Circle of the Moon (Soulwood #4)

“I have seen, or I saw,” I corrected, trying to figure out how to deflect this conversation.

“Right. Seen you looking at him like you like him. You gonna marry him?” Mud dropped onto her newly made bed and crossed her legs. She was wearing cotton pants and her hair was down, but her manner was all churchwoman in a matchmaking, gossiping mood. “I think the mamas would like it if you was married, even if it’s to a townie, but I ain’t sure about you being married to a cat-man.”

“Oh dear.” It sounded like a terrified moan. “Mud—”

“Have you’uns had sex yet?”

“Oh …” I flushed from my toes to the top of my red hair, though Mud wouldn’t be able to see it, beneath my woody coloration. “No. Mud—”

“When you’uns have sex, will you have kittens? Or plant-babies? Seeds with cat faces and fur?”

I blinked. “You’re teasing me.”

Mud burst out laughing. “You shoulda seen your face.” But then she went on, “That’s okay. You ain’t got to tell me. Mr. LaFleur said you’uns—you—shouldn’t come in to work tonight ‘lessen you feel like it. You going in to work?”

I was happy to have a break in the bombardment of questions about my romantic life and I could hear the restrained excitement in her voice. Mud liked it when she could camp out in PsyLED HQ while I did database research and paperwork, a temporary situation until I settled on child-care arrangements. “Maybe. Let’s see how I feel after a shower and getting dressed. Maybe we could do some of your shopping on the way in.”

Mud smiled, her face lighting up. “I’ll clean up the lunch dishes. You shower.” She was trying to sound blasé about the trip into town, but I knew that my sister had developed a love of shopping for store-bought clothes.

“Deal.”

Before I could get to my feet Mud leaned across the mattress and threw her arms around me. “Thank you,” she said, hugging me tight.

I patted her shoulders uncertainly. There was no blazing insight to her emotional state when we touched. But I was no longer accustomed to spontaneous displays of church-style affection, so I was still uncomfortable. “For what?” I asked.

“Thank you for not getting killed today. For not getting punished by Larry. For lettin’ me live here. For letting me have a room all to myself. Mine. My space. Not shared with three or five true sibs and half sibs and—” She stopped. “And for making sure I get to learn. Get to go to school. Get to choose for myself who I’m gonna be. Get to not be burned at the stake if I grow leaves. For keeping me safe,” she finished.

Tears prickled under my lids and I hugged her tightly back. Voice thick, I managed, “Sister mine, it is totally, completely, full-to-the-top, my pleasure.” Gently I eased back so we could see each other, both of us teary eyed. “And you need a shower too. And use some of that deodorant I made us. As a woman grown, your body’s starting to change and you need to change hygiene habits.”

Mud’s nose wrinkled up. “You’rn one to talk. Take a whiff of yourself.”

In my best PsyLED accent, I said, “Duly noted.”

? ? ?

I was dressed and we were ready to head to Walmart and Kohl’s when I felt a vehicle turn onto my road and begin the climb up the mountain. At the same time, my phone dinged with a text from Margot Racer, special agent with the FBI. Mud read it aloud to me as she passed me the cell. “‘You home? Am in the neighborhood. On my way up your little mountain.’” Mud looked skeptical. “Is that a lie? About being in the neighborhood?”

“Most likely.” I took the cell and texted back. Come on up.

“Is this about the cops and the dustup at the church this morning and you getting hurt?”

“Dustup. Yeah. And probably. The kidnapping of a federal law enforcement officer and raid on the church compound probably hit the news. And maybe she’s heard about the witch circles and did some digging. Maybe she’s responding to the report that KPD and the sheriff’s department didn’t share info with us about paranormal reports. Either way, this is official business, not tea and cookies.”

Mud crossed her arms over her chest and her face took on a mulish expression, mouth firm, eyes narrowed. “I ain’t going upstairs and twiddle my thumbs.”

“Is this one of those lifestyle things we’re working through?” I asked. “Like, how our living arrangements will work when I go into the field? Because if you think a social services worker will be okay with you being present during discussions about official police business, then let me tell you, you’re wrong.”

“I’m staying some nights at PsyLED HQ. That’s full of police business.”

“You’ll be there while I’m doing paperwork, not in the middle of a debrief or with me in the field or at a crime scene—and only until I get child care worked out.”

“I don’t need no dagnab babysitter.”

“We will talk later. Now scoot. Take your tablet upstairs and practice.”

“This ain’t fair.”

“This isn’t fair.”

“That’s what I said. Not fair.” Mud snatched up her tablet and stomped up the stairs.

“Ha-ha,” I muttered, grinding my teeth. I put my gobags together and started a half pot of coffee. Mud was twelve, a grown-up woman ready for marriage according to some in the church, but just entering her teenage years. God help me.

? ? ?

Margot walked up the steps to my porch. She was tall, lean, with broad shoulders and her hair buzzed short enough to see her scalp, a perfect do for the weather. I shoved my own red locks away from my sweaty face and dreamed of central air-conditioning. It had to be in the high nineties in the shade and nearly that inside the house, even with the window unit going full blast. Normal for late July.

I opened the door and studied her, even as Margot studied me back. She was wearing her badge and weapon in plain view. She might have implied that this was a friendly little chat, but she was on the job. That hurt my feelings, but I shoved it down inside and stepped back from the door. “Welcome to my home. Hospitality and safety while you’re here.” It was a God’s Cloud of Glory greeting and promise. “Come on in.”

Margot said, “I’m honored to accept your hospitality.” That was one of the proper church responses and I tilted my head in surprise. “I’m one of the few special agents who’ve bothered to learn the proper responses for the church.” She stepped inside. “Dang, girl, I thought you left that ‘suffer for the sake of your soul’ stuff behind. It’s hot as hades in here.”

“Mm-hm,” I said. “Coffee?”

“Sure. Let’s make the unholy hell of this furnace room hotter.”

“I got ice cubes if you want.”

“Iced coffee? That sounds like a little bit of heaven.”

I led her to the kitchen and she leaned on the counter, seemingly content and comfortable in my home. I took a tray of ice cubes and felt her looking around, taking inventory. The first time a cop had done that I had accused him of wanting to steal my belongings. Now I knew that cops were just notoriously nosy.

“Where’s your sister?” Margot had indeed been snooping.

I didn’t answer and she said, “I can’t see any court not wanting Mindy to live here. If you need a reference, I’ll happily provide one.”

A spurt of anger shot through me. The fact that Mud was living here off and on and I was trying to get custody of her wasn’t widely known. Margot had been spying into my court records. “You been keeping better track of me and mine than is common even for cops,” I said, maybe a mite too calm. “Want to tell me why?”

Margot stood and went to the wood-burning stove, inspecting it as if she had never seen one before. She held a hand over it as if testing to see if it was being used in the overheated house. She said, “You knew my secret. I expected you to out me and you didn’t. I was curious.”

I made a sound in the back of my throat that might have meant anything from agreement to a question. I could feel her eyes land on me, but went back to the task at hand, making iced coffee. I got out sugar and creamer. Found a pretty, hand-thrown mug with a soft greenish glaze. Tried to figure out how to temper it for hot and cold together. I didn’t want to crack my mug. “I did tell my boss,” I said. “Internal eyes only. If you have a problem or need help, you can ask and receive. Sugar and cream?”

Margot nodded slowly. “Both when it’s iced.”

I found an old Pyrex measuring cup in the pantry and dumped in cream and sugar, poured in the hot coffee. Stirred. Added the ice cubes, which made happy little crackling/popping sounds as they exploded under the change in temperature. Carefully, I transferred the mixture to the pretty mug, which did not crack or shatter. I gave the mug to my … guest.

Margot wandered some more, pausing to stroke Cello, who was lying across the back of the old couch. The cat sprang away and raced up the stairs. Margot sipped. “Word came to my SAC from high up in PsyLED that there’ve been black-magic witch circles in Knox County, circles not reported to PsyLED.”