Circle of the Moon (Soulwood #4)

From the front of the house Zeke shouted, “Ben’s here. So’s Caleb, Fredi, and Priscilla. And Caleb’s hurt.”

Caleb Campbell was half carried into the house by Ben Aden. Caleb had been beaten; he had a black eye and a broken nose and was holding his ribs. Fredi, Caleb’s senior wife, was big pregnant, maybe eight months along, with her third, and Priscilla, my eldest sister, was nursing her second. The three squalling toddlers were carried out of the big room by Mama Grace and my mama, and Priscilla threw herself into a chair. “This is your’n fault,” Priss said to me, stern as a frozen ax.

“Priss. No,” Caleb said softly. “Nell was a trigger, nothing else. The church has been heading down this path a long time.”

“I ain’t gonna let you divorce me,” Priscilla said, sounding stubborn, as if this had been often discussed and debated.

Fredi, Priss’ best friend, burst into tears. And that sparked SaraBell’s tears. Pregnant and nursing hormones and emotional triggers were not a good mix.

Thankfully, Sam’s cell phone rang. He spoke quietly for several minutes before saying into the phone, “Stand down. Everyone get home. We’re going Tomatoes.”

“Tomatoes?” I asked, confused.

“Today’s password for all is good and we can relax,” Zeke said. “I’ll make the calls and get the shooters back here.”

Just that fast, it was over. “Come on, Mud. We’re going home.”

Mama followed me to my truck and stood in the open truck door, blocking my exit, her face set and sad. “Mama?” I asked.

“You think I’m sinning being with your’n daddy.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Mama, the church has never followed the laws of Tennessee. As to sinning, I went to a church in town. They got this plaque on the wall with the Commandments of Christianity. The first one is, ‘Thou shalt not judge.’ Only God can judge morality and whether someone is heaven bound or heading the other way. Whether you’re sinning is between the Almighty and you, Mama.”

The lines in Mama’s face creased tight in some emotion I couldn’t describe.

I touched her shoulder. “I was John’s second wife, and if Leah had lived, that would have been a relationship I entered into, knowing exactly what it entailed. That said, my job is all about the laws the church ignores, and the law says you can’t be legally married to Daddy because Mama Carmel married him.”

Mama looked away, the frown lines beside her mouth deep grooves. “You’un gonna marry that Occam?” she asked, staring out over the trees.

“I ain’t planning to marry at all, Mama. But if things change between Occam and me, you’ll know it right away. I promise.” I started the truck and Mama backed away so I could close the cab door. “We’ll see you in a day or two,” I promised, through the open window.

“I love you, baby girl.”

“I love you too, Mama.”

She whispered, “You’un take care of your’n sisters.” And she walked away.

A chill in my soul, I drove out of the yard, down the gravel drive, past the vampire tree, and out the gate toward Soulwood. On the way home, I pulled over and texted Brother Thad. He wouldn’t respond anytime soon, as his church services lasted from ten in the morning until two in the afternoon, with a break for lunch on the grounds. My text said, I’m free tomorrow if you want to send me the cost of upgrades. I had to get Mud away from the church. I had to push for custody.

Seemed like I’d be going into debt for sure.





TWELVE




While I slept, a heat wave from the Gulf swept through, with the accompanying thunderstorms, high winds, slashing rain, and temporary cool temps. I loved storms and so did Soulwood. The land enticed me deeply into sleep as the sky watered our leaves and roots.

The cool didn’t last, and my sleep didn’t either. The storms were followed by muggy, miserable heat and by late afternoon, I woke from confused dreams to find myself drenched in a soggy sweat. I twitched the sheets back to let them dry and dragged myself to the bathroom for a tepid shower. In the heat wave, I was almost ecstatic that my underground cistern kept my well water at a cool sixty degrees. It certainly woke me up fast. I dressed in cotton and followed the smell of coffee outside to the brazier, which had a percolator coffeepot on it. Two mugs were on the table nearby, and I fell into one of the two chairs someone had placed in the shade of the house.

I poured a cup and sipped, watching my sister as she measured out a potential area for the greenhouse. She was dressed in my old overalls and work boots, toiling in the heat, working up a sweat as she hammered stakes into the ground. Stakes she had made herself, if the pile of split wood was an indication.

Two of the cats lay in the garden beneath the bamboo-cane trellis, in the shade cast by leafy green bean vines. Torquil was lying at the edge of the woods at the base of a tree. All three cats were flat to the ground in the heat. “You’re gonna get eaten by a hawk,” I warned her. The cat ignored me.

“Ain’t no hawk gonna eat the cats,” Mud yelled, brandishing a mallet. “I’m too big and too mean and I scare them off.” She stomped over and fell into the other chair. Sipped her coffee.

“When did you start drinking coffee?”

“While you were disabled. Mama says if you drink hot coffee on a hot day it’ll cool you off. I think Mama’s delusional, but let’s keep that one between us.”

“Yes,” I said, smiling into my cup. “I think that would be wise.”

“I got news about the church. It’s dividing along the lines of multiple wives and pretty much all the Jackson side is ready to kill you and burn out the Nicholson side. There’s been talk of the church splitting for nigh on a year now, and the lawyers is ready to fight it out in court.”

“Oh. Lawyers, huh?”

“According to Sam, polygamy was designed by menfolk to get more sex,” Mud said. “Is that what you think?”

I looked up at the sky and said, “Save me.” God didn’t. I had no idea how my sister and I ended up having part of the conversation that most church mamas had on the wedding day of their far-too-young daughters.

My cell rang and I thought, Saved by the bell, and answered without looking at the screen, because I needed to be saved, even if it was by a robocall. “Ingram.”

“Yellowrock,” the voice snarled. The connection was staticky, parts of words dropping out. “Why are you calling my people?”

I looked at the screen then and a jolt of a different sort went through me. “Jane? You sound … strange.” I had almost said she sounded awful, like a sick, wet cat, but that wasn’t smart.

I could hear her breath blow across the phone and she replied in a tone that was more diplomatic, if not serene. “Sorry. I’ve been … Never mind. What’s up?” She sounded better, but the connection was still awful. I decided not to ask her to call me back over a different cell or landline. She might not bother or she might be on the progression—whatever that was—mentioned by Ming, and I’d lose this chance. And since I didn’t know what Jane did or didn’t know, I had to cover a lot of bases fast.

“A vampire named Godfrey of Bouillon, or Godefroi de Bouillon, attacked Ming of Glass, the MOC of Knoxville. Ming and her people won, but it was a narrow margin and there were a lot of injuries and deaths. The Shaddock Clan Home in Asheville was also attacked, and because Shaddock was in Knoxville helping Ming fight, he lost his lands and his people. Witches are attacking Ming too, possibly the same one who is attacking”—I almost said Rick but changed it—“our people, though that hasn’t been verified.”

I heard a voice in the background and realized I was on speakerphone. Alex said, “Lincoln Shaddock and Ming have some of the best fighters in the States. Your boss is Ayatas FireWind. Why do they need our help?”

Jane said, “There’s nothing I can do that they can’t.”

“That’s garbage.” I scowled at the world and Mud’s eyes went big. I flapped my hand at her and mouthed, Not you. To Jane I said, “You’re the Dark Queen. You have resources.”

Jane chuckled and the sound was different from her previous laughter, disheartened, maybe even depressed. “Yeah. The all-powerful Oz, that’s me.” She continued before I could respond. “This much I can do. Alex, will you chat with Unit Eighteen’s Jones? See if you can send them some information on Godfrey.”

“Sure,” Alex said. “I like a woman with a rep. File will be prelim data and I’ll send more later. Watch for a file named ‘Godfrey of Bouillon One.’”

Alex was a former hacker and he knew about our Diamond Drill.

Jane went on, “If things get dire, I’ll call the governor. I know you think I’m some kind of genie in a bottle, but I’m not. I can’t fix Ming’s problems, short of depriving her of her city and clan and taking over. And frankly, Ming would challenge me to a blood duel if I tried.”

“I’m not—”