Chapter 16
“Oh dear,”Cass murmured. “Is it the solsticealready?”
Walker turned on his radio and hit the gas. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he demanded as he took the curves at breakneck speed, sirenscreaming.
“Nulls once burned bonfires to ward off evil—likewitches—on summer’s eve. The cards warned hostilities would commence on the solstice.” Cass peered out thewindow.
“I think that’s tomorrow,” Walker said after reporting the fire to the office. “And any fool burning in this drought needs to behorsewhipped.”
Meeting a line of cars exiting Hillvale, Walker flashed his lights and used the siren. They eased to one side so he could reachthe parking lot. A line of traffic still streamed down from the lodge. On a weekend, the lodge was packed—it was like watching money flow down thedrain.
The chatter on the radio indicated the fire had been reported and emergency services were heading up, but Hillvale was a long way fromanywhere.
“You ladies need to get out here,” Walker ordered, eyeing the lick of flame throughthe pines on theridge.
“Does the lodge have any earth movers?” Sam asked, notunbuckling.
“Monty does. He parks them in the town lot.” Cass did unbuckle, but only so she could open the door and hail Mariah. “Tell Monty to move the mountain,” shecalled.
Mariah signaled understanding and trottedoff.
“Get out, Cass,” Walker said between clenched teeth. “I don’t havetime to fightyou.”
The old witch leaned over and patted him on the shoulder. “You’re not a fireman, dear. Direct traffic, keep Sam safe, and we’ll do the rest. We’re prepared forthis.”
He only bit his tongue because she climbed out to join the rest of her coven gathering in the lot, carrying shovels and hoes. His blood pressure probably soared thirtypoints.
“Sam—” he saidwarningly.
“They’re going to cut a line between town and the fire. That fire is aimed for Hillvale, not the lodge,” she said acerbically. “Someone is literally and metaphorically trying to burn themout.”
That was craziness. And she believed it? He cursed again, turned the sirens back on, and began forcing traffic to the side of the road so he could reach the lodge. After years ofsitting behind a desk, he indulged in the visceral satisfaction of active commandagain.
Except he couldn’t force the insane woman beside him to follow hisorders.
While he maneuvered past hulking SUVs driven by terrified tourists, she leaned over to gaze up the mountain. “Looks as if it started on Menendez land. I don’t remember any tall trees there. I thought it looked as if ithad beenlogged.”
“Pines all around it.” Pines that would shoot sparks all over the mountain if the wind pickedup.
“Water hoses won’t reach that far. How do they fight fire upthere?”
He shut the sirens as he hit the parking lot where lodge guests still spilled from the building, carrying suitcases andchildren.
Children. They had effing damned children in the pathof that fire. He watched a curly-haired toddler no older than Davy had been and his lungs ran out ofair.
Focus,Walker. Resist the urge to grab the children and run. “Water trucks,” he said curtly. “Planes. They’re on the way. Clearing brush is the best thing we cando.”
He slammed out of the car, fighting his protective instincts. He couldn’t take care of Sam, and he sure as hellcouldn’t take care of a hotel filled with people. But he had a job todo.
Walker watched warily as Sam let herself out the other side. Her elegantly boned face was so much like Cass’s it was eerie, now that he’d seen them together. Both women were poised in the face of danger. Sam’s stillness was almost terrifying, akin to a cougar that smells danger and freezes beforeleaping.
“It’s fueled on evil,” she murmured. “I can feel it flowing through the ground. Cass is right. Someone deliberately set thatfire.”
Shit, back to crazy again. “Stay here. Don’t move or I put you inhandcuffs.”
Lazy, lanky Harvey, the long-haired musician and wood-carver, hurried across the lot to add to Walker’s escalating fury andanxiety.
Sam wasaware that she’d ticked Walker off, but the primal elements flowing through her were stronger than his anger. She felt as connected to the land as she did to Cass. She could feel thestress. It was an odd feeling, stronger than the ones she’d used forplanting.
