Double Threat

by F. Paul Wilson

  Oh, right. She couldn’t ask him what he thought because he couldn’t hear her. You get so used to someone being around all the time, you take their availability for granted.

  She’d ask him later. Right now … she put tonight’s lizards and tomorrow’s grand opening aside and luxuriated in the sensuous feel of the hot water against her skin. She closed her eyes.

  So good.

  After a few moments she slipped her hand between her thighs …

  WEDNESDAY—FEBRUARY 25

  1

  (“Rise and shine.”)

  Pard was back. She’d gone to bed after her bath and he must have ended his time-out after she dozed off.

  “It’s too early.”

  (“You scheduled our grand opening for ten A.M., which leaves us time to ask around about whatever we saw in the desert last night.”)

  “All right, all right.”

  She wanted a few answers herself. She pulled on some clothes and headed across the street to Arturo’s Cozy Coyote Café for coffee and info. Along the way she paused to allow the Tadhak white bus to roll past. She couldn’t see anyone on the other side of the dark glass but could feel them staring at her.

  Is that creepy or is that creepy?

  (“Well, it seems unusual, that’s for sure.”)

  She introduced herself to Arturo as the owner of the new shop, and during the welcomes and good-lucks and explaining her name and getting a free cup of coffee, she noticed how he kept staring at her head. Then she remembered she’d forgotten to wear her cap.

  She pointed to her hair. “Yeah, my hair just up and turned white there one day. Can’t do much about it.”

  “Oh, hey, I didn’t mean to stare.” He was a big man wearing a backward Padres cap and a grease-stained apron. At the moment he was both waiter and short-order cook, but had only two other customers in the place, both seated at the counter. “It’s just I never seen nothing like that before. And I’m not saying it looks bad or anything. I kinda like it.”

  “Well, like it or not, I’m stuck with it.” She hit the subject she came for. “Listen, Arturo, I was out in the desert last night, looking at the stars and—”

  “They’re amazing out here, ain’t they?” he said with a grin. “But it’s even better up by Borrego Springs—that’s an official Dark Sky Community. No light pollution up there.”

  “I’ll have to check it out,” she said, pushing to get back on topic, “but I’ve got to ask you: What have you got living out there in the sand?”

  “Pardon me?”

  “The stars were great but when I looked down I saw these giant lizard heads popping out of the ground.”

  His grinned broadened. “What were you smoking?”

  “What?”

  “Lots of folks toke up when they watch the stars.”

  “I’m not a pothead, Arturo.”

  “No worry. It’s been legal for years—Proposition Sixty-four, remember? I voted for it myself.”

  “I don’t own a single joint. It’s not my thing. I—”

  “Peyote, then? Those cactus buttons can show you some strange sights.”

  “Arturo, I was as straight as I’ve ever been and I saw these big lizards popping their heads out of the sand.”

  Arturo turned to the two breakfast eaters farther down the counter. “Anybody hear tell of any giant lizards out in the desert?”

  Both shook their heads.

  Arturo winked at her. “Guess you’re the first, Daley. But I’ll keep my ears open and let you know if I hear anything.”

  “Thanks for the coffee.”

  (“And for nothing else,”) Pard said.

  We didn’t imagine those things, did we?

  (“I don’t imagine things. We saw them. They were real.”)

  Then why aren’t there local legends about them? Why don’t we see signs for nighttime tours to “See the Giant Gila Monsters!” or whatever they were?

  (“I guess that’s always an option if the shop fails.”)

  Very funny.

  As she stepped outside she spotted Jason Tadhak unlocking the door to the real estate office up the street.

  There’s someone who’ll know.

  (“He did say his family’s been here for centuries.”)

  But after working through the hair stare and explaining the white patch, she found Tadhak as much help as Arturo.

  “Giant lizards?” he said, casually leaning back in his swivel chair. “You saw giant lizards?”

  “People-size lizard heads,” Daley said. “Smallish people, but still people-size.”

  “You sure you weren’t…?”

  “Chemically enhanced? Very sure. Why is that the first thing everyone asks?”

  “Because in all the time my family’s been here we’ve never heard anyone talk about seeing giant lizards.”

  Why us?

  (“Indeed.”)

  “You’ve got pictures?” he said.

  “Pictures?”

  “Yes. Photos, movies—with your phone. Everyone records everything these days.”

  “I never even thought of it. I was too shocked and scared.”

  “Well, if it happens again, you—”

  “Aren’t you concerned? Or curious? Even a little?”

  “If there are more sightings, of course. But it might have been just a trick of the light out there.”

  Daley started to protest but Pard said, (“He’s blowing you off, Daley. And who can blame him? We have no evidence to back us up, so let’s drop it.”)

  Damn, why didn’t I think of my phone?

  (“Maybe because you were raised without one? Anyway: next time.”)

  I don’t want a next time!

  “Hey, this is your big day, right?” Tadhak said. “What time do you officially open?”

  “As soon as I get back there and change and turn the CLOSED sign around.”

  “Well then, I’ll have to stop by and buy something.” He rose and reached across his desk. “Good luck to you, Daley. And I mean that—in every sense.”

  (“‘In every sense’…”) Pard said as they left the office. (“He put such emphasis on that.”)

  Obviously it’s in his interest that I make a go of the shop.

  (“Of course. But it seemed more than that.”)

  Nobody believes us that giant lizards are crawling around at night out there and you’re worried about how our landlord is emphasizing words. I think you need a little perspective, Pard.

  (“I have plenty. And I have a sense that they’re both important.”)

  2

  She changed into the black outfit Pard had picked out for her. To complete her look, she strung Juana’s flat little Cahuilla art stone with a strip of rawhide and tied it around her neck. She opened Healerina at ten sharp. Pard, reduced to six inches tall, appeared on her shoulder.

  “What—you’re Jiminy Cricket now?”

  (“I don’t want to get in the way.”)

  That’s going to be too distracting. Sit on the front window shelf. No one’s going to go over there.

  Only a few people wandered in and out during the first couple of hours, and no one bought a thing.

  At one point Daley spotted a pair of Pendry girls, maybe ten or twelve years old, lurking on the threshold. Each wore a long-sleeved dress that covered her from neck to knees over tights. A Mennonite look. She wondered what that felt like in the blazing desert heat of summer. The dresses were uniform in style, but at least they varied in material. The redhead wore a light blue print and the brunette a red paisley pattern.

  “Come on in, girls,” she called.

  They jumped as if startled and ran away.

  Shy things.

  A little after noon, a frail, pale-looking woman stopped inside the front door, looked her up and down, and said, “You’re quite the package, aren’t you.”

  “Sorry?”

  “I mean you all in black, the hair too, except for that patch. Quite striking. Should I assume you’re Healerina?”


  Daley waved around at the shop. “The whole place is Healerina. I’m Daley. Welcome.”

  “I’m Estelle.” Her gaze roamed the shop. “Quite the place you’ve got here.”

  Daley gave her a smile. “Just getting started. How can I help you?”

  “Well … I’m not sure.”

  So pale … her skin seemed almost translucent. But well dressed, hair nicely done, and that wasn’t costume jewelry on her fingers and around her neck.

  “Well, take a look around and—”

  “When I saw ‘Healerina’ I thought you might be, you know, a healer.”

  Okay, Pard, I think we may have our first healee.

  (“‘Healee’?”) he said from his window seat.

  Figure it out. Be ready.

  (“Aye, sir.”)

  “What I do is facilitate the body’s own healing powers.”

  Her face fell. “Oh.”

  “Hang on now. Hidden deep within every human body are amazing recuperative powers. They should be circulating freely but modern civilization has suppressed them. I, however, have learned the secret of setting them free so they can do what they were always meant to do: heal.”

  (“You’re really slinging it.”)

  Tell them what they want to hear. That’s the key. I’m wrapping your abilities in a self-empowerment fantasy. Who doesn’t want that?

  (“But it comes down to you telling her that you’re not doing the healing, her own body is.”)

  You got it.

  “So you’re saying that you won’t be healing me, I’ll be healing myself?”

  (“Didn’t I just say that?”)

  “Exactly.”

  Pard said, (“I’m not sure I’m following you.”)

  I took your suggestion from the other day: I’m creating a surrogate. Daley picked up a red quartz palm stone. This.

  “Okay, Estelle. Come back to my little imprinting room here and—”

  “‘Imprinting’?”

  (“‘Imprinting’?”)

  She answered both at once: “Yes, imprinting. You’ll see.”

  Daley led her through the beaded curtain to the table and two chairs set up in the intimate space.

  “I was driving by on my way to the spa when I saw your sign,” she said as she sat down. “That word, ‘Healerina,’ it just stayed in my brain and I had to come see.”

  Did you catch that, Pard?

  (“Okay. Score one for you.”)

  “Glad to hear it, Estelle. Where are you from, by the way?”

  “Pomona.”

  “Nice. Okay…” She pressed the blood quartz palm stone into Estelle’s hand. “Now, what I want you to do is take this bloodstone and hold—”

  “But don’t you want me to tell you what’s wrong first?”

  “Let’s see if I can discover that on my own.”

  She closed Estelle’s hand around the palm stone, then clasped both her own hands around hers.

  “Your hand…” Estelle said, noticing the color for the first time.

  “Yes … golden skin. I’m going to give the stone time to become familiar with you—what I call ‘imprinting.’”

  (“Shocking how the New Age hokum flows so effortlessly from you.”)

  I was born for this.

  Daley closed her eyes for dramatic effect. “So let’s sit here like this and let it happen.”

  This would give Pard the time he needed to establish contact with Estelle’s body. He disappeared from the window, and then, after a short wait …

  (“Okay, I’m in.”)

  What’s going on?

  (“She’s pretty healthy except for this bleeding ulcer. It’s making her anemic.”)

  Can you fix it?

  (“It’s been there a long time but I’m pretty sure I can stimulate some new lining to fill it in.”)

  Go for it.

  After another wait … he reappeared.

  (“Okay. Done. The gastric membrane cells lining the margin of the ulcer were unresponsive at first. I had to boot them into action. They’re multiplying now and should fill the ulcer crater in a day or so.”)

  Excellent!

  She released Estelle’s hands and leaned back. After a dramatic pause she said, “You’re anemic from a bleeding ulcer.”

  Estelle stared and almost dropped the stone. “How can you know that?”

  She had the woman’s confidence now. The next step was to build on that.

  Daley shrugged. “It’s what I do. What I don’t understand is why it hasn’t been diagnosed before this.”

  “Oh, but it has!” The words came in a rush. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been endoscoped and biopsied and cauterized. They’ve tried everything but it just won’t heal. I’m so tired all the time. I keep getting transfusions and I feel better for a while but it keeps bleeding and then I’m anemic again. I’m so sick of this. They say the only way to cure it is to cut away the part of my stomach with the ulcer, and I don’t want that. Can you help? Please say yes.”

  “As I said before, I can’t heal you, but I can help your body heal itself.”

  This was a point Daley wanted to drive home. She had no license to practice medicine, so she wanted to avoid setting herself up for that charge. By offering no cure and simply facilitating a self-cure, she could skirt the law and avoid the wrath of the medical community.

  “I’ll do whatever you want.”

  “Okay, the first thing to do is keep that stone with you at all times. Hold it when you can, and when you can’t, keep it in a pocket. I even want you to sleep with it.”

  Estelle gave a tremulous smile. “That seems easy enough.”

  “The second thing to do is contact your specialists as soon as you get back home and say you want another endoscope.”

  Here was another safety buffer: refuse to get between the healee and her regular physicians. This way no one could say Daley interfered with accepted standards of care.

  “Again?”

  “You’ll want to prove to them that the ulcer is healed and you don’t need the surgery.”

  Estelle blinked. “You’re … you’re pretty confident, aren’t you.”

  “I’m confident in your body’s ability to heal itself.”

  “I … I don’t know,” she said, staring at the stone as she turned it over in her hands. “My husband’s always accusing me of being gullible.”

  Daley shrugged again. “Everything else has failed. What have you got to lose?”

  “Well, for starters, whatever you’re going to charge me for this stone and the ‘imprinting.’”

  And now for the clincher …

  “Oh, I’m not charging you anything.”

  Estelle’s jaw dropped. “Nothing?”

  “You walk out of here with the stone free and clear.”

  (“Color me shocked, Daley. For someone who loves money so…”)

  “But … but that makes no sense,” Estelle said. “How do you make a living?”

  (“Yes, please, I want to hear this too.”)

  “I’m counting on you to show your appreciation once your specialists tell you the ulcer is healed.”

  “Appreciation?”

  “Yes. Make a donation to the shop in the amount you think this encounter was worth to you. I leave the amount totally up to you.”

  “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

  Daley rose and held the beaded curtain aside. “There’s a first time for everything. Remember: Contact your specialists right away.”

  Clutching her stone, Estelle wandered through the main area of the shop in a daze, but she did buy a dream catcher and one of the Cahuilla art stones before she left.

  (“Guilt purchases. And that money goes to Juana’s people. At this rate, Daley, you’ll be out of business in record time.”)

  We’ll see.

  3

  The day had started off weird. Rhys had transmitted the analysis of the celestial configurations to his father who called a few minutes later. />
  “You’re sure these are correct?”

  Rhys knew he’d done everything according to protocol. “Absolutely. Why?”

  “It’s giving me a clear message to sell. Which means we’ll have to start divesting.”

  “But we’re just getting back in after that Internet mess.”

  “That’s all changed. The message is very clear: Divest.”

  “Okay. Techs? Large caps? What?”

  “According to this, everything.”

  “Everything? You’re sure?”

  “Yes. The Scrolls gave me similar warnings just before all the other sell-offs. I listened then and I’m listening now.”

  “You’re expecting a meltdown?”

  “It looks that way. We’ll proceed at a measured pace. Don’t want to attract attention. But I want us divested and completely in cash by mid-March.”

  “Then what?”

  “I don’t know yet. Depends on subsequent analyses.”

  And then he hung up.

  Well, his father would do the actual selling. Rhys would be saddled with the paperwork. This could be kind of exciting, actually … watching the market sink from the safety of a mound of cash.

  And then, less than half an hour later, his father came storming into Rhys’s office and slammed the door.

  Oh, shit. Had he made a mistake with the analysis?

  “Have you heard what she’s up to?” Dad said.

  “Who?” But Rhys had a pretty good idea. He hid his relief that this wasn’t about him.

  “That—that girl you assured me is no problem.”

  “Daley? With the New Age shop?”

  Rhys couldn’t imagine what she’d done to rile him like this.

  “Don’t you listen to what’s going on in town?”

  “Not particularly.”

  In truth, not at all. But where was this going?

  “She’s asking around about giant lizards she saw out in the desert last night.”

  Rhys laughed. “She probably saw an iguana!”

  “Let’s hope that’s what people think she saw. As for me, I’ve heard her description and I’ve no doubt she saw porthors.”

  That killed Rhys’s laughter. “Porthors? They’re a myth—bogeymen from the Scrolls.”

  Dad was shaking his head. “There’s so much you’ve yet to learn. The porthors are real. I’ve seen them many, many times.”

  He was talking crazy now.

  “Dad…?”