The horse raised his head and looked at me, long tufts of grass waving in his lips as he chewed.
I sent a vision of my house being built from the wood. Visions of the wood in its walls, on its floors, siding, window frames. And then I sent images of me walking on the cut boards, touching cabinets. Of me being able to commune with the land beneath simply by taking off my shoes and touching the boards that had grown on Soulwood.
The green horse was joined by the Green Knight, his hand on the horse’s neck. Waiting. Interested.
I sent it images of the vampire trees being cut down, shaped into logs, some cut into boards. Of being made into a house.
The horse stomped, nostrils flared. The Green Knight fisted his hand in the mane.
The tree sent me images of bloody tree stumps and roots, of bloody leaves waving in the air. Of vines coiling around my wrists. Sticking thorns into my flesh. Pulling me beneath the ground, wrapped tightly in roots.
Defensive moves. Saying no.
I called on Soulwood. Its power rose up in me, warm, alive, and... mine. I gathered it into myself. And shoved. Shoved theroots away, breaking them, tearing them, crushing them. Then sending an image of the trees cut down and made into a house. Allowed to regrow in the same place. Taking and giving back. A job.
The Green Knight and the horse backed up at a synchronized pace, stepping high over the tall green grass. Aloud, I said, “You will have to find a way to survive in this world, a job to do, a purpose to fulfill, and not just as my protector. I won’t have youimposingyour will onme. Soulwood and I will destroy you first.”
I sent an image of Soulwood rising up, a massive green predator. I had claimed leopards for my land and in my vision, the land rose as a leopard with dark green spots and emerald claws, huge green fangs like a monster. Another cat followed it, this one darker, a green so dark it might be black, but with paler green claws and serrated fangs and glowing leaf-green eyes. In my vision, I sent Soulwood after the tree.
The wild green cats attacked the Green Knight and the horse. The battle was fierce and short, and when the scarlet blood finished falling, the Green Knight and his horse were withering on the ground. Dead. The vision broke up and misted away, leaving the real Green Knight staring at me, his horse staring at me. Unmoving.
I didn’t wait to see its reaction. I got up and left the tree, walking to the Honda. I had never been threatened by a tree.The Green Knight, my pale leafy butt, I thought.I’ll kick your’un butt before I let you’un take me. I would not be abused by a dang tree, no matter how smart it was.
Back at my vehicle, I drove to the house, parked, and sent a text message to Sam, my brother, asking if he’d find out what the churchmen would charge to cut down and mill a bunch of trees. I didn’t mention the vampire tree. My brother thought it was a murdering demon tree. And maybe he was right. I gathered my gear and stepped from the car.
Soulwood reached up and twined around my soul. Healing. Warm. Full of gentle magic, my magic. The magic of life and all living things. But life came with battle, with defending all that was mine. And if I had to fight, that might come with death.
Before I got the door unlocked, I received a three-part text from Sam that the girls were staying over with Mama tonight,that he’d take Mud to school in the morning, and that he’d check on the logging and land clearing. I had... I had a night to myself. A night free. Delight spread through me. And then I remembered that Occam was in Cookeville.
Dagnabbit.
I changed clothes and went to the greenhouse. Greenhouses took a lot of work, but it wasn’t backbreaking work, since the beds were raised and so much was automated, like the delivery system for water and fertilizer. I worked in the garden too, which was much harder on the back. I weeded, harvested, turned over the mulch, picked off pests and wondered if chicken runs in the garden would keep most of the pests off. I’d never tried it. I worked hard, sweating, needing this, this contact with the earth. With Soulwood.
Hours later, my cell rang just as I was crawling into bed. I answered, “Ingram here. Hello, FireWind.”
“Two more people who were at the house the day the T-shirts were opened have fallen ill. All of the sick are now at UTMC for paranormal medical workups. Go to the hospital in the morning andthis time,” he said sharply, “stay long enough to interview the sick and their doctors. I have done this one by cell; I want you to personally reissue the invitation for the patients to use the null room at HQ. When you get to HQ, I’d like you to spend a bit of time in it too, just to be on the safe side.”
I hadn’t interviewed the patients last time I visited because Connelly Darrow died. It had been the right thing to do, but I hadn’t gone back yet. And FireWind was peeved. “Yes, sir,” I said.
The call ended. I stared at the screen and said, “Good-bye to you too.” And oddly, my brain added one silent word to that.
Butthole.
I felt dreadfully guilty.
TEN
I arrived at the University of Tennessee Medical Center, Paranormal Unit, just before dawn. I went through the usual process of showing ID at the nurses’ station and gave them two more null pens to share among the patients. Following FireWind’s orders, I informed and reminded them that time in a null room should be a primary component of the patients’ treatment plans.
After comparing the names of the patients on the floor with a list sent to me by Tandy during the night, and dressing out in a blue gown, gloves, booties, and a mask, I eased back the patient curtain in Thomas Langer’s room. Robinelle was asleep in the chair in the corner, her legs drawn up, her head at an uncomfortable angle, weighted down by the big bun.
There were purple circles under Robinelle’s eyes and her skin was ashen. She was exhausted. I was careful not to wake her, and turned slowly to look at her brother. I managed to hold in my flinch. Thomas Langer was watching me.
His dark eyes were intense, and his hands, in restraints at his sides to keep him from pulling his tubes out, were balled tightly inside the bloody and green-goo-stained bandages. A pulse pounded in his throat, throbbing beneath the bluish vein. His dreadlocks had been pulled back beneath a blue cap. He was still on the ventilator.
I tilted my head. “Do you understand me?”
He tried to speak and his eyes clenched shut. It looked painful. He opened them a few heartbeats later and nodded once.
