“Which is a healer,” corrected Vanderveer. “Nurses and curanderas are both legitimate healers.”
Did he say they weren’t? Zack had no problem with women being healers. That was something they should be good at, what with all that nurturing and emoting. Women warriors? Barring some TV-show babes, he had to withhold judgment on that one.
Jo asked, “So you know something about the local, well…”
This was always the hard part in the interview, especially when you realized how thin the veil of normalcy really was.
“About local magic,” clarified Zack. “Not so much Wiccans; your type are generally benevolent. Sorcerers. Ceremonials. Wizards. The kind of magic users who aren’t real worried that instant karma’s gonna get them.”
Ashley stared at Zack, sleekly amused. “In Almanuevo?”
“Aren’t there any?” asked Jo, not understanding, and took a brave sip of bad coffee.
Ashley smiled—Zack had met plenty of Wiccans in his time, and she had that wise-woman look down pat. “Finding magic users in Almanuevo won’t be your problem.”
Considering the town’s reputation, Zack wasn’t surprised. “The problem’s gonna be sorting them all out, isn’t it?”
“That, Mr. Lorenzo, is only one of your problems.”
For once, the nurse didn’t sound like she meant it as an insult.
The way Jo James snorted into her coffee indicated she took it that way.
For years, Jo had assumed anybody who heard her story about the cave-in would find her certifiable. She liked that Zack Lorenzo hadn’t doubted her, despite his spotty people skills. He believed things.
The kind of man who makes a woman feel safe.
She pushed away the thought. He’s married.
Despite knowing that Ashley was into herbs and shiatsu, Jo would never have dreamed of walking in and asking the nurse practitioner about Almanuevo’s magic scene. But Zack would. And it turned out the town was crawling with every known flavor.
“The Wiccans really are the biggest group,” Ashley admitted casually, while the P.I. took notes. Jo knew that Wiccans, often called witches, were neo-pagans, but remained hazy on some things.
“Are we talking religion or magic?”
Ashley smiled. “Both. Magic is all about belief, and faith definitely affects beliefs. You don’t need one for the other, but they’re connected all the same. Just among the Wiccans we have Gardnerians, Dianics, Hellenistics, Celtics, faeries, some Hermetics—like the Greek or Egyptian pantheons—solitaries…”
Trying to absorb all this, Jo found herself watching Zack’s big hands, particularly his thick wrists. The sprinkling of dark hair on the back of his hands seemed to thin for maybe an inch, like the cuffs of his long-sleeved shirts had rubbed them smooth. She’d never thought of wrists as sexy before.
She didn’t mean to start now.
“You might consider talking to some H.P.s—high priestesses,” Ashley continued. “Even if they don’t mess with the dark stuff, they may know who does. On another front, there are several well-respected Brujas living in the hills.”
“Mexican folk magicians?” translated Jo cautiously. From what she understood, they were similar to Wiccans, but practiced a different religion. Or a different kind of magic. Or both.
“Mexican and Indian,” clarified Ashley. “And you’ve got your shamans too, though most shamanism around here is modified for the tourists. There’s a debate going on about cultural integrity and Anglos misappropriating native rituals, but either way, shamanism’s a pretty big moneymaker right now.”
“Shamans,” repeated Lorenzo as he wrote it out. While his head was bent, Ashley caught Jo’s gaze and slanted her eyes toward him, clearly questioning.
It had been so long since Jo had hung with female friends, it took her a moment to understand the signal. Did Ashley want to know if she was interested in him?
Jo held up her left hand, just over the edge of the card table, and waggled her empty ring finger. He’s married.
Ashley frowned and shook her head, which didn’t make sense. Of course Lorenzo was married—and, now, looking up at them expectantly. At least he didn’t seem to have caught their exchange. “Other than shamans?” he prompted with mock patience.
“Rumors of Santeria, but that’s low key. A biker couple outside town practices Asatru. But there doesn’t seem to be any Candomblé or Quimbanda in the area.”
Jo fought the urge to dismiss all this as craziness.
Lorenzo shifted his weight in his chair. “Any voodoo?”
“Surprisingly, yes.” With a grace Jo had never possessed, Ashley brushed her hair back. She was the kind of woman who kept her nails polished, who wore earrings and perfume, who somehow managed to look accessorized even in a medical smock. The kind of woman who made Jo feel vaguely like a lawn gnome. Maybe Ashley was interested in Zack Lorenzo. “Good Vibrations—one of the local supply shops—has a Vodoun priestess who does rituals every other Friday. I don’t think she’s particularly powerful, though.”
“Maybe.” Lorenzo tapped his notebook with the pencil eraser, looking amused. “But if we’re dealing with…”
He caught Jo’s gaze knowingly. Zombies.
She nodded, catching on. “Good point.”
Ashley looked from one of them to the other. “Hello? If we’re dealing with what?”
“Too bad you don’t want to talk about the missing body.” Lorenzo had the nerve to look smug as he took a sip of coffee.
Jerk. Jo said, “One of the possibilities Zack suggested was….” Then she hesitated too. Up until now, they’d been talking about real religions—on the fringe, but legitimate all the same. Nothing downright fantastical.
But she’d committed herself now. “We’re wondering about…something like…zombies.”
Ashley stared at her blankly, just like she’d feared.
Then, instead of questioning Jo’s sanity, Ashley said, “But zombies aren’t really dead, they’re just given a neurotoxin to seem dead. Believe me, that boy who vanished was dead dead.”
Lorenzo said, “Yeah, well, that whole business about tet…tetro…”
“Tetrodotoxin,” supplied Ashley.
“—doesn’t mean there can’t also be living-dead zombies.”
The nurse shook her head. “In any case, Vodoun priestesses don’t create zombies, Vodoun bokors do, and I’ve never heard of a bokor in the area. Not that they advertise.”
“How do you know the priestess isn’t also a bokor in secret?” demanded Lorenzo.
Ashley rolled her eyes. “Oh please! How do I know you aren’t one yourself?”
Jo was risking a stiff neck, looking from one to the other. “I’m having trouble believing this and you two are arguing it?”
“You could just go home,” suggested the P.I. immediately, then grinned. He still looked almost handsome when he grinned, even when he was being an ass. “And sing.”
Ashley squinted at him. “Sing?”
“Inside joke,” explained Jo. “And no, I’m not going home, so stop trying to make me.”
“I’m not working with you if you’re gonna freak out.”
“I’m not even close to freaking, I’m