Kissed by Smoke by Shéa MacLeod Page A

going with the
whole elemental theme, I’d say water and earth. But the sixth? No
idea.”
    “It’ll come to you. In time.”
    “How do you know all this if you aren’t a
Sentinel? Why do you have the Sentinel mark? How did you know my
father?” The questions spilled out. I couldn’t stop myself.
    Without a word, Tommy got up out of the
rocker and went into the house, leaving the door open behind him. I
just stared. What the hell?
    Inigo gave me a little nudge. “I think he
wants us to follow him.”
    “How can you tell that?”
    “He didn’t slam the door in our faces.”
    Good point.
    The cabin was a single room, warm and dim.
Shadows swam in the corners and the air smelled of burning sage and
wood smoke. Dried herbs hung from the rafters. Small bottles of
various powders and liquids lined the shelves along one wall.
    Tommy was stirring a pot of something on the
woodstove. “Sit.”
    The only place to sit was at a well-worn,
oak table against one wall of the cabin. “Are those for brewing
potions or something?” I pointed at the wall of bottles.
    Tommy gave me a look that told me I just
said something really stupid. “They’re cooking spices.”
    “Oh.” Gods I felt dumb.
    Inigo looked like he was holding back a
laugh. I glared at him.
    “Do you even know what a shaman is?” Tommy
placed two bowls full of some kind of stew in front of us. It
smelled divine and my stomach let out an embarrassingly loud
growl.
    “Um, no. I know Witches and Hunters and, you
know, stuff like that. I’ve never met a shaman.” I felt like a
freaking idiot admitting my lack of knowledge, but there was no
point denying it. I’d already made a major faux pas with the
herbs.
    Tommy joined us at the table with his own
bowl of stew. “There is power all around us. In the sun. The moon.
The trees.”
    This I knew. Kabita had drilled it into my
head enough times.
    “Anyone can draw on this power for their own
purpose. A small amount to aid in the hunt, or for good luck. But
only a shaman can draw large amounts of this power for the good of
his or her people. To heal. To defend.”
    It made sense. I knew from my own experience
that anyone could draw power from the Universe. Some called it
Reiki. Others, Prayer. Whatever. Energy was energy.
    And then there were those who could channel
enough energy to do some seriously scary shit. People like me.
Though I wasn’t sure I counted, since my ability came from
channelling weirdness.
    “So, you’re a healer.” I took a bite of
stew. It was divine.
    “One of my talents, yes. That was the reason
your father came to me.”
    I paused mid-bite. “He came to you?”
    Tommy chewed thoughtfully. “I don’t recall
when it was. Time isn’t important. But he came to me. He was
dying.”
    “What do you mean? Trevor said he was
murdered.”
    “Yes.”
    I wanted to scream in frustration. “Then how
was he dying?”
    “We are all dying.”
    Dear gods, the man should win a medal for
cryptic. “Listen, I just need to know about my father. And Trevor.
Do you know why someone is trying to kill my brother? Why someone
killed his friend? Can you tell me … ”
    The old man waved a hand. “So many
questions. All in due time. Eat your stew.”
    He shut up after that and refused to answer
a single question. My stomach was in knots and my fuse about to
blow.
    Patience, love. If we want answers, we have to let him give
them to us in his own way. I felt Inigo’s soothing voice in
my mind, but I was in no mood to be soothed, so I sent him a death
glare. It didn’t faze him a bit. Sometimes it was a wonder he put
up with me.
    The rest of the meal passed in silence. Even
the washing up was done quietly, Tommy Waheneka refused to speak
until every dish was washed, dried, and put away. By the time we
were done and gathered around the woodstove in the world’s most
uncomfortable chairs, I was about ready to blow a gasket.
    Tommy sat for the longest time, starring
into the flame dancing in the window