by C. E. Murphy
I sighed and looked down at the paperwork. “Yeah, if I can get all this stuff filled out so they’ll put him in PT.” I shuffled the stack, then shook my head. “Did you really magic up my location?”
Garth looked guilty. “No.”
I frowned up at him. “Then what’re you doing here?”
Garth brightened a little. “Visiting somebody. Come on.”
I eyed my paperwork, then groaned and stood up. “Anything for a break.”
* * * *
The sordid truth was I expected Garth to lead me through the hospital to meet some handsome, starry-eyed young intern who he would euphemistically introduce as “my friend.” Instead he took my hand and tugged me up to the cancer ward, where we stopped at the reception area and Garth leaned on the desk without letting go of my hand. “We’re here to see Colin.”
The man behind the desk waved us on without looking up, then followed us with, “He’ll be glad to see you, Garth.”
“You come here a lot?” I asked. Garth nodded, knocked on a room door, then pushed it open. Despite the hour, the young man in the bed sat up and smiled wearily as we stepped inside.
“Garth, man, who’s this? You didn’t tell me you were dating an Amazon.” His voice was thin, rising and falling on shallow breaths. He was good-looking, even through the bloat of weight that cancer treatments had put on him. His eyes were hazel and cheerful, and the handshake he offered was full of concentrated strength. “I’m Colin,” he said. “Garth’s my big brother.”
* * * *
It wasn’t quite full light when I left the cancer ward with Garth. The sky was hazy and light gray, a promise of another beautiful day to come. The air was cool for the first time in forever, although I privately admitted I wasn’t usually up at five-thirty, the past few days notwithstanding. Possibly it was always perfect at this hour on a summer morning. Garth walked out onto the medical center steps with me, hands jammed in his pockets and head lowered. Neither of us had spoken since we left Colin’s room.
“So what’s the deal?” I finally asked. We’d stayed in Colin’s room most of the night, both of them offering up absurd answers to questions on the insurance forms, Garth watching his brother when he slept. Between naps and paperwork, I tried to convince Colin that I was neither an Amazon nor Garth’s girlfriend. He cheerfully refused to believe either.
Garth sat on the steps, not looking at me as he answered. “He’s had leukemia his whole life, pretty much. Since he was eight. We thought he had it beat, but then a few months ago it came back, and he’s been pretty sick since.”
“How old is he?”
“Seventeen.”
I blinked. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-two.”
I didn’t say he seemed younger. “I just want him to be okay,” Garth said, without noticing my lack of input. “I tried praying for a long time, and when Colin was getting better I thought it was working, but then he got sick again and God doesn’t seem to care.”
“So you looked for something else?” I ventured. Garth nodded, dangling his hands between his knees.
“Mom couldn’t handle Colin being sick again. She split a while ago, so even trying to hang together with family didn’t work. Dad and me live about five minutes from here. So yeah, it’s how come I got involved in the Craft.” He studied his hands, while I bit my tongue from asking, you got involved in the Craft because you live five minutes from here? “I thought maybe…well, the Goddess is supposed to do magic, right?” Garth went on. “Witches and everything. I thought maybe…”
“Maybe magic could help.” I put my fingertips over my eyes and rubbed. “It’s not really that simple, Garth.”
“I found that out. I was gonna give up, but then I heard Virissong, see? In the coven, I heard him talking to me. He said that when he came back and was strong again, he could heal the earth, and heal my brother, too.”
“Virissong isn’t a god, Garth.”
“I think he’s an aspect of the god.”
“The God?” I pointed upward.
“That God and the god and the goddess are all one and the same. It’s just kind of hard to see it with modern religious trappings.” He sounded like he’d learned it by rote and believed it to the core of his being. “But Colin’s getting worse. I know the solstice is soon and Virissong will come then, but—” He broke off, took a deep breath, and spoke very quickly: “But you have real power. We all felt it. I hoped maybe you could help Colin hang on just a little longer.” The breath whooshed out of him and his shoulders deflated as he curved in on himself.
“Jesus, Garth.” I leaned over, putting my head on my knees.
If I let myself—and I had been careful, on some level, not to—I could feel the hospital behind me. Not just the hospital, but each individual, patients and doctors alike, interns and nurses, newborns and the dying. Sometimes they were one and the same. I could feel places in them that needed healing, sometimes physical, very often psychological. There was too much for me to heal at once, even if those who were in need would allow me to try, and not all of them would. Young doctors, determined to prove that they could hack the harsh realities of the medical world, wouldn’t let someone like me near them, for a multitude of reasons. Skepticism was only the easiest; a fear of showing weakness was the worst.
I wondered for the first time if I’d always avoided hospitals because I caught some sense of the meteoric emotional highs and lows, even before I was rudely awakened to a world that wasn’t quite like the physical one I was comfortable with. Tuning into that sensation didn’t even require any particular supernatural skill or belief. Hospitals carried a lot of psychic whammy.
“I’ll try to help him, Garth,” I said to my knees. There wasn’t really any question about it from the moment I stepped into Colin’s room. I could shrug off responsibility to the faceless masses for months at a time, as I’d less-than-admirably proven already. Individuals, though, in need of help, aching for it with every breath, even if they couldn’t ask for it out loud—I wasn’t a monster, and I was a long way from being that hard. “I can’t promise anything,” I said, lifting my head. “Okay? I can’t promise anything. But I can try.”
“Thank you.” Garth’s voice cracked and he crashed his shoulder against mine as he leaned over to hug me. “Thank you. I know you can help him. I think that’s part of why Virissong called you to the coven. He knew you could help Colin hang on just a little while longer. Until he comes to help everyone.”
I felt very old as I hugged Garth back. I knew Virissong wasn’t a god any more than I was, but he didn’t seem to want to hear it. Maybe some things just had to be taken on faith.
“Go on,” I said, giving Garth a little shove. “I’ll see you at the meeting tonight. I’ve got to think about how I’m going to do this.” My inability to know how to heal Gary only seemed enormously compounded when facing something as invasive as a cancer. There had to be a way to do it. If I’d spent the past several months studying, I’d probably know what it was.
“Okay.” Garth climbed to his feet, nodding, and wobbled down the steps, leaving me alone to my planning.
I didn’t really need to plan. I had Gary’s spirit quest to do in a matter of minutes; making it home in time would be a crunch. A bit of memory floated through my mind, something about traditional shamans using sleep deprivation as a tool to enter their trances. That was good: in my current state, one or two deep breaths ought to put me under. I watched Garth walk away, then pushed to my feet. For once I had a clear path to follow and no qualms about following it. I went to find Petite.
Chapter Fourteen
Sunday, June 19, 6:00 a.m.
I wasn’t early. I wasn’t late, either, but I wasn’t early. My garden was as hazy as I was, fog rolling through it. The trees were all budded with brand-new leaves, visible if I looked straight at them and a green, unfocused blur if I looked away even a fraction of an inch. On the one hand, the whole new life symbolism of the budding branches seemed like a
good one. On the other, it seemed likely that the blooming trees were more going for the fuzzy greenness than making a statement about my psychic preparedness for a new day. I yawned so hard my eyes teared up and I toppled over on my side. Judy sniffed in disapproval this time. “The weariness of the body should be left behind, Joanne.”
“You’ll have to teach me how to do that.” I pushed myself upright again, still yawning until my vision sparkled and blurred. “And what is this with Joanne, Joanne, Joanne all the time. Everybody’s all formal.” I’d gotten used to Gary calling me Jo, a name I never thought I’d like. For a few seconds an image of my father glittered in my tears: watchful almond eyes with neither patience nor humor in them. He called me Jo, like he wanted a boy if he wanted a child at all.
I blinked away tears and visions alike. Judy’s eyebrows were lifted. “Is there something else you’d rather be called?”
I studied her for a few seconds, gauging my response to that and to her. “No. Joanne’s fine.” Even Joanie, which most people called me, seemed a little more personal than I wanted to get with Judy just yet. “Let’s get started. There’s a lot to do this morning.”
Judy smiled. “So there is. Is there someone specific you’d like to do a spirit quest for?”
“A couple people. Do I have to tell you who?” My recalcitrance surprised me, but it surprised Judy more. Her eyebrows darted up again.
“Not if you don’t want to. It’ll make it harder for me to help guide you.”
I held my breath, staring at her for a while. “All right. One of them’s a kid named Colin. He’s a cancer patient, a friend of mine’s brother.” Friend. I’d known Garth two days and doubted I’d ever see him again after the solstice. If that constituted a friend, I needed a lot of work on my interpersonal relationships.
Not that that was really much of a surprise.
“And the other?”
I found myself holding my breath again. “Let’s start with Colin. He’s pretty sick.” Gary was my friend, and I felt a gut-deep reluctance to invite Judy along to guide me to finding a spirit animal for him. I’d screwed up all on my own with Gary, as far as I was concerned. I was going to find a way to help him on my own, too. It wasn’t the right shamanistic spirit, but despite that, it felt right. My heart hurt, tiny sharp beats that made breathing hard. I shook my head, an attempt at literally shaking the feeling off. “Colin first.”
I was getting good at plunging into the Lower World. This time I went through my little garden pond, too impatient to take a slow burrow through the earth. Cold gray water surrounded me, my lungs burning although I knew if I needed to I could draw a breath and not drown. Doing so seemed like cheating somehow. I thought the price of gasping to the surface was only the first step I should take toward finding a healing place.
I burst up through the earth, rich loam splattering every which way, as if it were water. I planted my hands in the dirt, treating it like a lakeshore, and pulled myself out of the ground, neither wet nor mud-encrusted. Maybe, just maybe, I was getting a little better at this. Judy appeared at my side, having taken a different path to the Lower World, and nodded with what I thought might be faint approval.
This time I didn’t need to be told to draw a power circle. The sun was already high, burning very close to us in the red sky. I greeted it without even feeling ridiculous, and bowed in each direction, asking for guidance and protection in my quest. Judy settled down beside me in the circle, looking pleased.
“It’s not unlike doing a search for yourself,” she said as I sat down. “But rather than asking for the spirits to come and guide you, think of your friend Colin. Ask for the help of any who will come. Focus on him.” She lifted a drum I hadn’t seen her carrying and began to beat a rhythmic tang. I took a deep breath and let my eyes close, wondering if there was a difference between sleeping and trances in the Lower World.
The too-close sun bore a bright spot through my closed eyes, making my eyelids burn a brighter crimson than the sky. I built an image of Colin around that brilliance, turning the whiteness into his fair hair and remembering the hollowness of his eyes beneath it. The darkness around the image felt cloying and sticky, as if his sickness affected the picture I had in my mind. It was uncomfortable, like picking my feet up and slogging through tar, but I’d made a promise. More, I wanted to help him. Maybe needed to.
Please. Making a word of the need startled me. He’s just a kid, and his strength is almost gone. If there’s anyone who’s willing to lend him your strength, I’ll guide you to him. He’s a good kid. I felt the heat of tears press through my eyelashes and swallowed against them. Please, I said again, then drew a sharp breath, trying to settle my thoughts into silence.
Not thinking was harder than it sounded. Judy’s drum helped, the beat mixing with my heartbeat and filling my blood with hope. The sunspot in my eyelids drifted up, then away, telling me that time passed. Comforting blackness wrapped around me, the drum as its pulse. The thickness of the dark stayed with me, until I couldn’t feel myself breathing anymore. I took a deeper breath, trying to make my lungs and ribs expand so much that I couldn’t help but feel them, and instead I lost Colin’s image from my mind. Retrieving it was slow work, pulling it from the sticky darkness piece by piece.
I didn’t know why I opened my eyes: nothing that I could sense on any physical level had changed. But I did, and found a massive serpent coiled inside the power circle, its blunt nose mere inches from my hooked one. It had the same bright black eyes as its predecessor, watching me with deadly calm. My heart lurched, making a pit of sickness in my stomach.
“You ssseek,” it murmured. “I anssswer.”
Did it have to be a snake? I tried to keep the thought stuffed deep in my brain where no one, particularly the snake, could hear it. Its flat expression didn’t change and I let out a relieved breath. “Thank you.” Snakes are a symbol of healing, I reminded myself. This is a good sign. I kept that thought stuffed deep in my brain, too. “Judy?” My voice had only the slightest quaver to it. I was proud of myself. “How come it’s inside the circle?”
“To bring its power back to your friend, it has to become a part of you,” Judy said with a trace of impatience. “You’re a conduit, Joanne. How on earth did you manage to make it this far with so little education?”
Heat crept up my cheeks. I knew shamans were conduits. I’d invited the snake in to the power circle with my thoughts. How else did I expect to guide it to Colin? “Sorry,” I muttered, still scarlet. “I knew that.”
To the snake, I said, “I’m not with the one who needs your help. Will you let me carry you to him?” I put out an arm, trying not to notice the goose bumps that shivered up my skin as I made the offer. The snake ducked its head, flicking its tongue over the fine hairs on my arm. Then it shot forward, putting its head over my shoulder. I gathered it up as carefully as I could, settling its weight over both my shoulders. It slithered down my right arm, coiling around it, and as I lifted its tail, that coiled around me, too. The thing was at least as tall as I was, powerful muscles bunching and releasing against my skin. I fought down terror for a few seconds, trying desperately to remind myself that it was there to help. Its weight was enough that I considered stopping for the day right there, and simply heading back to the real world so I could deliver the snake’s strength to Colin.
“Oh.” My voice sounded loud and startled to my own ears. The strength I’d just been afraid of was exactly what the creature was offering to Colin. My fear broke apart, making the next breath I took easier, and suddenly the snake’s weight seemed much less significant. “Thank you,” I said again to the snake. “But I have a question. Will carrying you with me make it harder for me to do a spirit quest for another friend? I have a lot to do this morning.”
The snake twined its way back up my arm and stuck its tongue in my ear. I tried not to squirm or shriek as it hissed, “Perhaps. I have come to help. Shall I help more than one?”
My heart slowed down as I considered th
e offer, my thoughts long and careful between one beat and the next. “No,” I said after a few echoes had pounded through my body. “I think Colin will need all the strength you can spare him. I think I need to do another quest for my other friend.”
“Very well.” The snake slid down off my shoulders and wrapped itself in a loose circle around my folded legs, not touching me. “When you have completed your quessst, we shall all return together.”
“Thank you,” I said, surprised at how much I meant it. “Judy, would you drum again, please?”
She pursed her mouth, lifted the drum, and began a new beat. I took a deep breath, smiling briefly at her, but her concentration was for the drum. I shrugged, tilting my head back as I closed my eyes, and fell into darkness again.
It felt different this time. The darkness behind my eyelids was cool and slick, like black water. I could hear my heartbeat more clearly than Judy’s drum, and my breathing was easier. My ribs creaked as I inhaled, and I enjoyed the sensation. I knew Gary a lot better. Maybe that was why it was so much easier.
Focusing on Gary took less distinct concentration. I was able to remember the funny gray eyes and bushy eyebrows, the deep-set wrinkles and the shock of white hair and the strong white teeth without carefully rebuilding the image in my mind every few seconds. The width of his shoulders, which, if they’d lessened with age, made me wonder how big a man he’d been in his youth, and the carpe diem strength that made me feel like a piker in my own life.
Mostly, though, what I held on to as I put a second call out into the void wasn’t physical. It was his heart, the periodic gruffness that overlaid tremendous caring and the steady thrum of his soul, the V-8 engine that charged him. Please, I found myself whispering again, into a darkness that hadn’t decided to answer yet. He’s a terrific old man. I wouldn’t have made it this far without him. Is there anyone who will help him?
Tiny floating spots of brightness began appearing behind my eyelids, little explosive fireworks. They danced around, staying at a safe distance, which made me wonder how I could tell distance in the space between my eyes and their lids. They—the lights were a they, not the usual floaties I got when I closed my eyes under a bright light source—were waiting for something. For once I wasn’t at a loss as to what it was.
