Witching Moon Read Online Free PDF Page B

Acorus calamus . Or sweet flag. Or calamus or sweet root. It’s been used to cure various ailments since biblical times. It looks like an iris, but it’s actually related to jack-in-the-pulpit and skunk cabbage. The part used medicinally is the root. It shouldn’t be peeled, because the active ingredient is right below the surface.” She stopped abruptly, maybe because she’d become aware that she was lecturing him.
    â€œOkay,” he answered, “you’ve convinced me of your botanical expertise.”
    Color spread across her cheeks, and he couldn’t stop himself from admiring the effect.
    He told himself it wasn’t likely that Dr. Sara Weston had been involved with the orgy-goers of the night before. But her turning up in this particular location the next morning was certainly a screaming coincidence.
    â€œSo are you just looking for cures for diseases, or are you interested in psychotropic drugs?” he asked.
    â€œThat’s kind of a strange question. Why do you ask?”
    â€œBecause I caught some people having a drug party last night,” he said, watching her carefully.
    Her eyes widened. “In the park?”
    â€œYes. Actually right around here. Maybe you can give me your professional opinion on what they were using.”
    â€œ Acorus calamus has no psychotropic qualities as far as I know,” she answered.
    â€œBut some of the plants here do,” he said, “like pearly everlasting or ladies’ tobacco, or whatever you want to call it.” He tossed the observation over his shoulder. He was already marching past her and toward the clearing where he thought he’d seen the fire.
    He waited with his nerves on edge, then relaxed when he heard her following him.
    He stopped short when he saw the fire pit. Until that moment he hadn’t been absolutely sure he hadn’t dreamed it.
    Looking around, he half expected to find some discarded article of clothing, but on first glance, there was nothing besides ash and charred wood and a bunch of footprints in the dirt to witness that anyone had been here recently. Apparently the party-goers hadn’t been too wasted to take away their personal effects.
    The smoke was stronger here. When he drew in a cautious breath, he caught the remnants of the stuff mixed with the unmistakable aroma of stale sex, at least to his werewolf-enhanced senses.
    Could she smell that, too? he wondered, giving her a sidewise look. Her posture had turned rigid, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were sharing a kind of secondhand intimacy.
    She walked slowly toward the place where the fire had been, staring down at the cold embers. “Isn’t it dangerous—lighting a fire out here?”
    â€œYeah, but they cleared a fairly large area.”
    He looked from her to the stone-ringed pit. He had sworn he was going to stay as far away from the smoke as he possibly could. Yet some impulse he couldn’t analyze had seized hold of him. He found himself walking forward, picking up a stick, and stirring the cold ashes.
    Gray flakes swirled. Caught by a little puff of wind, they rose into the air. The particles gave off the scent of the smoke that had captured him the night before.
    Instantly, Adam’s mind flashed back to the darkness of the moon-drenched swamp, to the wild movement of naked bodies dancing and coming together in the flickering firelight.
    But this time was different. This time, in his imagination, he wasn’t an outsider, silent witness to the orgiastic dancing. This time he was one of the participants, writhing and chanting among the press of bodies.
    And he wasn’t the only one. The pretty blond botanist was back there, too.
    The nighttime scene was an overlay on the daytime reality. His gaze riveted to Sara Weston’s face—to her body. Her eyes had gone unfocused. Her breath was a shaky gasp. And another flood of color suffused her face.
    The remnants of the drug