Death Omen

by Amber Foxx

  After a silence, the woman smoothed her daughter’s stubble. “You did good, honey. Now could you see if there’s any squash? If there is, bring it in and then go look in the root cellar. We need to use up those potatoes.”

  The little girl fetched a sunhat and a white long-sleeved shirt from the house and went to the garden, where she dug through a sprawling patch of summer squash. She brought several gourds into the kitchen. On the walls were mandalas, including the batik one that now hung in Sierra’s Santa Fe kitchen, and Buddha statues wearing prayer beads sat on the chipped window sill over the sink. The window was patched with plastic sheeting and duct tape. Glass jars lined the counter, some half full of whole grains and brown pasta and others with sprouts growing in them.

  The child Sierra washed the squash, mumbling, “I have to do everything.”

  Her mother limped in and sat in a ladder-back chair. “I’ll cook. You don’t have to do everything.”

  “Yes, I do. Ever since Daddy died.” Sierra climbed up on a stepstool, slammed a cutting board onto the counter, and began slicing squash. “I milk the goats, I get the eggs, I clean the house—”

  “Don’t whine. You had chores before Daddy died. And we have to keep this place going if I’m ever going to get well. You know that. Now stop with the squash and go see if there are any potatoes that are still good. We can’t waste anything.”

  Sierra dropped the knife, suddenly in tears. “What if we can’t keep it going? What if you can’t work anymore?”

  “Then you’ll have to be our angel when you grow up. Our bodhisattva.”

  “I don’t know how.”

  “You won’t have to know. Just trust your intuition. Like Daddy taught you.” The mother rose and made her way to the counter, where she patted Sierra’s shoulder and took over slicing the squash. “Now be Mommy’s helper and go get the potatoes.”

  The vision ended, dissolving away.

  After taking time to brush her aura with snow quartz, resealing her boundaries and removing energy that didn’t belong to her, Mae took her crystals to the kitchen to clean in salt water. The vision troubled her. Sierra had been close to Brook and Stream’s age. The hair-cutting ritual suggested it was an anniversary of Sierra’s father’s death. Some cultures cut off hair in grief, but what if he’d had cancer and lost his hair? He’d been a blond, blue-eyed farmer laboring in the New Mexico sun. Could he have died from melanoma, one of the diseases Sierra claimed to have had?

  She also pretended to have cured herself of the disease her mother apparently suffered from. Was this her way of being her parents’ angel or bodhisattva? An attempt at vicarious healing? Or was there some other task they’d expected of her? Had her father taught her the dubious intuitive skills she practiced with her support group? She’d boasted of her self-healing success to Posey, who clung to a sick role though she was healthy.

  Mae brewed a mug of herbal tea and wrote an account of the visions, everything she wanted to share with Jamie, Kate, Bernadette, and Don first thing in the morning. She would be going for an early run with her father and could stop by the Pelican on her way, so she sent the four of them texts suggesting a meeting before the retreat got started for the day.

  Next, she wrote down questions. She needed help making sense of what she’d learned. Had Sierra started the support group so she could bully sick people in some displaced way of punishing her parents? Or did she really think she could teach them to cure themselves through facing their karma? Nothing Mae had seen explained Sierra’s ideas about Mu or her soul group. Nor had she learned anything about the fund-raising or exactly where Yeshi fit in the picture. Was he the key to the puzzle?

  *****

  Jamie switched on the bedside lamp. “Let him in, mate.”

  Ezra opened the door and Yeshi stepped in, wearing a bathrobe with folded slippers poking out of the pocket. On his feet were sturdy white athletic shoes, unlaced and sockless. He gave Ezra a small bow. “Thank you.”

  The boy invited him to sit and added, “But you can’t stay long. Jamie’s sick.”

  Yeshi remained standing. “Can I help?”

  “Yeah,” Jamie grumbled, stacking his pillows to elevate himself to half-sitting, “you could leave and let me sleep.”

  “Of course. I will make this brief. You have your massage tomorrow. Your consultation with me. Perhaps I can help you then.” Yeshi walked to the archway that demarcated the living room from the bedroom-and-kitchen half of the suite. “Sierra thinks spirits are doing things to her.”

  “That all? No worries. I get spirits once in a while. They settle down after they get their message across.”

  Yeshi blinked as if a bright light had flashed in his eyes. “Spirits bring you messages?”

  “Yeah.” No doubt Sierra thought spirits had stolen her shoe, which was fine with Jamie. So far he hadn’t told a lie and might not have to. “They do stuff to get my attention.”

  Ezra slipped past Yeshi and sat in the chair he had left beside the bed. “My grandmother says that, too. That spirits show up to remind us of things. Or just to remind us they exist. She says they hide her reading glasses to make her look at things more closely.”

  “This is not a joke.” Yeshi ran a hand over his thinning hair and tugged his robe tighter around his square, solid frame. “Sierra is distraught. Did one of you take her shoe from the spa?”

  “Like, how distraught?” Jamie asked. “Scared shitless? Climbing the walls? Or just pissed off?”

  Yeshi looked at the floor. “She is troubled about spirits.”

  “Not like her to send you to talk to me. She’s always been right in my face, y’know? Is she actually so upset that she couldn’t come with you?”

  The Tibetan doctor patted the slippers in his pocket and glanced around the room. “I told her I was sure you had played a prank. I don’t know why you would, but it was more logical. Are you telling me you don’t have her shoe?”

  Jamie wriggled his shoulders. “Sorry.”

  Yeshi paced into the living room and peered under and behind the couch and chair. He disappeared from Jamie’s sightlines, but the sound of the old metal doorknob turning and the hinges creaking told him Yeshi was looking in the living room closet.

  “Did you throw it in the dumpster?” Yeshi asked, returning to the archway.

  “No. Jeezus. Why would I do that?”

  “I don’t know. But I must know what you did. She says there are demons here, reborn as humans. I have tried to tell her for years that demons are only symbols of the craving and clinging mind, personifications of delusion, but I’m afraid she was raised in a rather curious version of Buddhism. And now you tell me you do not have her shoe and that spirits give you messages?”

  “Not demons, though. Guides.” Jamie pulled Gasser into his lap. It felt cruel to let Sierra’s demons haunt her, bully though she was. “Tell her it was a prank and that I’m sorry. I threw her shoe out the window, dunno where it went.”

  “I’ll look for it in the morning,” Ezra offered.

  “You should not have done this.” Yeshi’s expression was mournful. “Sierra does not get jokes.” He turned away, his broad shoulders drooping, and let himself out.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  To Kate’s relief, Jamie’s bright green suite smelled like coffee. Six in the morning with Jamie and without coffee would have been hell. He sprawled in a red armchair, his hair wild and uncombed, the layer of little braids beginning to frizz. An obese cat sprawled in his lap. Ezra was playing host, greeting people and serving coffee, an acknowledgment that Jamie wasn’t well. The prescription bottle by the glass of juice on the coffee table made it doubly clear.

  Kate and Lobo took the spot on the far side of the room where there was the least furniture, by the window looking out on the alley and the A&B Diner. Bernadette, Mae, and the children sat on the couch by the front windows, and Don and Ezra at the pink dining table. Jamie accepted a banana from Ezra, took a bite, swallowed pills with a gulp of juice, took anoth
er bite and drank coffee. “That enough for ‘take with food?’ ” he asked Don.

  The doctor replied, “Eat the whole thing.”

  “Since you’re taking pills for something,” Kate said, “can I ask what you’ve got? Is it contagious?”

  Jamie surprised her by standing and doing a little dance with his cat, holding it out by the armpits as if it were a partner and singing “Cat Scratch Fever.” The cat warbled, ears laid back.

  “Do you really?” Mae asked.

  “Yeah.” Jamie cuddled the disgruntled cat and kissed its head. “Sorry, mate. You’re a good sport.” He sank back into his chair.

  “I’m glad that’s all it is.” Mae ended the statement on a questioning up-note.

  Bernadette concurred, also with a puzzled tone. Don said nothing. Ezra opened a small plastic box of beads and began threading a new one into a half-finished bracelet. What did these reactions mean? Why didn’t Don and Ezra seem as confused or curious as the others? Maybe they already knew what was wrong and Jamie was actually telling the truth.

  “We’ve got half an hour,” Kate said. “Can we get started?”

  Reading from notes, Mae told them everything she’d discovered through her psychic work and then shared a few questions. Kate appreciated the preparation and detail. Mae had asked them to meet at this ungodly hour, but at least she was organized.

  “The mandalas.” Jamie sat forward. He took a gulp of coffee and clunked the mug onto the table in front of him. “Sierra’s parents were some kind of weird neo-Buddhists. Yeshi said he’s been trying to straighten her out, but he’s not getting through.”

  The twins fidgeted. Brook asked, “Can we go outside?”

  Stream added, “Can Lobo play?”

  Kate had to disappoint them. Tim took Lobo for long walks without her, but he was the only person she trusted that much with her service dog. “I’m sorry. Not without me there. Maybe later.”

  Mae opened the curtain behind her and looked out. Across the parking lot at the back of one of the other spa buildings, a violet colored one, Kate could see turquoise, pink, orange, and purple linens on a clothesline. A fit-looking woman in jeans and a Hawaiian shirt, wearing her gray hair in a ponytail, was taking items down and folding them into a laundry basket.

  “I reckon it’s okay,” Mae said, “but stay close. I want to be able to see you from here.”

  “Yes’m.” The girls darted out the door.

  “I’m glad they went,” Don said. “I didn’t want to say this in front of them.” He looked around at the group. “This will sound bizarre, but Sierra might believe the twins are reincarnated demons.”

  “You’re kidding. Demons?” Mae frowned, and then her eyes opened wide. “Oh my god. Would she hurt them?” She headed for the door.

  “I don’t think so,” Don replied.

  Mae paused with her hand on the knob. “But she was yelling at Brook outside of Bullock’s yesterday. It was pretty crazy.”

  Ezra offered to go outside with the girls. “If she shows up, I won’t let her near them. You need to talk with everyone.”

  “Thank you. And don’t let them get near her. They think it’s funny to call her Mrs. Moo and moo at her.” Mae returned to her place but remained standing, watching out the window. “If you see her, bring them in right that second. We’ll try to wrap this up fast.”

  Ezra went out, promising to do as Mae asked.

  “I’m so glad he’s here,” Bernadette said. “Okay, let’s figure out some next steps. What can we do today to get more answers?”

  Jamie spoke up. “Ask her if there were demon twins on Mu. It’s supposed to be the source of a lot of cultures, right? Most Native cultures have hero twins in their origin myths.”

  “Not demon twins,” Bernadette said.

  “Yeah, but she’s fucked up, right? Fucked-up anthropology, fucked-up religion, she could think anything.”

  Mae briefly took her gaze off the scene outside to look at Jamie. “I got the feeling from my vision of her and Posey that she might be making things up as she goes along. Getting ideas on the spur of the moment. Is it possible she’s faking her whole religion?”

  “Nah.” Jamie rolled the banana peel into a neat package, tucking its ends under, and propped it against his glass. “Yeshi wouldn’t have to clear it up for her if she was. Don’t they live together? She couldn’t pull an act all day and all night.”

  “Are you sure they live together?” Mae asked.

  Kate reviewed her one visit to the house on Quintana Street. Yeshi had been in the kitchen and his dog had been in the yard, but she didn’t really know if he lived there. Tim had acted very much at home in Kate’s house before he moved in. “I think I had living together on my mind when I went to her place. Tim had just moved in with me. I might have jumped to a conclusion.”

  “I wonder if they’re even lovers,” Don said. “I never see them touch.”

  “They did when I saw them at Bandstand,” Mae said. “They acted like a couple.” She turned to the window again.

  “Yeah.” Jamie closed his eyes and let out a sigh. “They could be having some problems now.”

  “We’re getting off topic,” Kate said. “We need to do what Bernadette said, figure out things we can do today. And I think what matters most is that we learn how much money Sierra’s been collecting and what she’s doing with it.”

  “And if Magda went off her meds for her and is leaving her a bloody fortune,” Jamie added.

  Don suggested, “Maybe Rex can get Sierra to talk with him about money.”

  Mae nodded. “And maybe Chuck and Daphne could volunteer to help Sierra’s whatever it is—her fund with estate planning. They could find out a lot that way.”

  “You don’t think she’s already got that set up?” Kate finished her coffee and glanced toward the pot on the kitchen counter. Though she would have to reach up, the space was accessible. She started to move her chair, but Don was on his feet and took her mug along with his for refills.

  “She believes in demons,” he said from the kitchen. “Do you honestly expect she’s that organized?”

  “No, but it seems like Yeshi would be,” Kate replied. “He organized this retreat.”

  Don brought Kate her mug, set his on the coffee table, and asked if he could get refills for the others. They declined. He sat down. “Is that everything, then? I can go talk to Rex if it is.”

  Mae volunteered to talk to the Bradys, but Jamie interrupted. “Better not. They’re in the Red Pelican, and Sierra might see you. Mother of demons, y’know? I’ll go over. And I have a Yeshi session this afternoon. I can ask about him and Sierra.”

  “He’ll let you?” Bernadette sounded doubtful. “He’s pleasant enough, but he doesn’t strike me as approachable.”

  “Y’think?” Jamie rubbed his head, probing around the roots of a braid. “I never noticed.”

  No, he didn’t notice things like that, did he? Kate took a few sips of coffee. “Go right ahead. If anyone can ask nosy questions and act normal about it, it’s you.”

  Jamie made a face at her, raising one eyebrow and lowering the other, twisting his mouth to the scowling side. He can’t tell if that was an insult or a compliment. She smiled at him. “I’ll see if I can hang out with Leon, get him to open up to me.”

  Jamie snorted. “Yeah, you’re so good at that.”

  He had a point. She might need Bernadette along.

  Mae promised to do more psychic work later that morning, and the group began to break up. Mae was the first out the door. Though of course she had the children to think of, the quick departure didn’t look like a good sign for her love life. She and Jamie had been no more affectionate than Yeshi and Sierra were. Bernadette stayed with Jamie, saying she would clean up. He protested that he could wash a few mugs, but thanked her as she took them to the kitchen.

  Thinking the girls and Lobo might enjoy some playtime, Kate joined Mae outside, where the twins, with Ezra hovering like a bashful bodyguard, were chat
ting with the housekeeper at the clothesline.

  “She has a golf cart, Mama,” Stream declared.

  “There are so many parts to this spa,” the woman explained, “sometimes it’s easier to load it up and drive over to do the rooms. I hate to disappoint you, young ladies, but I don’t drive it this early. I can’t change people’s sheets while they’re sleeping in them.”

  “Can we come back and help you drive it later?”

  The woman offered Mae a hand to shake. “I’m Barb.” Mae introduced herself, and Barb continued, “I’ve been enjoying your girls. But I don’t think my boss would like them driving.”

  “That’s okay. I don’t want them to drive.” Mae looked down at the twins and stroked their heads. “Thank Miss Barb for her time.”

  They did as she asked. Barb took her basket into the violet-colored building, and Kate told the twins they could play with Lobo. The girls checked with Mae for permission, then Kate let her dog loose and tossed the tennis ball from her bag. Running with him, the twins began a game.

  “Thanks,” Mae said. “And thanks for getting up this early. I think Ezra and I are the only people in this group who really like to be up at the crack of dawn.”

  He’d made himself so invisible, Kate was a little surprised when Ezra spoke. “I like running in the morning,” he said. “I’ll go with Refugio and Misty later, but it’s not spiritually the same as sunrise.”

  Kate asked him, “What do you think of all this so far, spiritually?”

  Ezra tucked his chin and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m not an expert on things like that. I’m just here to learn stuff.”

  “But you can have an opinion.”

  He picked up a clothespin from the dirt and clipped it on the line. “Not really. I just got here. But I had a dream about Ms. Stein last night. Would that be useful?”