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  They drove past Lily’s school. There were a couple of boys in the basketball court shooting hoops, and some girls lounging nearby pretending not to watch. Lily slunk down in her seat as they drove by. Angela looked across at her, amused. ‘Are you embarrassed to be seen with your hippie mom?’

  ‘Not you, Mom,’ Lily said. ‘The truck.’

  ‘What’s wrong with the truck? I thought you loved it?’

  ‘I do, it’s just that I don’t want them seeing me. They’ll think I’m like some dopey farmhand chick taking mung beans to market or something.’

  Lily didn’t want her friends at school knowing too much about her. To them she was the strange skinny kid who sat by herself at lunch playing old man music on a little silver harmonica – the girl who didn’t mix much and never went out to dances or discos.

  She’d tried to fit in. She’d gone to a few local dances but invariably she’d found herself pinned up against a cinder-block wall by a drunken jock while he rambled on incoherently about his star turns that day. His eyes would lazily drop down to check out her cleavage, and finding precious little, he would stumble off.

  On those occasions Lily preferred to stay at home with her mom and trawl YouTube for obscure blues bands out of Finland or New Zealand, or practise aikido tumbles down the hallway. Her father had got her into private aikido classes at an early age. While Lily railed against organised sport at school, she embraced the unorthodox form of martial arts because it was part physical, part head trip.

  She spent hours studying the philosophy of qi, a person’s vital life-force energy, and how to channel it against a combatant. Because she was so slight, it was a perfect way for her to use her intelligence rather than her strength to defeat an attacker. She particularly liked training with the bokken – the traditional long wooden staff used to simulate swordplay. She’d quickly developed a high level of skill, to the point where some of her instructors sometimes went home with bruises. Even though she and her mom had moved around a lot after her father’s death, Lily had still managed to find classes wherever they landed. And just before she’d turned sixteen, she got her black belt. That was the night they ate out at Delmonico’s.

  ‘You know, I think we should move,’ Angela said suddenly, staring straight down the highway.

  Her words were like iced daggers into Lily’s heart. It’s what she’d been dreading ever since they moved into the valley. ‘Why, Mom? We’re happy here. I’m just starting to feel like I’ve got a home again.’

  ‘Yes, Lils, but the soil’s become depleted. Energetically. That’s what we felt in our hands this morning – empty energies coming up from the ground. We got a good crop this season but it’ll be low grade next planting.’

  Lily looked over at her mother, who continued to stare ahead, holding onto the steering wheel tighter than she needed to. Lily didn’t buy it.

  ‘Mom, what’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing’s wrong, Lils,’ Angela said, glancing over and smiling wanly. ‘It’s just . . . I feel like our time here is done, that’s all. It’s time to move on. It’s an energetic thing.’

  They drove the rest of the way in silence.

  On Saturday mornings, from sun-up, all the growers and crafts-folk from the surrounding districts descended on the large parking lot outside the local CVS pharmacy, and turned it into one of the liveliest markets north of the Golden Gate. Each stallholder had a predetermined place, and Angela’s backed onto a side lane that gave her easy access.

  She parked, and they quickly began to unload their gear. It took them several trips to carry all of it to their designated area. They worked as a team, swiftly erecting their stand, joining the framework together, threading the canvas sidings, assembling the trestle tables. They then laid out all the boxes and trays – the vegetables still glistening with beads of dew.

  They stood back, surveying the presentation. Angela shifted a box of ripe red tomatoes so they weren’t hidden behind the broccoli. ‘There,’ she said, satisfied. ‘We’ll do well today. Maybe it will be Delmonico’s.’

  Lily looked around to see if Kevin Johnstone had arrived. Everyone knew him as KJ, and that’s what he liked to be called, but Lily thought it was pretentious and only ever used his full name. Not that she ever really got to talk to him.

  The Johnstones’ berry stall was across the street and down half a block, and sure enough, they too had just finished setting up. Kevin was helping his father put out boxes of blueberries and raspberries, and as he turned to grab another carton, he looked over and saw Lily watching him. He stood to his full height and smiled. Kevin Johnstone had enough wattage in his smile to power up a small town. He was wearing baggy jeans and a loose fitting shirt that hinted at a deliciously strong chest. His hair was messed up, meticulously so, and he had the confident air of a seventeen year old who could get anything, or anybody, he wanted.

  He’d recently formed a band that played black metal. It was the hottest band in the valley, and KJ was both lead guitarist and singer-songwriter. They’d already started to get gigs at halls and birthday parties. Lily didn’t much care for the music, it was too hardcore for her, particularly their songs to do with devil worship and satanic rituals. She knew that the band was just trying to be provocative in what was a fairly conservative district, yet even so she found the music gross. She didn’t find Kevin Johnstone gross though.

  ‘He’s cute, that boy,’ Angela said as she put on her apron.

  ‘Which boy, Mom?’ Lily cringed inside.

  ‘KJ. Isn’t that what they call him? He seems to be taking an interest in you lately.’

  ‘His name is Kevin Johnstone, Mom, and he’s just being friendly, that’s all,’ she said. She walked inside the stall so that her mom couldn’t see her blushing. ‘Just like his father,’ Lily added pointedly.

  Dr Johnstone was a silver-haired retired cosmetic surgeon in his late 50s, and a divorcee. He and his son lived in a massive mansion overlooking the sea at Alta Mira, but they had a small farm somewhere in the back hills and that’s where he grew his berries. He’d asked Angela around to his place for drinks a few weeks back, but she’d graciously declined his invitation. She’d been asked out only a few times since David’s death, principally because she kept so much to herself, and each time she’d said no.

  Dr Johnstone had been more persistent than most though, and had even presented her mom with a bunch of flowers one Saturday morning. Angela had been courteous and grateful, but when they got home that afternoon she’d thrown them onto the compost heap.

  ‘Here comes that boy,’ Angela said, nodding. ‘Be careful what you say, okay?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  She didn’t need to answer. Lily knew what she meant.

  Ever since her dad’s death, her mom had been paranoid about her privacy, which Lily put down to grief. Her need to be alone. To suffer quietly, in dignity, away from the scrutiny and judgement of others. Angela made it a rule very early on that no one was to know where they lived. Which meant Lily never had any visitors at home. No friends to come stay over – not that she had any real friends anyway. And even if she did, their farmhouse was so far away from anywhere, at the far end of a remote valley, that visiting was not an option. On those odd occasions in the past though when she did start to make friends with someone, it seemed her mom would find some lame excuse to suddenly up and move them both to another town, another state, another part of the country, which killed any budding relationship stone-dead.

  Her mom also insisted they only use pre-paid phones, and she changed the SIM cards regularly, which made it hard for anyone to keep in contact with her. And as for social media, Angela discouraged it, believing it was the height of narcissism to share online your every ‘brain fart’, as she put it, with the rest of the world.

  There were times though when Lily craved companionship, when she felt starved not having someone her own age to talk to, to confide in, to laugh with. In these moments she resented the life her mother was forcing her to
lead. Lily told her she was being selfish, she was ruining her life, she was behaving like a crazy woman and obviously needed to see a shrink. Lily would scream, she would cry, she would throw things and slam doors, and the next morning she would wake up regretting all the horrible things she’d said and done, and she would go to her mom, hug her tight, and through tears she would apologise for being a teenager, and tell her how much she loved her. Perhaps her mother did have issues, Lily reasoned, but who wouldn’t if you’d lost your husband under the kind of horrific circumstances that she had.

  Lily looked over and saw Kevin walking towards her. He had a lazy sway to his hips as he walked, an insouciance that others found really sexy, but Lily thought a touch arrogant. That didn’t stop her from panicking. She had spots on her face and her hair was like a rat’s nest. And he looked like he’d just stepped out of a Calvin Klein TV commercial.

  ‘What’s going on?’ he said, walking up to her. He smiled – a blast of pearly whites so blinding she needed shades and fifty plus.

  ‘Not much,’ Lily said, trying to make her mouth work like it should. She searched for something bright and breezy to say, and finally came up with, ‘How do you think you’ll go today?’

  ‘Okay. How about you?’

  Quick, she thought. Be witty and flirtatious.

  ‘Yeah, same,’ she said.

  Good one, Lily.

  ‘Hey, save us a box of those tomatoes, will you? They look amazing.’

  ‘Sure.’

  Lily couldn’t understand why a complete hunk like Kevin Johnstone would even be wasting his time coming over to talk to her, much less want some of their tomatoes. Was he making a play for her? Surely not. What about your older woman, Kevin? Lily thought. Have you worn her out?

  ‘So I’ll see you later then.’ He grinned, and Lily felt like ducking to avoid radiation burn. He turned and walked away with that insolent sway of his hips. Lily couldn’t help but stare.

  ‘Be careful of that boy, Lily,’ Angela said, watching him go.

  ‘Careful? Of what, Mom?’

  ‘Just be careful.’

  Angela looked over at Dr Johnstone. He caught her eye, bowed formally, and theatrically touched his heart.

  ‘Be careful, Mom,’ Lily quipped.

  Angela smiled politely to the doctor, and turned away from him, her face grim.

  The first shoppers started wandering through; two gay men up early after their gym workout, a few young couples obviously from the city probably having a romantic weekend away, several grey-haired retirees out for their morning walk, checking out the new season produce. Before long the street was full of people going from stall to stall, chattering excitedly, some wheeling trolleys, others with recyclable shopping bags that they began to fill.

  Lily and her mom started selling, slowly at first, but soon it became hectic.

  ‘Call ahead to Delmonico’s, Mom,’ Lily yelled, laughing, as she bagged a half pound of zucchini for a customer. ‘Get them to hold that front table.’

  She took cash from her customer and turned to put it into the tin when she looked up and saw them. They were at the top end of the market – three black shapes amid a crowd of colour, moving slowly like scuttling roaches. Three women, each dressed in leathers, carrying biker helmets. One was tall, one was very short, and one was heavy. Even from a distance Lily could feel a foul energy spreading out before them like a putrid bow wave.

  Hanging from their leathers were silver skulls, gothic crosses, lockets and razors that made a death rattle as they moved. The short one led them through the market, casually looking at the stalls as they wandered. The crowd seemed to shrink back. Everyone glanced away and avoided eye contact as they walked through. They radiated a palpable evil, even though they were doing nothing other than just strolling along, looking at the produce, asking growers a question or two, laughing and joking, bothering no one.

  They stopped at a fruit stall. The grower, Mr Pringle, immediately turned to serve someone else. The heavy biker picked up a beautiful red apple and smelt it, then poked out a long snake-like tongue and licked the apple lasciviously. Even from a distance Lily could see that her tongue was split in two, like a viper’s. The girl’s two companions laughed. Shrill, birdlike, brittle laughter. Lily could hear their pretend joviality and it made her skin crawl. The small one paid for the apple and they walked on, the heavy one taking a big bite with razor-sharp teeth. Mr Pringle watched them go with an undisguised sense of dread.

  Angela hadn’t seen them. She was facing the other way, serving a customer. Lily felt a tingling in her fingers. She looked down at her hand, then held it up and twirled the air. She got a sudden shock that felt like a swarm of stinging bees rushing up through her arm into her chest. The biker girls were closer now. They’d stopped at a flower stall. The small one was looking at a bunch of white daffodils, but using the diversion to scan the market up ahead. It was as though she was looking for someone.

  Angela turned and saw them immediately. She stood very still, alert, like a matriarch deer in a forest sensing danger. Lily noticed her fingers twirling at her side.

  ‘Lily,’ she called to her. Then quietly, urgently, ‘We have to go.’

  ‘Go? What are you talking about?’

  Angela opened the cash tin, quickly pocketed the morning’s takings. ‘I don’t have time to explain, Lils. We just have to go, all right?’

  The bikers were now moving on to Dr Johnstone’s berry stand. Lily could see them more clearly. The small one wore head-pulping boots that seemed elephantine in comparison to the rest of her. She had a scar running down one side of her face, embellished with a tattoo of barbed wire. She seemed to wear it like a soldier’s medal of honour. One of her ears looked as if someone had tried to chew it off. The remaining corn-kernel chunks of flesh were pierced with silver rings and studs. Hanging from her belt were several synthetic knife pouches, with the gleam of dull metal handles protruding from each. She looked like a gunslinger with blades. Even though the two women either side of her were larger, there was no doubt this tiny one was in charge.

  The tall one standing by her side had the chiselled looks of a Masai warrior, and the steady gaze of a hunter. She had scarred ribbing on her face; twirls and symbols from an ancient warring culture. Her nose was pierced with a large silver bone, she had studs in her eyebrows and cheekbones, and golden feathers hung from rings on her extended earlobes. She had the grace and measure of royalty, yet there was a cold ruthlessness behind her bird-like eyes.

  The third one was a pugnacious-looking girl, short and heavy. She wore a frilly pink polka-dot skirt over her biker leathers. On anyone else you’d laugh, but not at her. Her teeth had been filed into sharp fangs above her tongue sliced into a fork, like a snake. She had a black rattler tattooed on one cheek, raised ready to strike, and on the other a red love heart broken in two, with blood dripping from the crack. As she moved onto another stall she pulled out a colourful lolli­pop from her jacket, and began to lick it with her serpentine tongue.

  Angela grabbed Lily’s hand. ‘I said we have to go. Now!’ She dragged her out of the stall, and together they ran down the side lane that led to the carpark. Halfway down, Lily stopped in her tracks, and yanked her hand free.

  ‘Mom, stop! We can’t just leave everything. I’m not moving one inch until you tell me what’s going on.’

  Angela looked anxiously over Lily’s shoulder back to the market. ‘I don’t have time, Lils. You have to trust me on this, okay? Please. I’ll explain later.’

  Lily hesitated, then followed her mom as she rushed out to the parking lot. Angela unlocked the truck, jumped in and reached over, opened the passenger door. Lily climbed in as her mom keyed the ignition.

  ‘Mom, who are those women? Do you know them?’

  ‘I’ve never seen them before in my life,’ Angela said, as the truck roared to life.

  She turned in her seat and reversed out hard, nearly taking out a low-slung Audi coupe that she’d failed to see. She stom
ped on the brakes then rammed the gear shift into first, jammed her foot down hard on the accelerator. The truck spat gravel as they fishtailed out of the carpark.

  Bess cocked her head. Her hearing was acute. She looked at Kritta, then nodded to the parking lot. They moved fast, Kritta out front, whipping around the back of the stalls, racing through the side lane and out to the lot where they stopped, looked around, but there was no sign of them.

  Kritta cursed bitterly, then turned to Andi. She closed her eyes, found a moment of concentration, intoned a quiet spell, and Andi was suddenly transformed into her familiar form again.

  ‘Find them,’ Kritta said. The huge eagle flapped its mas­sive gold-flecked wings, shrieked loudly, then took to the air.

  ‘What about me?’ Bess asked sullenly, watching Andi disappear into the sun.

  In her pit-bull form, Bess had incomparable tracking skills. She could follow the faintest scent at incredible speed and over all kinds of terrain, for days, if needed. Many times she’d led Kritta to a hapless fleeing victim pleading for his or her life, sheltering somewhere, when Andi had been unable to spot them from the air.

  ‘Maybe later,’ Kritta said. She turned and ran back towards the market. ‘Right now we gotta follow Andi.’

  Bess stood for a moment, furious that once again she’d been left out of the main action. But Kritta of course was right – Andi could spot them more easily from the air.

  Kritta and Bess ran through the crowded market back to where they’d parked their bikes. Anyone who got in their way they pushed aside. Some protested, others took one look at them and quickly let them pass. Kritta nearly knocked over an old woman, and a young man grabbed her as she rushed past.

  ‘Hey, watch it! That’s my grandma.’

  Kritta swung around, and in a single fluid movement she pulled out a knife and pressed it to his throat. The young man gasped, his eyes wide with fear. For a moment Kritta considered severing his head from his shoulders just to teach the idiot some manners, but there were too many witnesses. She pushed him away, and kept running.