My mom explained, “Yeah. But bad pills. OxyCONTIN. I mean, it’s good if you’re in pain. I got it for back pain a long time ago. Do you remember when I had that back pain so bad I could hardly stand up?”
I didn’t remember. She was zoned out on the couch so much of the time, I could hardly remember a time when she didn’t have trouble standing up.
When I didn’t answer, she said, “Well, this was different. Purchased it illegally. Took too much, and followed it up with alcohol. I guess I almost died. Your friend, Kai, found me. I don’t know what she did, but she said she healed me. I feel that way, Shade. I feel like she made me better somehow. I feel fine. I feel whole again or something. There’s only one down side to this...”
OK, here we go ... All the reasons why she’ll need to use drugs and alcohol again...
She looked at me sadly. Brushing a few greasy strands of hair out of her eyes, she said, “The hard part is that along with the healing, I suddenly remember all the ways I shortchanged you, all the ways I wasn’t there for you, all the things I missed out on in your life. Shade, are you graduating from high school this year?”
I said, “What do you mean? Are you thinking I’m getting bad grades and going to flunk out or something?”
Her eyes filled with pleading, one of the saddest, most broken looks I’ve ever seen in my life. “No, not at all. I haven’t exactly been present. Are you a senior?”
This was way too much for me to handle. I felt like I was being held together by surgical stitches, my mind included. They were all going to explode at once, turning me into a puddle of biological goo, nothing more. Bye-bye, Shade. I was disappearing into nothingness.
I said, “Yes, I’m a senior. I’ll be applying to college around the holidays.”
She said, “Ahhh. I’ve missed all your years of growing up. I’m sorry. I’ll help you with anything you need. Just let me know.”
I said, “Sure. I should probably go do my homework now.”
I just wanted to get out of there, but she said, “What do you have for homework?”
I told her about Ms. Bell not giving us any homework except to read the newspaper article I’d written and the forum I’d organized. I said, “Since I organized the forum, I’m one of the students who’s monitoring the discussions tonight.”
She said, “That’s very cool, Shade! I’m proud of you. Can I read the article?”
I said, “Sure. But promise me one thing? Please don’t leave any comments on it.” I took pity on her, she looked so confused and hurt. “It’s nothing personal. Parents shouldn’t be commenting on their own kid’s article, that’s all. It makes the student look less professional.”
She looked relieved. She said, “Oh, no problem. I remember what that feels like. I was a teenager once, too, you know.”
I could not even picture that. She looked old and weathered, and as though she had always been that way.
CHAPTER 13
Club the next day was awesome. It lifted my spirits. Ms. Bell basically did the same thing she’d done in English Lit class the day before. She put a box of cupcakes on her desk—both chocolate and vanilla, which was very thoughtful. (I totally understand avoiding chocolate if you’re allergic to it. How anybody could choose vanilla over chocolate if they’re not deathly allergic, however, is beyond me. There just has to be something wrong with their taste buds—as in, it’s time to see a doctor. But, still, it was nice everybody got a choice.) Every cupcake had a flying saucer on top.
This time, I wasn’t singled out. I appreciated that immensely. I hate being singled out, made the center of attention. All those eyes on me: no, thanks.
Ms. Bell congratulated the entire club. She gave individual praise to everyone who contributed to the newspaper article and everyone who worked on the forum. I got a mention, which made me feel proud; but I was only one of a bunch of people being honored. It felt good.
After club, I rode the late bus home.
I told my mom I had to go to a funeral for Kai’s aunt. She actually seemed concerned. She asked all about how she died. I just said, “I don’t know.” There was no way I could ever tell her what happened. I wanted to warn her about Kai’s mom’s boyfriend, since we lived right next door; but I figured if he hadn’t bothered us so far, he’d probably leave my mom alone.
My mom said she’d have dinner ready on time and she stayed true to her word. She made spaghetti with meat sauce and a salad. A real meal. I ate way more than I should have.
Getting ready, I realized I didn’t have a black dress to wear to the funeral. I had lots of black clothing—it fit most of my moods—but no black dress. I found a long-sleeved navy blue dress shoved to the far corner of my closet. That would have to do. I tried it on. It fit and it looked OK. That’s what I’d wear, along with a navy blue sweater with white pearl buttons I’d gotten for my birthday years ago.
I was at Kai’s house by 6:55 PM. I didn’t want to be late.
Kai’s mom answered the door. I still had no idea what to call her. She’d told me I could call her Kitten, but there was no way I was doing that. I just said, “Hello. I’m really sorry about your sister.”
Her mom looked more serious than I’d ever seen her. Her eyes were streaked with red lines. Her lilac eye shadow was smudged. There were black lines down her cheeks where tears had obviously made her mascara run. She said, “Thank you. Come on in. We’re almost ready.”
When Kai came out of the hallway a few minutes later, we all headed out to her mom’s truck.
We were mostly silent as we walked through the trailer park. The place was deserted. Lights had come on in the windows; everybody seemed to be inside. As the night breeze kicked up, pinwheels whirled and flags flapped. Every once in a while, a bird called out. Right before we got to the parking lot, a black mother cat and her wild black kittens paraded in front of us, disappearing into the shadows behind some trees.
As we hopped into the truck, I asked where the funeral was being held.
Kai and her mom looked at each other. A knowing glance passed between them. I had no idea what that meant. Kai’s mom said, “At the home of my other sister. Beyond the Navajo reservation, out in the middle of the desert. It’s peaceful there.”
Eventually, we drove up to a large house—Victorian style, like the one I used to live in, but pink with lilac shutters. The windows glowed with golden light, even those in the attic.
As we walked up the front steps, a woman opened the door. She was tall, well over six feet. She wore a black cape embroidered with thousands of butterfly wings. She greeted Kai’s mom warmly, grasping her hands and saying, “I’m so sorry, Mósí Yázhí. I know how close you and your sister were.”
It seemed at that moment that the violent death of her sister suddenly hit Kai’s mom. She wobbled on flat-heeled black boots in the same way someone might wobble on high heels, twisting her ankle and almost falling. The other woman grabbed her by the elbow and said, “Here, let me help you.”
As she guided her toward a room where people were gathered to honor Kai’s aunt, we followed closely behind.
Kai leaned over and spoke to me quietly. “This probably isn’t the kind of funeral you’re used to. It’s more of a wake followed by a cremation service. It’s done in one evening now. It’s safer that way.”
That seemed like such a strange thing to say. I was about to ask Kai what she meant by “safer” when someone walked up to the Lady with the Butterfly Cloak and whispered in her ear. The Lady turned to Kai’s mom. “I’m so sorry, I have to go. There’s trouble outside. I’ll leave you to Awendela.”
With that, she turned and left. The quick movement set her butterfly wings in motion. They appeared to take flight. Her cloak rustled with the fluttering of thousands of wings, so loud it reminded me of birds fleeing a spot pounced on by a hungry cat.
Awendela had strong Navajo features: dark skin, aquiline nose, brown eyes. She was old and weathered. The lines on her face were so numerous, they reminded me of a canyon f
illed with dry rivers. Her hair was gray. I didn’t normally think of old people as beautiful, but she totally was. She had an inner glow and a warm smile. Her hair flowed to her shoulders, pulled back along the sides with turquoise barrettes. She wore a black lacy dress and a large turquoise medallion. She smiled at Kai’s mom, sorrow and empathy in her eyes and said, “Come with me.”
She led us to the room where people had gathered. At the far end of the room, there was an open casket.
Something about the room felt strange. I looked around to try to figure out what it was. I came to the conclusion that it was the décor. The walls had been painted pink, the ceiling covered in gold leaf. You could see the seams where individual sheets of gold leaf had been applied. Somehow, the walls and ceiling shimmered and sparkled. I decided that was affecting me. If lights flashing in a certain way could set off seizures in epileptics, I decided that the shimmering was throwing me off. It made me feel dizzy and as if I had stepped into a surrealistic painting.
Pointing at different areas, Awendela showed Kai’s mom where things were located. She said, “Over there, we’ve set up tables with food and drink. Right outside that door, there’s a meditation room. And, up there...” She looked into the eyes of Kai’s mom and placed her arm around her shoulders. “...is your sister. She looks good, Mósí Yázhí. She looks beautiful.”
Kai’s mom said, “Thank you. I think I’ll go visit my sister right away. I’ll mingle later on. I know people want to talk with me, but I don’t really want to do that. Let me see my sister first.”
Awendela said, “Of course.” Grasping Kai’s mom by the elbow, she led her to the casket.
As we crossed the room, my confusion grew. There were animals running around—not cats and dogs, which would have been weird enough at a funeral, but wild animals including foxes and ferrets and monkeys. Suddenly, three bluebirds flew over my head.
Finally, we broke through the crowd. We stood facing the casket: white with gold handles and lined with pink satin. Light shone from it and all around it. And Kai’s aunt wasn’t in cat form. She was lying there, seemingly at peace, in her human form!
As Kai’s mom leaned over the casket and kissed her sister on the cheek, a white Bengal tiger with blue eyes came out from behind a curtain. It growled with a deep, threatening rumble. It studied us intently; then crouched, as though getting ready to pounce. Looking away, it paced nervously back and forth in front of the casket, thick muscles bulging in its legs and shoulders as it moved. Kai’s mom didn’t pay any attention to it.
I turned and started to run. When Kai grabbed me by the hand and pulled me back, I wanted to scream at her, but nothing came out. I was mute, as I always am in nightmares. She said, “Remember what I told you about the shapeshifters and skinwalkers?”
I couldn’t answer. Blood pounded so loudly in my ears, I could barely hear the conversational babel going on in the room. I heard the tiger growl as it continued to pace.
Kai said, “This is a shapeshifter funeral, Shade. It’s not a Navajo ceremony, although there are many of us here. This is a funeral for all of my Aunt Doli’s friends—human, shapeshifter, faerie.”
I managed to squeak out one word: “Faerie?”
Kai didn’t answer. She walked right up to the menacing-looking tiger and patted it on the head. She’d lost her mind, gone as crazy as those people out in the desert keeping wild animals. She’d soon be as dead as the others who’d been ripped to shreds by the beasts they called pets.
Kai said, “Hi, Zoe. Any trouble so far?”
The tiger made a sound more like grumbling than growling.
Kai said, “Good.” Looking into the casket, she grew somber. Absentmindedly, she continued running her hand through the fur on the tiger’s head. She said, “Zoe, could you sit to the side of the casket while we pay our respects to my Aunt Doli? You’re making my friend nervous in your present form. She’s new to the world of shapeshifters.”
The tiger grumbled again.
Kai laughed. She said to the beast, “No, she’s not a shapeshifter. Just my best friend who’s been suddenly thrown into a whole new world she never knew existed before.”
The tiger went over and sat at one end of the coffin, throwing its head back and growling, as though threatening the world in general.
Awendela followed and patted it on the head. She said, “Thank you. I’ll leave you to guard the family,” and left for somewhere else in the room.
Kai turned to me and said, “I would have explained everything to you earlier, but I didn’t know how the funeral would be set up or who would be here. I didn’t know exactly what I should prepare you for. Zoe’s a shapeshifter. She’s in her tiger form, in case there’s trouble from the skinwalkers.”
By this point, terror had seized me like a boa constrictor coiling around my chest. I felt faint. My heart rate went out of control. I said, “I’m really frightened. I think I’m about to have my worse panic attack ever.”
Kai said, “I understand you feel out of control. Just trust me. Everything’s OK.”
I said, “You told me your aunt would be frozen in her cat form because she died that way.”
Kai said, “She is in her cat form. The faeries have glamoured her, so that we could view her in her human form because that’s how we knew her best.”
“Glamoured?” That was total BS. I know funeral parlors use some pretty heavy-duty makeup on dead people ... And I know their friends and relatives always comfort each other by saying he or she looks so good at the funeral ... But, in reality, dead people always look like rubbery corpses with too much makeup on and there’s no amount of makeup a funeral director could ever use to make a cat look like a woman.
Kai said, “Yeah. It’s magic. The faeries can create convincing illusions, so that humans see whatever they want them to see. This house? That’s not even what it really is. We’re out in the desert under a big tent.”
I wanted her to prove it. Then again, with skinwalkers around, it would be better for my sanity to feel I was protected by the walls of a house rather than outside in a flimsy tent.
Kai moved closer to her mother. Her mother grasped her hand. Looking at her for a moment, she gave her daughter a brief smile. Her face was streaked with tears.
I felt awkward, out of place. I kept glancing over at the tiger, telling myself, “It will be OK. Everything will be OK.”
Kai’s mom bent over and once again kissed her sister on the cheek. As she did so, she slipped a tiny pink paper rolled up like a scroll and tied with a white satin ribbon into a pocket on her sister’s dress. She then turned and walked away from the casket.
Next, Kai bent over and kissed her aunt on the cheek. She said, “We’re all sorry for what happened to you.” She looked around, then pulled the scroll out of her aunt’s pocket and tucked it into one of her own.
Stepping away from the casket, she said, “Shade, let’s go get something to eat and I’ll explain things to you.”
The last thing I wanted was something to eat. My stomach felt like hamsters exercising on a wheel. But I certainly wanted to hear what she had to say.
The food and drink section was anything but somber. People were holding lively discussions. A few were dancing to Medieval music. In the far corner, a man danced with a small bear.
I sure hoped I hadn’t lost my mind.
Kai handed me a silver goblet that was decorated with amethysts and some kind of script I couldn’t read etched in black around the rim. I took a sip of the sweetest, most delicious cider I’d ever tasted. It was warm and spiced and heavenly. As warmth spread throughout my body, I relaxed.
Kai took a sip from a matching goblet. She said, “Let’s sit down.”
At a table not far from the musicians and dancers, Kai said, “Our town sits on a ley line.”
I knew I was in for more information than my brain could handle without exploding on impact. I said, “You know what? I changed my mind. I am hungry. Do you mind if I grab something?”
Kai shook her head no.
I grabbed a plate. For a moment, I felt hypnotized. Light was somehow shining from inside the piece of china. It was painted with purple flowers and tendrils of green leaves all around the rim; but in the center, golden light shimmered. It wasn’t a reflection. The light was coming from inside the plate.
I decided to not let it affect me. Just accept it, go with the flow. I piled the plate high with roast beef and biscuits and a whole bunch of cookies.
Sitting back down next Kai, I listened while I stuffed myself with comfort food.
She said, “A ley line connects different geographical places of spiritual significance. Along the ley line, magic is strong. Wherever you have a ley line, anything can happen. All kinds of magical beings live around here. Non-magical people tend to explain away the magical occurrences that seem bizarre to them with explanations they can accept. Here in Roswell and nearby places, magic is attributed to aliens from outer space. It’s a pseudoscientific explanation that makes sense to people. Whatever fell from the sky that day in 1947 ... judging by all the evidence, it was actually an Air Force dummy that came down on a parachute after a failed test on some top-secret plane ... it gave people something to latch onto for explaining away all the mysterious things that frighten them. We have shapeshifters and faeries here, as well as witches and other magical creatures. The skinwalkers are evil witches. I’d totally prefer to believe in outer space aliens over skinwalkers, but I’ve been forced to face reality.”
At that exact moment, everything trembled. The shaking amplified until it felt like a full-blown earthquake. Piles of dishes rattled and came crashing down off the serving tables, breaking into a million pieces. Blinding light poured out of the broken china. Stacks of sandwiches and cake plates filled with pastries all came tumbling down.
Chunks of plaster rained down on our heads, mixed with pieces of gold leaf.
I held onto the edge of our table for as long as I could. When the floor cracked wide open, I fell into a basement room.
Shade and the Skinwalkers Page 15
