Free Shadow Walker by Allyson James Page A

mystical energy flowed through the ground, not to mention the water? A strange kind of spell could have reversed everything they’d done.
    “It makes me look incompetent,” Maya said. “A stupid woman trying to do a man’s job.”
    I studied the mess behind the panel, knowing that the entire basement probably looked like this. “I know you didn’t do this, Maya, don’t worry. But it doesn’t matter. Whoever did this—I need you to fix it and fix it fast.”
    “A week, you said,” Maya answered. “This is a month’s worth of work and more.”
    Fremont agreed. “I need to get more supplies, and then I’ll have to rip out everything. You’ll have to tell your guests they won’t have any water or electrics for days.”
    Damn it. “That means I’ll have to close. Perfect.”
    No guests meant no income. I had insurance, but I didn’t think it covered magical weirdness ruining the infrastructure.
    “I can pay you double,” I said. I couldn’t pay them much at all, but I was desperate.
    “Doesn’t matter,” Fremont said. “More money won’t make time stand still so we can get it done.”
    “Hire more people to help you, as many as it takes,” I said recklessly. “I’ll buy the supplies and pay up when it’s all done.” My mind whirled—I’d have to sell more photographs, maybe go down to the bank and try to get a loan. There were programs for Indians and women-owned businesses—who knew what I might be able to get?
    And maybe, just maybe, I could talk to Ted and get him to extend me another week. I’d promise to have it all done perfectly, if only he would give me a little more time. Maybe I should have Mick talk to him with me. The sight of Mick’s muscles might persuade him.
    Except Mick had torn out of here in a rage. I had no idea where I could find him, or even whether he wanted to be found.
    “Start,” I said to Maya and Fremont. “Do whatever you can. Please.”
    Maya gave me a skeptical look, but she began touching insulated wires and tracing things with a professional eye.
    Fremont settled his cap. “Got a good-for-nothing nephew who needs to learn a trade. I’ll bring him on for free.”
    I wasn’t sure I wanted a disgruntled young man working on my plumbing, but I might not have much choice. Maya and Fremont turned away to get on with their assessment, and I left them to it.
    Outside, the big crow that liked to keep an eye on me perched in the juniper near the edge of my parking lot. She cocked her head and gave me an admonishing look, but I didn’t have time for her right now.
    I asked Cassandra for a loan of her car, not wanting to impede Fremont’s getting on with the repairs. My plan to talk to Jamison about the mysterious glyphs and skeletal hands would have to wait. First I needed to tackle Ted. I didn’t enjoy the thought of begging and pleading with him, but again, I didn’t have much choice.
    Black clouds were forming to the north, rolling down from the mountains and highlands to the plateau on which Magellan lay. The growing wind had an icy bite, which meant there would be snow before dark. Swirls of wind danced in my fingers as I drove the twenty miles to Flat Mesa.
    By the time I reached Ted Wingate’s office, I was giddy with the storm, wanting it to come down so I could play. I held it together and entered the small county building that wasn’t far from the sheriff’s office.
    The receptionist looked up from her computer and told me listlessly that Mr. Wingate was busy, and I’d have to wait. I hadn’t sat long in the uncomfortable plastic chair, though, when Ted himself walked down the hall to greet me.
    He smiled a broad smile, his teeth very straight and white in his tanned face. He should be out playing golf on some high-priced golf course, not carrying a clipboard through the linoleum-tiled halls of a county office.
    “Ms. Begay,” he said, sounding happy to see me. “How are you? Let’s talk in my office.”
    Ted’s office was sparse and lacked