“Bring him on around.” He opened the door, unbuckled his seatbelt, then twisted and squeezed between the van seats and into the back of the vehicle.
Lu started walking with me toward the passenger side, but I lifted my arm off her shoulder and deposited a kiss near her temple. “I got this. Go ahead and get behind the wheel.”
Thunder bowled overhead, hitting three strikes in a row, and Lu must have agreed there was an advantage to her being in control of the vehicle. She released her hold and slipped into the driver’s seat. I kept one hand on the van and hobbled my way to the door, Lorde still at my side.
I pushed up into the warm interior. Lorde did us all a favor and shook off an Olympic swimming pool worth of rain before jumping up after me.
I shut the door and assessed what we’d just gotten ourselves into.
Trees, fern, moss, mushrooms covered the walls and space where another set of benches might usually be. For a moment, I thought I’d stumbled out of the van and somehow landed in a rainforest. But then I noticed the mesh wire racks on the walls into which the pots and containers were hooked.
“I teach classes,” Lawrence Hobbs said, answering my unspoken question. He gently ran his fingers over the bunny, who was still deathly still and bleeding in Hado’s arms. “This is my mobile classroom. I go into urban areas and show kids how to get their hands into the soil and make green things grow. Explain water cycles, growing cycles, our natural world.”
He glanced at me. “Usually, I have a lot more razzmatazz in here, but I’m waiting for some sprouts to root before I start the classroom tour circuit.”
“You said you were a healer,” I said.
“I am. Or as close to one as can be found around here. But my day job is being Mother Nature’s roadie.” He smiled, and his glasses shifted upward on his cheeks. “Go on and ask the questions you want to ask, but Lula? If you could head us toward Tulsa, that’d be great. I have a place there you can stay for the night.”
“A murder hotel?” I asked.
Another smile tugged his lips, but his attention was on Abbi, assessing her injuries. I had the feeling he could see more of her than just the bunny she appeared to be.
“Friends of mine are out of town—at their daughter’s wedding. They said I could use their place any time. Seems like now is a pretty good time.”
Lu didn’t ask for directions. There was only this one road, and she probably knew how to get to Tulsa better than the residents. The van handled the road well enough. The plants should make the space feel closed in and musty, instead it felt comfortable and safe. Lorde had already found a spot of floor to curl up and was softly snoring.
“Can you turn her over?” Lawrence asked Hado. “Or…” He reached into the greenery and magically conjured a small table with a soft pillow topper that could easily double for a bed. “Would you feel comfortable enough to lay her here?”
Hado didn’t even hesitate. He very carefully and gently settled Abbi onto the pillow.
Lawrence was silent and attentive, his fingers quick and efficient. “You were all in the accident? In that truck in the ditch?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Could you tell what spell hit you?”
“That’s not…”
—sand-colored eyes, sharp teeth, and a woman’s foot crushing my face, her strange laughter joyous and horrifying—
I looked over at Lu. She was frowning, lines between her eyebrows.
“I don’t think magic was involved.” Doubt softened my statement.
“It was magic. Or if not that,” Lawrence reached overhead and produced a handful of tiny daisy-like flowers that had not been there a moment before, “it was some kind of power. This wound isn’t as deep as it looks,” he told Hado. “I assume you can tell she’s not mortally wounded?”
Hado paused. His scowl didn’t waver, but he gave one curt nod.
“And you may also know that this wound is both strange and very serious. Inflicted by magic.”
—a woman. Why had I seen a woman in the crash—
“Power,” Hado agreed.
The van took a corner, and I braced my hand on the wall next to me. Moss compressed under my palm, cool and soft between my fingers. A soothing wash of comfort flooded through me like I’d just had a massage or a pint of beer. A soft piping song I could barely hear asked a question, invited a conversation.
An answering hum from the mushrooms on the other side of the van rolled through me. I lifted my hand away from the moss and the songs and humming ended.
