“Find the source of the fuel?” He lifted his thick black eyebrows in question as sheapproached.
“We find a source ofmalice? That could be theentire damned world,” she said, biting back her fear that they were all crazy. But she’d found the old church groundsearlier...
“Is that what this energy is? Malice? Sounds about right. It’s all a learning process,” he said with a shrug, proceeding onward now that she’d caught up withhim.
“Swell. We won’t learn anything if we burn to death.” The acrid stench of wood smoke filtereddown on the breeze, but the fire was still a few milesaway.
“Fitting end for witches, I suppose,” he said fatalistically, hikingon.
She should follow Walker’s sensible advice and get the hell out of here. But she didn’t—because she couldfeelwhat Harvey was talking about. Her scientific observational skills required tracing the source of this energy, if only to prove itsexistence.
“There are no such things as witches,” she protested. “We may have a sensitivity to faults in the earth or uncannily strong senses of smell for pollution, but magic isn’treal.”
“Magic explains the inexplicable,” he said, covering ground in long loping strides. “I suppose one could substitute God, but too many nebulous variables attach to that concept. I try not to offend more peoplethan I alreadydo.”
He was luring her with his voice, she knew. She followed easily, keeping her eye on the distant flames. “I just offended Carmel, again. I apparently offend her by existing. So I’m guessing whatever magic voodoo you think we do isn’t the only reason people find usoffensive.”
“I carve wood,” he stated flatly. “I imbue no magic into it. Tell me these vibrationsare the magic of mycarving.”
She held the rod out and watched it quiver. “I’ve never felt wood vibrate before, but people have been using dowsing rods for centuries. Aren’t they supposed to beforked?”
“I’m hunting energy, not water or gold,” he saidirritably.
“Fine then, I’ll experiment and try to keep an open mind.” Energy dowsing sounded better than hunting formalice.
He didn’t bother acknowledging her attempt to understand. Harvey had a bit of a chip on his shoulder, shesuspected.
Sam tried to sense a path with the staff, but the energy it amplified was widespread. She swung around in a circle, holding out the rod, but one side wasn’t stronger than the other. She glanced up the hill. The stench of wet charred wood was heavy. The plane had droppedits chemical load between the fire and the lodge, leaving flames to lick downhill in the other direction—toward town and the bulldozers. She didn’t sense danger,yet.
She created a distance between herself and Harvey, spreading their range. The ground was relatively clear of brambles, but she kept an eye out for fleeing critters—likesnakes.
“Did you find Cass?” Harvey poked throughthe dead leaves with his blackstaff.
So much had happened that she’d forgotten they hadn’t had time to share the news. “We left her down in Hillvale, bossing everyonearound.”
“Long story best told over a fire with a bottle of wine?” hesuggested.
“A whole barrel of whiskey might be required. Cass has to live here. I’ll leave her to tell the tale, or the part she considerssuitable.”
“Yeah, she keeps secrets. You and Walker an item?” He was ahead of her as he asked that, so she couldn’t read hisexpression.
She didn’t know how she felt about that, or the intriguing man asking her. She wasn’t in a place yet that let her think about relationships. Last night had been necessary for both of them, but they were worlds apart. “Not sure. He helped me and Cass,but he’s here for his ownreasons.”
“Aren’t we all?” He glanced toward the fire line creeping closer despite the chemical retardant. “May be time to getout.”
Sam felt a tug on her staff. She halted and tried to sense the energy flow. Was this how she had chosen the best areas to plant back on the farm—without need of a stick? Neighbors had claimed she had a green thumb, but she’dassumed it had more to do with paying attention as to when to plant, water, and fertilize. Choosing the ground for planting had involved sun and the chemical composition of the soil and she’d let instinct guideher.
“I don’t know enough,” she said in frustration, swinging her stick over the area that had drawnher.
“There’s underground water around here somewhere,” Harvey remindedher. “That’s the reason for the well.” He dug his stick into the ground as if hoping it would create a magicalfountain.
“Water, oil, evil, who knows what we’re sensing? I had no classes in earth vibrations and what they mean.” But the urge to slam her stick into the ground next to Harvey’s wasstrong.
Their sticks vibrated hard enough to disturb the ground. To her shock, a few dropsof water trickled out, leaving a shiny streak over the rock beneath their joinedsticks.
“Does that mean you remember who you are?” Harvey asked, twisting harder, as if he wished to flood thevalley.
“I remember facts, but I’m not at all certain I ever knew who I was.” There was part of her dilemma. Was she the Samantha who wanted to escape her stultifying environment? Or the Samwho wanted family? Or some weird Sam she didn’t know but who liked walking sticks and foundwater?
