Thunderbird Falls twp-2
Page 27
“Judy? Judy, I can’t see. Please, I need help, everything’s going wrong.” That was me, the broken record. I was shaking too hard to even get a ghost of humor out of myself. I knelt, putting my hands out. My heartbeat slammed in my chest and in my ears, drowning me in panic. “They want me to kill Melinda, Judy, they’re insane. You have to help me stop them.”
“Joanne,” Judy repeated, calm and reassuring. I felt her hand on my shoulder and clutched at it.
“It’s all right.” She knelt before me. I was astounded how much I could sense through hearing alone, how easy it was to place her. Even the sound of my heartbeat didn’t stop me from knowing where she was. Maybe I’d turned into Matt Murdoch. Judy’s weight shifted as she put her other hand on my shoulder, pulling me closer to her. “I told you,” she murmured. “I told you much would be asked of you tonight.”
“But they’re nuts! This is Mel, they’re nuts! Nobody could—I can’t—not this! This is—no! No!” I shook my head violently, knocking her hands from my shoulders. “This is wrong!”
“This is the path you’ve chosen.” Her voice was soft and soothing, making the horror in my stomach bubble even more, until it lodged in my throat and gagged me. “There must be sacrifice to make change.” Her hands came to my shoulders again. I fumbled for her wrists, blindly knotting my fingers around them. My left palm ached, throbbing with every heartbeat, as if the cut traveled all the way up my arm and into my heart itself.
“No,” I whispered again, hoarsely. “This isn’t—shamanism isn’t about death. It’s life. It’s change. It’s—” I tightened my hands around her wrists, hard enough that I could feel the bones grind. My palm hurt so badly it made me want to vomit, but the pain was something to focus on besides not being able to see. “This isn’t even witchcraft.” I could taste the desperation and fear in my own gasped words. “Even I know that. Witchcraft isn’t evil, and this—this is! Judy, there’s some kind of mistake, this is evil, this is wrong!”
“No,” she said again, shaking her head. My blood went icy as I felt the motion. As though I saw a ghost of the vigorous movement. Shivers split my belly and ran down my arms, making me want to cry. I held on to her wrists more tightly. I thought I might break them from the pressure, but she didn’t complain. “It’s sacrifice,” she whispered. “You understood that, Joanne. What did the spirit animals tell you?”
“Heed,” I croaked. “Heed my—my teacher. Accept. Study.” The light that had teased me with Judy’s movements had been false; blackness swept over me again, enveloping me in soft, frightening comfort.
“Yes.” I felt her nod. Then she caressed my cheek, brushing her knuckles over the thin scar. “I’m your teacher, Joanne. You’ve come so far. You’ve learned so much in just a few days. Won’t you honor what you’ve been taught?”
My heart fluttered like a dying bird, a rapid tattoo against my ribs that sent sickness through me again in waves. “I’ve tried.” My voice was weak and tired. “I’m trying, Judy, but—”
“There are no buts!” Her voice rang out strong over mine, suddenly filled with anger. “Joanne, there are no buts. You must accept.”
I closed my eyes, as if it could somehow diminish the darkness that ate away at me. “Why do you call me that?” I asked. No, I whimpered. I had neither pride nor shame left, just the blackness encroaching on my soul.
And I felt her smile, a gentle amused thing as she touched my cheek again. “Because it’s your name, of course. What else would I call you?”
I opened my eyes again, slowly, to no glimmer of light. “But it’s not my name,” I whispered. Jesus, Joanne. I knelt there, staring blindly at my teacher. And I’d thought the coven was slow on the uptake when they didn’t chase the serpent out into the garden after me and Colin. They had nothing on me.
I felt Judy’s surprise and bewilderment, rolling off her like cool fog. I remembered fog in the North Carolina hills being like that, silent and motionless until I held still myself. Then it had life, soft edges that swept around me and made me a part of it. Judy’s startlement tried to draw me in, but it failed. I had found a line, and suddenly, embarrassingly, it seemed ridiculously obvious. “Joanne,” I whispered. “It’s not my name. And you know what?”
“Of course it’s your name.” Her voice turned sharp, and beneath the sharpness rode fear. “Don’t be absurd.”
I straightened my shoulders, my hands still tight around her wrists. “No,” I said, more strength in my words now. “No, it isn’t my name, and the thing is, Judy, so far all the good guys have known that. It’s just the bad guys I learned to protect it from.” My very first concept of shielding came back to me, dark-tinted car windows rolled up tight and safe around the center of my being, around the name that Coyote, both Big and Little, had known from the start. The name that the shamans had pulled from me easily. The name I’d protected from the banshee Blade, and the name that I’d protected, without understanding or realizing why, from my teacher. Heme and Cernunnos had learned it, but I’d been an utter neophyte then.
“Your name is Joanne Walker!”
“No. It isn’t. And I can’t accept this.” My voice grew stronger, more confident. “This is wrong, Judy. Sacrifices should be willing, if they have to be made, and this is—this is blood sacrifice, this is ritual sacrifice. This is sorcery, Judy! It’s wrong, and I won’t do it.”
“Your name is Joanne Walker, and I command you by it!”
I surged to my feet, dragging Judy with me. “My name,” I roared back, “is Siobhàn Walkingstick, and you have no power over me!”
Darkness ripped away, streamers of light bursting through my vision and tattering the shadows. Pinpoints of brilliance sparked into the back of my eyes, burning along the optical nerve and bringing understanding with them. At first all I could see was Judy, caught in my grip, furious and frightened all at once. Her eyes were hard and black, eyes I’d seen a dozen times in different places without recognizing what I saw. “I know you,” I whispered. A grin was pulling at my mouth, distorting it with wicked triumph. “Give me your name.”
“No!” Tears of fury filled her eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Joa—Si—”
I tightened my grip, bearing down. Judy’s cheeks went white and her knees buckled. I brought her all the way to her knees, using my weight above her. “Your charades aren’t going to work anymore. I know you,” I repeated. “The eyes have it, isn’t that what they always say? But I didn’t see until now. Bright black eyes. Just like the spirit animals. Were they real, Virissong? Or were they your creations?” God, what a sucker I’d been! “They were yours,” I added. “The eyes, all the bright eyes. Even the snake I brought Colin. Give me your name, Virissong! I want the truth!” My anger was more for myself than my so-called teacher, but for the moment I needed it. Even an instant of doubt would undo me, especially now that I’d thrown my name at the thing that had invaded my garden. Judy held on to silence almost long enough. I set my teeth together and shook her, yelling without words.
And her face split in an ugly grin. The corners of her mouth tore open wide and bloodless, stretching around her head. Pieces of her face fell away, dropping in fleshy chunks. It continued down her body, over her shoulders and breasts, exposing a new shape beneath them. Virissong’s passion-lit features appeared, mouth pulled wide in a sneer.
“You were so easy,” he whispered. His shoulders broadened, wrists thickening. I kept my grip, even as the power of his transformation made my palm scream in agony. I was afraid blood from it might spill onto him and bind me to him again, but my hold was so tight I imagined it bloodless, and in the garden of my mind, imagination trumped reality.
“I was.” I held on to anger and pushed embarrassment away. There’d be time to be humiliated later. Right now I’d screwed up so monumentally that I couldn’t afford to kick myself about it. “I was,” I repeated. “I fell for it hook, line, and sinker. And so did the coven. How did you do it, Virissong? How did you keep Faye’s power pure en
ough that it couldn’t be detected by the rest of the coven, while you corrupted her?”
He laughed, staccato sound that lifted the hairs on my arms. “Ask yourself, Walkingstick.” He hissed the name, searching for chinks in my armor. I only grinned down at him, rictus of forthright fury that made an impenetrable shield.
“You shouldn’t have involved Mel,” I whispered to him. “I would’ve gone all the way. I had faith.” Another bolt of light shattered through me, making me laugh breathlessly with anger. “Faith. That’s why our power wasn’t corrupted. We thought we were doing the right thing. Faye thought she was doing the right thing. God, what power faith brings you,” I whispered. My laughter disappeared and left me trembling with rage all over again. “I want your name!”
“Oh, no, Walkingstick. Not when I’m this close. It’s not going to be that easy.” Virissong set his teeth together in an openmouthed grin that bordered on a snarl. Power surged through him, hot and volatile as electricity. I clamped down on his wrists, struggling to hold him as my hands burned. He got one foot under himself, then the other. I shoved forward, trying to knock him off balance, but he stayed in his crouch, then shoved to his feet, stronger than I was. I thought, inexplicably, of Morrison. Strength shot through me and I squeezed Virissong’s wrists harder, trying to bring him to his knees again.
He kneed me in the crotch.
I couldn’t even tell if I was hurt. I was so astonished I loosened my grip, which was all he needed. He skipped backward, breaking free of my hold, and winked out of my garden. I set my teeth, too angry to even swear, and followed.
Good news: when I fell back into my body, I could see in full, glorious Technicolor. Bad news: getting hit in the crotch still hurt a lot, and my vision swam with tears as my eyes crossed. Semigood news: that was something to concentrate on instead of Melinda’s terror. The time inside my garden had passed with no noticeable correlation in the outside world: Faye still stood behind Mel with an enthusiastic grimace. Zealot’s smile. The rest of the coven hadn’t had time to react; the serpent still loomed hungrily over Colin. Concentrating on the pain from being kicked made it easier to stagger to my feet. As I did, Faye’s expression twisted in anger and dismay.
“You can’t—”
“Shut up!” I loosened my grip from around the bone knife and backhanded Faye with all my strength, knocking her away from Melinda. I heard a tiny squeaked sob and wasn’t sure if I’d made it or if Mel had. It wasn’t Faye: she flew to the side and hit the ground, bouncing up again so fast it looked inhuman. She snarled, lips pulled back from her teeth like a wild dog’s, and leaped for me.
I vaulted Mel’s wheelchair, my left hand screaming with injustice as I put my full weight on it. My knees hit Faye in the chest. The wheelchair tilted under my weight. Melinda screamed. I shoved the chair as I landed, hoping to right it before it spilled Mel. Faye hit the ground and bounced up again, launching herself at me, her hands extended for the knife I still held. I reversed the blade, snapping it back so it lay along my forearm, and met her attack with my elbow driven at her throat.
It was luck, not skill, that let her deflect the blow. She lifted her head to scream and I hit her collarbone instead of her throat. It slowed her, but wasn’t debilitating. She made claws of her hands and raked them across my arm, reaching for my face and eyes. I grabbed her wrist, dropped the knife, and twisted her arm down and back into a half-nelson. She screamed again, in pain this time, and I brought her to the ground with my knee in the small of her back. They’d taught me how to do that at the police academy. I could tell that later on I was going to be amazed it worked. I leaned forward, keeping her arm twisted between her shoulder blades. “Faye, goddamn it, this is crazy. You’re crazy. You’re being used.”
In retrospect, I was pretty sure they also taught me in police academy not to get my head that close to a violent suspect’s, but I’d stopped moving like a cop and was trying to bring somebody back from the edge. Faye, it turned out, was perfectly happy over the edge. She popped her head back with as much force as she could, slamming the back of her skull into my nose. Blood and tears went everywhere as I toppled over backward, clutching my face. Faye sprang forward, lunging at the bone knife. I flung myself after it and missed; she came to her feet over me, brandishing the blade.
“I’m not going to let you fuck everything up,” she snarled. I leaned back a few inches, my hands spread, watching her warily as I got to my feet.
“Come on, Faye. Let’s talk about this. This doesn’t have to end this way. We can fix all of this.” The rest of the coven was finally moving, leaving their appointed places to watch the fight. I felt like they were absurdly slow, but knew they were moving in real time. Time for me had stretched.
“Fix it?” Her laugh skirled high and sharp. “I’ve done all this to fix it, Joanne! You think it was easy, killing Cassie? But we needed you, and she was too dedicated, she’d never leave the coven!”
“What?” There was nothing to my voice, just a whisper of shock.
“He sent me the dreams of you! Cassie was in the way! My best friend, and I had to kill her so we could get you! You can’t stop now! I won’t let you!” She flung herself at me, the knife raised high. I fell backward, catching her wrists numbly. I had the advantage of reach and strength, dulled by shock. Faye twisted and kicked my shins, screaming with rage.
“You killed Cassandra Tucker?” I felt like my mind had been dipped in a vat of glue. Time wasn’t moving slowly anymore: it was stuck. Faye sneered at me, furious.
“She had a congenital heart problem. The autopsy told you that, right?” Her arms trembled with the effort of bringing the knife down, but I held her fast, leaning into her in order to keep her hands held aloft. She smiled, wide-eyed and manic, her teeth still bared. “Crafting a spell to make the hole a little bigger wasn’t so hard. Just a little bigger, and the heart can’t work anymore. Know what was harder?” She sneered, then lunged like she’d tear my throat out with her teeth. “Your old friend. His heart was healthy. It took a lot of work to damage it. I’d show you the scars, but—” She writhed in my grip, proving that she was too well-caught to be able to show me anything. “It took a long time, but witchcraft can do a lot with little things like that.”
Emotion so cold I had no name for it slid through me, utterly quelling the power centered in my belly. Faye’s skin felt shockingly hot under my hands, so hot that I thought if I let go there would be blue marks around her wrists from my fingers. “Gary?” I honestly didn’t know if I’d said the name out loud, but Faye heard me anyway. “You gave Gary a heart attack?”
Faye surged forward again, kicking and snarling without touching me. “I thought the old bastard would just kick off. He was supposed to. It was supposed to keep you from asking questions.” She bared her teeth again, a smile without soul. “And it worked, too, didn’t it?”
It had. I remembered being on the verge of questioning something Virissong had said, when the phone rang to tell me about Gary’s heart attack. I couldn’t pull together the memory right now to pursue the question, but I would in time. I whispered, “Sorcery. Faye, oh, God, Faye, don’t you see what you’ve done? Faith isn’t enough. We have to use judgment, too.” She was so close to what I was it made my heart hurt. It made breathing hurt, tears knotting in my throat. I had so very nearly become her.
“Virissong used you to get to me, Faye. This is all going to end right here and right now. I’m so sorry, Faye, but you’re under arrest for the murder of Cassandra Tucker.” I had no idea how I was going to make it stick in a court of law, but that hardly mattered at the moment. “Anything you say may be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you can’t aff—”
A scream of rage erupted from Faye’s throat, so furious it became a strangled gurgle. She stopped fighting me, strength going out from her arms so abruptly that I nearly fell into her. I caught my breath, caving my chest in, away from the knife. Pure fanatical light brightened Faye’s eyes.
“You can’t, Faye. It’s too late. It’s over.”
“No,” she said, “it isn’t.”
She flipped the knife blade around and drove it into the hollow of her own throat.
CHAPTER 31
“Faye!” My scream tasted like blood. My own blood, not the hot splash of crimson that spattered my face and hands as Faye’s eyes widened in shock and she began to topple. I grabbed her forearm and the back of her head, trying to bring her to the ground gently. Power bubbled in my stomach for the first time in days. I wanted to close my eyes and hit my head against something. For the first time in days. For the first time since Judy had come into my garden. For the first time since I’d let myself be led down a bitterly wrong path. I had been a massive fool, failing to see the warning signs at every turn. No wonder Little Coyote hadn’t responded to me. I deserved to have to dig my way out of this mess all by myself Rage and self-directed fury lent all that power focus as I fumbled for the knife buried in Faye’s throat. I was afraid to pull it out and didn’t know how the hell I could heal her with it still in. It was like slapping a patch onto an inner tube I couldn’t afford to lose any air from.
Lousy analogy, but it would have to do. I wrapped my fingers around the bone hilt, focusing on the idea of patching the tube. Around the blade, under my hand, Faye’s skin felt sticky in a way that had nothing to with the blood. More like it was covered in inner tube glue. The analogy was apparently working, even if it made me want to let go a hysterical giggle. “You’re gonna be okay, Faye,” I whispered.
Her eyes rolled back in their sockets until she stared at me. I pulled up the best reassuring smile I had, still fixated on her throat. There were so many layers to patch, and they had to be done all at once. I held my idea of patches in place, building up layer after layer of silver-blue glowing power around the knife. I would have one chance to seal the wound after I took the knife out, and I was willing to take a few extra seconds now to make sure the patch would be airtight.