by Greg Weisman
But here Guanayoa betrayed her own interests. For in her haste and fury, she cursed Aycayia and her sisters with all her magicks—even her own immortality. And so Aycayia the Cursed became immortal, and ancient Guanayoa was now fated to die …
But even Death himself could never bring an end to the magicks or the dark desires of First Witch. Nor could Guanayoa’s curse ever taint the beauty of Aycayia or the beauty of her song …
Aycayia fell silent, her song now ended.
Tears streaked Miranda’s face, and even Charlie wiped his eyes. ’Bastian held the spear in one hand and felt guilty about it. Cash decided he was in love.
Rain still held Aycayia’s gaze. After a long pause to absorb all she had heard, Rain said, “Guanayoa, First Witch … she’s Julia, isn’t she? The Hurricane-Woman?”
Aycayia nodded solemnly.
“And she’s dead now?”
Aycayia nodded again.
“But it hasn’t stopped her?”
This time Aycayia didn’t feel the need to nod.
“And she still hates you. And you … still love your son.” As it wasn’t a question, Aycayia saw no need to respond, so Rain continued. “But you have to see that this can’t go on. Every few centuries…” Here, Rain glanced back at Cash. “Someone will set Jurupari free. And what if the zemi can’t be found? How many people will die? Or what if it is found and the gourd’s lost?”
Aycayia didn’t answer.
“We need a more permanent solution.”
Aycayia looked from Rain to Charlie to Miranda, all still marked and marred by her son. She glanced at the spear in ’Bastian’s hand, and then, for a moment, she even seemed to stare at Cash, Jurupari’s most recent fatality. Then she turned back to Rain and spoke clearly. “Only I can stop this cycle.”
For some reason, Rain didn’t like the sound of that. “What … does that mean?”
“It must be. I am the only one who cares for him. And I cannot leave my child alone in this jar for eternity. Not alone.”
Quietly but with determination, Charlie said, “You can’t let him out.”
Rain understood, though. Not the method, exactly, but the means.
Aycayia said, “I cannot let him out. And I will not leave him alone. I know what he is. I know what he’s done. But I am still his mother.” Her voice was a testament to sadness and grief, but her eyes shed no pearls. She had no pearls left to shed.
Lightning clashed just outside the cave, but Hura-hupia—Guanayoa—was powerless to interfere. Just in case she thought otherwise, Maq and I had “borrowed” an old dinghy and were currently en route to Sycorax. We wouldn’t have to row even halfway there. Merely the threat of Maq’s approach was enough to keep First Witch at bay. She would play by the rules of the game, as established so very long ago.
Aycayia held the jar to her breast like a baby. She rocked it and sang once more:
The day is long.
The night is longer,
But here in your mother’s arms,
You are safe.
Stay, my pretty child,
Stay and sleep.
Stay my love, my child,
Stay and sleep …
Then Aycayia stepped forward and with what seemed like great effort, handed the gourd to Rain.
“I don’t…” Rain began, but there was no need to finish.
Aycayia returned to the pool. She knelt down and reached into the water, removing her manatee skin. She said, “I have already said good-bye to my Sisters.” And with her back to all assembled, she rent the garment in two. She dropped the pieces on either side of the pool and stepped into the water—or rather onto the water. She almost stood upon it as she turned to face Rain.
She smiled then.
And dissolved.
Miranda gasped audibly, but there was no other sound, except a faint bubbling. Before their eyes, from the bottom up, Aycayia the Cursed dissolved into seafoam. The process seemed painless—or at least it seemed to cause her no more pain than her long life and Guanayoa’s fury had already inflicted. Her smile never dimmed as her body sank down and down without actually sinking, until all that remained amid a few strands of seaweed was a thick layer of foam coating the surface of the pool.
Rain approached the pool, gourd in hand. She nodded to ’Bastian, who began to twirl the zemi, bringing forth its protective tone. Above, in the shadows, the children of First Bat stirred but did not descend. Rain opened the jar and scooped a handful of foam into it, reuniting Aycayia with her child for eternity.
Then Rain sealed the jar again.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
STICK-UP
THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 18
Rain, Charlie and Miranda emerged from the bat cave to face a fading storm. Julia (a.k.a. Guanayoa, a.k.a. Hura-hupia) knew she had one chance left to keep the zemi out of Rain’s clutches, and it wouldn’t depend on the weather.
“Right. Hand it over.”
Rain looked up. A soaking-wet Callahan, his blond hair plastered down over his forehead, stood before the three teenagers with a gun in his hand, which he used to gesture at the gourd Rain cradled in her arm.
’Bastian and Cash had been a few paces behind the teens but were still just inside the mouth of the cave. Raising up the bat-spear-zemi—which was shadowed from Callahan’s view—’Bastian was more than ready to use the pointy end against the man threatening his granddaughter. He thought about throwing it but didn’t trust his arm. Better to run the Aussie clean through what passed for his heart. There was only one problem. Rain was currently in the way.
Her glance moved from the huge, looming weapon in Callahan’s hand to the bat-jar in her right arm and then over to the snake charm on her left. The golden glow of the Healer snake was still at work, helping her recover from the Hupia’s attack, but the Searcher snake was dormant. There was no blue glow surrounding either the snake or the jar. The gourd was significant, maybe even a zemi—but it was not “the” zemi. There was no place for it in the Cache, and she didn’t need it. Still, don’t want to make that too obvious.
“This?” she asked, nodding down at it.
“Of course, this!” Callahan said with extreme irritation. He had already searched the cave himself and couldn’t understand how the girl had found the dingus when he had not. But that doesn’t matter. It’s mine now.
“And you’ll shoot me if I don’t give it to you?”
A number of verbal comebacks came to mind, but they all sounded clichéd, so Callahan settled for visual eloquence, raising the gun to aim it between her eyes.
Rain nodded and, as solemnly as she could manage, handed the jar to her opponent.
Charlie said, “I wouldn’t open it if I were you.”
Callahan flashed him a contemptuous look, which hid a certain amount of uncertainty over the oddness of the boy’s warning. He shook it off. Nothing these kids say matters. He gripped the gourd in his free hand like a rugger ball and started to back away into the jungle. For a few lovely seconds—lovely in his mind anyway—he fantasized about shooting them all. But that would bring more trouble than it was worth. He’d heard about the manhunt for those tourist kids and knew that three more missing brats—Where had this third one come from, anyway?—would probably bring a tidal wave of authorities to the Keys. He didn’t need that. Not with more zemis to find. He settled for leaving them with an implied threat. “Don’t follow me.”
“Don’t worry,” Rain responded.
“I’m following him,” Cash said.
Rain’s eyes went wide, but she didn’t dare speak or look back toward the cave.
’Bastian said, “What are you talking about?”
“I’m gonna follow him,” Cash repeated. “I’m gonna haunt the bastard.”
“Why?”
“Well, for starters, he’s the one that sent me after that zemi. He’s the one who got me killed. So I owe him a little payback. Besides, I haven’t done anything yet! I mean, why am I still here? I didn’t stop the evil-demon-mosquito-th
ing. I didn’t save the girl or even help save her, really. And I still don’t see any light or tunnel to walk into. So maybe I can hang with my old buddy Callahan. Figure out his next move. And report back to you guys.”
’Bastian nodded.
Rain did her best not to reveal her smile as a scowling Callahan disappeared into the jungle with Cash right behind him. Just before disappearing from view, Cash flashed a goofy grin and said, “See ya!”
And above, Julia raged over Callahan walking off—with the wrong zemi! Fool, roared the thunder! Idiot, shrieked the wind! She had half a mind to wait until he boarded the Bootstrap and then sink the whole glorified canoe with one massive bolt of lightning But she would resist the murderous urge much as Callahan had. There were still more zemis to find, and at least a chance that, eventually, Callahan might get lucky enough to claim one for Guanayoa’s team—and perhaps a slightly better chance that, eventually, he might get angry enough to take Rain out of the game permanently.
Rain felt exhausted but tested her patience by counting to three hundred to make sure Callahan wouldn’t spot them leaving with the true zemi. She took Charlie and Miranda’s hands in her own—sharing her healing glow with them, as they shared their steadfastness with her.
Two hundred and ninety-eight, two hundred and ninety-nine, three hundred … and the three itchy, wet teens—with their spear-carrying ghostly companion—beat a hasty retreat toward the Old Manor through the still-pouring rain.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
ELLIPSIS
FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 19
First period.
Miranda could tell Rain was a little nervous delivering her report in front of the entire class. Rain knew her material cold, however, and as she spoke about the Taíno, their caciques, bohiques, cacicazgos and bohios, Miranda could see her friend gain confidence with every word.
As Rain held up the bat-spear and said, “This is a Taíno artifact called a zemi,” Miranda’s mind wandered back to the night before …
After their frightening encounter with the big gun and the bigger man carrying it, Rain had taken Miranda and Charlie’s hands and led them toward home. Miranda had felt the warmth from Rain’s grip extend up her own arm, flowing through her, as it had before, soothing Miranda’s fears and pain and even some of the itchiness of her many, many mosquito bites. She looked down at her arms and watched some of those bites literally heal and disappear before her eyes.
But glancing back over her shoulder, she was still disconcerted to see the spear/flute zemi bobbing along behind them in midair. Finally, she grew exasperated enough to ask, “Are you guys ever going to tell me what’s really going on?”
The Searcher looked at her with some confusion, as if finding it quite miraculous that Miranda didn’t already know. By then, though, they’d reached the French doors to Pablo Guerrero’s study—which wasn’t empty.
Miranda’s father was there with Ariel Jones, Constable Thibideaux, Jimmy Kwan and Tess Mvua, the woman from Vector Control. The place, of course, was a mess, with hundreds of dead, squished mosquitoes littering the floor—not to mention the occasional minute drop of teenaged blood. Pablo Guerrero had looked nearly frantic when he had turned around to see the three teens enter. Instantly, he rushed to Miranda and wrapped his arms around her, asking breathlessly, “Mija, are you all right?”
“I’m fine, Daddy,” she responded, “I’m fine.” She patted him on the back reassuringly.
Then came the lying-with-the-truth, which seemed to spring up naturally, even effortlessly, between the three kids.
They kept it simple. The mosquito swarm had flown in through the open doors and attacked them. (Fortunately, Rain had healed them all just enough to make this seem only a mildly scary bedtime story—not a horror movie.) They had run out into the rain to escape the bugs, but the swarm had followed. Then the bats came, and that was that.
Ms. Mvua was shaking her head—until the part about the bats. That was the only piece of the whole thing that did make sense to her. “I was told there had been an earlier attempt to exterminate the indigenous bats?” she asked.
Miranda’s father confirmed this. “One of the archaeologists was afraid of rabies.”
“Well, that might be what caused the problem. The bats had probably been keeping the mosquitoes in check until the former were driven off.”
Jimmy nodded. “Balance of nature.”
“More or less.”
Pablo Guerrero said, “So we leave the bats alone and this swarming problem goes away?”
“Well, I want to complete our study,” Ms. Mvua said, “but I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do.” The boss had spoken.
Within a few minutes, the other adults had left, Ariel to ready the boat to take Rain and Charlie back to San Próspero. That’s when Pablo turned to his daughter with thin eyes and said, “There are two zemis missing off my wall.”
Miranda glanced over toward the French doors. Whatever it was that had been carrying the spear had been smart enough to remain outside with it. She said, “They’re up in my room.” Her father’s eyes got even thinner, and she said, “Rain has an oral report tomorrow on the Taíno, and I said it would be all right if she used them for, like, show-and-tell.”
“Oh, you said it would be all right? And aren’t the three of you a little old for show-and-tell?”
“You know what I mean. Visual aids. And isn’t it all right?”
“Well, I suppose. If you’re all very careful. These aren’t souvenirs. They’re priceless artifacts.”
“We get that. We’ve been studying the Taíno; we’re learning about the zemis. It’s actually pretty fascinating.”
“I’ve been telling you that for years.”
“I know. I know.” She hesitated and then decided to go for it. “I was wondering—after Rain’s report—if I could hang the spear and flute up on the wall in my room?”
Looking dubious, Pablo started to answer, but his phone chirped. He pulled it from his pocket to glance at a text and was distracted enough by what he read that when Miranda said, “Daddy, I’m finally taking an interest,” he nodded, though what exactly he was acknowledging was unclear.
But Miranda knew her father well enough—or rather, knew how to play her father well enough—to take that particular yes for an answer. She kissed his cheek and waved for her friends to follow her back through the French doors, saying, “I’ll just take them to meet Ariel.”
Outside, Miranda saw the spear, apparently leaning against a wall. She walked over to get it—but when she picked it up, she met resistance.
Rain said, “Papa, the storm’s clearing. There are people around. We can’t let them see the spear float down to the dock.”
And just like that, Rain’s “Papa” let go, and Miranda nearly tumbled backward with the spear. Charlie steadied her—almost as if he had been ready for it—and Miranda held the zemi out to Rain.
To Miranda’s surprise, Rain hesitated. She said, “I don’t need this for school…”
“You might as well bring it in, though,” Miranda said, “since you’re taking it back to San Próspero anyway.”
“Won’t your dad expect to find it in your room?”
“He never comes into my room. Never. If he thinks about it at all, he’ll just assume it’s there. Besides…” She put it in Rain’s hands. “I think this belongs with the Searcher. Whatever that means.”
Rain exchanged a glance with Charlie to one side and with empty air to the other. There were a number of nods exchanged—some, Miranda figured, that she couldn’t even see. As they walked to the boat, it was all agreed. They wouldn’t just tell Miranda everything; they would show her everything. Tomorrow, after school.
Which meant today. Rain had finished her report by playing a brief section of the areyto on Miranda’s phone, which she had also borrowed.
All eyes turned to Mrs. Beachum, who was frankly stunned. She had thought Rain would look up the definition of her la
st name and issue a ten-word bare minimum report. That was the Rain she knew from the previous school year. Instead, the girl had done an entire presentation on the Taíno, complete with visual aids and music! Claire Beachum had never seen Rain so engaged in the material. In any material. So the teacher tried, with little success, to keep the surprise out of her voice. “Rain, I’m truly impressed. That was great work.”
Rain said, “Charlie and Miranda helped with the research. And this zemi belongs to Miranda’s dad. Oh, and Renée helped too.”
An entire classroom of stunned students turned toward Renée, who couldn’t decide if Rain was trying to be nice, trying to get on her good side or trying to embarrass her.
Rain was already returning to her seat. Mrs. B said, “You still learned it. You memorized it. Rain, this could be a good year for you. Educational. Informative.”
Claire Beachum saw Rain, Charlie and Miranda smile. Smiles to suppress laughter. Mrs. B definitely didn’t get the joke.
Fourth period.
Renée moved slowly forward in the lunch line, glancing back over her shoulder. She saw Jay Ibara enter the cafeteria with Hank Dauphin and Ramon Hernandez. She’d have to time this perfectly.
Rain, Charlie and Miranda were already through the line with their trays and food, but it hadn’t escaped Rain’s attention that Renée had allowed multiple people to pass in front of her, so she could hover before the now barren dessert section. Something was up, so she stopped to watch, nudging Charlie with her elbow.
Charlie, in turn, nudged Miranda, who said, “What? What’s wrong?”
“Shhh,” Rain said. “Watch and learn.”
As was their custom, Jay and his friends headed straight for the front of the line, cutting in front of twenty or thirty junior high kids. Jay grabbed a tray and silverware and chose the Caribbean Meatloaf and Smashed Potatoes. That’s when Renée said, “Is this the last chocolate pudding?” Her voice carried.
