Amazon Queen (7 page)

Instead of answering, Thea stared at her. Lao blinked, then frowned, and Thea turned back to the hearth-keeper who had set down the bowl. She motioned for her to continue, but I’d seen enough.

I was in charge of this tribe.

“I was wondering the same thing.” I stepped into the clearing.

The group turned as one. Lao crossed the circle to where Tess sat with the bowl. She jerked it from the girl’s hands and moved toward the path with strong steady extensions of her denim-clad legs. When she reached the path and the younger women weren’t behind her, she yelled, “Those pies won’t make themselves.”

The hearth-keepers scrambled to follow. Within seconds the three had disappeared down the path. I jerked my head in the direction they had gone. Without a word, the remaining Amazons, all except Thea, crossed the clearing and hiked out of view.

She held out her hands, palms up. “You’re alive.”

I stalked toward her. “And you left.”

She blinked. “Of course. What else was I to do? The cabin exploded; I was knocked backward, stunned cold for . . . I’m not sure how long.” She turned and lifted up her short hair. There was an ugly red gash in her scalp, and I realized now her shirt was stained with blood. “When I came to I realized how bad things were . . . the house was ablaze. I didn’t see you . . . thought you’d been lost.” She closed her eyes briefly as if reliving the moment. When she opened them, she murmured under her breath, a prayer, I assumed. “I knew you wouldn’t want the car discovered. If it was, the tribe could be tied to the son. So I drove it back here and gathered the camp to decide our next move. I was afraid we would be calling the council, asking for a new queen.”

“Not yet,” I replied.

“No, not yet . . . ” She tilted her head and studied me. “You are strong.”

The words felt odd, less compliment and more assessment. I ignored them, because, despite the fact that she was right, I wouldn’t want the Amazons tied to the explosion or the son, she shouldn’t have left me behind—shouldn’t leave any of us behind, ever.

“We protect our own,” I said.

“Of course . . . ” Her lips thinned. “You aren’t saying I should have forgotten protecting the tribe, are you?”

“Of . . . no.” My fingers twitched on my staff.

“Good, because I was sure I was doing what you would want, what the council would want. I’m just glad I don’t have to call them . . . not about getting a new queen anyway.” She cupped her hand over her neck, as if massaging away a pain. She seemed to have forgotten I was standing in front of her.

Suddenly my back spasmed. Determined not to show I was injured, I flipped the staff around in my hands, made it appear I was twirling the weapon rather than twitching in pain.

She glanced at me. The spasm continued, but I ground the end of the staff into the earth and squared my shoulders. My face calm, I replied, “No, no need to call the council. I’m fine.”

Her expression darkened. For a second I thought she might argue the point, but she didn’t. “How
did
you survive?” she asked. “The cabin . . . it was there one minute and a raging hell the next, eh?”

“The explosion threw me clear. I hit a tree, but I’m fine.” It was more than I wanted to say. I was still struggling to get a grasp on what my reaction should be. Pain, anger, and something strangely close to reason warred for control of my attention—some little voice telling me Thea had done the right thing, returned to camp, gathered the tribe . . . What more could I have asked of her?

My jaw tensed. To find me? To let me know she had survived?

Another spasm grabbed my back. I gritted my teeth and held my breath until it passed.

“Did you see the son?” she asked. Her gray eyes were level now, her focus solid.

The spasm over, I was able to shake my head. “Humans showed up. That’s all.”

“Are you sure?”

I hesitated.
Was I?
But finally I nodded. Neither of the farmers had struck me as anything more than one-hundred percent human. Not that that guaranteed they were. The sons had apparently been fooling the Amazons for the past century. We had learned, unbeknown to my friend Mel’s mother, Cleo, that Mel’s father had been a son. I respected Cleo . . . I didn’t think she would have been easily fooled. But that had been before Amazons knew the sons had powers similar to their own.

We were more aware now. And I was positive neither of the men fighting that blaze had been sons. Now, the rabbit? Much as I didn’t like to admit it, I still wasn’t sure about him.

Thea twisted her lips. “I wonder how he knew we were coming?”

“Knew?” Caught up in my anger at Thea, I hadn’t thought about why the son’s cabin had exploded. “You think he booby-trapped the place with us in mind?”

“You think it was coincidence?”

No. She was right. Houses didn’t just explode, at least not very often. “He knew we were coming,” I repeated.

“How?” she asked.

I shrugged and another spasm clawed through my body. I paused, then kept going, hoping she hadn’t noticed. “He knew we would come looking for him. What else would we do?”

“So he tried to kill us.” She said the words softly, then raised her eyes as if expecting a reaction.

I didn’t have one. It was a sneaky way to fight a war, but then, we were talking about someone who had a stockpile of guns.

The guns. I’d forgotten about them. My brows pulled together. Why would he blow up his own collection of firearms—many still in their boxes?

“What?” she asked.

I shook my head. “Nothing. We should get back to camp.” I turned and another tremor gripped my back. I muttered a curse. I wasn’t used to feeling this much pain. I’d been injured before, many times, but the effects had never slowed me, not like this.

I closed my eyes, wondering if Artemis was sending me some message.

Thea’s hand ran down my back. I stiffened.

“You’re hurt?” Her eyebrow twitched. “I can help.”

Caring for the wounded was one of the high priestess’s jobs, but for some reason I didn’t want Thea’s touch or help.

I stepped away and walked as straight and solidly as I could manage toward camp. With the help of nothing but stubborn resistance, I even kept my staff from dipping toward the ground.

My fairy godfather had tried to kill us. Someone should take back his wings, rip them off an inch at a time.

Hopefully, that someone would be me.

The sons had won
again, at least for a while. After my collision with the tree and my run-in with Thea in the woods, I’d gone back to the farmhouse to discover Kale, my council contact, still had not called. I had called Mel instead, only to find she’d taken her daughter to Michigan and wasn’t expected back until late Friday night. After that I’d asked for Peter, the son who worked for her. He was gone too, was with her apparently.

I’d hung up the phone confused and concerned. Mel leaving the tribe had killed our friendship for a decade. We had just started to patch it back together. I was afraid the issue of the sons would soon blast it apart again.

But the call helped solidify my plan. I would head to Madison Saturday morning. The farmer’s market gave me a convenient excuse for being in the city—much better than just showing up on Mel’s door and demanding to talk to the sons.

I’d gone to bed and slept a solid four hours. Now I was standing in the bathroom admiring my increasingly haggard appearance.

I turned my face away from the mirror, grabbed a wet towel, and scrubbed it over my skin. As I twisted my torso, my back shrieked.

The damned injury had been nagging me again . . . since Thea woke me up at four, asking if I was ready to resume our search for the baby.

I’d ignored her and eventually she’d gone away, but the other pain had remained. I’d stayed in my room a couple of hours stretching and thinking, but neither had done anything to lessen the pain.

I ran hot water on the towel and pressed it against my back. After a few seconds I threw it into the bathtub. It landed with an angry slap.

My injuries and recent failures were piling up and weighing me down, but I had a day to kill before heading to Madison.

Normally I would have exercised, but my back was in no shape. I left the house and passed by the barn with its room full of weights. It was early, but everyone was up. The hearth-keepers were working in the garden and warriors were clinking weights together in the barn. The camp would be busy for the next few hours, then things would settle down for lunch. During the heat of the day we would run errands and work on less physical projects. In the evening we’d be outside again, working the horses and practicing for the exhibition at the fair.

I stepped into the woods.

“Zery!” Thea appeared on the path. She was carrying her bowl. I could smell the same oil I’d smelled before, olive oil. At least that’s what Lao had said it was last night.

“I was looking for you earlier. You didn’t answer your door.”

I tilted my head and took another step down the path.

“I found the son’s name, the one who owns the cabin,” she said.

I paused.

“Jack Parker. He’s lived there five years. Has probably been watching this camp.”

She was right. He had told me as much.

“I’m searching for more information, for other places he might go now that his house is destroyed, but so far nothing. He seems to have no history.”

“Like an Amazon,” I replied. Amazons did everything they could to stay under the human radar. We sometimes shared identities, had more fake IDs than a bar full of teenagers. I guessed the sons did the same.

“You don’t know where he might go, do you?” she asked. The bowl she held dripped oil onto her shoe. I stared at the round stain for a second, considering my answer.

My voice steady, I replied, “None. I’d never seen him before yesterday.”

“How about your friend? The one in Madison? She has connections, doesn’t she?”

“She’s out of town.”

A shadow passed over Thea’s face. “But she’ll be back. Soon?”

“No. I called last night. She’s gone for a while. The sons are gone too.” I’d decided last night I wasn’t taking Thea with me to Madison. I had no qualms about lying to her. I just hoped lying was enough to keep her at the safe camp.

She didn’t like my answer, but she didn’t question it.

With Thea gone, I returned to my walk. I had plenty to think about. I was going to Madison, and I wasn’t sure what I was going to do when I got there. It all depended on Mel and exactly how connected to the sons she had become. If she had thrown in with them, stood with them
against
the Amazons . . .

My stomach clenched, but as my body warmed from my walk, the ache in my back subsided. Thankful for that, I rolled my head left then right and forced any possibility that Mel had gone to the other side from my mind. I would find out tomorrow, no need to dwell on it today.

The path I was on led to the obelisk. There was another trail that wound through the fifty acres we owned. All except the two acres the house sat on were wooded. Amazons and animals alike used these paths. In fact, parts of it predated our ownership of the land. There was more than one “thong” tree, trees manipulated by Native American tribes to point to places of interest, off this path. All pointed toward our obelisk.

We had raised the stone, but we didn’t make the woods sacred—that energy had been there forever. And we weren’t even the first to recognize it.

I got on the longer trail behind the barn. It wove around the back of our property, eventually branching into three paths, one continuing until ending at a barbed-wire fence erected by a neighbor, one going out wider around the outskirts of the neighbor’s holdings, and one that led to the obelisk. I took the outer path. It was cool this morning and the air smelled of leaves, flowers, and earth.

Birds were out too, lots of them screeching at each other and me to keep away from their nests. As I approached an oak that had been struck by lightning a few springs back, something stirred high above my head. I glanced up to see an owl fluttering overhead, like a very large brown-speckled butterfly. He seemed to watch me, his eyes flaming.

He hovered a second longer, then took off, flying up and out of the trees.

I ran my fingers up through my hair and stared after him, not sure what I expected to happen next.

Nothing did. I lowered my hands and shook my head.

The sons were making me jumpy. Every animal, no matter how small or safe, I now saw as a potential threat.

I didn’t like it. I had two weapons on me today. I reached to the small of my back where I had stored a pair of nunchakus. They were a weapon I wasn’t as skilled with as others—my staff, for instance—but I had been practicing and they were easier to carry with my strained back. I also had a belt on that concealed a blade disguised as a buckle.

So, the first wasn’t my strongest choice and the second wasn’t my fastest. Deciding on the nunchakus, I pulled them free from my pants and held both ends in my right hand. If a son surprised me, I could quickly drop one end and attack.

With my fingers wrapped around the weapon, it was hard to relax my body or my brain. I kept moving, every inch of me on alert.