Like Abby, I studied the ground. The rock was scraped, just like the vortex at Airport Mesa had been.
“So, the vortex…” I whispered as if it might hear me and attack. And, hell. Who knew?
Abby stretched out her arms, palms down, the way folks absorbed the heat of a bonfire in winter, and moved around.
“It’s weak and diffuse. And it’s pulsing a little, like it’s angry.”
Yeah, well. Who wouldn’t be with Lisa around?
She scanned our surroundings, then kicked at the ashes on the ground. They whirled into the air and puffed over the edge of the rock arch, which was only a few steps across.
I sniffed around. Bears had some of the best noses in the world, and even in human form, that sense was finely honed.
“That fire is recent,” I said, then sniffed some more. “Two people came through maybe an hour ago. Jay and Lisa.”
“You mean Jay and Liselle,” Abby muttered.
“She was introduced to me as Lisa,” I said, scowling. “I met her during a job in Nevada. The Clark Canyon fire.”
Abby nodded, and I went on.
“She came over to my crew when we were eating out one night after things had settled down a bit. She offered to payfor the meal and invited us to her place — an amazing house overlooking Lake Tahoe…” I made a face, remembering her pointing it out. “Of course, we couldn’t accept…”
Locals usually treated fire crews well, bringing us home-cooked goodies and hanging huge thank-you signs wherever we pitched camp. We got a lot of dinner invitations too, but we had to turn those down as a matter of policy. As government employees, we weren’t allowed to accept gifts.
“We explained that to her, but she kept insisting. Eventually, she invited herself to our table and chummed around for a while, too.”
“Chummed around?” Abby’s eyebrows drew together.
I made a face. “Hitting on the guys. I was all the way at the far end of the table, but she went after my brother Peter real hard. He was polite but totally uninterested, and he kept turning her down.”
“Let me guess. She was very insistent.” Abby’s voice was bitter, like she’d experienced that too.
“More than insistent. She wouldn’t take no for an answer, and she was really mad when we left.”
I’d hated her then, and I hated her now, because the ugly memory overshadowed what should have been good memories of my brother.
Abby waited a moment, then asked, “Then what?”
I shrugged. “She made a big scene in the parking lot. But that was it. The fire flared up overnight, and we went back to work.” I cleared my throat, skipping over the tragedy that had ensued. “Anyway, we never saw her again. Hard to forget her, though — and I don’t mean in a good way. She’s the type who stirs up trouble wherever she goes.”
“No kidding,” Abby muttered. “She was the one who held me up the day I was late to Claire’s school.”
Alarms went off in my mind. “What did she want?”
“A brazier,” Abby said, staring at the ground. “A portable one…” She knelt and rubbed fresh ashes between her fingers.
“For what?” I asked, more alarmed than ever.
Abby dusted off her hands and moved around, studying the ground. Then she scowled and gazed into the distance. “I don’t know. I know she’s a witch, though.”
“A witch?” I spat out the word, then stopped at Abby’s affronted expression. Oops. “I mean, a bad one?”
Abby flashed a thin smile. “Yes, a bad one. Not especially powerful, but if you’re not on guard…”
Her eyes flashed, and I wondered if — when? — Abby had let her guard slip.
The next minute passed in ponderous silence. We both scanned the area, but there was no one around. Finally, Abby sighed, sat, and flopped on her back, grumbling. “Damn, is it early.”
