Amazon Queen (10 page)

Thea nodded. “That would be for the best, and simple enough to set up.”

Shocked that Thea would agree with what Bern was suggesting, I twisted my head to look from one to the other. “No. Bern didn’t kill her; I won’t pretend she did.”

“Not”—Thea glanced at Areto—“even to save the tribe?”

My grip on the flashlight grew slippery. My grip on reality too, but I shook my head. “We’ve survived worse.” I snorted. “It isn’t like humans haven’t noticed us before, been suspicious of us before. It isn’t even like I haven’t been arrested before.”

“All the more reason Bern should stand in for you. We can move the body, make it look like Bern robbed her.” She glanced around our tiny circle. “Did she have a car? Do we know where it is parked? Bern could take it, get caught with the body in the trunk. They’ll think it was robbery, clean and simple. Then you and the tribe are off the hook.” She held out one hand to Bern. “Give me your totem. Besides your tattoos, it’s the only thing tying you to us. And the humans won’t understand their power, or . . . ” She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. “Sare might have time to change your
givnomai.
The
telios
will pass. Lots of human females have tattoos there.”

I grabbed her phone. She blinked at me, but didn’t object.

“Lots of humans have tattoos on their breasts too. No one is messing with Bern’s tattoos.” The very thought of stripping an Amazon of her tattoos, taking away her personal power or her tie to her clan . . . it sent a chill through me like a frost-covered spear. “And Bern isn’t throwing herself on the sword—not for this. It isn’t her place; it isn’t her responsibility.”

Something flickered in Thea’s eyes. She lifted her head. “Then whose is it?”

Mine. Of course it was mine.

But because of my past arrest and what Mel had told the detective who had arrested me, turning myself over wasn’t so simple. The police in Wisconsin already knew a closed group of women, all women, lived somewhere in northern Illinois, and also knew my friend Mel had left us. They hadn’t wanted to let me go the last time, but with the true criminal, the murderous son, handed to them all but gift wrapped, they’d had no choice.

If I got arrested again, they wouldn’t miss the opportunity to look a lot more deeply into exactly what kind of group I ran.

I looked at Areto. “Wake the others and find the woman’s car. Take Lao with you in case you can’t find the keys.”

My attention back on Thea, I continued, “Do whatever you can to cover up where she’s been. Make it look like a robbery or, better yet, an accident.”

I smiled. “An accident.”
Binoculars
. I reached down and shuffled inside the birder’s jacket; sure enough her binoculars were hidden inside. “Make it look like these got caught on something and she fell.”

“So where should we do this?” Areto asked.

I paused, then smiled. “I have an address for you. A cabin just burned down. There’s some old machinery lying around. See if Lao can figure out a way to make it look like the cord got caught on something, and leave the body there.”

With that, Areto ran off to wake Lao and the warriors, leaving me with Thea and Bern. The warrior made a move to leave too, but I stopped her.

“I’m heading to Madison in twenty minutes and you’re coming with me. Tell Areto and do whatever else you need to do. I don’t know how long we’ll be gone.”

A slight shift of Bern’s eyebrows told me she heard me before she too jogged into the house.

“You’re leaving?” Thea asked.

I ignored the incredulity of her tone. “The high council hasn’t called with information?”

“No.”

“Then we still have a baby to find.” I dropped her phone on the grass, my heel grazing it as I went to make sure the warriors understood what they were to do.

It wasn’t even four
in the morning when we arrived in Madison. The trip had been quiet. Bern wasn’t much of a talker, but then, neither was I.

I took the John Nolan exit off the Beltline, going toward the capitol. I knew stopping at Mel’s this early would do me no good. In fact, it would just increase the suspicion I was sure would be waiting for me. I knew Mel and she knew me. She would know I hadn’t come to Madison for a simple reunion.

The farmer’s market was a horribly thin cover, but hopefully enough of one my friend wouldn’t be on alert immediately. I just needed her mind open long enough for me to explain that I was here to save a child, not just seek revenge on the sons.

This route took us over Lake Monona. The water was still, blue, and if you looked in the right direction, endless. Just like I’d always believed the Amazons would be.

“Thank you.”

Bern’s sudden burst of conversation startled me. I glanced at her.

“For not asking me to give up my
givnomai.
” She touched her breast where her personal power tattoo was located. I didn’t know what Bern’s
givnomai
was; if nothing else the first run-in with the sons had taught us keeping that secret was important. But based on her personality and the strengths she bore, I would guess she chose a bull or perhaps a bear, something strong or solitary.

“I couldn’t do that,” I replied.

She looked at me, her green eyes piercing. “You could. You didn’t.”

She was right; I could have. Thea would . . . did argue I should have taken it to protect the tribe. But what was the tribe? Not a faceless group, but individuals. Wasn’t my duty as much to each of them as to the whole?

“Lao will be a while.” I wasn’t sure how long. It depended on what she had to do to make the birder’s death look like an accident. The other hearth-keepers were following us with most of their market goods. Lao would drive up alone when she could. “We’ll take her place and help direct the setup.”

The warrior turned to stare at the lake.

I knew she was wondering why I had brought her. But I hadn’t wanted to leave her behind, hadn’t wanted to tempt Thea to push her to take the fall for the birder’s murder.

“Then later, when things are going well, we will go see a friend of mine.”

She glanced at me then, but went back to her silence. Maybe she had nothing to say, or maybe she was thinking of something Thea had said right before we left how Mel had left the tribe and not to trust her.

I didn’t bother probing the warrior to see. It didn’t matter. Mel was the only lead I had.

The market was set up in a giant circle around the capitol building. It took us a while to find our spot, squished in between a local dairy and a nursery selling what looked like grass they had pulled from some field.

By the time we found it, the hearth-keepers had arrived too. I put Bern to work lugging tables while I taped hand-lettered signs to boxes of tomatoes and herbs. When I was done, Bern and I helped pull the tarp into place over our booth. The weather looked fine, but you never knew, and having shade from the sun was good too. As I tied the tarp’s cord around one of the poles we’d brought for that purpose, I saw two hearth-keepers who weren’t from our camp whispering to Tess.

She glanced up, but when she saw me watching, she dropped her gaze. I looked at Bern. She shrugged. “They’re impressed you’re helping. Most queens wouldn’t.”

I frowned. I didn’t work with the hearth-keepers much, but it wasn’t because I thought I was too good for their work. It was just, well,
their
work, and if I were to be honest with myself, I wasn’t good at it.

But then maybe that was because I did shy away from it.

With that in mind, I took a little more care with the rest of my duties and when the market opened at six, we were completely set up and ready for business. I was bagging a bunch of radishes for an elderly lady when Lao arrived.

As I handed the woman her change, I noticed a light of approval in the older hearth-keeper’s eyes. When a mother with two toddlers in tow asked for a dozen tomatoes, I helped her too. This time when I glanced at Lao there was a smile on her lips.

“Business is good,” she said.

I nodded, feeling awkward. I shoved a bag I hadn’t realized I’d held back into the cardboard box where the hearth-keepers stored them.

“So things went smoothly?” I asked.

Her face turned somber. “Yes. Although . . . ”

“What?”

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

I could feel there was something she wasn’t saying, something she wanted to say but perhaps felt she couldn’t . . . or shouldn’t.

Suddenly I wanted the older Amazon to talk to me like she would anyone else. I was tired of being queen twenty-four/seven, of having everything I did and said analyzed because of my position.

“You can tell me, you know,” I said as casually as I could. I didn’t want her to think my comment was an order. I wanted to know what she was thinking, but I also wanted her
to want
to tell me. In the middle of rolling radishes over in their box, so they showed at their best, I paused.

I hadn’t felt like this in a long time . . . didn’t let myself feel like this.

Lao, unaware of my moment of sudden insight, placed her hands on her hips and stared toward the domed capitol building that dominated the square. “I’m not sure about that high priestess. She’s got ideas . . . ” She dropped her attention to some basil and muttered under her breath.

“What?” I prompted.

When she looked up, her eyes were clear and direct. “I heard what she wanted to do to Bern. How you wouldn’t let her.”

I shifted my eyes then and pretended to study a group of college kids dressed in cutoff sweatpants and skin-tight tanks. “It isn’t Bern’s responsibility to protect the tribe; it’s mine.”

Lao nodded. “Thea mentioned that too . . . ” Then she wandered to the other side of the booth to help two soccer moms who were ooing over a small collection of hand-carved fetishes Sare had sent along.

My fingers tightened on the radishes, snapping their green tops off into the bin.

Thea had talked about me to Lao, or at least in front of Lao and, I guessed, questioned my choice.

My time with the hearth-keepers and my desire to put my role to the side for a while was quickly forgotten.

I was beginning to doubt my decision to leave Thea behind and beginning to wonder what I would find when I returned to camp.

At nine, Bern and I left. Mel’s shop didn’t open until eleven, but I wanted time to talk to her alone—before the son showed up for work, assuming he was working today and he and Mel hadn’t taken their relationship to a level I didn’t want to think about.

Based on the fact she’d gone with him to Michigan, I was fairly certain that was a lost hope.

Peter was attractive; there was no denying that. When I’d first met him, I’d actually encouraged Mel to hook up with him, but that was before I knew he was a son. Now I hoped she’d wised up.

But I doubted it. Mel was too stubborn for that, and as I said, I already had evidence to the contrary.

Bern rode shotgun again, a silent shotgun.

When we pulled into Mel’s lot, I gestured for her to grab the basket filled with produce I’d taken from the booth—a kind of peace offering.

With Bern walking behind me, I paced toward the building.

I was nervous. It was a strange thing to realize and admit even to myself. I hadn’t seen Mel in a while, and our time together then had been volatile, but for a long, long time Mel—and her family, but mainly Mel—had been one of the most important people in my life. Even more important than my own mother. A lot more important than my mother.

We’d made some ground in repairing our relationship last fall, but I knew if she had bonded with the sons, what I was going to ask of her would split her loyalties. And there was every possibility she would choose the sons over the Amazons.

I wasn’t looking forward to it.

Mel’s shop and home was in a hundred-year-old school set on about an acre on the Near West Side of Madison. She’d bought the place from the city ten years earlier. There were two buildings on the property—the old school itself, where Mel and her family—her mother, grandmother, and Harmony, her teen daughter—lived and worked, and the old gym/cafeteria. That’s where I along with a couple dozen other Amazons had stayed last fall.

We entered the main school from the side, through the basement. The shop’s door was in the front, but it would be locked. The basement was where Mel’s grandmother, an ex–high priestess, ran her fortune-telling and other new age arts business. It was also where Mel’s mother, a warrior, kept her gym.

I was hoping to see either of them first, as a warm-up of sorts before facing Mel.

I opened the door and walked into a room filled with the last thing I’d expected to see—babies. There were at least a dozen of them, tucked inside round-bottomed plastic seats. The kind of combination seat/carrier the baby I’d lost had been in.

I froze; it was like walking into a nightmare.

Behind me Bern muttered, “Babies.”

My body relaxed, released the air I’d been holding in my lungs. She saw them too. For a second I’d really thought . . . well, Bubbe, Mel’s grandmother, was a powerful priestess. I wasn’t completely sure she couldn’t have known I was coming and plotted the perfect greeting. Be planning to make me sort through the lot of them to try to discern the baby I sought as some kind of worthiness trial.