Spy High

by Diane Henders

  I took a long swallow, letting my eyelids drop closed as the bubbles performed their crisp dance on my tongue. A deep sigh escaped me. After four long months in the alcohol-free commune, my taste buds were in heaven.

  “Don’t tell,” Skidmark warned. “Bad enough I gotta share my weed.”

  “If you didn’t offer it to everybody, you wouldn’t have to share,” I pointed out after another long swallow. I fanned at a wayward tendril of smoke. “God, that’s disgusting. Why would you even smoke that shit?”

  He looked mildly affronted. “It’s good shit.” He sucked in another lungful. “It’s medicinal. Need it for pain.” He lowered himself to the bench beside me, smoke trickling through his beard. “Uptight dudes give me a real bad pain in my ass.”

  My lips twitched in spite of myself, but I didn’t reward him with a smile. I jerked a thumb at the end of the bench. “Other side.”

  Skidmark got up and moved and I felt his gaze on me. When I slitted my eyes at him, he nodded at the branch. “Why? So you got a clear swing?”

  “No.” I took another swig and closed my eyes again, leaning my head back. “So you’re downwind.”

  Wheezy laughter greeted that statement. Silence fell while I drank and ignored him, breathing evenly and easing the tension from my muscles.

  After a long interval he spoke again. “You don’t talk much. Why not?”

  I shrugged without opening my eyes. “Why?”

  I took a lazy swallow of beer, holding onto my relaxed state with deliberately slow movements. The can felt light in my hand. Almost empty. Maybe he had more.

  I heard the soft hiss of his toke followed by silence, and I imagined his vacant expression and the smoke seeping out through his bushy whiskers.

  “Aw, man, that’s deep,” he mumbled after a while.

  I drained the can and extended the empty in his direction. “Beer me.”

  Nothing happened, so I wiggled the can. After a moment I opened my eyes to see Skidmark studying me blankly.

  “I want another beer,” I clarified, and pushed the empty can into his hand.

  “You should stay away from that dude,” he said without moving.

  “No shit, Sherlock.” I scowled at him. “Are you going to get me another beer or just sit there yakking all day?”

  As if moving underwater, he set the empty can down and withdrew cigarette paper and a small bag of pot from his pocket to roll a new joint, twisting the ends with intense concentration. Then he unhurriedly re-stowed the baggie and lit up.

  He sucked in a deep draw before releasing the smoke on a breath so long I expected him to shrivel like a deflated balloon. Then he turned and blinked lethargically before inquiring, “You one of them bull dykes?”

  I stared at him for a moment before replying. “Yeah.”

  “Far out…”

  I waited.

  Right on cue, a few moments later he began, “You wanna-”

  “No.” I rose, tired of him and tired of myself. “Do they call you Skidmark because you shit your pants?”

  He wheezed amusement. “When you slam the brakes on the road to hell, the skidmark stays long after the tires roll on. Roll on, baby, roll on,” he crooned before seguing into a dreamy off-key version of BTO’s Roll On Down The Highway.

  I left him sitting there, the thin smoke from his roach eddying in the still air while he slowly strummed nonexistent guitar strings.

  Striding back to my tent, I swung my heavy stick at the ferns lining the path, half-wishing Ratboy would appear and get in my face again. When I caught myself fantasizing about bludgeoning him with my makeshift shillelagh, I laid it on the ground outside my tent and went in to gather some workout clothes instead. Probably better to work off my pent-up adrenaline constructively.

  Though it wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying…

  Shaking my head at myself I made for the gym, leaving my stick behind just in case temptation reared its rat-like head.

  Chapter 7

  I drew a breath of relief when I arrived to find the gym unoccupied except for Moonbeam, who was working out wearing yet another flowing tied-dyed caftan. Ducking into the change room, I gave thanks that she didn’t expect the rest of us to dress like her. Having all that fabric hanging off me would drive me absolutely crazy.

  Well, crazier.

  I pulled my baggy sweatpants over my ankle holster and headed for the chin-up bar.

  Moonbeam mercifully left me to my workout, and after nearly an hour I was drenched in sweat and feeling almost human again.

  She finished her cooling-down stretches and rose from the mat, her lithe movements belying her wrinkled features. When she glanced in my direction I braced myself.

  She padded over barefoot, her blue eyes seeming to look right through me. “You were very agitated earlier,” she said softly. “I’m glad the exercise is helping. Do you want to talk about it now?”

  I was about to brush her off when I realized this was a good opportunity to warn her about her tenants without arousing suspicion. “Actually, yes, I think you should know about this.” I let out a breath and headed over to flop down on the mat.

  She pulled out another mat and joined me, sinking gracefully into full-lotus position and eyeing me with concern.

  “The tenants on the other side of the river…” I began. “I met one of them today.”

  “I presume there was conflict.” Moonbeam gave me another unsettling inspection. “You had huge spikes of energy stabbing out of your aura when you arrived.”

  “Um, yeah.” I shifted on the mat, wishing I could hide behind a psychic shield or something. “So anyway, I ran into this guy over at the garage. Short, maybe five-seven or so, and skinny. Black hair and beard, kind of rat-faced. I don’t know his name so I’ve been calling him Ratboy…” I broke off at Moonbeam’s scandalized expression. “Not to his face,” I added hurriedly. “Sorry, but he just…”

  I gathered my scattered thoughts and returned to the point. “Anyway, what I was trying to tell you was that he was really angry and aggressive to Skidmark and me. He called me a whore and I think he might have hit me if Skidmark hadn’t been there.”

  “Oh, dear.” Worry lined her brow. “Are you hurt, Storm Cloud Dancer?”

  “No, he didn’t actually hit me.”

  “I didn’t mean physically hurt.” Her gaze passed through me again. “Oh, dear. Almost as bad as when you first arrived.” Her hands rose to stroke the air a few inches away from my arms and shoulders. “Please let Karma and me do some energy work for you. Your aura is too beautiful to sully with such destructiveness.”

  “Um…” I squirmed backward and stood. “Maybe later, okay? I want to finish my workout.”

  “Of course. But please don’t let this fester, Storm Cloud Dancer.” She rose and hugged me despite my sweat-soaked clothes. “Promise you’ll let us do a Spirit healing for you tonight.”

  I shot a glance over my shoulder, but there was no escape. And her concern was so sweet and genuine that I sighed and capitulated. “Okay. How about after supper? That’ll give me a chance to get washed up and changed.”

  “Oh, good! Yes, please come to our tent around seven-thirty.” She hugged me again and left.

  Finished and cooled down, I had stopped by the main building to draw a bucket of hot water from the boiler of one of the wood stoves when Moonbeam poked her head into the kitchen.

  “The mail’s here, Storm Cloud Dancer, and there’s a package for you from Cosmic River Stone.”

  “Oh, that’s great!” Relief sent a wide smile to my face before I realized it might be misconstrued as excitement over a ‘gift’ from my ‘boyfriend’. I hid my internal wince and hefted my bucket of water. “I’m just heading back to my tent to wash up, so I’ll grab it after supper…”

  I trailed off as the inconvenient voice of duty reminded me that I shouldn’t leave the package exposed to curious eyes any longer than necessary.

  “Never mind,” I amended, and headed for the closet th
at doubled as a mail room. “I’ll just take it now.”

  “Here, dear, let me help.” Moonbeam hurried over to tuck the box under my free arm. “There you go. See you at seven-thirty.”

  I nodded and shuffled out, the edge of the box jammed uncomfortably into my ribs while I tried not to spill the bucket along the uneven path to my tent.

  “Hey, wait up, Storm! Let me help you with that.” Orion materialized apparently out of nowhere and took hold of the box.

  My arm tightened defensively around it. “No, it’s okay, I’ve got it… shit!” Water slopped onto my sneaker and I relinquished the box to shake my wet foot vigorously. “Damn, I knew I should have put my hiking boots back on!”

  Orion laughed and fell into step beside me. “You didn’t have to fight me. I wasn’t going to run off with it. Besides, even if I did, you know where I live.” He dropped his voice to a suggestive purr. “There’s a thought.” He made a teasing detour toward his tent. “I could entice you into my lair by holding your parcel hostage.”

  “Bad idea,” I said lightly, hiding the uptick of my pulse. “You wouldn’t want to come between me and a care package from home.”

  “Oho!” He returned to the path and made a show of sniffing the box as we walked on. “Are there scrumptious edibles in here?”

  “I’ll never tell.” I set the bucket down at the entrance to my tent and held out my hands. “Give.”

  He sighed. “You’re a hard woman.”

  “And don’t you forget it.” I rescued the box from his grip and shouldered inside. When I returned for my bucket, he was already striding away.

  At seven-thirty I presented myself at Moonbeam and Karma’s tent, braced for yet another bizarre ritual and wondering what idiotic impulse had made me agree to it after successfully avoiding their offers for the past four months.

  I sighed. Maybe the run-in with Ratboy had shaken me more than I wanted to admit. I had so desperately wanted to believe the commune was a refuge from the violence and evil of the outside world.

  Well, grow up, Pollyanna. Safe havens only happen in fairy tales.

  I squared my shoulders and scratched at the tent flap.

  Moonbeam answered immediately, smiling and drawing me into the tent. “I’m so glad you’ve finally decided to let us help,” she said. “We’re all ready for you.”

  “Welcome,” Karma agreed, his voice a deep drumroll in the barrel of his chest. “Please come in and make yourself comfortable.” He gestured toward a blanket-draped table in the middle of the tent. Beside it, a smaller table held a pitcher and a trio of fat candles that provided the only illumination.

  What the hell? Were they planning some outlandish sacrificial thing? I was so out of there at the first sign of goat’s blood. Or my blood…

  “Um…” I tried not to let my gaze dart around the tent, but I couldn’t help tensing. “What… exactly… are you…?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, dear, I should have explained.” Moonbeam patted my hand. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing invasive. We’ll ask you to lie on the table and we’ll be moving our hands above you, in your energy field. You’ll be fully clothed and we won’t touch you without asking permission. All you have to do is relax and try to release your negative energy.”

  “Okay…”

  I sidled toward the table and hoisted myself up. As I lay back, Karma tucked a pillow under my head while Moonbeam did the same under my knees.

  “Are you warm enough, dear? Would you like a blanket?” she asked.

  “Um, no, that’s okay. I’m fine…”

  My voice choked off in alarm as Karma removed his shirt, leaving him standing barefoot in nothing but his sarong.

  Shit, I knew the commune didn’t buy into the usual taboos about nudity, but there were some things about Stemp’s father I just didn’t need to know.

  And from my vulnerable supine position, I suddenly realized how big he was. I was used to seeing him at a greater distance, and I had tended to focus on his piercing hazel eyes surrounded by their maze of laugh wrinkles, made even more striking by the way he kept his iron-gray hair sleeked back in a tidy ponytail.

  But looming above me in the candlelight his powerful musculature made him look much younger, his age indicated only by the leathery texture of his skin. And that was ‘way more skin than I’d been expecting to see…

  He frowned down at me. “Does this make you uncomfortable? Would you like me to put my shirt back on?”

  “Um… it’s okay…” I eyed him nervously. “But… you don’t have to, um… get naked for this, do you?”

  His booming laugh filled the tent. “No, I won’t get naked…” He paused and cocked a mischievous brow in my direction. “Unless you ask me to.”

  “Karma Wolf Song!” Moonbeam’s remonstrance was softened by her laughter. “The poor child is nervous enough already.” She turned her luminous smile on me. “Don’t mind him. It’s just that you have such tremendous energy pouring off you, it will be hard work to deal with it all. We’ll work up quite a sweat, you’ll see…” She paced slowly around me, her hands gliding through the air as though riding invisible updrafts over and around my body. “Merciful Spirit, Karma Wolf Song, feel this!”

  Karma joined her at my feet and they waved their hands some more, exchanging a smilingly incredulous glance.

  “You’re tremendously grounded, dear,” Moonbeam said, backing slowly away, hands outstretched. She stopped a couple of yards from my feet, still smiling. “All the way out here.” She shook her head and gave Karma a rueful glance. “I hope you’re ready for a workout, my dearest.”

  He nodded and they joined hands, looking deeply at each other before closing their eyes for several moments.

  Feeling like a voyeur but too edgy to close my eyes, I concentrated on the canvas ceiling above me. When Karma and Moonbeam began to move I watched them from my peripheral vision, wondering what, if anything, I was supposed to feel And what they were feeling.

  They worked in silence broken only by soft requests for permission to touch my ankles, hips, arms, shoulders, and head, and I slowly relaxed when nothing else happened. They certainly did seem to be working hard. Their hands moved constantly, sometimes stroking the air around me; other times making scooping motions as if to gather something undesirable and move it away. Sweat ran in rivulets down Karma’s face and chest, and a fine dew of perspiration glistened on Moonbeam’s forehead.

  At last their movement ceased and they clasped hands again, heads bowed and eyes closed.

  Then they disengaged, and Moonbeam moved to the small table that held the jug. “You can sit up now, Storm Cloud Dancer,” she said. “Slowly, though. Here…”

  She poured a glass of water and handed it to me, then did the same for Karma before pouring one for herself. They sank together to sit on the queen-sized mattress that formed their bed on the floor and sipped their water while I perched on the edge of the table and wondered what I was supposed to do.

  “How do you feel?” Karma inquired.

  “Um, fine…” It seemed as though I should say something appreciative, but I didn’t know exactly what. “Thank you for working on me,” I added. “I feel more relaxed now.”

  At least that was the truth. I could hardly have gotten more tense than I’d been when they’d started.

  “Oh, good.” Moonbeam’s smile told me I’d said the right thing. “Please rest there a few minutes and make sure you drink all that water. It will help cleanse your system.”

  I nodded and sipped obediently.

  “So how long have you known Cosmic River Stone?” Karma asked in the easy tones of small talk, but I caught a tiny edge of something else behind his words.

  “Um, not long…” I eyed him, trying to gauge his reaction, but his poker face was as good as his son’s. “I guess nearly a year,” I added cautiously.

  Moonbeam leaned forward, her hand finding Karma’s in a grip tight enough to whiten her knuckles. “Tell us what he’s like,” she begged.

 
; “Um…”

  Shit, where were they going with this? I sensed a minefield ahead, but I didn’t have a clue what would set off the explosives.

  “I’m sure you’d know him better than I would,” I prevaricated. “We work together occasionally, but that’s about it.”

  “No. We don’t know.” Moonbeam’s voice sounded tight, but I couldn’t tell whether it was anger or some other emotion. “Please…” Her voice broke and she swallowed before continuing, “Please tell us about him.”

  “Well, uh…” I racked my brain for something to say besides ‘he’s a manipulative snake-faced dickhead’. “Uh, he’s, um, very dedicated to his work…”

  “Is he good at it?” Moonbeam eyed me pleadingly.

  “Absolutely.” At least I didn’t have to equivocate on that. “He’s excellent at his work. I couldn’t imagine anybody else doing a better job.”

  “Oh…” Moonbeam’s smile trembled on her lips. “Oh, that’s wonderful. What else?”

  “Well, he’s, um…” Inspiration struck. “…very trustworthy. In fact, I’d trust him with my life.”

  And I did, every single day. If he leaked the secrets he knew about me, I’d be dead in short order.

  Looking at Karma and Moonbeam leaning forward with their hands clasped like eager children, I cast about for some other small detail.

  “Uh, he likes houseplants and he’s really good at growing them,” I offered. “You should see his hibiscus trees and cyclamens. A whole house full of plants and flowers…”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful!” Moonbeam’s eyes were bright with unshed tears. “He was always so close to the Earth Spirit as a child. I’m so glad he hasn’t lost that connection. What else can you tell us?”

  “Well, um…” I shifted uncomfortably. This was weird. “He’s, um… a good neighbour. He plays cribbage with the elderly man who lives across the street from him, and they look out for each other…” I frowned. “Why are you asking me? I’m really not that close to him.”

  She and Karma exchanged a glance, and Karma laid a gentle arm around her shoulders before turning to me. “We had a… falling-out. Decades ago, when he was eighteen. He left the commune and never returned.”