might as well assume the same force is behind anything that targets the trader community.”
She stood and paced the room for a few moments, lost in thought. Then turned back to Ellery. “Do you still have that turquoise bead?”
“Of course.” Ellery pulled it from her pocket and held it out to the witch.
Sylvia set the bead on the coffee table and crouched down beside it. She closed her eyes, raising both hands until they hovered just above the smooth, polished turquoise. Then she began to mutter, so softly Ellery could scarcely hear the whisper of her breath. Sylvia’s lips moved with the words of the spell, and Ellery shivered as a mild chill drew across her, followed by a wave of warmth.
Sylvia was manipulating the elements through her spell—or so Ellery assumed. As a Changer, had only the most cursory understanding of how spells worked, how witches and other Casters wielded their particular kinds of magic.
After the warmth passed over and around Ellery, she felt a strange tugging sensation ripple through her middle. She leaned with it, tipping toward the small bead that lay beneath Sylvia’s hands. It almost felt as if gravity itself was bending toward the bead—bending into it, and pulling Ellery along with it. She shuddered, reminded uncomfortably of the unknown force in the northeast. She leaned away, and was surprised that it was easy to resist that particular pull—unlike the thing that called to her from the Rez.
Finally, Sylvia sat back, opening her bright blue eyes behind the lenses of her thick-rimmed glasses. She picked up the bead and examined it. “There. That’s the best I can do.”
“What did you do?” River asked, sounding a little wary.
Paras were always more understanding with their fellow magic-users than Typs were, but even so, it was a strange feeling to watch someone use foreign magic, or to feel the effects of a magic that didn’t belong to you. That was why the mere thought of the path through the stolen turquoise—a roadmap that might teach a non-shifter how to shift—gave Ellery such a sick, sinking feeling.
“I broke this bead’s connection to its fellows,” Sylvia said. “I convinced it that it was never a part of the missing beads. So now, whoever has those beads—if they realize the beads contain a magical path—can’t gain any influence over this bead, at least. My hope is that, if our villain learns the secret of the turquoise, he won’t be able to find any path in this particular bead. Because this bead is, no doubt, already picking up Ellery’s magic. And mine. And yours, River.”
River frowned at the piece of turquoise. “How can something as simple as a bead seem so creepy?”
“It’s not creepy; it’s just the nature of the stone. But I hope my spell will neutralize the effect, or at least slow down whoever now has the rest of the beads from this strand—make it harder for them to figure Ellery out, harder for them to get to her.”
She held the bead out and dropped it in Ellery’s palm. “And also, I put a protection spell on it. It’s the strongest protection spell I know. I honestly don’t know whether it will give you any relief from that weird calling sensation, Ell, but it’s better than nothing. It was the most useful thing I could think of.”
Ellery smiled gratefully at her friend. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“Since I’m an earth elemental, the spell’s effect will be magnified by minerals and metals. Any stone or any kind of metal should give at least some boost, but something with silver or iron in it will be strongest. Pure forms of the metal are ideal, but anything metallic ought to make the spell significantly stronger. I usually cast this spell on silver or copper or steel medallions, but turquoise will have to do. Keep the bead on you, and the spell’s protection will surround you.”
“Metal,” Ellery said, “got it.”
She pulled her bone-handled utility knife from its sheath on her belt. She’d found the knife useful many times in the past, especially for deterring creeps on the street. She had developed the habit of wearing the blade without really thinking about it, unless she needed it to slice open some stubborn packaging or trim loose threads off her clothes. Now it seemed the knife had a better purpose.
Ellery loosened a bit of the leather sinew that wrapped the knife’s handle, strung the bead onto the leather, and knotted it again as tightly as she could.
On the instant, she felt the pulling sensation ease. She was still aware of the summoning force, pulsing and throbbing at the edge of her consciousness. But it was as if she’d stepped inside a sound-proofed room and shut the door; a deep peace enfolded her, a soothing barrier between herself and her looming fears.
She grinned at Sylvia. “Wow!”
“It’s working?” Sylvia seemed rather surprised.
“It seems to be. I can still sense the force out there, but it’d distant now. I feel like I can concentrate—like I can trust myself to shift if I need to.”
“Do you want to try shifting again?” Sylvia asked.
“I don’t know,” River said. “Considering what happened to her earlier…”
Ellery rose from the couch. She felt energetic, confident—ready to face whatever was out there, preying on her kind. “It’s all right, River. I’m ready to try it again. I’ve got the best senses of any of us, especially when I’m shifted. If I can help pick up any clues about Vivi, or about anything else that’s happening to Flagstaff’s traders, I’m willing to try.”
River nodded slowly. He watched Ellery for a moment, appraising her with those strange, deep-seeing, beautiful fae eyes. Then he said, “I trust you to make the right decision. But if at any time you feel the force grow stronger… if the protection spell seems to falter… let us know as quickly as you can. We’ll come and help you, wherever you are.”
“You got it,” Ellery promised. She headed through Sylvia’s house toward the kitchen, to its back door that led out onto the rear patio. The patio was a peaceful little refuge from the wider world, brick-floored and surrounded by pots full of Sylvia’s carefully tended herbs.
“I’m going out as the owl again,” Ellery called over her shoulder. “The coyote’s nose didn’t tell me much, but the owl’s eyes might.”
CHAPTER NINE
Ellery paused for a moment in the little garden, gathering her energy and her thoughts. The garden was surrounded by a cinder-block wall, which was overgrown with scraggly, summer-dried vines. She breathed deeply, taking in the smell of herbs in the warm air, an earthy, soothing scent, enjoying a moment of peace before the struggle began again.
Her body still ached from the long flight earlier that day, and she was certain Ghost Owl would be sore and cranky, too—even crankier than usual. Bracing herself for another argument with the recalcitrant bird spirit, she reached through the bracelet and contacted him as gently as she could.
To her relief, Ghost Owl was much more willing to cooperate than he usually was. Ellery felt his spirit come toward her willingly, and though she could sense his caution she could clearly read his eagerness, too. It seemed the brush with traffic had scared Ghost Owl almost as badly as it had frightened Ellery and Dusty. He was prepared to fly with her again. She could feel him clack his beak in impatience, and she knew he wanted to get the whole business over and done with as quickly as possible—to solve the bothersome mysteries that surrounded them and return to their usual routines, their usual lives.
I can’t
argue with that, Ellery told the owl. I hope this is the last long flight we’ll make for a while.
With the usual water-like rush of blue light and cool energy, Ellery traded places with Ghost Owl. Riding in his small, light-boned body, she flew up over the garden wall and struck out across the northern fringe of Flagstaff.
As night advanced, she could sense the changes in air currents and pressure, and climbed the ladder-like ridges of the thermals, feeling her way with the sensitive feathers along the front edge of her wings. Soreness and tiredness aside, Ghost Owl’s body flew very well. It was remarkable what Ellery could accomplish with the owl when he was willing to cooperate.
And she thanked her lucky stars that he was cooperative tonight. Bird vision was no other kind of vision that existed on Earth. In Ghost Owl’s body she could see entire spectra of light that were invisible to her own eyes, or to Dusty’s. Ultraviolet light was bright and attractive; it always seemed cheerful to her with its vivacious, purple glow. But magnetic light was especially fascinating, the way it danced and coruscated in arcs and ripples, bending with the subtle curve of the earth.
Most useful to her tonight, though, was the special, bright-blue light Ghost Owl could sometimes detect as it flowed through the ley lines.
No one had ever been able to give Ellery a satisfactory explanation of what ley lines were. Paras and Typs had their pet theories, of course; most Typs who espoused a New-Age worldview thought the leys were networks of life force… or some vaguely described “energy” that served as links or conduits among spiritually important locations around the world.
The majority of Paras whom Ellery had ever interviewed on the subject—which wasn’t many, to be sure—all seemed to agree that ley lines were closely tied to magic use. But that was the extent of anyone’s agreement. Nobody could explain precisely how leys influenced magic. There was no doubt, however, that more Paras lived in the vicinity of large, active ley lines than in places where the leys were weak or nonexistent.
Clearly, leys played some crucial part in Paranormal life. But Ellery was damned if she knew what role they served, or how they worked.
After years of working with Ghost Owl and seeing the leys for herself, Ellery had begun to suspected that they were not conduits of energy. Rather, she thought they might be cracks in the invisible walls of the world—this world, the one where mortal humans lived. The light that splashed over Ellery during a shift shared many qualities with the light that shone through the ley lines—the light she could only observe with a bird’s eyes. When she flew at night in Ghost Owl’s body, she could make out the nearest leys as a faintly visible network of bright blue, coruscating and shimmering in intricate angles across the sky, pulsing and glowing with the exact water-blue color that accompanied her shifts.
Ellery hadn’t met any other traders who worked with bird spirits—not yet, anyway—so she couldn’t compare notes, couldn’t ask them whether they saw the same unmistakable webs of blue light when they traded places with their bird partners. Someday she hoped to meet more bird traders, and then she would finally have the chance to confirm her suspicions. But for now, she had to trust that her observation was correct.
As twilight approached, the tracery of light grew stronger in the upper atmosphere. Ellery flew steadily along the northern edge of town, assessing the leys, searching for any difference in their appearance since the last time she’d used Ghost Owl by night. Perhaps a change in the leys could provide a clue that might lead Ellery and her friends to the source of their troubles.
The sun sank lower in the west. As full night gathered, the ground far below rippled with the magenta and greenish-golden coils of magnetic light. But the glow from the leys overhead was nearly as intense—far brighter than usual. Ellery turned the owl’s head as she flew, cocking one eye up toward the velvet of the sky. The leys glowed with an eerie strength, and high up in the air, she could almost feel the same rush of water-like energy that accompanied her shifts. That ripple of power was unending, though it ebbed and flowed in a pulsing tide.
Strange. That doesn’t feel right.
She turned northeast. The mysterious pull was still there—she could sense its grip around her, could feel the same dragging sensation. But the protection from the turquoise bead was still effective, even with her human body dwelling wherever it went during a shift. Buffered against the summoning force, Ellery felt free to observe it, to draw closer to its source without fear of being overwhelmed.
The leys burned with brilliant intensity as they snaked toward the northeast. Out across the desert, in Navajo land, the blue lines seemed to converge on a distant point, a cerulean glow that beat like a heart—waiting, but not patient.
Ellery aligned the owl’s body with the thickest ley line and flew below it, following it out into the depths of the desert. A constant rush of the ley’s power moved over and through her as she made steadily for the reservation and the mountains at its heart. The highway was an even line of darkness below, a trench of smooth blackness against night-dimmed red sand, showing clearly through the ripples of magnetic light. Road below, ley above, she glided on the night wind toward the convergence of the summoning power.
She would find out what was out there, waiting for her in the desert. Tonight, if she could. The light of the leys was vibrant on her pale wings as she pressed on into the night.
CHAPTER TEN
Long after Ellery crossed the border of the Navajo Nation, the last rays of the sun faded from the western sky. Stars were clearly visible over the reservation, well beyond the city with its sickly yellowish glow of light pollution. Here, the desert was a great expanse of stone and sand and towering mesas, and the homes of people were small and few.
The farther she flew into the desert, the more brightly the ley line glowed. And though she could still feel the protection of Sylvia’s spell defending her, the call was stronger, too, gaining in power with each passing mile.
Yet still she remained in control. Curiosity compelled her to keep going, along with the need to locate the source of that call. But Ellery was no longer being forced to respond to its summons.
She followed the smooth contours of the highway below her for at least an hour. She passed the dirt-road turnoff that led to William Roanhorse’s hogan, and turned to stare down at the land that had been his. She could barely see his home nestled at the foot of Black Mesa, the round structure as small as a dropped bead from her great height.
Ellery flew on, making her way toward the town of Kayenta. The lights of its homes and late-night shops made a dim orange glow against the earth. She passed the town, too, but just as she breezed by it, she spotted a familiar pickup truck in the driveway of a small house on Kayenta’s outskirts.
Hosteen.
Now that her anger had simmered down and the more urgent business of finding Vivi had returned to the forefront of her thoughts, Ellery felt a surge of guilt. She really shouldn’t have left Hosteen the way she had. He’d been trying to help—to solve Roanhorse’s murder—nothing more. She had allowed her suspicion of other Diné to get the better of her. Now she felt it would be fair to apologize to him, if she could. He deserved a better explanation than she’d give him when she’d winged off from Roanhorse’s hogan.
Ellery circled back toward the town, gliding smoothly down through flows of cool night air. His house grew larger as she descended from the higher thermals, but still she could see that it was a modest home, simple and plain. Ellery alighted in its yard, hopping across the sandy ground on strong talons as she slowed from the rush of flight.
She gave the surrounding, night-dark desert an even more careful scan than normal before she shifted. Shifting was far more dangerous here than in Flagstaff. But after a minute or two of watching and listening with the owl’s keen senses, Ellery was convinced that the desert was still and held no immediate threats.
When Ellery returned to her human form, she felt the rush of the blue light again. But it was far more forceful than usual. The power a
nd force of its presence left her tingling, trembling—yet somehow she remained steady on her legs. She walked to Hosteen’s front door, taking care to make no sound as she picked her way through the open yard. Then she knocked on his door.
She could hear his steps on the other side of that door, though she doubted whether anyone but a Changer would have been able to detect his soft footfalls. Hosteen was moving with great care. The peep-hole on his door was a pinprick of light, but it darkened for a second as he looked through it.
Was he always this cautious? As an officer, perhaps he had to be. But maybe he was being more fearful than usual. Ellery shuddered at the memory of the injuries Hosteen had described when he’d filled her in on Roanhorse’s slaying. Maybe Hosteen had good reason to be afraid.
The door swung open and he stood before her, backlit by the soft glow of his home. Gone was the professional, buttoned-up white shirt. Now he wore a simple cotton undershirt, untucked but fitting snugly to his well-toned body, clinging just enough that Ellery could make out the blocky muscles of his chest and the flat plane of his stomach. She swallowed hard and looked up, meeting his eye. He had set his black hat aside, and his thick, dark hair was tousled. It looked damp, as if he had recently showered.
“Ellery. What are you doing here?” He glanced past her, out into the desert that encircled his home, but of course there was only his own truck in the driveway. “And how did you get here?”
“I flew. I was in the area—passing by—and I recognized your truck. I wanted to stop and… and apologize to you.”
Hosteen hesitated. His gaze traveled up and down her body, but not in a suggestive way. It was a simple and frank sizing-up, as if he expected to see her owl form burst out of nowhere and take over the space her human body occupied. But still the way he looked at her made Ellery’s pulse race in a way that both excited and annoyed her.
