Gray Magic

by Sarah Dreher

  I'd better stop. If Gwen sees me, she'll be upset.

  But Gwen won't see me...

  ...because Gwen is dead. And dead is forever.

  No matter what I say or do, she'll never respond to me again.

  Panic swept over her. She looked around the room.

  I can't stay here.

  She started for the door. Have to get out, get out, get out...

  She plunged into the darkness, and nearly ran into the old woman holding the eagle.

  "Oh," she said, startled.

  The eagle flew away.

  "Now what?" Siyamtiwa asked.

  "She's dead."

  “Who?"

  "Gwen. My lover. He told me."

  Siyamtiwa frowned. “Who told you?"

  "Him. Larch Begay."

  "Here is this Begay again. What is he to you?"

  "Nobody, just..."

  "You are related to this Begay? He is your clan?"

  "Of course not. You know that."

  "And you believe what this man says?" Siyamtiwa shook her head. "You pahana have very strange customs."

  Stoner grabbed the old woman's arm. "Listen to me! Gwen is dead!" She realized she was screaming—or someone was screaming.

  "You have proof this man tells the truth?"

  "Yes." She dragged Siyamtiwa into the kitchen, snatched up the necklace. "This. I gave it to her. He took it off her body and brought it to me."

  "He is a Begay?"

  Stoner nodded.

  "Then I do not believe he did this thing."

  "He brought it to me. It's hers."

  The old woman held the necklace in her hand for a moment, her mind turned inward. "This does not belong to a dead person," she said at last, and handed it back. "Your friend is alive."

  Stoner shook her head.

  "This man," Siyamtiwa said heatedly. "This man you hardly know, who is not related to you or part of your clan, holds this thing in his hands and says, ‘Your friend is dead', and you believe him. I hold it in my hand and say, 'Your friend lives', and you do not believe me. Why is this?"

  "You want to make me feel better." Stoner brushed at tears that ran down her face. Tears she couldn't feel or stop.

  "You think I would lie to make you feel better? Maybe I tell you, 'A wonderful thing is going to happen. Tomorrow the sun will rise in the west and nobody will ever make war any more'. And when tomorrow comes and the sun does not rise in the west, what will happen to all your feel good?"

  "You're confusing me."

  "But if you are sad and I say, 'Life has many sad things, but once a hummingbird came and drank from your plate and this was a magic thing' —if this is true, then when you are sad you will remember magic. Then your feel good will not go away." She crossed her arms. "But if it pleases you to think your friend is dead, you will think it. For myself, I will wait and see."

  Stoner took a deep breath and felt hope flicker. “Why would Larch Begay lie about it?"

  “When we know that, we will know many things." The old woman shoved back the curtains covering the kitchen shelves. "You have coffee in here?"

  Stoner handed her the can and watched as Siyamtiwa shuffled to the sink, filled the coffee pot and dumped at least a cup of grounds into the water. “Where did you learn to make cowboy coffee?" she asked irrelevantly.

  "From cowboys."

  Siyamtiwa lit the fire under the pot and came back to the table. "You wear that necklace I gave you. That's good."

  "Right," Stoner said dryly, “it's brought me untold quantities of good luck." She could feel desperation pounding at her consciousness, fighting its way back in. "I'm sorry I shouted at you."

  "If you were Hopi, you wouldn't have to apologize. You wouldn't shout at me in the first place."

  Stoner leaned against the sink. "Siyamtiwa?"

  "Hoh."

  "Hoh?"

  "'Hoh' means 'I listen.' Now you know some Hopi. You have something to say?"

  She hesitated. "Do you really believe Gwen's... alive?"

  "I said the stone is not a corpse stone. I said I would wait and see."

  Despair formed a white-hot ball in the pit of her stomach. "If I lose her..." She began to cry, feeling it now, her body cracking like rock, shedding rock-hard tears.

  Siyamtiwa held out a hand to her. Stoner took it, startled to feel the strength in the rough skin, in the small, brittle bones.

  "It has been a long time," the old woman said, "since I have held someone in my heart that way."

  Stoner wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "I don't know if I envy you, or pity you."

  “Well," Siyamtiwa said, "that's how it is with me." She squeezed Stoner's hand. “We'll know more about this dying business when your Hermione calls."

  "Aunt Hermione isn't going to..."

  The phone rang.

  Siyamtiwa chuckled. "Now you will say I make magic, like the Ya Ya." She shuffled over to tend the coffee.

  Stoner went to the sitting room and picked up the phone. "Hello?"

  "Stoner," Aunt Hermione said, her voice sharp with alarm, "what in the world is going on out there?"

  "How did you know anything's..."

  "My dear, its the middle of the night—two a.m. here, in case you're curious—and I was sound asleep when suddenly I received an absolutely terrifying barrage of energy from you. Dark energy. Clouds and clouds of it. And then a voice, as clear as a bell but with an accent I can't place, ordering me to call you."

  Stoner glanced at Siyamtiwa, who was stirring sugar into her coffee, an expression of angelic innocence on her face.

  "Aunt Hermione, something's happened to Gwen."

  Her aunt was silent for an instant. "Yes, I can feel it has."

  "She's disappeared. A man told me she's dead. Aunt Hermione... Aunt Hermione, do you think..." She couldn't bring herself to ask.

  Siyamtiwa came into the room and gestured for the phone. Stoner handed it to her.

  "Grandmother Hermione," the old woman said, "this niece of yours is a very stubborn woman. I tell her her friend is okay, but she doesn't believe me. Maybe she believes you. What do you think?" She listened.

  “What's she saying?" Stoner whispered.

  Siyamtiwa put a finger to her lips. "She talks with her Spirits. Show some respect."

  Stoner rammed her hands into her pockets.

  Siyamtiwa listened and nodded and grunted and nodded. "Okay," she said at last. "You better tell her yourself. Your Greeneyes doesn't trust Hopis."

  "That's not true," Stoner protested. "I trust..."

  Siyamtiwa turned to her. "She says to tell you the medicine cards say your friend is alive. She says she sees darkness, a cave, cold there. Something magic around. Not bad, not good. Gray magic."

  Stoner bit her lip. 'What does that mean?"

  "It means your friend is alive and we got things to do." Siyamtiwa turned back to the phone. "Grandmother, do your Spirits teach you to wind-walk?" She listened. "Too bad. It would be good to sit down with you. We have many things to teach each other, eh? Maybe we even straighten out this young one."

  She handed the phone to Stoner and went back to her coffee.

  "Goodness," Aunt Hermione exclaimed. ''What an amazing person. I can feel her aura right through the phone."

  "Aunt Hermione, do you really think Gwen's all right?"

  "I didn't say 'all right', dear. I said 'alive'. But she's uncomfortable, and frightened, and in a very dangerous situation. It will take great strength of character to get her out."

  "Aunt Hermione, I don't think I'm up to this."

  "You really don't have a choice, Stoner. You've been chosen."

  "Chosen by whom? For what?"

  Her aunt was silent for a second. "I really can't make it out. But I suppose all will be revealed in good time."

  Stoner sighed. "Okay, thanks for calling."

  "I know that tone of voice, Stoner. Five minutes after you hang up, you'll have yourself completely turned around again."

  "I guess so,"
she admitted grudgingly.

  "Sometimes I don't know what I'm going to do with you. Well, I suppose you're, my karma. I do love you, Stoner. Take care of yourself." The line went dead.

  Siyamtiwa looked a question at her.

  "I don't know," she said. "The trouble is, I want so much to believe you."

  "Good. You get smarter, "said Siyamtiwa.

  "But I might believe you, not because I believe you, but because I want to."

  The old woman threw her hands in the air. "I will never understand White thinking."

  A car pulled up by the kitchen door. Stoner glanced at her watch. Twelve-fifteen. That would be Laura Yazzie.

  The woman entered without knocking, still in her white uniform. Her eyes lit up when she spotted Siyamtiwa. "Yah-tah-hey, Grandmother."

  "Yah-tah-hey, Headpounder."

  Laura Yazzie laughed. "Don't start that." She turned to Stoner. "Headpounder is an old Hopi insult for Navajo. We try to rise above it. What's up?"

  "Larch Begay came by. He told me Gwen's dead." Stoner held out the necklace. "She was wearing this. He brought it to me."

  Laura took the necklace and studied it. She looked up at Siyamtiwa. "How do you read this?"

  "That stone has never touched a corpse."

  "Good." Laura turned her attention to Stoner. ''What did this Begay guy tell you? Exactly."

  She could feel the black knot tightening in her stomach. She couldn't say it.

  "She's afraid," said Siyamtiwa, "if she says words she makes them true."

  Laura shook her head. ''Whites are so superstitious." She took Stoner's shoulders in her hands. "You have to help us with this, Stoner. There are things only you know and we need to know them."

  "He ... he said some Navajo boys found her over by Sand Springs. Or they were from Sand Springs, I can't remember which. He said they told him she'd fallen off the edge of a mesa in the dark." She rubbed her arms. "That's all I know."

  "Did you see the body?"

  "No."

  "Did Begay see the body?"

  She nodded.

  "And he removed the necklace?"

  "I don't know. Maybe one of the others did."

  "I doubt that," Laura said. ''Where is the body now?"

  The body. The Body. It used to be Gwen. She could feel herself begin to tremble, fear and loss curling up her spine like a snake.

  "There she goes again," Siyamtiwa said.

  Laura Yazzie gave her a little shake. "Answer me, Stoner."

  "He said..." She gulped air. "He said they took her to Holbrook."

  Laura Yazzie glanced at Siyamtiwa, who nodded knowingly. "Think about this very carefully," Laura said. ''Who took her to Holbrook?"

  "The boys that found her."

  "Hopi or Navajo?"

  Stoner looked up. ''What?''

  "The boys from Sand Springs, were they Hopi or Navajo? Be absolutely certain."

  She thought hard. "Navajo."

  "Are you sure of that? That's Joint Use Area over there. They could be either tribe. This is very, very important."

  "Navajo." He said 'The Navajo boys that found her took her to Holbrook.'"

  Laura Yazzi's face broke into a smile. "Did you hear that Grandmother?"

  Siyamtiwa grunted.

  "Please," said Stoner, "tell me what this is all about."

  "Okay." Laura Yazzie sat down at the table. "In the first place, Sand Springs is about fifty miles from here. If they found her there, your friend was taking quite a hike. If they found her here, those Navajo boys are pretty far from home. That's possible, but not likely. And, since this supposedly took place on the rez, they'd have reported it to the Tribal Police, who would have called you by now since they know you're looking for her. But, even if all those things were the way he said, there's one aspect of this that makes me know for sure it's a lie."

  “What?"

  "Navajos," Laura Yazzie said, "won't touch corpses. It's a thing that runs deep with us. We believe, when a person dies, their bad spirit, Chindi, hangs around the body after their good spirit has left. It takes some complicated rituals to get rid of it, and it's hard to find a Singer who knows them any more. I've worked in hospitals for years, and I still have a hard time with corpses. If Larch Begay told you some Navajo boys took a dead body to Holbrook, he was lying."

  "Gwen didn’t--doesn't have any bad spirit," Stoner said.

  Laura Yazzie laughed. "This presents interesting possibilities. I wonder if the Church is prepared to deal with a self-avowed lesbian saint." She turned serious. "But just to make sure we have all our bases covered, I'll call the hospitals and police." She got up and went into the store.

  "So," said Siyamtiwa, "you feel any better?"

  Stoner nodded.

  "Then have coffee."

  She looked down at the muddy sludge in Siyamtiwa's cup. "Later, maybe. Siyamtiwa, why would anyone want to do this? I mean, even if Gwen's alive, she's still missing. Where is she? And why would Larch Begay tell me those lies?"

  The old woman sipped her coffee. "Long story."

  "I don't mind."

  “Wait until your Headpounder friend finishes her calls. You don't listen so good when you're worried."

  Stoner managed a smile. "I guess you're right."

  "For the pahana, the big reality is up here..." Siyamtiwa tapped her forehead. "For us, is in here." She pointed to her heart. "I think I trust our way better. Not so easy to fool."

  * * *

  Laura Yazzie's half hour of calls turned up no trace of new White female corpses within a hundred-mile radius of Spirit Wells. It didn't completely relieve Stoner's anxiety, but it came close.

  "Now," Laura said as she threw out the coffee Siyamtiwa had brewed and made a fresh pot, "it's time we got down to what this is all about."

  "Might as well start with me," Stoner said. "I don't know anything.”

  Siyamtiwa rolled her eyes in a long-suffering way.

  "You might know more than you think," Laura said. "Tell me what's happened to you since you got here."

  She didn't want to. She wanted to run off into the night to find Gwen. But she knew that would solve nothing, and Laura Yazzie was probably right. So she forced herself to tell it all—the funny feeling in her stomach when she first crossed the reservation boundary—the sense that there were ghosts in the air—the coyote—the meeting with Siyamtiwa—the doll that looked a little like her...

  "A lot like you," Siyamtiwa corrected.

  Laura Yazzie dug a felt-tip pen from her pocket and started making a list on the back of a brown paper bag.

  Stoner told them about Wupatki Ruin, the people on the ball court and her unreasonable rage. About falling asleep at Lomaki— or not falling asleep—and about the spirits of the homeless children.

  "Lomaki," Siyamtiwa interrupted, looking hard at Laura. "You know what goes on there."

  ''What goes on there?" Stoner asked.

  Siyamtiwa shrugged. "Not much. Some old ancestors hang around."

  "Many of the ruins in this part of the country," Laura explained, "were built by Anasazi, ancestors of the Hopi."

  Siyamtiwa made a disgusted noise.

  "Excuse me," Laura said. "Anasazi is a Navajo word. The Hopis call them Hisatsinom."

  "That's their name," Siyamtiwa muttered.

  "Yes, Grandmother." Laura turned back to Stoner. "Anything else?"

  “Well, I still have that funny feeling, but I've gotten used to it. After that, Stell got sick, and that's really all we've been able to think about."

  Siyamtiwa nodded and sat quietly for a moment, sipping her coffee. "Now," she said at last, "we will speak of this Begay." She looked at Laura. "You know his family?"

  "I know a lot of Begays," Laura said, "but I never specifically heard of a Larch Begay. Still, that station's always been Begay's and it's a pretty common name. He could be a cousin from over in New Mexico."

  "He claims it was his father's before him," Stoner said.

  "Unfortunately, that does
n't help us much. If we knew his mother's clan, we might have something to go on. That's how we sort folks out." Laura chewed on the end of her pen. "Even at that, I might not recognize it. I've kind of lost touch..."

  "You don't lose touch," Siyamtiwa said sharply. "You fear, if you remember too much, you will go back to the blanket."

  Laura Yazzie blushed deeply and was silent.

  "Go back to the blanket?" Stoner asked.

  “When an Indian goes out into the White world, but the reservation haunts her heart until she returns, we say that Indian went back to the blanket." Siyamtiwa stared deeply into Laura Yazzie's eyes. "Maybe that Indian finds she has no soul in the White world."

  Laura got up and carried her coffee cup to the sink. "That's beside the point," she said, her back to them. "The point is, what's with this Begay?"

  "I think he is after the Ya Ya bundle," Siyamtiwa said.

  Laura turned quickly. "That thing was destroyed."

  Siyamtiwa shook her head. "A thing like that doesn't die. It can only be put somewhere safe. Someone has been looking for it."

  "How do you know all this?" Laura asked.

  "It is my business to know," Siyamtiwa answered softly. "It has always been my business."

  Laura drew in her breath sharply. "Then the old stories about you were true."

  "Maybe."

  ''What stories?" Stoner asked.

  They ignored her.

  "You are..." Laura began.

  "I am what I am, nothing more."

  "Of course." Laura Yazzie lowered her eyes. "The bundle, do you think this Larch Begay is the one who's looking for it?"

  "Maybe."

  "A Dineh, after Hopi magic?"

  Siyamtiwa shook her head. "This is what I don't understand."

  "If it's valuable," Stoner suggested, "maybe he wants it for the money."

  Siyamtiwa glanced at her. "No money in that thing. Lot of rags and feathers and stuff you pick from the ground."

  "Some people would pay a lot of money for a thing like that," Stoner said.

  Siyamtiwa gave her a puzzled look.

  "Because it's the only one of its kind. Some people would feel… important to have something like that."

  ''We handled the Anglos all wrong, long time back," Siyamtiwa said. "Should have realized they're crazy."

  "Look," Stoner said to Laura. "Maybe you don't recognize this Larch Begay's name because he isn't Navajo. Maybe he's white. Have you ever seen him?"