Demon Hunts. C.E. Murphy

just never seemed like the right time.

      I wasn’t sure now was right, either, but Melinda considered me briefly before shrugging. “Only a wise woman, maybe. A witch, a midwife. I would have been the one people came to for potions and cures in Mexico, but only because my grandmother was truly a bruja. She had the Sight, she had power, and she was the one who taught me to honor la diosa, the goddess. My mother,” she added, eyebrows elevating, “was very Catholic, and hated that I was drawn from the church to follow Nana’s path. My own children will not have to face that fight.”

      A smile crooked my lips. “What if they go back to the church?”

      “That’s their decision. They will not face that fight,” she said again. “Not from me.” She gave Caroline a finger to hold on to and waggled the baby’s hand for a moment before speaking again. “I grew up watching Nana communicate with and see into a world beyond ours. She called me sensitive and taught me what she could, but that’s all I am, Joanie. Sensitive. I see auras, but not to the depth you do. I can gather my energy and waken a power circle, but I can’t heal. I’ve been part of a coven, and found it didn’t suit me. My grandmother had seven children, but she lived alone after my grandfather died. Wise women in the tales often do, and let those who need them come to them. Not many people come looking, but I’m here when they do.”

      “I’m grateful.” I cleared my throat on the words, discomfited at how they’d burst out. I was more grateful than I could say. Without people like Billy and Melinda, the past year of adapting to my burgeoning powers would have been impossible, rather than merely extraordinarily difficult. I still thought I didn’t deserve them, but I was trying hard to step up so I did.

      Melinda smiled, then tipped her head toward the power circle. “I awakened it after Billy called so there would be residue for you to investigate. At least, if it works that way.”

      “I hope it does, because I doubt whoever’s out there—” I broke off, glancing out of the room toward Erik, and breathed, “eating people” before continuing in a normal voice, “I doubt they’re going to light up any kind of power circle just for my benefit in finding them.”

      “Caroline and I will get out of your way. I’ll be in the playroom with the babies if you need anything.”

      A smile didn’t seem sufficient. I stepped over to her and squooshed both friend and baby into a hug. “I don’t think it’ll take long. Thanks, Mel.”

      “My pleasure,” she said, and from the light in her aura, I knew she meant it. Inexplicably happy despite having been awakened at two in the morning to hunt cannibalistic killers, I turned my attention and the Sight on the remnants of the power circle, eager to see what could be seen.

      CHAPTER FOUR

      A whisper of power danced in the room, so faint with sunshine yellow and streaked orange that I wouldn’t have been able to name the colors if I hadn’t already associated them with Mel. They glimmered up and down like a fine sheen of waterfall mist caught between the wheels inscribed on the floor and ceiling.

      More, there was a lingering sense of what she’d done to awaken the circle. The one time I’d seen her use magic, she’d been calling on a goddess in hopes of getting some questions answered. As it happened, talking with a goddess had been trumped by other events, but I could feel a hint of similar intent in the circle now. It wasn’t quite the same: then, we’d come as supplicants, and what was left now was more a greeting, offering honor and admiration, and taking nothing in return.

      It reminded me that I’d promised my black-winged spirit guide that I’d do a better job of honoring and listening to it, and that I hadn’t made any effort to lately. “Hey, Melinda?”

      Her answering, “Yeah?” came from the playroom, followed by Erik’s cheery shriek as he knocked over another pile of blocks. I smiled and put my hand up, not quite touching the shimmering curve of fading magic. “Was this a keep-things-in or a keep-things-out circle?”

      “Figure it out yourself, Joanne!” She sounded rather like Erik, quite cheerful and maybe a little teasing. I raspberried her without rancor and focused on the circle again. She was right. If I was a slightly more clever shaman I’d have known it without asking. Nobody’d ever accused me of brilliance, though.

      Emboldened, I touched the faint residue, trying to keep an open mind to learn what it could tell me. The open mind bit was the hard part: on one level I wanted to snort at myself for imagining thin air would give me any information at all.

      The circle had been for keeping things in. Certainty exploded in me, then tumbled into bits of information that seemed to rise up rather than be the product of any conscious thought. For a few heartbeats I was Melinda, greeting my goddess with gladness and an open heart. The circle’s walls were protection both for the being within and for the world without: neither was entirely meant to interact with the other in this plane. Here, in the confines of Melinda’s sanctuary, there was very little chance of outside elements attacking, and so the power circle’s purpose was to constrain the goddess so she wouldn’t warp the world around her with her presence.

      Constrain was an awkward word there, implying control. But it was the constraint of a thousand-acre wildlife preserve: the creatures inside it were free to do as they pleased, with no outside interference. Melissa didn’t control her goddess, and indeed, standing there with the awareness of her power circle thrumming through me, I knew that whomever she worshipped had barely been present at all. It was, again, like the sun: it would come up and warm the earth whether someone stood to greet it or not. I was half glad and half disappointed that she hadn’t had time to answer our call at Halloween. The gods I’d met had been awe-inspiring, but they’d both been men. Meeting the female of the species would’ve been interesting. Probably in the apocryphal Chinese curse sense of the word, but interesting.

      I put a little pressure against the remaining magic, then stepped over the painted lines to enter the power circle. There was no resistance; wouldn’t have been even if Melinda had been pouring strength into it. It was meant to keep things in, after all. If it was active I might not be able to get out without Mel’s help, but with nothing more than a biding memory of magic in place, I thought I could come and go as I pleased. If not, Melinda would presumably rescue me as soon as I promised to babysit her horde of children so she and Billy could have a date night.

      Amused, I turned to each of the four cardinal points of the circle and offered awkward bows in each direction before kneeling in its center. “I didn’t bring any gifts,” I said aloud, trusting that Melinda either wouldn’t hear or—more likely—wouldn’t think I was batshit insane for talking to an empty room. “I wasn’t really planning on dropping in, but I remembered that I promised I’d do better, so I thought I should strike while the iron was hot.”

      I wet my lips, wondering if spirit guides worked in metaphor, then wondered what the hell else they could possibly work in. “I could use some help, if you’re in the mood to provide it.” It wasn’t graceful, but at least it acknowledged that my guide was autonomous, which was a lot smarter than trying to make demands.

      Once upon a time, not all that long ago, I’d have been deep inside the spirit realm talking to my mentor, Coyote, when I asked for help. Chances were he’d have been six kinds of useless, offering up little more than cryptic advice for me to sort out on my own. That was one of several million problems with being a shaman: they dealt with, and often were, tricksters who never gave straight answers to anything. But Coyote had died months ago, leaving me with achingly little wisdom and even less surety as to the path I was on. The closest thing I had to a saving grace—aside from Billy and Melinda and Gary, who were angels from on high as far as I was concerned—was somewhere in the heart of the spirit world, a raven had befriended me and become my guide. Billy was alive because of that bird, and I wondered if I’d ever really said thank you.

      Stung by the thought, I closed my eyes and dropped my chin to my chest. The circle’s power lines glowed against the back of my eyelids, much more strongly than before. Sometimes the Other was like that, easier to see when I wasn’t looking in the real world. “Actually,