Wild Warrior (The Weavers Circle 2)

“Baer!” Grey snapped. Baer’s head jerked up to see the Soul Weaver glaring at him. “Fucking focus!”

A hot flush burned his cheeks. “Hey! Stay out of my head!”

“It doesn’t count as getting in your head when your thoughts are practically shouting at me,” Grey snarled.

“Enough,” Clay said evenly.

Baer sighed and shook his head as if that alone could clear away his increasingly dirty fantasies featuring Wiley. “No, he’s right. I need to concentrate on what we’re doing.”

With his hands shoved in his pockets, Baer followed behind his two brothers as they crossed the street and entered the tree-filled square at the intersection of Bull and McDonough Streets. Wrought-iron lamps rose up at regular intervals, but the yellow light was broken and cast thick shadows, thanks to the heavy tree branches that stretched overhead. In the center of the square stood a tall, bronze statue of a man with a tricorn hat and a sword.

“Chippewa. Isn’t that the square from the Forrest Gump movie?” Clay suddenly asked.

“Yes, but the bench that Tom Hanks sat on isn’t here. They tweaked the square just for the movie. I think there’s a replica bench in one of the local museums,” Grey easily replied.

“They made that other famous movie here, right? Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil.” Baer inquired.

“It was at the Mercer House, which is two squares down off Monterey Square.”

Baer squinted at the back of Grey’s head. “Have you lived in Savannah? I mean, before we found you that night.”

Grey looked over his shoulder and in the low light, it looked like he was smiling. “I was staying in the city for a while before I ran into you and Clay. Since I was here, I figured I’d do a little research for a book. Savannah is an incredibly interesting city with a lot of history and wonderful quirks. I just haven’t found the right story to fit her yet.”

Clay stopped next to the statue and stared up at the figure for a second, then turned to his companions. “I’m not getting any feeling one way or another.” He shifted his attention to Grey, folding his arms across his chest. “Since you know the area the best, why don’t you pick a direction. Where do you think he’d go?”

A little growl rumbled from Grey’s throat as he looked around the immediate vicinity. “That’s not the easiest question, oh fearless leader.” Grey looked toward each of the four points of the square. “There are restaurants, bars, and even a theater all around us within a couple of blocks. Even if we were to split up, I doubt we’d be able cover enough ground before he moved on. I don’t—” Every muscle in Grey’s body suddenly froze, and he stared straight down a street. Baer drew closer to his brother, gazing in the same direction, but there was nothing he could see that would catch the man’s attention.

“What is it?” Clay demanded.

“I…I thought I caught a glimmer of something. Or maybe a feeling.” With his right hand, he pointed. “That direction.” He then shocked Baer by stretching his left hand toward Clay. “Tap into your powers like you do when you’re searching for the pestilents. I need a boost.”

Clay didn’t ask any questions; he just grabbed Grey’s hand. There was a shiver of energy through the air, but nothing changed for Baer. Clay growled and looked at the concrete paving stones under his feet separating him from the earth. The Earth Weaver needed the direct contact of the earth whenever possible.

Baer twisted around, trying to find a spot where Clay could stand that would give him the soil under his feet while still giving Grey a clear view down the street, but there was nothing close by. But a new idea struck him.

“Clay, reach up. The Spanish moss and tree branches,” Baer directed.

Clay barked out a laugh and stretched his hand above his head toward the nearby tree limb draped in moss. A second later, the moss started to shift and dance in the air as if it were teased by an errant breeze. Except each twist and undulation brought it closer to Clay’s fingers. The moss slid down his palm and wrapped around his wrist, connecting Clay to the moss, which was connected to the tree, which was connected to the earth.

The image of the two men holding hands while one was held by Spanish moss was pretty damn weird. Thank God they were the only ones in the square at the time.

“How’s the reception, Grey?”

“You’re an ass,” the Soul Weaver muttered.

“You two look like you’re trying to fix the reception on a TV with a pair of old rabbit ears.”

“Go to hell,” Clay grumbled.

“Got him,” Grey suddenly announced.

“Shit! Seriously?” Baer gasped.

“Yes. He’s with a group of other people walking about three blocks away from us. He…Clay?”