A thin woman with short, graying hair nodded. “It was his kind killed Johnny. Swooped in on us like a demon from hell. I barely escaped with my life.”

“Probably his kind that wrecked the old lady’s place. Probably disappeared that kid’s bike, too. Laws, my ass. Just another way for them to screw with actual human beings.”

Max got slowly to his feet, barely spared Rove a glance when Rove rose with a hand on his gun. “It was human beings who killed three of our group, who ambushed us and killed three human beings before we could stop them. If you want to separate us into sides, both sides have dark in them. I know. It was one like me, and not, who caused the death of a young man who’d given us shelter. Who turned against everything we who embrace magick believe. He and the woman who turned him took a life, would have taken the life of my wife and child, my friends. He was my brother, my flesh, my blood, my family, and to stop him from killing, from using what was a gift to destroy, I took his life.”

His gaze shifted, latched cold and gray on to Rove. “Believe me, if you draw that gun and threaten anyone here with it, I will stop you. If one who has the gift seeks to harm, I’ll stop them.

“You insulted my wife, who used her talents to give the simple gift of bread. But that’s not a crime, it’s just ignorance. Draw the gun, if you’re determined to learn the difference.”

“This is bullshit!” Lou Mercer jumped to his feet. “Where does he get off threatening to use his mumbo-jumbo to go after one of us?”

“Where does Kurt get off threatening anybody with a gun?”

Kurt swung around toward Manning. “My gun’s holstered.”

“Be smart to keep it there and sit the hell down.”

“It’s all bullshit.” Lou waved his arms. “Bullshit laws they get to make up? A half-assed police force coming down on us, and all started because some of those up there got here before the rest of us. It’s bullshit. I say we vote on it. We’re still in fucking America, and we get to vote. We don’t just get told.”

“You might want to peruse the laws before—”

“Just shut the hell up!” Lou shouted at Lloyd. “You’ve got no more right than me. I say we vote on this bullshit. We vote if we’re going to let a bunch of assholes tell us how we’ve gotta live.”

“All right, Lou, we can call for a vote. We’ll do a show of hands,” Lloyd suggested. “All those who want no structure of law in New Hope, no designated authority to enforce said laws, and no system of justice to enact consequences for the breaking of said laws, raise your hand.”

He scanned the room. He’d already had a pretty good idea where he’d see hands raised, and was pleased to note he remained a good judge of character.

“I count fourteen against. Arlys?”

“Fourteen against,” she confirmed.

“That’s bullshit,” Lou began.

“You called for a vote. We’re voting. All those in favor of a structure of law in New Hope, a designated authority to enforce said laws, and a system of justice to enact consequences for the breaking of said laws, raise your hand.”

He nodded. “As it’s clearly more than two hundred for, which is the majority, the vote carries for the structure of laws. Eddie, Fred, would you mind passing out the lists so people can read what’s being proposed?”

As they went to hand a stack for each row to pass down, Rove shoved his way forward, snatched a paper from Eddie’s hands, crumpled it, tossed it down.

“Dude, don’t be such a dick.”

Eyes fired up, Rove jerked his arm back, fist balled. He punched it at Eddie’s face, where it rammed two inches away. The fire died to shock, frustration. Then disgust.

“I knew you were one of them.”

“He’s not.” Lana got to her feet. “Not in the way you mean. I blocked your punch, Mr. Rove,” she continued as she walked down. “Because I’m not going to let you bully and physically assault a friend.”

“Aw, Lana, I can handle myself.”

She patted Eddie’s shoulder. “I know it. Go ahead and pass out the stacks.” As Eddie moved on, Lana stepped into his place.

She tapped a finger in the air in front of Rove’s fist. He rolled his shoulder, dropped his arm.

“Would you like to take a swing at me, Mr. Rove?” Without looking around, she held up a hand as Max pushed to his feet. “Or are you going to leave it with insults and bigotry?”

She knew hate when he stood in front of her, and could read through that hate, the humiliation that stained it, just how much he wished to hurt her. And just how much he feared her.

Several more people rose as he stood, his fist still balled at his side and trembling there. Some moved to stand beside her, behind her.

“Go home, Kurt,” Manning advised, and gently drew Lana back. “Go home and cool off.”

Rove turned on his heel, strode toward the back. Of the fourteen who’d raised a hand with him for the nay vote, only nine walked out with him.

“You got balls,” Manning told Lana. “If you don’t mind me saying so.”

“I don’t mind, since I haven’t had them very long.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

For a week, then two, as May blended into June, New Hope built.

A greenhouse, a smokehouse, a picnic area behind the gardens. Twice people wandered in—a group of three, another of five.

With power restored, Chuck combined his brand of magic with Max’s to bring the Internet on line. It was slow and spotty dial-up, supported only a handful of what they’d designated as priority locations, but it added another layer of hope.

Many with missing loved ones lined up daily at the new town library to send e-mails and check religiously for any response.

Even though none came, hope lived.

Though Chuck continued his quest, communication with the outside world remained a void. Arlys might not have been able to surf the Web, but she had the software to publish the Bulletin without hammering at the old Underwood.

And Max wrote.

Jonah quietly moved into Rachel’s bedroom.

The gardens flourished, and if they benefited from a little magickal help, no one complained.

“It feels like we found balance.” Lana sat on her front porch—in a chair painted a cheerful red—and enjoyed sun tea and a sugar cookie from the batch she’d made with her share of supplies.

Arlys sat with her, as she often did at the end of the day.

“It’s like an idyll,” she continued. “And this is from the lifelong city dweller. We’ve got fresh cherries, grapes—”

“Which makes you think yeast.”

“I also think tarts and jams and jellies. We’re already getting some tomatoes, some vegetables, lovely fresh lettuce and greens. Bill hauled two cases of Mason jars and lids to the kitchen. I’m watching corn grow, which is amazing to this lifelong urbanite. Rachel said the baby is perfect—and over a pound now. I swear she feels a lot heavier, then I imagine swallowing a pound of sugar, and see the correlation.”

On a contented sigh, she stroked her belly. “Speaking of yeast, we made and dried some. And thanks to Chuck I don’t have to write recipes out until my hand cramps. Plus, Rove and the Mercers and that pissy Sharon Beamer haven’t caused any trouble since the public meeting.”

“Give them time.”

“Oh, no spoiling my happy mood. There’s Will.” Lana waved a hand, signaling him over. “How are things going there?”

“Going where?”

“With you and Will?” Deliberately Lana wiggled her eyebrows. “I’ve felt some definite vibes.”

“Your vibes are off. We’re just friends, with a shared childhood history.” Arlys took a sip of her wine, watched Will cross the street. “But he is nice to look at.”

“Ladies.”

“We’re out of beer,” Lana told him. “But we’ve got wine.”

“I wouldn’t mind some. We’re just back—hunting party.”

“Don’t tell me I’m going to be making more venison sausage.”