I nodded at the simple statement. “Why did you set Benjamin on me? Why did you surprise me like that?”
My brother shrugged. “You been gone a long time, but I still miss you, Nellie. I miss your spirit and your smart mouth. I miss the way you don’t let nothing and no one stop you from doing the right thing. Even if you’un suffer for it. Daddy, he’s been fighting the mamas for months about going to the surgeon. You’un stomped him and now he’s got an appointment.” The church-speak faded as he spoke. “The family needs you. The church needs you. We need you to lead us into the twenty-first century. Into the future. It’s that or die.” When I said nothing he added, “Church membership numbers were highest in 1954, at well over twelve hundred. Now church rolls stand at six hundred fourteen, with women leaving the church all the time. The church is dying.”
I thought about that. Thought about the cycle of life and death. Understood that all trees die eventually. All forests. So do all civilizations, all organizations, and all churches. Maybe it was time for God’s Cloud to die, be chopped up and fed into the fire of some new church. “I’ll let you know about the tree when I figure things out.” Leaving my brother staring at the mutated oak, I walked back to my truck and drove away. Thinking that my brother was a hunter. And the hunter in him had baited a trap well with Ben Aden and with the plea to bring the church into the twenty-first century. He meant everything he’d said, in the best way possible, but he was still reasoning like a churchman.
On the way out, I slowed and studied the place where I had told the vampire tree to move; the place where I had dropped my blood to encourage it to move. All along the fence were small growths, with dark bark and heavy, reddish-tipped engorged leaves. Some of the growths had put out vines that had begun to curl into the hurricane fencing. I had a feeling that they would grow fast, winter or no.
I had made a bad mistake asking them to grow here. Probably had made several more mistakes. I had to decide how to fix them all. Probably like yesterday.
? ? ?
I pulled up at PsyLED headquarters on Allamena Avenue, a newish road on newly developed land off Highway 62. It was three stories of government-building ugly, with the two top levels set aside for PsyLED, and for an eventual PsyCSI, whenever the government got around to fully funding the agency. The bottom floor was Yoshi’s Deli and Coffee’s On, and I stopped for a coffee. As I entered, the girl behind the counter smiled at me and said, “The usual?”
“Oh. Yes, please.” I watched her making me a caramel cappuccino and understood that I had, at some point in the last few weeks and months, gone through a rite of passage without even realizing it. The usual. I had a usual coffee at a coffeehouse. Unlike God’s Cloud of Glory, I had entered the twenty-first century. I was a modern-day woman. Maybe even a city girl. Knowing that didn’t help much, but it did show that things could change.
My heart heavy and my mind full of thoughts that writhed like snakes, I carried my gear and coffee inside and up the stairs. I had a feeling that the EOD debriefing was going to be long and tedious.
? ? ?
JoJo said, “Financial update. Like everyone else with assets, the Tolliver family has money invested in the Tennessee Valley Authority. They also are heavily invested in four local small industries that make parts for weapons manufacturing companies, a video/PR/talent agency that handles the careers of several Tennessee sports icons and three big country singers, and a medical corporation called DNAKeys.” She glanced up from her tablet. “Which is where it gets a little interesting.” She looked back at her screen, her earrings swinging. “Social media conspiracy nuts suggest that DNAKeys is holding a vampire and wolves or werewolves prisoner on the premises and is doing animal experimentation that sounds like something out of a horror movie. Multiple social media sites have shared the accusations, specifying internal sources for the charges. I’m working to track down the sources so we can interview them.
“The claims got so bad the company asked the Cocke County Sheriff’s Department to take a walk through the facilities eight months past. The investigators discovered no paranormal sentient beings. The detective I spoke with suggested that the conspiracy stuff could be kids or smear tactics from a political or business enemy. But basically he said no crimes were currently taking place on-site.”
“Probably a waste of time, but send the address to our cells,” Rick said. “Occam and I can check it out tonight.” He meant in cat form.
I glanced at the corner of my laptop screen as we all worked through reports and files and updated everything pertinent, checking the phase of the moon on the little icon there. The full moon was only days away. I looked up at JoJo and her tight lips indicated that she knew why the cat-boys wanted to go skulking around in cat form. Things always got kinda crazy around PsyLED in the nine days of the moon. There was a quote about moon tides for were-creatures, though I had no idea who had said it originally. It was part of were-lore. The urge to shift and to hunt waxes strong three days out, abides the three days of, and wanes three days after. Nine nights of pleasure and nine days of hell. We were getting close to the craziness.
Rick continued, “The sheriff was invited in. We haven’t been, and we don’t have probable cause to get a warrant. But we can get close enough to get a good sniff, just to rule out weres and vamps.”
“Uh-huh,” JoJo said, typing furiously. “If the sheriff missed something and you get close enough for werewolves to catch your scent, things could get dicey. I respectfully suggest that you put this plan of action on the back burner, boss.”
Rick tilted his head in a gesture that said, I hear you and I’m ignoring you. “PsyLED’s mandate is any and all crimes committed by, perpetrated on, or related to paranormal creatures. We’ll go in downwind.”
Tandy, who had been awfully silent, said, “We know that several werewolves were never captured after that recent were-taint outbreak in Asheville. Law enforcement has been working under the assumption that not all the infected persons were caught. If you go in downwind, and stay several hundred yards away, you should be okay. However, it might be smarter to send in an RVAC. And safer.”
JoJo raised her eyebrows at Tandy, shooting him a look I couldn’t interpret. But then, the two were probably in a sexual relationship, hiding it from Rick, in opposition to PsyLED standard—but not enforced—protocol, and outside of proper marriage.