“Your grandmother taught you this?” Justin asked, watching him set up the candles on the flat rock in front of the icon, then use the chalk to draw the Velasquez double-armed cross in the center.
“Abuelita used to bring me here all the time as a kid. Part of my spiritual education, she said. If ever I was in trouble, I should come here and pray the way she'd taught me.” He cast a wary eye on the swarm, which seemed to be pushing against the invisible barrier. “She always did the whole rosary, though.”
The dentist-drill whine of the insects had become so loud that I could feel it on my skin. “If you know a shortcut,” I said, watching the dark specks coalesce, “do that one.”
Nodding, he lit the first candle. It flared five inches high, and Zeke jumped back with a stifled sound of surprise. After a steadying breath he continued, but his hand shook as he moved the match to the next wick.
Justin, Henry, and I were standing close, keeping watch in three directions. Justin spared me a glance, though, and whispered, “You okay?”
I wiped the sweat from my upper lip and felt heat radiating from my cheeks. In the same hushed tone I answered him, not wanting to distract Zeke and Lisa. “That's a really bizarre question under the circumstances.”
He quickly scanned my face. “You don't look so good.”
My stomach was doing somersaults and my heart seemed about to pound out of my chest. Was that different from any other time I'd been standing ten feet away from something that wanted to kill me?
“I'll be okay,” I said. Zeke was about to light the last wick. My scarred and aching arm gave a pang of memory. “Why is it always candles?”
“Light and heat,” Justin murmured. No question was rhetorical with him.
Henry finished the answer on my other side. “Fire keeps the darkness away. The Holy Spirit came down in tongues of flame. It can destroy, but it also purifies.” At my stunned look, he smiled ruefully. “I understand that part.”
The last flame sprang up into a thin pillar of light, then settled down with the rest of them to behave normally. Zeke looked at Lisa. We all steeled ourselves as he began.
“Ave Maria,” he said, in a beautifully natural accent, “gratia plena; Dominus tecum.”
The Latin wasn't really a surprise. Doña Isabel was nothing if not old-school. But I wasn't really feeling it, and glanced at Lisa to indicate as much. My mojo-meter had pinged more strongly when Zeke had merely stepped into the hollow.
“Guys,” said Justin, looking skyward. “There seems to be a weakness to air assault.”
Sure enough, the protective circle was now obviously a dome, the ceiling of which was gradually lowering. That made sense if it was contrived to protect more from below than from above. But we were screwed all the same.
Lisa crouched beside Zeke, speaking urgently. “You've got to sell it, Zeke. How would your grandmother say it?”
“It isn't how she says it.” Henry's head was craned back, watching the swarm push at the defenses. “It's how she means it. Not that I'm telling you your business or anything.”
She shot him a glare, and turned her attention quickly back to Zeke. “You've got to believe it, Zeke. Faith is a powerful element of the—”
Henry broke formation and moved Lisa out of the way, taking her place. “You think she's a rolled-up Aztec hybrid whatever. But that's not what she is to Doña Isabel. So go over there and let me do the one thing that I actually get.”
Kneeling in the dirt beside Zeke, Henry turned to face the image of the Blessed Virgin Mary and waited. Zeke eyed him warily for a moment, then did the same. The drone was so loud I couldn't hear their quick conference, but when Henry started in earnest, his deep voice welled up beneath the high-pitched whine of the insects and drowned it.
“In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.”
They crossed themselves in tandem and my hand twitched in reflex, even though I hadn't been to Mass in ages. Henry set the stage, but it was all Zeke's show when he started the Ave Maria again. The words rolled over the space like a heavy fog, rising into the air and sinking into the ground. Maybe it was his Tex-Mex accent that gave the Latin the natural timbre, made it seem as if the prayer belonged only to him and not to a bajillion Roman Catholics all over the world.
Or maybe it was this speech in this place, in this situation, that belonged just to him. Maybe it was because Doña Isabel had originated this. Maybe the place recognized him.
“Sancta Maria, Mater Dei, ora pro nobis peccatoribus, nunc, et in hora mortis nostræ.”
Pray for us now and at the hour of our death.
Not a real cheery ending under the circumstances.
The last words of the Hail Mary rang out, and I waited for something to happen: The fiend flies to go up in smoke. The icon to raise a hand in benediction. But my stomach still churned, the droning whine continued, and the dark swarms still closed in from overhead.
Zeke sat back on his heels, looking up expectantly, then frowning at the anticlimax of his work. “Nothing's happening.”
Lisa and Justin glanced at me, but this time Henry was the confident one. “What do you expect?” he said, climbing to his feet. “Instant gratification?”
“Well, yeah.” That was exactly what I'd expected. Wrath of God. Plague of frogs to eat the plague of insects.
“Look at all the factors,” said Lisa. “It's been fifty years since this spell was set up, and it wasn't designed for this. It's not an exact science.”
Henry looked down his Roman nose, unimpressed by her reasoning. “It's not a science at all.”
Zeke stared at them, and I could see the window of his open-mindedness closing. “You people are crazy. Hell, I probably am, too.”
They were speaking normally, and I could hear them clearly over the buzz of the swarm. “Hang on, guys.”
A breeze from the east caught a strand of my hair and blew it across my face. The clouds above us thinned, spread by the gentle wind like a clump of jam over toast, and pale rays of light struggled through the haze.
“Look at that.” Justin pointed to the dragonflies darting around the perimeter, feasting on the mosquitoes like it was Thanksgiving come early.
The sky turned from charcoal to mottled gray to a veiled yellow glow, and the cloud of demon mosquitoes thinned. I imagined I could see each one going up in tiny puffs of smoke as the sun intensified, until all that was left for the dragon-flies to eat were the real mosquitoes who'd been caught up in the mob.
Light and heat.
Zeke laughed in disbelief. “You have got to be kidding me.” He laughed again, with relief, grabbed Lisa, and kissed her, which was awesome. “Man, do I owe my grandmother a big thank-you for making me learn Latin.”
Lisa grinned, and Henry and Justin slapped each other on the back like they'd won the big game, which struck me as funny, in a remote kind of way.
I seemed to be watching them from a great distance, the glare of the sun making it hard for me to see. My skin was cool, but inside I felt like an overheated engine.
This was not good. See, I knew exercise was bad for you.
Justin, his face lit with giddy triumph, scooped me up in a hug and twirled me off my feet. My stomach lurched, and when he set me down, my knees wouldn't hold me up.
“Maggie?” He caught me before I hit the ground, all the exhilaration running out of him to be replaced with concern. “Are you all right?”
I peeled my tongue off the roof of my mouth. “I don't feel so good.”
Lisa touched my face. “Her skin is all clammy.”
“Heat exhaustion,” said Zeke. “Get her into the shade.”
“Henry, go get some water from the car.” Justin half carried me to the largest live oak tree, and I flopped down under it gratefully.
“I've got an ice chest and Gatorade in the truck,” said Zeke. “We'll get those, too.”
I closed my eyes, since they wouldn't focus anyway. I felt cool fingers on my throat, and heard Justin's voice again. “Her
pulse is racing.”
Maybe I was dying of heatstroke. Maybe I'd lost too much blood. That would suck, to have survived the Hell prom and sorcerous sorority girls only to be bled dry by demon mosquitoes.
“Maggie. Listen to me.” Justin gave me a little shake and I forced my eyes open. He leaned over me, his face pale and grim, the worry in his dark eyes very stark. I had never seen him like this. I must be in really bad shape. “Do you think you could have swallowed that bug?”
“Oh yeah.” That would explain a lot. My body was so heavy, it felt as though I was sinking into the ground.
“Swallowed a demon bug?” It was weird to hear so much fear in Lisa's voice. “Damn it, Maggie! Why didn't you tell us?”
Jesus was going to be pissed she'd cursed in front of his mom. Lisa was going to be pissed if that was the last thing she ever got to say to me.
Because I was sinking into the ground. Instead of oil seeping up, I was seeping down. I grabbed for Justin's hand, but my fingers were too weak to hold on, and he slipped from my grasp as darkness swallowed me greedily down.
I landed with a jolt. There was pavement under me, and smooth, unbroken gray-blue sky above. Sitting up, I rubbed my elbow—can you skin your elbow in a dream?—and got my bearings. My head still pounded, and there was a strange heaviness in my chest, but I could move now, and I started by getting to my feet.
I recognized the landscape. I was at the crossroads. The roads ran endlessly, and from each direction, as far as the four winds could blow, came a host of nightmares.
They came on wings and claws and crawled on bellies, through the air and over the ground and up from under it. Too fast and too many for my brain to grasp except in terrible fragments. Yellow eyes and icy breath. Talons and teeth. Scales, fur, and flesh. Two legs, four legs, eight legs, and bodies that bore no form a human mind could reckon.
And I had nowhere to run. The horrors streamed around me and came together in front of my eyes, flowing into a molten heap, piling on, up and up, framed by the leaden sky.
The individual creatures melted and came apart, like pieces finding their matches, melding together into a whole. It rose up above me, forming a head, torso, arms, and legs. Eyes came together to form the eyes, a thousand tongues were ringed by millions of teeth. Which I saw, as it opened its mouth to speak.
You have no power here, human child.
Boy, just when you think things can't get any worse.
I shifted my weight to both legs, my knees too weak to rely on just one. The pain in my ankle grounded me, spiked through the terror seizing my brain.
“Are you the demon?” I asked, meaning the chupacabra. “The plague of this place?”
We are all demons. And we know your name.
24
Think, Maggie.
I could feel the immeasurable Evil of the creature pulling apart my sanity, stripping off layers of reason, like a black hole, a gravity well with no property but destruction.
Something darted through the edge of my vision, but I couldn't look away from the abomination in front of me. Infinite eyes blinked at me in succession, delighted by my fear.
Again the motion, the glimmer of unseen sunlight on iridescent wings. A dragonfly zipped across my line of sight. Suddenly, unbelievably, I could smell my mother's perfume.
I could see the jumbled mess of books in my father's study and hear Brigid's gurgling baby coo. I could taste Gran's strong tea, with lots of sugar and milk.
I could feel Justin's lips on mine.
The memories grounded me, made me remember who I was. I was a sensible person who didn't let fear control her.
What was sensible in this situation?
The answer came to me in Lisa's voice. Not everyone gets the chance to face her demons so literally. Don't waste the opportunity.
So I did what I always do when I can't think of anything else: I started talking.
“Are you Satan?”
All the eyes blinked at once. I'd managed to surprise it. And then it made a nauseating sound, like the hiss of snakes and whine of locusts. I realized it was laughing.
What do you know. The devil had a sense of humor.
The dragonfly landed on my shoulder, and I didn't shoo it away. I wanted to faint, or run, or puke. But the unfathomable concept in front of me was no longer ripping my mind apart. My bravado didn't extend to thinking that was my own doing.
The mouths spoke again. We are Chaos and Nightmare. No creature rules us.
“So … Hell is a democracy?”
There was a restless stir through the body. They didn't find that very funny.
Do not confine us to human terms. We are indefinable in your philosophy.
That was disheartening, but it—they—were too irritated for it to be entirely true.
“So I'm guessing Milton got it all wrong? That whole fallen angel thing must really piss you off.”
Teeth snapped and fur bristled. We are not fallen. We are as we were when the Ruach moved through the heavens and brought the universe into being. We are perfect.
Ruach. I didn't know that word, but I got the context. “So, you were created Evil? You didn't rebel and change sides?”
Your mythology is constrained by what your human mind understands. You understand rebellion. Its agitated parts settled, giving the impression of a sigh. We are as we have always been. For what creature could rebel against God?
That was an uncomfortable question, coming from the host of Hell. What about free will?
“Then what is your nature?”
We destroy. We negate. We oppose and create balance. Without death, there would be no life. Without pride, there would be no accomplishment. Without lust, no creation.
The scary thing was how, on the surface, that made sense.
The dragonfly took off, zipping around my head before disappearing. “So you oppose. And yet you've banded together so we could have this little chat? I'm flattered.”
The snake tongues flicked, tasting the air. You should be. You are special, Magdalena. The Enemy has given you a great burden.
“Burden?” I shifted uneasily.
You have accepted a gift with a great cost. Your Sight marks you as different, set apart. As long as you continue to use it, you will never have a peaceful, normal life.
Hadn't I just thought that?
Already those you love are pulling away from you, knowing that you must travel your path alone, and far from home.
Now, that was overselling the point. I wasn't alone. I never would be. Hell wasn't the only place that knew my name.
“You are so full of crap.”
Tongues hissed and claws flexed. Eyes blinked and flashed.
“My ‘mythology’ got one thing right. You are the prince-democracy, anarchy, whatever you are—of lies.”
Nothing we've said has been a lie.
“Twisted words, then.” I concentrated on anger, let it burn away the confusion that I couldn't afford here. “I know how your kind works.”
You understand nothing. You are an ignorant child, sparring with shadows.
“Oh, really.” I folded my arms. “If you are all so equal, why do some of you come into the physical world at all? Why try to cross the line between spirit and matter unless it's to become better—more— than the others?”
The body rippled with the unrest of its members, and I pushed my luck. “Who has succeeded? That one?” I pointed randomly to a tentacle, and the clawed arms turned to their comrade and ripped it to bits.
“Whose idea was it to meet me here in my dream?” The mouths tried to speak, but the parts were no longer working together. The tongues shrieked their own sounds, the eyes rolled, and the limbs tore at each other.
“You don't fool me. Every one of you wants to rule. Not just your world, but mine, too.”
The squabbling worsened, rising to a frenzied pitch. The noise pierced my ears. I covered them with my hands and squeezed my eyes shut. The air shuddered, as if with a silent clap of thunder, an
d when I looked, the body of demons had flown apart, disintegrated, and disappeared, no sign they'd been there at all.
“You should try to wake up now,” said Gran's voice.
I whirled, and found myself in her kitchen, a steaming cup of tea waiting for me. Gran set the pot on a trivet and reached for the sugar bowl.
My heart squeezed in my chest. “Are you really you?”
“Are we going to have this conversation again? There's really no time for it.”
“But there's time for tea?”
“There's always time for a cup of tea. It will cure what ails you.”
“What does ail me?”
“You aren't dreaming, Maggie-mine. You are dying.”
I searched for a joke or a lie in her eyes, but saw only calm resolve. Sinking into one of the chairs, I let out a sigh. “Well. That would explain why I feel so awful.”
Gran pushed the teacup to me. “You need this.”
I lifted it and saw the dragonfly painted on the china. It was the same cup I'd seen in the last dream, but never in real life. “I don't recognize this tea set.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No, I don't.”
“Maggie, this is your safe haven. There is nothing here that you don't already know.”
I gestured to a nonexistent outdoors. “What about the theology lesson?”
“That's different. The crossroads is the intersection of the worlds of spirit and of matter, and things meet there that shouldn't.”
“So those were really a bunch of demons rolled into one, just for the purpose of schooling me?”
“And themselves. They know what you fear now.”
Which wouldn't be as much of a problem if I ended up dying. “How much of what they said is true?”
“All of it and none of it. Drink your tea.”
I lifted the cup to my lips, but the smell made my stomach clench and roll. I set it down, and saw that the saucer had become the bone medallion from the two-headed snake museum. “How did this get here?”
Gran looked Heavenward for patience. “It's in your mind, and so it's here.”
Highway to Hell Page 21
