The shed housed equipment that didn’t look like it’d been used much in recent years. It was big enough for an ancient tractor—though not much else—with old bales of hay stacked in a corner and rusty hoes and rakes and other various tools hanging on one wall. The space was filled wall to wall with the hum of a massive hive I needed to locate.
I set the box down and opened it up, assessing the space as I turned my baseball cap around so I could see better. Light cut into the shed in slices thick with dust motes, just enough to show me what I was dealing with.
I crept around the tractor with bees flitting around me. “Hello, friends,” I said in the voice I used only with bees and babies. “Look at what a good job you did building your house.” I crouched to look under the tractor but saw no sign of the hive. “Wyatt needs his shed back, though. Wanna come live with me? The place is lousy with flowers.”
Carefully, I tested the tractor’s hood and found it unlatched. Even more carefully, I lifted it enough to see the massive hive inside.
“There you are,” I whispered, putting it back to rest so I could figure out how the hell to get them out. I stepped back and assessed the situation. There was no motor, so the bees had taken the shell for a home, attaching their honeycombs to the hood, which meant I couldn’t open it all the way without breaking the combs. I had to figure out how to prop it so I could separate them from the metal.
“Grant—I need your help.”
I glanced back to find him hovering near the door with his eyes on the tractor.
“Grant.”
He found himself and looked at me.
“I need you to hold up the hood so I can cut the honeycombs out.”
“All right,” he said with confidence I almost believed.
“It’s gonna be awkward. Hop into the tractor and reach over the wheel. I’ll pass you the hood, and I need you to hold it right there so we don’t break the structures.”
He was already climbing into the tractor. “Good thing this one’s old and doesn’t have a windshield.”
“Heaven forbid we have to use a ladder.” I nodded to the wall where a ladder hung.
“You think you’re so smart.”
“There’s no thinking about it,” I said, retrieving the A-frame ladder from its rusty nail and opening it. Once set up, I inspected the rungs for rot before climbing on. “Okay, lean this way.”
He did, and I opened it as far as I could before indicating he should take it.
“Watching you stand there without gear on is terrifying.”
“Grant Stone, scared?”
“My heart’s a jackhammer. Have you ever been stung?”
“Of course,” I answered, pulling my knife out of my pocket. Tenderly, I held the comb with one hand and began to saw the first row out. “But not since I was little. Daddy taught me all the secrets.”
“Care to share with the class?”
“Mostly what I told you. It’s all about trust.”
“Interesting, since you don’t seem to trust anybody.”
“That’s not true.” When I’d angled the honeycomb out, I climbed down and fruitlessly inspected it for the queen before sliding it into the brood box. “I just don’t trust you.”
A laugh through his nose.
“But bees are different. They have no grand designs, no greed to speak of. Hoarding, maybe, but not greed. They just want to live their lives and protect their home—simple needs. And if they know that I want to protect their home too, they let me in to help them.”
“So it’s mind over matter?”
I smiled. “That, and we’re witches, remember? We can charm them with nothing but our voices.”
There was a look of recognition and appreciation on his face. “Genetic, then? Do your sisters do this without gear?”
“Sometimes, but not in instances like this.” I worked on the next comb, squeezing into the small space made by the lift of the hood. “I haven’t worn gear in ages.”
“But why?”
I chuckled. “Because those things are hot as fuck, and it’s hard to move bees with gloves on. I know I don’t need it, so why bother?”
“So you don’t get stung to death.”
“They won’t sting me.” I slid the second honeycomb in the box and went back for more.
“You’ve never come up on pissed-off bees?”
“Some hives are more aggressive than others, but … I don’t know how it works. They just don’t sting me.”
“I just read a study about brain waves. What you’re doing, what you’re feeling emits different kinds of waves, and they think it’s possible that some people are more sensitive to them than others. Real-life vibes. Maybe it’s that. Maybe they just like your vibes.”
I smirked up at him. “You keep denying our powers with the dark arts.”
“If you were witches, you’d already have run me out of town with a spell or broken my legs by way of a voodoo doll.”
“Who’s to say we don’t have something brewing?” I got another free, removing it carefully. My hands were barely visible for all the bees.
“I think I’ll go with science.”
“The science of good vibes?” I scoffed. “You realize you’re trying to frack your way into their environment. You think they can feel my brain waves, but your drilling and diesel won’t affect them at all? That’s some logic.”
I could feel him frowning as I inspected the comb for the queen. I was just about to attach it to a frame and slide them into their new home when I saw her in the midst of a cluster and smiled.
“There you are.” So gently, I laid the comb on top of the box and reached into the fray to scoop up the knot of bees. They didn’t want to break from her, but I managed to separate them so I could put the queen in a clip. Now that I had her, the bees still in the tractor would migrate to the box where she was.
Grant let out a breath. “Christ. I haven’t been so nervous since I saw a guy put his head in a tiger’s mouth.”
“Oh, that’s nothing. Watch this.” I climbed up on the tire, dipped a hand into the hive, and came back with a wriggling, tickling handful. Hanging onto the tractor with my free hand, I leaned toward the box, flicked my hand toward the opening, and shot the whole lot of them in without incident.
“Witch.”
“Told you,” I said on a laugh.
He was quiet as I climbed back on the ladder and got to work on another honeycomb.
“What if,” he finally said, “we didn’t have to drill on your land? We just need what’s under it, and the cache we found extends into your neighbor’s land.”
“No.”
Another pause. “I know you think there’s no way to do this without disrupting your bees—”
“Because there isn’t. Even having you on other farms affects us. Now shut up, because if I get stung today because of you fucking with my vibes, I’m cutting a hole in your suit and locking you in here.”
That did the trick. And I found my smile again. There was nothing so heady as holding power over a man who thought he ran the world.
On the other hand, I was glad he mentioned the reason he was here. For a second, I’d forgotten he was the devil. Which was exactly how the devil got in, I supposed.