Page 11 of Amber Gambler

“How could it not be you?” Matty caught her wrists. “Trees don’t spontaneously heal themselves.”

“I was channeling energy from the other trees to help Elmo when it…kind of…vomited it back on me.”

“Trees don’t vomit.” I envisioned the sheen of yellow coating the vehicles in the lot. “Except pollen.”

“I’ve always pictured it as more of a sneeze,” Matty began before Josie growled at us.

“Elmo?” It hit me a beat later. “You named an elm treeElmo?”

“He likes it.” She sniffed. “I’m going to quarantine him until I figure out what’s going on.”

“Do you need our help?” Matty inched closer to me. “We can?—”

“No.” An exhalation pursed her lips. “You guys go on.” She turned away. “I’ll handle this.”

After rolling up our hoses, Matty and I parted ways on my landing with a promise to watch out for Josie.

And if I took first watch, staring out at the formerly burning tree, well, that was what sisters were for.

I definitely wasn’t watching to see if a figure stepped from the trunk like it was an otherworldly portal.

That would be silly.

Sleep refusedto come to me, and I couldn’t go to it. Armie made sure of that. The nightmare was always the same, which showed how little imagination I possessed when it came to that sort of thing. Mostly an awkward mashup of the events the night I snuffed out Armie’s soul, I almost wished for new material.

I texted Vi about the recent drama but didn’t expect a response. Next week was our scheduled meeting. I could hold it together that long. Her grandson, Rollo, wasn’t a fan of mine. He would do his damnedest to prevent me from contacting her a second before I was penciled in.

The jerk.

From her cat bed, Badb stared at me with dark, knowing eyes.

“I’m going for a run.” I tossed off the covers. “Want to come?”

Pumped for an excuse to visit the cemetery, or so I imagined, she beat me to the door.

Granted, I had to dress in my eye-searing neon-green running gear, strap on my flashing wrist lights, fasten my orange reflective vest over my chest, and center the headlamp Josie insisted I wear on my forehead first. No more stealthy night runs for me. Nope. I was a beacon. No one would miss me. I stood zero chance of being run down again.

Unless it was on purpose.

Again.

Certain I looked as ridiculous as I felt, I plodded out onto the landing where I locked the door.

A caw stuck in Badb’s throat I was certain was a laugh at my expense as she lit on my shoulder.

“Keep it up, Chuckles, and I’m going to band your ankles with flashing lights.”

Her flat look warned I would regret that decision. Or that I would live to regret trying. One of the two.

As I crunched across the parking lot onto the road, I found myself across from the formerly flaming tree.

Badb studied it from her perch, tilting her head this way and that, a sad noise rumbling from her chest.

“You really miss Kierce, huh?” I scratched under her beak. “Me too.” I tipped my head against hers, as if I could lighten her sorrow. “I would have liked to know him better.”

A single leaf spiraled from its limb, igniting halfway down. I jumped back, wary the whole tree was about to spontaneously combust again, and the leaf followed me. As it gave lazy chase, an uncanny knowing lit my bones, convincing me to hold still and offer out my palm.

The leaf drifted to rest there, teardrop shaped with serrated edges still burning, but I didn’t feel its sting. “Kierce?”

---