The Wind in His Heart

by Charles de Lint

  “Yeah,” Marisa said, an element of doubt in her voice. “Except I’m not really sure that telling their stories is such a good idea.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, some of these beings—these people—are my friends. If they don’t want the publicity, what gives me the right to turn a spotlight on them? Shouldn’t it be their choice when, or even if, they reveal themselves?”

  Leah thought about that for a moment before she gave a slow nod. “That’s kind of how I felt when I realized what I was planning to do if we had found Jackson Cole down here.”

  Marisa nodded. “But how comfortable are you about editing out the supernatural aspects of your experience? It’s going to mess up your book.”

  “I don’t even know that I want to write a Diesel Rats book anymore.”

  Marisa raised her eyebrows, but before Leah could explain, headlights turning into the motel’s parking lot caught their attention. Leah thought about the old desert rat she’d met last night, but this didn’t appear to be him. The vehicle was a sedan, not a pickup. But when the car parked in their room’s parking spot, it was Ernie who stepped out.

  “Hey, that’s our rental,” Marisa said, puzzled.

  Ernie looked at them from across the top of the car and tipped a finger against his brow. “Ladies. I didn’t think you’d still be out and about.”

  “Hey, Ernie,” Leah said. She introduced him to Marisa, then added, “What are you doing with our car?”

  Ernie walked around the front of the car to join them. “Alejandro—the guy you saw dropping me off last night? He got a call from Morago asking us to pick it up from Aggie’s place and drive it here.”

  He shook his head. “Damn shame, what happened. Aggie’s good people. I’m glad it looks like she’s going to be okay.”

  Marisa nodded. “We really like her,” she said.

  Ernie laid the car keys on the table then dragged another chair over and sank down in it.

  “Everybody does,” he said. “Except for that psycho kid that attacked her, I guess.”

  “I’m sure it’s not that simple,” Marisa said.

  “It never is.”

  They all fell silent for a moment.

  “So, Ernie,” Leah said. “Thanks for the tip about Jerry’s Roadhouse. It was just what we wanted yesterday morning, and we enjoyed talking to your friend Janis.”

  “Yeah, she’s something, all right.” There was a real warmth in his eyes when he spoke. He gave a little shake of his head. “So how’d things go with that musician you were looking for?”

  “It was a dead end.”

  “I guess that comes with the territory in your business.”

  Leah nodded. “But I was wondering if I could talk to you some more about what’s happening out in the desert.”

  His gaze flicked to Marisa before returning to her.

  “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the things you were telling me,” Leah added.

  He nodded. “I’m kind of beat.”

  “Oh, I didn’t mean right now. I thought maybe sometime tomorrow, maybe early afternoon?”

  “Sure.”

  “Ahhh…Leah,” Marisa said. “We’ve got a late afternoon flight and we still have to drive back to Vegas.”

  “I know. I’m not coming.”

  “But—”

  “Don’t worry. Alan will still get his book—or at least a book. I see a long connecting thread from when I first got into the Rats, to being here right now.”

  “I’m not worried about a book,” Marisa said. “I’m worried about you. This is a big decision.”

  “Yes, Mom.”

  Marisa frowned. “No, seriously, Leah.”

  Ernie stood. “Maybe I’ll just let you folks work things out.”

  Leah nodded. “But what’s a good time to get together?”

  Ernie looked uncomfortable. “Pretty much any time after one,” he finally said.

  Leah grinned. “Great.”

  “See you then,” Ernie said, picking up the chair putting it back in front of the room next door.

  Marisa waited until he’d reached the door of his own room before she turned back to Leah. “When did you decide all of this?” she asked.

  “Pretty much in the last five minutes. But I’ve been thinking about it since the first morning we got here. Sorry to spring it on you like this.”

  Leah waited for Marisa to tell her she was crazy—because it did feel a little crazy to her—but all Marisa asked was, “Where will you stay?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll just keep the room. I’ve got a little money put away. I could probably stretch it for a couple of months—longer, if I can find some work.”

  Marisa gave a little shiver and hugged herself. “This is crazy.”

  And there it was.

  “I know,” Leah said. “But it feels right. My life’s been this narrow little world of blogging and working at the Arts Court, and that’s about it. Being here has opened my mind to all sorts of different things I could be doing. Like, maybe making a difference instead of focusing on the minutiae of a band that folded decades ago.”

  “But it—it’s been your life’s work. You’ve invested so much of yourself in the band.”

  “I know. Except when you think about it, I didn’t learn anything. What did Jackson Cole say in song after song? Be your own person. Follow your dreams. Make a difference. I’ve done none of that.”

  “And writing about the migrants will change that?”

  Leah shrugged. “I don’t know. What I do know is that I always had just one question if I ever met Cole: Why didn’t the band’s music save Aimee?—and that’s the one question that no one but Aimee could have answered.

  “That casual conversation I had with Ernie on our first night was a literal epiphany for me. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it, and everything I’ve experienced since we got here seems to be leading me back to how I can help others. Make that difference. Not ruin Steve’s life for the sake of a big story that’s nobody else’s business except his.”

  Marisa opened her mouth, then shook her head. “Why don’t you sleep on it?” she said. “See if you feel the same way in the morning.”

  “I’m not going to change my mind.”

  “Still, sleep on it,” Marisa said, then her eyes went wide. “Crap. I forgot that Alan’s looking to get a flight out. I have to see if I can get him to cancel.”

  She got up and pulled out her phone as she spoke. “Remember,” she said as she dialed.

  “Yes, Mom. I’ll sleep on it.”

  Marisa stuck out her tongue as she went into their room, leaving Leah to the desert night so rich with stars.

  64

  Sadie

  Sadie’s bravado had been fading during the whole long walk from the Ghost Mall to the hospital. Neither she nor Gonzalo had said another word to each other and that was fine with her. She wasn’t in the mood to talk with anyone.

  By the time the automatic doors opened for them at the front entrance, she felt empty and sad. She had no idea what she hoped to accomplish by seeing the old lady, and she couldn’t imagine that Aggie would be particularly happy to see her. She dreaded seeing Manny, too—the quick disapproval in his eyes every time she opened her mouth or did anything.

  She didn’t even know why she cared. But it was too late to back out now, so she stuck her hands deep into the pockets of her hoodie and followed as Gonzalo strode into the elevator.

  There’d been crows lining the hospital’s roofline and perched on the mesquite and cacti out front, a couple of the crow men inside the hospital’s entrance. There were two more in the corridor when they exited the elevator. They had all given her the same flat, hard stare as she went by. Sadie was pretty sure that, if not for the witch’s protection, she’d be lying in a shallow grave right now somewhere out in the desert.

  Which would probably be the best end to this whole crappy business.

  Yeah, she’d pushed Gonzalo hard to c
ome here, except once she saw the old woman, then what? She could say she was sorry, but after that, there’d be nothing for her. She hadn’t just burned bridges, she’d blown them all into so many tiny pieces it was like they’d never existed.

  If only she could just learn to think things through first. Ever since Reggie had dumped her out in the desert, she’d been out of control, like the rabid dog that the cops had shot on her street last summer.

  Even right now, while she wasn’t exactly foaming at the mouth, she was trying to figure some way out of this mess and wishing she hadn’t thrown away her utility knife. She’d like to plunge it right into Gonzalo’s arrogant back.

  Stop with the crazy talk, she told herself.

  If she had her knife, what she would really do was ease the growing pressure that was making her skin feel tight and her head all loco.

  She took a deep breath. God, her throat was dry.

  As they passed a restroom, she said, “I need to use the can,” and ducked inside before Gonzalo could react. She ran the tap, drinking with cupped hands, then splashing more on her face. Lifting her head she saw some sketchy pyscho girl looking back at her from the mirror.

  She bit hard on her lip and the scab broke open. The salty iron taste of blood filled her mouth and she felt herself calm a little.

  Now the psycho girl in the mirror looked more like some pathetic street kid with a bloody lip.

  She spit into the sink and watched the gob of spit and blood inch toward the drain until she turned on the faucet and washed it away.

  She grabbed some paper towels. Wetting them, she gave her face and neck a good scrub to clean up the worst of the dirt and sweat. She used her fingers to comb her hair. Her clothes were grubby and smelled rank, like that hellhole mall, but there was nothing she could do about that. She put her mouth to the faucet and took another drink. Straightening up, she went back out into hall to find Gonzalo leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest.

  “You ready now?” he asked.

  Sadie nodded.

  They walked by a nurse’s station to a doorway where another crow man was standing guard. Gonzalo ushered her into the room, but stayed outside.

  Sadie ran her tongue over her cut lip and swallowed. The taste of blood was vague enough that it could almost have been a memory, but it helped.

  Manny was sitting in a chair near the head of the hospital bed. He stood up when she came in. Aggie lay with her eyes closed. Her skin had a weird pallor, but that might have been from the fluorescent light coming through the large observation window. “There’s not going to be trouble, right?” he said.

  “What? No!” She peered more closely at Aggie. “Maybe I should come back when she’s awake.”

  Aggie’s eyes opened and Sadie took a quick step back. “Who says I’m sleeping?” the old woman asked.

  Sadie moved warily to the foot of the bed. “How are you doing?” she asked, shifting from one foot to the other.

  “I’ve been better.”

  “Yeah, about that. I’m, you know, sorry. That you got hurt. Um.” She cleared her throat and tried again. “That I hurt you.”

  Aggie studied her for a long moment without speaking. Her gaze was so dark and serious that Sadie wanted to drop her own, but she couldn’t seem to look away.

  “I know that what happened at the police station wasn’t entirely your fault,” Aggie finally said. “You panicked and I was in the wrong place.”

  Sadie gave a slow nod.

  “But that doesn’t excuse how you treated Steve, the hurtful lies you told.”

  “I—I know.”

  “Perhaps your father’s given you no reason to trust men, but you only have to consider Steve’s kindness toward you to know that they’re not cut from the same cloth.”

  Sadie nodded again. “It was wrong.”

  Aggie sat up a little with a grimace, waving Manny away as he moved closer to help her. Her gaze never left Sadie’s. “I wonder,” she said. “Do you really believe that, or is it only what you think I want to hear?”

  It took Sadie a moment to realize that Aggie was asking her the question, not talking to herself. “Probably a little of both,” she replied, surprising herself with her honesty.

  “Huh.” Aggie turned to Manny. “What do you think about that?”

  The crow man’s gaze remained harsh. “I think she also went and traded Ruby’s soul for a witch’s favours.”

  Oh, God. Ruby. That might be the worst of what she’d done.

  “That wasn’t supposed to happen,” Sadie said, all her defensiveness back. “I had it under control, but then she had to go and offer herself.”

  “What was supposed to happen?” Manny asked.

  Sadie turned to him, her jaw set. “I was going to beat Reggie over the head with a baseball bat until he agreed to do it.”

  “Who’s Reggie?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “My old man.”

  The unfriendliness in the crow man’s eyes was still there, but now it didn’t seem completely directed at her.

  The old woman just looked sad. “There’s something wrong with you,” Aggie said.

  Sadie clenched and unclenched her fists. “You think I don’t know that? I hate myself and I’m angry all the time. I’m about as fucked up as you can get.”

  “It can be fixed,” Aggie said.

  For a moment, hope blossomed in Sadie. “You’d do that? Help me?”

  Aggie nodded. “I would. I hope I get the chance to try. But you know what you have to do first.”

  Sadie’s shoulders slumped. “What’s that?” she asked, feeling the energy drain from her body.

  “There’s the world of the spirit and the world of the body,” Aggie told her. “I can help you in the world of the spirit, but first you must set things right in the world of the body. If you don’t fix this first, the spirits can’t help you.”

  “Spirits,” Sadie replied. She nodded with her chin at Manny. “You mean, like him?”

  Aggie smiled. “Yes and no. Manny’s from Yellowrock Canyon—a ma’inawo. People think of the ma’inawo as spirits, but when you consider the thunders—the big mysteries—they’re more like little ones.”

  “So they’re…little mysteries?” Sadie tried.

  She didn’t have a clue what that actually meant, and Aggie’s “Exactly!” didn’t help.

  “So I’ve got to make things right with the cops,” Sadie said, her voice dull.

  Aggie nodded.

  “You know they’re going to put me away in some jail. They won’t call it a jail, but that’s still what it’ll be.”

  Aggie nodded again. “Think of it as a time-out. And don’t be shy of the counselors. I’m sure you have an excellent bullshit detector. If you trust any of them, don’t be shy about accepting their help.”

  “And then what?”

  “Then you come back and see me, and I’ll teach you how to walk large. I’ll teach you how to bring yourself back into balance with the spiritual world.”

  “Is that hard?”

  Aggie shrugged. “Everything’s hard, if it means anything.”

  But why did it have to be this hard? Why did she have to feel so bad all the time? Why did she have to always break whatever came into her orbit?

  Not everything, she realized. She’d never hurt Aylissa or any of the other foster kids that had come through the house.

  She remembered back in the Ghost Mall, thinking there was nothing left for her. But maybe she’d been wrong. Like Aggie said, it’d be hard. Facing the cops. Facing Reggie. Taking her medicine.

  But hard made sense. With everything she’d done, she deserved hard.

  She met Aggie’s steady gaze. Here was the woman she’d put in the hospital with her knife, the woman who was still offering to help. Yeah, she was a space cadet, and yeah, all her mumbo jumbo about food having feelings was weird. All those crazy stories had come out while they were making what had pretty much been the best meal she’d ever eaten. But right now
, Aggie seemed like a light in the darkness.

  Sadie had tried it the other way. Reggie’s way. The asshole way.

  Maybe it was time she tried the space cadet way. How had Aggie put it? Bring yourself back into balance with the spiritual world. Sadie wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but she knew she’d never been in balance in her life, and it sounded a hell of a lot better than any of her other options.

  She thought about her knife, how it provided a sense of release and helped her cope with being powerless. The knife was gone, but she still needed something—some kind of hope to take with her while going through the pile of crap she’d face as soon as she walked into the police station.

  Now she wished she’d been paying better attention when they were making dinner at Aggie’s house.

  She felt like a little kid when she asked, “Will you tell me a story before I go? Something to help when the cops put me away?”

  Aggie nodded. “Come sit here beside me.”

  Sadie edged her way around the bed to the chair where Manny had been sitting. He stepped back and leaned against the windowsill, arms folded across his chest. Not exactly friendly, but not as hard-eyed as he’d been earlier.

  “The People of Turtle Island don’t have all the same medicines and mysteries,” Aggie said, when Sadie was sitting. “But from tribe to tribe, there are some stories and beliefs we hold in common. I’ll tell you one of the oldest stories I know. I’ve heard many versions over the years, but this is how it’s told around the campfires of the Kikimi.”

  * * *

  Long ago, Tía Sweet Smoke, an Aunt of the desert people, took her granddaughter Pela down from the mountains to trade with the river people. They left the Painted Lands early in the morning, but between trading and gossip, by the time they were returning home, the shadows had grown long before them, the sun was ready to find her bed in the mountains, and they were still hours from home.

  Pela grew nervous as the darkness fell around them, but Tía Sweet Smoke wasn’t worried. Why should she be? She knew the trail well, the moon would rise soon to light their way, and who would dare trouble an Aunt of the People? Everyone knew that while the men of their tribe had a magic that let them fight in the shape of dogs, the Aunts were magic. Medicine ran in their veins the way blood runs in ours.