War-N-Wit, Inc. – Resurrection (2 page)

Chapter Two

We completed all medical forms and insurance documents with
a speed that confirmed this wasn’t the first time he’d checked himself out of a
hospital.

I brought the Equinox around to pick him up. I parked in the
“Pick-Up” Circle and opened the passenger door.

He looked at me. “You’re kidding, right?”

I’d expected that. “Which means you want to drive?”

“It’s my left shoulder, nothing wrong with my right arm.”

I sighed. “Yeah, well, it’s a long drive from Atlanta to south Georgia.
How ‘bout I take it at least to Macon?
Or are you that scared of my driving?”

“I guess that’d be okay.” He grumbled as he maneuvered
himself into the passenger seat, pulling the door shut with his right hand.

Finally. We were headed home. Home was Quitman, Georgia.
I’d never seen it and it didn’t matter. I’d never even asked for any
descriptions or pictures. Home was wherever Magic Man was. Nor did I ask any
questions about it on the trip there. Sight unseen, it was part of me. Because
he was. And I’d love it. Because I loved him. I knew he couldn’t wait to show
it to me. The miles rolled by, the conversation accompanied by Sirius radio on
whatever music decade hit our fancy.

About mid-way between Atlanta
and Macon, he
broached the subject of Hedgepath and the Resurrection Society. Lord knows I
wasn’t going to.

“Baby girl.”

“Um?”

“I never told you. Probably should have, but I didn’t want
to scare you off, what with you just realizing you’re a witch and all.” He
paused.

“With a lead-in like that, Magic Man, this ain’t the time to
stop talkin’.”

“Mostly what I do is strictly ordinary run-of-the-mill legal
support. Investigations, background checks, skip traces, service of process,
bring in a bounty every now and then.”

He stopped, apparently not sure how to proceed. I rather
enjoyed the novelty of that, but after a few seconds, I decided I’d help out a
bit.

“The word mostly implies not always.”

He sighed. “Yeah. It does.” He sighed again. “Magic’s very
old, baby girl. It comes in many shapes and sizes. And strengths. And it’s
dangerous if it’s misused. Because it can turn dark. And dark magic poses a
problem not just for those of us who have magic and respect it, but because –”

“It’s a danger to everyone, magical or not.”

“Exactly. So over the years, a sort of—well—Guardianship’s
been set up.”

“But it’s not listed in the Yellow Pages.”

He laughed. “No, it sure is not.”

“Are you a Guardian?”

“No. But they call me occasionally. When they feel something
might need to be checked out.”

“Does that work in reverse, too? Any of us ever call them?
When we think something might ought to be checked out?”

“Yeah.”

“You think Hedgepath and Resurrection oughta be checked
out?”

He sighed. “Much as I dislike that whole set-up and much as
I disliked it from the start, I’m beginning to think something new has entered
the picture. There’s always been something about Hedgepath that didn’t strike
the right chord with me, but today, I don’t know, it wasn’t just ‘cause he
pissed me off so bad, it was something else. How’d he strike you?”

“I detested him instantly. Just on his voice and attitude.”

“Yeah. Something dark and getting darker. So I’m thinking
when we get settled in at home, I ought to make a call.”

“And possibly do some investigating. Not
for
Hedgepath and Resurrection. But about
them.”

“’Fraid so.”

“Your area of expertise. Your call.”

We hit the 247 Bypass around Macon and kept heading south. I could feel
his anticipation growing with every mile, and I didn’t argue when he tapped my
shoulder and signaled for me to pull over so he could claim the wheel. We made
the switch and a few miles outside of Quitman, he reached over and turned off
the radio.

“Almost there?”

He pointed to what appeared to be a farm road off to the
right.

“Is that an actual road?”

“It’s your new driveway, baby girl.”

“Really?” I glanced around in delight at the fields of pines
on either side. It was moving on into February but that didn’t make any
difference in an evergreen forest that was perpetually green. It didn’t make
all that much difference in south Georgia, anyway, where the winters were so
mild they wouldn’t be classed as real winter by most of the country. A few
hundred yards in, he stopped at a closed gate, let down the window and punched
a code into the code box on the post. Overhead a sign proclaimed,
Pine Whisper Plantation
.

The driveway seemed endless.

“How long is it?”

“Bout a mile. We have a hundred acres, some in pines, some
in pasture. We keep a few horses, a few cows. I hope you’re not disappointed
with the house. It’s not big, it’s just been me, but I wanted to wait till I
found you. So we can build whatever you want when we’re ready.”

“Disappointed? You’re kiddin’, right? You didn’t tell me we
had a farm.”

He laughed. “What’s the matter, you don’t read? It’s a
plantation, precious. But just a baby one.”

The road dipped over a hill and I exhaled in whistling
delight. “
Ohhh!
It’s a tree house!”

“Well, it’s called an island house. It’s made mostly out of
old wood from a couple of barns we tore down. And I scavenged for more old wood
so the deck’d match. You like?”

I stared in wonder. It was a jewel. Old, old board. It sat
high off the ground on a stilt foundation under a thick stand of oak trees.
Unless you looked closely, you’d swear it was floating in the branches. A deck
completely encircled it, with long steps running from either end of the deck
down to the ground. He’d put in large sheets of clear and open glass rather
than conventional windows on all sides. The view out across the fields must be
stunning.

“I never imagined. I can’t wait to see inside!”

“Yeah, well, looks like you might have to for a minute.” He
pointed to the left. An older gentleman walked across the open pasture towards
us. He wasn’t alone. A large dog walked beside him. He wasn’t on a leash, but
he heeled perfectly.

The dog stopped, His ears perked and his head raised.

“Thor!” Chad
called.

The dog leapt into action, racing towards Chad’s voice.
As he neared I wondered at his breed. A shepherd, I first thought, but there
was something—well, I’d know in a few seconds. Thor skidded to a stop in front
of Chad,
lifted onto two legs and placed both feet on Chad’s chest. Laughing, Chad held out
his right arm to prevent contact with his left shoulder.

“Manners, boy, manners! Yeah, I missed you, too. Down now.”
Thor obeyed instantly.

I looked down—though not very far—into ice-blue eyes. No,
not ice-blue. Somewhere between ice-blue and silver. Wolf eyes.

I vaguely heard Chad’s voice, even registered the
words. “This is Thor. He’s a Canadian Timberwolf-husky blend.”

I didn’t need to register the words to recognize Thor. I
felt it instantly, that connection, like spiritual bonding. As powerful as last
Christmas, when I’d given in and faced myself, accepted my gift and known once
and for all that I wasn’t like most people. I was a witch. Now, looking deep
into those ice-blue, silver eyes, the spirit of the wolf flew into me. I
understood the thing I hadn’t yet pegged about Chad’s eyes in an instant. The
spirit of one wolf awakened the spirit of another.
 
The wolf was Magic Man’s spirit animal. Mine,
too. I broke my stare with Thor and looked up at Chad.

“Holy. Shit.”

“What?”

“Your eyes. They’ve turned almost silver.”

“You’re surprised?”

He gave a grin and shook his head. “Well, no, I’m not. Not
in the slightest.”

The older man was approaching now.

“And this is Buddy. Jim McAfee, officially, but known and
loved by all as Buddy. He looks after the place—and Thor—for me when I’m gone.
Got a little modular home over back of that grove over there. Buddy, this is my
wife, Ariel.”

“Ma’am.” Buddy gave me a courtly nod and an appraising
glance. He seemed satisfied because he smiled and said, “I’m guessing things
just gonna get stranger and stranger ‘round here now.”

I laughed. “And why would you guess that, Buddy?”

“Peas in a pod. Two peas in a pod. Took him awhile to find
you. The wit to his war. Oh, yeah. Hate to see the young’uns. And I ain’t
plannin’ on doing no babysittin’, neither, warnin’ both of you right now.
Kid’ll probably be levitating in his playpen with the two of you for parents.”

Oh, Lord! I hadn’t thought of that. He might be right. But
I’d worry about it later. For right now, I was on an adventure.

“How many folks call you Magic Man?” I asked.

“Just you. And Spike. And Buddy. And Stacy. And a few
others.”

I laughed. Spike was an old friend of Chad’s I’d met
in Vegas, a pediatrician who looked like he rode with Hell’s Angels. He’d put
himself through medical school by moonlighting as a bounty hunter. Spike
claimed he had no powers. Chad
was a little skeptical of that and believed Spike had powers and just didn’t
know it because he didn’t want to know it. Stacy was my sister. Stacy’s powers
were a little different from ours. Basically, Chad and I were telepaths. We could
read people. Not their minds, exactly, it was more a “total package” thing, who
they really were underneath all pretenses. Stacy was a ghost-whisperer. Without
her, we’d never have saved the one girl still alive in that serial killer’s
horror house in Marietta.
I’d take a wild guess the “few others” might refer to those he called “the
Guardians”.

“So just the folks who know you well, huh?”

“Guess you could say that. Ready for the tour?”

“You feel like walkin’?”

“Baby girl.”

“Sorry. I forgot. Admit no weakness.”

Buddy laughed. “Yeah, and we can always take the golf cart.”

“It’s not a golf cart, Buddy, it’s a –”

“I know, I know! Call it what you want, Magic Man, it’s a
fancy golf cart. I’ll go collect it, Miss Ariel needs to get settled. Go show
her the house.”

Chapter Three

I raced ahead of Chad up the steps, though Thor beat
me in. I knew what I’d see before I saw it. Walls of old board stained glowing,
golden oak, protected by coats of clear polyurethane and highlighted with dream
catchers and oils of wolves roaming a great forest. Floors stained to match the
walls, spotlighted with rich, deep pools of oriental rugs. A leather couch,
with matching loveseat and recliners in chocolate brown. Warm fleece throws
draped across the backs of the furniture created spots of color. The main room
was a great room with a cathedral ceiling. A fireplace insert was set into one
corner, with built in desk work-stations set into the middle of each adjoining
wall creating an office-study. Each unit was surrounded by built-in shelves,
each complete with comfortable chairs.

“Oooohhh,” I breathed softly.

“Like it?” He came to stand beside me as I inspected the
vacant work station. A writer’s heaven, perfect height, shelf space, drawers.
I’d been a closet writer for years, scribbling and typing away in secret. Until
Chad,
no one had known but my little sister, Stacy. And the agents who’d supplied
plenty of rejection letters, though I tended to doubt they’d made note of my
name.

“Did you do this before you found me?”

“Yes. Didn’t know you’d be a writer, but I always knew you’d
be my business partner. Partners have to have desks. Will it work for your
writing, though? ‘Cause I’ll modify it however you need.”

“Oh, yes! My laptop will think it’s died and gone to
heaven!”

A kitchen alcove sat in the back, small but set up as a
cook’s dream with appliances any chef would kill for.

“And here’s our bedroom,” he said, moving toward an open
door. The same décor dominated the bedroom. Country comfortable furniture, a
king-size bed with built in drawers in the base, rich colors against warm
neutrals. “Our bath’s through here, and there’s another small extra room with a
little bath. And that’s it.”

“It’s so far beyond perfect it oughta be illegal.” The big
dream catcher over the head of the bed, intricate as a spider web, radiated
peace and protection. “The dream catchers are unbelievable. So are the wolf
oils in the big room.”

“The dream catchers are from the Cherokee Reservation in North Carolina. Got
kinda an affinity for ‘em, my great-great and maybe another great, I never
remember—was on the Trail of Tears. His name’s recorded and everything.”

“That doesn’t surprise me, somehow,” I said.

A horn honked from outside.

“Buddy’s got the Ranger,” Chad said. “Wanta quick tour around
before dark?”

“Sure. That would be the golf cart?”

Chad
laughed. “A glorified golf cart, yeah. Mini-jeep things, hunters use ‘em for
the woods and lots of farms have ‘em.”

“You don’t use it for huntin’, I’m guessin’.” This man, so
much a part of the rhythm of the universe, didn’t hunt. Well, he did. Just not
animals.

“No, baby girl,” he laughed in confirmation. “I only hunt
the bad guys.” The horn beeped again. “And your chariot awaits.”

* * *

We piled into the bright red Ranger, Thor pressed close
against my side. I’d never seen one before but it seemed a cross between a mini-Jeep
and a mini-Range Rover. They showed me the ponds stocked with catfish and
bream, the pastures with the small herd of cattle, the stands of fruit trees
and groves of pecan trees. I met the pygmy goats and the barn cats. I exchanged
blown breaths with Stalwart, the roan stallion, and Lady, the golden brown
mare, and Sweetpea, their little daughter not a year old yet.

“You ride?” Chad
asked.

“Never in my life,” I said. “I’ve never even touched a horse
before.”

“Really?” Buddy grinned. “Now that I wouldn’t believe, quick
as they took to you. But then again, seein’ as how it’s you, I guess I do.
Never petted a goat either, I’m assumin’?”

“You’d assume right,” I confirmed.

“Well. Some damn.”

We headed back. Dark came early in February. Out of the
corner of my eye, I saw again a fleeting image of a big black cat. I hadn’t met
that cat. He must not care for the company of the other cats. But I’d seen him
moving in the bushes off and on through the whole tour.

“Where does that black cat stay?” I asked. “He must be a
loner, he’s never with the others.”

“We don’t have a black cat,” Chad said.

“We do now,” said Buddy. “Been seein’ him around the last
month or so. Just here and there. Out of the corner of my eye. And then he
hightails it outta here like he don’t much want anybody to see him.”

Chad
sighed. “Well, there’s always room for one more. Hope he’s not completely
wild.”

“Don’t think so,” Buddy said. “Haven’t seen anything makes
me worried ‘bout him causin’ a problem. And the way Miss Ariel’s takin’ over all
the animals, she’ll have him on the deck drinkin’ outta a saucer in a week.”

“Got other things to do on the deck tonight,” Chad said.
“Like soak in the hot tub. Let’s go home.”

“The deck’s got a hot tub?” I could feel my ears perk like
Thor’s. “I didn’t see it.”

“Around on the back. Oh, yeah. Buddy, home if you please.”

“You got it, Magic Man.”