Leah and Marisa exchanged glances.
“So is Ruby,” Leah asked. “Is she one of your…you know…”
“Ma’inawo?”
Leah nodded.
“They’re not my ma’inawo,” Aggie said, “and you’d have to ask Ruby that question.”
The dog turned, her gaze meeting Leah’s with a disarming intelligence in her deep brown eyes.
“Uh, maybe some other time,” Leah said.
Aggie chuckled and opened the door. The dog held Leah’s gaze for a moment longer before she followed the old woman outside. Once they were out of the house, the dog took the lead, taking them on a winding path through the cacti and brush.
The old woman was able to move at a surprising speed for her age, with Marisa close behind her. Leah lagged in the rear, trying to absorb everything around her while still keeping pace with her companions.
It was a losing battle. Her surroundings were everything she’d imagined they’d be while sitting outside her motel room last night, and she longed to go exploring at a much slower pace instead of hurrying after Aggie and the others. The tangled thickets of prickly pear and cholla were just as fascinating as the towering heights of the saguaro. And there was so much wildlife—more than she’d expected in a landscape such as this. The scurrying quail. A rabbit that was as startled as she was. Doves breaking into flight. An honest-to-god roadrunner, which looked nothing like the cartoons she remembered as a kid.
She paused by a jumble of stones when she saw a flash of brown movement and was delighted to catch a glimpse of a small lizard.
“Leah!” she heard Marisa call.
She hurried on, glad she was wearing sneakers as she picked up her pace on the uneven ground. Following the sound of Marisa’s voice, she jogged up a hill to find the two women and the dog waiting for her at the top. From where they stood, they could see a two-lane blacktop following the contour of the land below.
“The trail stops here,” Aggie said.
Leah peered down the hill again. “Do you think someone picked her up and gave her a ride?”
“No,” Aggie said. “I mean it stops right here where we’re standing. She walked this far, then went into the otherworld.”
“The…otherworld,” Leah repeated.
Aggie nodded.
“How’s any of this even possible?”
Leah turned to Marisa, who shrugged.
“I know for a fact,” Marisa said, “that Isabelle’s numena came from somewhere else by way of her paintings. So I believe that other worlds do exist.”
“Except this isn’t a painting.”
“No,” Marisa agreed. “But why shouldn’t there be more than one way to move between the worlds?”
“Oh boy.”
“Do you still want to talk to Sadie?” Aggie asked.
Leah gave an uneasy nod.
“Then we have to cross over as well.”
Leah thought about this unknown territory she was being asked to enter. What was it Dylan said? You can always come back, but you can’t come back all the way.
The old stories said the same thing about fairyland: how, when you returned, you were no longer the same.
Except she wasn’t starting that journey here, at this moment. She’d started it when she’d read Aimee’s journal—that had been the first step she’d taken on this road.
And didn’t every journey change you? Look at what she was already feeling after just coming to the desert and talking to that old man Ernie last night. The landscape, the plight of the people he’d described…
Change wasn’t necessarily bad. It was just scary.
“Okay,” she said.
Aggie offered a hand to each of them. “You might feel a moment of discomfort when we cross over, but it passes quickly.”
Leah and Marisa exchanged glances. Marisa raised an eyebrow, Leah shrugged, and then they smiled at each other as they each took one of Aggie’s hands and let the old lady take them into the otherworld, red-furred Ruby leading the way.
Leah knew she was anthropomorphizing the dog, but she was sure she saw a glint of laughter in those dark eyes.
Over Yonder
31
Thomas
What Thomas wanted to tell Night Woman was: Who the hell do you think you are, casting some damn spell on me? But he remembered Reuben’s warning. Don’t look angry and say as little as possible. So when he got to where she and Morago were standing, all he did was hold the black feather out to her. “I think you left this behind at the trading post,” he said.
Morago looked from her to him, clearly surprised at their familiarity with one another. Night Woman merely took the feather, a twinkle of amusement in her eyes. On her shoulders her raven aura manifested, then peered down with great interest and clicked its beak.
Thomas waited for some difference, once he no longer had the feather, but nothing changed. He felt exactly the same after it left his fingers as he had before. Apparently, whatever medicine she’d used to change him no longer required the feather be in his possession. Which probably meant the change was permanent.
He wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or not.
“How do you two know each other?” the shaman asked, his voice casual.
Night Woman shrugged. “I stopped for a drink at the trading post.”
“Did you find the casino?” Thomas asked.
Morago’s eyes narrowed at the mention of the casino, and there was a long moment of silence. From somewhere in the distance Thomas heard the shrill skree of a hawk. He wished he were back on the highway with Santana, driving Reuben’s sweet ride, just enjoying his sister’s company. He wished Auntie had never sent him to the community center last night. He wished he were back at the trading post staring out the window at whatever new configuration the prickly pear made.
Basically, he just wished he was anywhere but here.
He sensed a deep underlying tension between Night Woman and Morago. You couldn’t tell by looking at them, but the air was thick with hidden undercurrents despite their pretence of calm.
“What are you up to, Consuela?” the shaman asked.
“Consuela?” Thomas repeated. “Her name’s Consuela?”
Morago nodded. “Consuela Mara, also known as the Morrigan, and at one time, she was Raven’s bride.”
Thomas didn’t know who or what the Morrigan was, but he remembered the stories of Raven’s bride—how they were wed in the long ago when the world was young, but now she presided on the opposite side of the wheel from where Raven stood. Raven had brought the world out of the darkness. She was a part of the darkness, curious to see what he had fashioned in that old black pot of his.
“I ask you again,” Morago said, returning his attention to the raven woman. “What are you up to?”
“Nothing. I was thirsty. What business is it of yours, anyway?”
“I like to keep abreast of what’s happening on the rez, especially when it involves spirits.”
“Then you need better gossips and spies,” she told him before turning to Thomas. “And no,” she added. “I haven’t had a chance to get to the casino yet.”
But the shaman obviously wasn’t ready to let her change the subject. “You saw her earlier today and didn’t think to mention it?” he said, focusing his attention on Thomas now.
I didn’t know I was supposed to answer to you, Thomas thought, but all he did was shrug and say, “I didn’t know who she was. She didn’t look like this. She looked like a supermodel.”
Morago’s brows went up.
“You know,” Thomas said. “Hot.” He felt a flush creep up his neck. It only got worse when Consuela gave him a smile like that of a contented cat. He could almost hear her purr and his neck got hotter. As she reached out a fingernail and ran it down his cheek, her raven aura fluffed its feathers, cocked its head at him and opened its beak. Thomas could swear it was laughing.
“Isn’t that sweet,” she said to him, but her gaze was on the shaman. “It’s good
to know not everyone is so frightened of me.”
Thomas didn’t think Morago was even remotely frightened. His eyes said he was pissed, but his voice was mild when he spoke.
“So why are you here, Consuela?” he asked.
This time, the raven woman answered him.
“Derek Two Trees wasn’t the first to die at the hands of Sammy Swift Grass and his hunters,” she said. “The kin of other victims have been speaking to the wind, asking for justice.
“Other victims?” Morago repeated. Whatever irritation he might have been feeling toward the raven woman seemed to wash away at this news.
Consuela nodded. The teasing look in her eyes was replaced with a hardness that sent a little shiver up Thomas’s spine.
“Why am I only hearing about this now?” the shaman asked.
“They were ma’inawo, not Kikimi. The ma’inawo don’t have a shaman to serve as their intermediary, so they offered their tobacco and prayers directly to Night Woman.”
Morago gave her a long, dubious look.
“I know many of the stories about Night Woman,” he finally said. “None of them say that she is such a powerful spirit as one of the thunders, accepting prayers.”
She shrugged. “Cousins have their own stories. Those stories say Night Woman walks the hours between sunset and dawn to ensure that forgotten wrongs don’t go without redress. She’s a formidable force, by all accounts.”
“So she’s a vengeance spirit,” Morago said.
“More a spirit of fairness. Even the ma’inawo may be in need of a champion at times.”
Morago nodded. “And you’re theirs.”
Consuela shook her head. “No, not at all. But I can do my part to see that justice is served for the cousins whose prayers I’ve heard.”
Thomas saw the doubt in Morago’s eyes. “I see,” the shaman said. “I appreciate your coming by to tell me about this.”
“I’m not just being neighbourly,” Consuela told him. “I’m here because I would like to have a member of the Kikimi as a witness to attest that whatever action I deem necessary is just. Ma’inawo clans are sticklers for propriety, and they wouldn’t want my judgment to cause any trouble between your peoples. Will you be my witness?”
Morago hesitated and Thomas suddenly realized that the shaman wanted to be elsewhere. It probably had something to do with the white girl he and Steve were protecting.
“Why is this a difficult question?” Consuela asked.
“It’s not difficult, but it’s not simple, either,” Morago began.
“I’ll go with you,” Thomas said, surprising himself as much as he did the shaman.
Reuben’s warning came back to him again—say as little as possible—but it was too late to take the words back.
Consuela smiled. “Well, isn’t this a nice surprise.” She turned to Morago. “Does he have the authority to speak for the tribe in this?”
Morago studied Thomas for a long moment before he smiled as well. “Of course he does,” he said.
Thomas looked from one to the other, trying to ignore the raven aura above Consuela’s shoulders. The bird was grinning and waving its wings, as though beckoning him to join them.
What had he gotten himself into?
“If I may have a moment with Thomas?” Morago said to Consuela.
“Of course.”
As the shaman took Thomas aside, Thomas realized it was really happening. He had just agreed to accompany a spirit out of myth to do…he wasn’t sure exactly what. And not just any spirit. She was out for vengeance, so she was probably going to tear Sammy to pieces right before his eyes. Thomas wasn’t particularly fond of Sammy, but he didn’t hate him the way some of the people on this side of the rez did. And he really wasn’t interested in watching him die.
“Thank you for this,” Morago said. “It’s not often I have to deal with crises on the rez and in the spiritworld at the same time.”
Thomas barely heard what he was saying. “I don’t know what I was thinking,” he told the shaman. “I don’t even know what to do. If she’s just going to kill—”
Morago laid a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll do just fine. It will be good for you. Observe, listen. Pay attention to what you see in both realms with your shaman’s eyes and ears.”
“But I don’t have that kind of medicine.”
Morago squeezed his shoulder. “How do you think you see the animal spirits of those walking around in the physical world?”
“I…”
“Exactly. I have only one caution: keep your own counsel. You are the tribe’s ears and eyes, but we must make our decisions based on what you have witnessed. Make no promises and speak as little as possible.”
Thomas wished he’d stuck to that before he’d opened his big mouth a moment ago. But he knew where the impulse had come from. He’d promised Steve and Morago he’d help them keep the girl safe. He just hadn’t dreamed it would be with something like this.
“Ready?” Consuela called over to them. She looked impatient, while her ghost raven looked gleeful.
No, Thomas thought, he didn’t want to join this pair. But he nodded.
“The cousins are just,” Morago told him as he started to go. “Their word is their bond—like it is for us. No harm will come to Sammy if he is innocent.”
Thomas wasn’t convinced. “Except we know he isn’t.”
Morago shook his head. “So far as we know, Sammy isn’t purposely targeting ma’inawo. All he has to do is convince Consuela of that.”
“And if he can’t?”
“Then he must face the consequences of his actions.”
Thomas gave a glum nod.
And then he’d have to watch Sammy die.
32
Steve
Sadie’s good. She could almost have me convinced, except I know I never touched her, not even when she was expecting me to, the night we met. My gaze leaves her face to find Calico, and my foxalope girl gives me a look that says she never saw this coming. Truth is, neither did I. I have no idea what game Sadie’s playing. Maybe Morago was right. Maybe this whole thing was cooked up by her and her father, though what they’re supposed to get out of it is anybody’s guess.
I want to tell Calico I understand why she brought Sadie here. That I know she meant well and I don’t blame her, even though it made things a lot worse. But that’ll have to wait until later. Right now I’ve got Reuben and Jerry to deal with.
“Steve—” Reuben says.
“Don’t,” I say without turning around.
“I have to ask, brother.”
I sigh. “No. I never touched her.”
I turn to look at him. He gives me a tight smile.
“That’s all I had to hear,” he says before adding, “Come on, Jerry, you know damn well we had nothing to do with this kid.”
“You’re not going to get away with it,” Jerry says, ignoring him and staring at me.
I expected as much from him. He didn’t believe me when I said I’d never kidnapped her, so why believe me now?
“Look at that poor kid,” he adds.
“Yeah, poor kid,” Calico says. “I think I’ll kill her now.” For a moment, the lower half of her face is a fox’s muzzle. She bares her teeth and snarls, and both Jerry and Sadie flinch and go pale. She starts for Sadie, only stopping because I hold up a hand and call out her name. Sadie still cringes, her gaze darting between Calico and me.
I stare at Sadie until I’m holding her full attention. “You might try to bullshit about me,” I say. “But if you drag anybody else into this little game of yours, all bets are off.”
Trying to keep an eye on both Reuben and Calico, Jerry sidles around us until he’s standing slightly in front of Sadie. “Nobody touches her,” he says. “You’ll have to go through me first.”
I nod. “I’m hoping it won’t come to that,” I tell him, “but like I said, she’s not getting away with this piece of crap story.”
“He’s the one who’s lying,”
Sadie says, pointing at me.
I jab my finger in the air toward her. “Only one of us is a backstabbing liar.”
“His real name is Jackson Cole,” Sadie blurts out, raising her arm and pointing back at me.
Jerry turns and gives her a blank look.
She crosses both arms, looking both defiant and satisfied. “He used to be this hotshot rock star. You know—that old band the Diesel Rats? Wanna bet he gave it all up and ran away because he did something like this before? Celebrities all think they can get away with anything.”
Jerry holds me with a considering look, probably not that different from the one I’m giving Sadie.
How’d she figure that out? She wasn’t even born when the band fell apart.
But Jerry’s focus is on the last part of what she said. “I don’t care if he’s the Pope,” he says. “He’s not getting away with any of this.”
He eyes each of us in turn while keeping Sadie behind him. “Are you going to let us walk away?” he asks when he gets to Reuben.
“You see anybody stopping you?” Reuben asks.
“Walk away where?” Sadie asks.
“Back to the police station,” Jerry says. “We’ll be able to contact your dad and get you back with your family—that’s if somebody here’s going to help us return to our own world.”
“Not our problem,” Reuben says.
At the same time, Sadie’s face blanches and she says, “I’m not going anywhere near my father.”
Jerry turns to give her a puzzled look.
“Because…because…”
She didn’t think this through. I can almost see the wheels spinning in her head as she tries to come up with some reason to stop from being reunited with her old man. Maybe they weren’t playacting when she got tossed from her old man’s car on Zahra Road the other night.
“Because,” she finally says, “he’s the one who sold me to Mr. Bigshot Jackson Cole in the first place.”
“Your father did what?” Jerry says, unable to keep the disgust from his voice.
She looks at her feet, unable or unwilling to meet anybody’s gaze, but she nods.
The Wind in His Heart Page 19
