Special Passage (The Coursodon Dimension Book 4)

by M. L. Ryan

  Now that they halted and I wasn’t scared shitless, I peeked around Sebastian to get a better look. There were three men and two women, and all appeared to be around thirty, which meant they were actually somewhere between one hundred and two hundred years old. Around their necks, they each sported a large, round medallion with feathers hanging off the bottom. Aside from the questionable matching Gypsy-meets-Woodstock wardrobe choice, they looked like people I might hang out with. Normal. Possibly nerdy. I started feeling embarrassed about shrieking like a banshee and told Ulut to take his toothy aggression down a notch.

  Sebastian began firing questions at the group, barely giving anyone a chance to answer. The taller of the women took on the role of spokes-trespasser and did her best to explain what they wanted. At any rate, that was what I thought. My command of the Courso language was still rather rudimentary, and everyone was speaking too quickly to make much sense out of the conversation.

  Once there was a lull in the interrogation, still behind Alex, I whispered, “Who the hell are they?”

  “Well, my dear,” Sebastian smirked, “once again, your life takes a curious turn. They call themselves, ‘Jyryxahal’.”

  Mentally, I ran through the smattering of Courso words I knew, and that wasn’t one of them. The first part seemed familiar, though. “Doesn’t jyryx mean ‘follow’?”

  Alex nodded, but he didn’t turn around. “You are learning quickly, carisa. In this case, the translation is closer to ‘follower’ however.

  “So who are they following?” I asked.

  “You.”

  Blinking, I sputtered, “Me?” Kyzal’s warning flashed through my mind, and I realized Alex hadn’t taken his eyes off the strangers. Suddenly, they didn’t seem quite so benign. I maneuvered in front of Alex so I could better gauge his demeanor, face to face. “Are they stalkers?”

  Sebastian placed his hand on my shoulder. “Not exactly. When Alexander said they are following you, he did not mean physically, although given their unannounced appearance on my property, I suppose that is not out of the realm of possibility. What he meant, my dear, is they have begun a new religion, with you as their deity.”

  “This is no time for joking,” I complained, swiping his palm away. “Stop screwing around and tell me why they are really here.”

  “I am not being facetious. Any indication of mirth I may convey is a consequence of the absurdity of the situation. They believe you are divine.”

  “Yeah, and monkeys are going to come flying out of my ass. I’m not in the mood for this.”

  I glanced at Alex, expecting him to chastise Sebastian for his poor excuse for humor. Instead, he sighed and said, “Unfortunately, it’s true.”

  I didn’t know quite how to process that information. Sure, I’d had a lot of odd shit happen in my life. I shared my body with a guy from another dimension, but this was way more off the wall. Like, orders of magnitude weirder.

  “I thought the Courso were anti-religion,” I said finally.

  “Well,” Alex began, “no one is against it, per se. Most prefer to explain the universe based on rational evidence, reliably applied. Our cultures are not as rooted in theology as those in the human dimension.” He looked away from the Jyryxahal and showed me one of his glorious smiles. “But you have inspired them.”

  “Monkeys. Flying. Butt,” I scoffed.

  “No, really. After Keem’s manipulation of the weather and geology, some people had a difficult time reconciling that kind of power. To help themselves understand what seemed incomprehensible, they turned to more spiritual explanations.”

  “Alexander is correct,” Sebastian acknowledged. “There has been a recent upswing of religiosity throughout Coursodon.”

  “You’d think they’d worship the all-powerful Keem.”

  Alex shrugged. “Some may. But these folks are enamored by the form-bending woman who defeated him.”

  I leaned into Alex and said under my breath, “I thought the whole Birdzilla thing wasn’t common knowledge.”

  “I’m sure they are only aware of your ability to change into a hawk,” he whispered back. “That is why they wear the feathers—to honor your transformation.”

  This was ridiculous. “Don’t they have anything better to do?”

  Sebastian regarded my flock, who were now gazing at me with wide-eyed wonder. “Apparently not. On the bright side, I do not sense any subterfuge. They say they have no desire to harm you; they simply want to bask in the divineness that is Hailey.” As he said the last part, he dropped to one knee.

  “This is bad enough without you making fun of me,” I protested. “Can’t you two make them go away?”

  Alex relayed my request, hopefully with a good deal less hostility than I would have. I was confused, uncomfortable, and I wanted them gone, but I didn’t want to be mean. He must have opted for a more polite version, because their mouthpiece continued to smile as she responded.

  “They are willing to leave and not return but ask if you might give them a blessing,” he translated with a grin.

  “Tell them I don’t believe in religion, and they couldn’t have picked anyone less worship-worthy if they tried.” I tilted my head skyward and lamented, “This is so completely fucked up.”

  My disciples gleefully began to chant, “Fucked up,” misconstruing my exasperation for a benediction, and Sebastian made no attempt to disguise his amusement. In fact, he doubled over and guffawed with such gusto, I thought he might pass out from lack of oxygen. Alex had the good sense to cover his mouth and pretend he wasn’t laughing. I knew the truth, but I appreciated the effort. Ulut was the only one who maintained a vigilant pose—back ramrod straight and head lowered—but really, all I could see was the overhead view. From that angle, he could have been laughing his ass off and I’d be none the wiser.

  Before any of us had a chance to clear up the misunderstanding, the Jyryxahal turned and skipped back into the desert. We could still hear “fucked up” repeated again and again, long after they were no longer in sight.

  8

  Alex charged Cortez and Aiden with investigating my new followers. Turned out, their story was true. Displaced by one of Keem’s many volcanic eruptions, they formed the sect in a refugee camp after learning I had “smote the Devil from Dekankara.” All totaled, there were seventeen members, but only the five who crossed out of Courso had showed up at the house. As far as anyone could tell, they weren’t a threat, simply overzealous screwballs. My acolytes still remained in the human dimension, which, to me, was less concerning than their use of the word “smote” to describe whatever it was I did to Keem. Why religious fanatics insist on using archaic vernacular was puzzling.

  If Alex was twitchy before, the security breach only ramped up his overprotectiveness. The magical alarm systems should have gone off the second any unauthorized Courso stepped foot on the property. Why they did not wasn’t immediately apparent, and Alex spent two days checking and rechecking until satisfied the glitch was repaired. Just to be on the safe side, Sebastian added additional conventional cameras and sensors. I suggested armed guards stationed along the periphery and snipers on the roof. I was teasing, but the more I thought about it, I wasn’t completely certain the extra level of security wasn’t already in place. After all, Aiden and Cortez remained invisible for short stretches, to keep a discreet eye on me once before. God help the UPS guy if he tried to deliver a package unannounced.

  To make the week a complete disaster, Deputy Hemorrhoidingham showed up. Being human, she didn’t trip Alex’s improved alarms, but the newly installed gate at the end of the driveway forced her to wait to be let in. I was disappointed Sebastian was out; their interaction the last time she visited gave me a vicarious sense of empowerment. If I couldn’t fight authority myself, basking in Sebastian’s insubordination was almost as good.

  Neither Alex nor I wanted her in the house, so we met her as she got out of her cruiser.

  “Can we help you, Deputy?” Alex opted for mannered civilit
y to get the interaction started, probably a better opening than the “What the hell do you want, bitch?” I might have chosen. I stifled a smile, realizing I could channel Sebastian’s inner malcontent, albeit with a tad more profanity, even if only in my mind.

  She obviously wasn’t in the mood for polite chitchat any more than I was. “Can you explain this?” she demanded. In her boney fingers, she grasped a large, coppery feather.

  “It appears to be an epidermal growth that forms the distinctive outer covering of birds,” I stated. “Judging by the size, I’d guess it came from the tail of a good-sized bird of prey.” My reply caused Alex’s eyebrows to rise. “I’ve been studying,” I added with a self-satisfied shrug.

  The deputy was way less impressed. “I know what it is,” she bristled. “I picked this up on your patio the last time I was here. I was concerned you might be in violation of the Bald and Golden Eagle Protection and the Migratory Bird Treaty Acts. I’m sure you are aware it is illegal to possess, use, or sell eagle feathers.”

  “Unless I’m a Native American. They are allowed to have them, for religious purposes.”

  “And are you?”

  “Am I what?” I was being deliberately obtuse, but it was fun yanking her chain.

  Deputy Pain-In-My-Ass took a deep breath. “A Native American.”

  “No, I’m a native Tucsonan, but that’s not the same thing, is it?” If Alex’s pinched expression was any indication, he wasn’t enjoying my witty repartee as much as I was. I decided to move on to more pertinent questions. “Isn’t that the purview of the Fish and Wildlife Service?”

  “I help them out sometimes.”

  “Really? Because those are federal regulations and I can’t imagine you’d have any jurisdiction.”

  She tried to appear calm, but the flush creeping from her neck to her face gave her mounting anger away.

  This just gets better and better, I thought gleefully. Maybe I can annoy her enough to get the school-marm, bun hair to loosen up.

  “Whatever,” she said, finally.

  Her dismissive tone confirmed my suspicions that whatever she was up to, it had nothing to do with her job.

  “But that’s all irrelevant,” I countered, “because that’s not an eagle feather.”

  Truth be told, I only surmised it wasn’t from an eagle. Occasionally, a bald eagle showed up near one of the local man-made, fish-stocked park lakes but I’d never seen any around this part of town. It was more likely from Maris or Ferris, or a dark-morph Red-tailed hawk. I was betting she wasn’t sure either, but hoped we’d give something away when confronted with her accusations.

  She grinned, but there was no humor in her smile. “That’s correct. It is not from an eagle. A friend who works in Vet Science at the University extracted some DNA to identify what type of bird this came from. Surprisingly,” she continued, staring daggers at Alex and me, “it’s not from any known species.”

  I tried to appear calm, but my mind was racing. Was that one of mine?

  Alex didn’t skip a beat. “And that concerns us because…?”

  Before she had a chance to answer, I recovered my inner snark. “What do you think we are doing, genetically manipulating animals?”

  “No, I don’t, Ms. Parrish,” she conceded, shaking her head. “Have you ever heard of cryptozoology?”

  Alex’s brow knitted. “I don’t believe I am familiar with that term.”

  “I am,” I scoffed. “It’s a pseudoscience where people search for animals that are rumored to exist, like Bigfoot.”

  “If it makes you feel better,” the deputy replied, “I don’t believe in Bigfoot or the Loch Ness Monster, but we live on a big planet. New species are discovered every year. Just because scientists haven’t recorded something doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. Before the early nineteen hundreds, no one believed the Komodo dragon was real.”

  “The people on the isolated Indonesian islands where Komodos lived knew they were real,” I countered. “It was only westerners who thought they were made up.”

  “Be that as it may, I am convinced this feather proves a yet undiscovered creature lives in this area.”

  Alex crossed his arms. “Perhaps it proves only that two birds of different species managed to produce offspring.”

  She exhaled theatrically. “You don’t understand. If that were the case, the DNA profile would show this was from a hybrid. The DNA from this feather is unlike any other. It is part Harris’s hawk with some genetic material that is only found in humans.”

  Crap. It was mine. I’d often wondered what happened at the molecular level when a Yterixa bent into their animal form. While this sated my curiosity, there were bigger issues at stake. Time for damage control.

  “That’s ridiculous,” I began. “Birds and people can’t breed. Aside from the logistical problems, they have vastly different numbers of chromosomes; it would never work. It’s more likely your laboratory acquaintance inadvertently got some of his DNA in the test sample.”

  “We thought of that, but the human component is from a female.”

  Alex shot me a sideways glance. “Still, the more logical explanation is some woman’s DNA contaminated the specimen.”

  “That’s true,” I continued, “you picked up the feather off the ground. Who knows how much genetic material was on it. You could probably find all kinds of random nucleic acid all over this yard. A woman could have sneezed on it or something before you ever found it.”

  Deputy Van Helsing didn’t look convinced. Not that her incredulousness surprised me, after all, anyone who seriously believed a cross between a bird of prey and a person was possible wasn’t likely to be easily swayed by a cogent explanation. Of course, no matter how rational our arguments, she was mostly right.

  “He ran it twice.” She paused, as if considering what to say next. When she finally continued, she dropped her head and peered up at us through her lashes. “Look, I’m sorry I was so difficult before, but it is my job to be suspicious. Most of the people I deal with every day are criminals. I know it’s a lot to ask, given my past behavior, but all I want is to set up some motion-detecting cameras out here. If we can get a photo of this cryptid, it would really help when we publish our findings.”

  Publish? I wondered if there was an actual peer-reviewed journal of cryptozoology, or if the story was slated for a supermarket tabloid. Either way, we didn’t want the attention, and I didn’t buy her sudden personality flip. No one went from belligerent to agreeable that fast unless they were in politics.

  “I’m afraid we are going to have to decline,” Alex said, uncrossing his arms.

  “That’s it?” She seemed genuinely perplexed that he didn’t want anything to do with her schemes. “Can I ask why?”

  “You can ask, but I don’t have to give a reason.” Alex’s matter-of-fact response was a little snide, something more along the lines of a Sebastian retort, but the deputy seemed disproportionately annoyed by it. She scowled, and her mouth drew into a thin line. If she had been a cartoon, smoke would have poured from her ears. Her previous affability was obviously just an act.

  “Maybe I should ask Mr. Kess.”

  Alex eyed her impassively. “His answer will be the same.”

  “But a whole hell of a lot meaner,” I added.

  Finally realizing her request was unlikely to be granted, she got back into her car and slammed the door. Alex and I watched as she peeled out of the driveway, stirring up enough particulate matter to me cough.

  I waved my hand in front of my face to clear the air. “She’s so anal about rules and regulations, you’d think she would be more careful about the dust pollution. We should think about getting this paved.”

  “Unlikely,” Alex answered, seemingly unfazed by the dust. “Sebastian prefers to keep the area as natural as possible.”

  “That’s surprising. He has never struck me as the environmental type.”

  Alex shrugged. “He isn’t, really. For some reason, in this dimension, it’s
easier to lay magic in non-man-made surroundings. Soil is the best conductor of our arcane energy. That’s one of the reasons he liked this house so much; it is constructed of adobe.”

  Back before air conditioning, adobe was the most common home-building material in the desert southwest. Unlike wood, the main components were readily available and far better for protection against the scorching summers. Nowadays, it was cheaper and faster to build homes with more conventional materials, but purists, like whoever designed Casa de Kess, still opted for thick walls of mud bricks. From a Courso point of view, you couldn’t get more natural than clay and water, made stronger with some additional organic material. Sometimes straw was used, sometimes manure. From my perspective, a house potentially made from horseshit fit Sebastian to a T.

  “Why didn’t he have the guesthouse rebuilt with adobe? What, I’m not worth magical protections?” I joked.

  “Believe me, carisa, he isn’t skimping on your security. The entire outer structure is laced with praseodymium. That’s one of the reasons it has taken so long.”

  Because almost every Courso could transport themselves wherever and whenever they wanted, locks were basically worthless in Alex’s world. Praseodymium—a rare earth mineral—was routinely added to buildings because it prevented the uninvited from materializing in the middle of your house or place of business. You had to get the concentration just right, though; too much and your own abilities got wonky, too little and you might as well have a neon sign out front saying, “Open for Burglars”.

  “Did he have to retrofit the big house with praseodymium as well?”

  “You can’t reliably add it to a preexisting structure. That’s why he was so happy to find an adobe house place that suited his needs. It was easier, and cheaper I might add, just to infuse the walls with magic that prevents transcommuting.”