Bearer of the Pearls

by Faust, Terry P. ;

  He puffed up, self-important, and hammered his chest with his good fist. “We are warriors and were created before humans. We have free will. We are made of fire,” he said proudly. “And you humans are made of nothing but clay.”

  My fear of this hulk had disappeared. He was a bit like my brother, Tyrone—boastful, full of bluster, big and slow, but not really bad. The light of the pearls shined on him and made him glow.

  “Fire and clay,” I said. “We sound like brick makers.”

  “Brick makers?” He cleared his good eye with the back of his hand and gave me a strange look. Then it occurred to him I’d made a joke, and he laughed.

  “I see! Fire and clay. Yes, bricks.” He tossed it around for a moment more, then pointed at me. “You would make a strong brick, little human.”

  I think it was a compliment—sort of. “Thank you. And now this brick wants to end the fight.”

  He considered this, too. “Your friends have fought bravely. It would be a pity to kill them.”

  Cathal scowled. “Póg mo tóin.”

  Eddy shouted, “Cathal! You don’t help.”

  “Na help? Ach! That must be why I’m beat to a bloody pulp. Thanks be to heaven that I didn’t try to help.”

  Kalil looked at Cathal and grunted, like he suddenly understood Cathal’s black sense of humor. He laughed again, so hard he nearly knocked me over with the force of it. “The horse boy makes a good joke, too.”

  A fire truck slid to a stop just outside our shimmering bubble. The firemen jumped out and started strapping tanks on their backs, but they looked troubled and confused. It was like they saw the smoking cars but didn’t want to go near them. Or maybe it was us. I was sure they couldn’t see the genies or Cathal and Eddy. Maybe they could, but their brains weren’t ready to handle it. The beaming pearls might have blinded them, too.

  I held the pearls up to Kalil. He could easily have taken them. “You may have them. But do you have to break them?”

  He scratched his chin but didn’t move to take the pearls. He rumbled softly, “I was told you would use the pearls to try destroying us.”

  “I don’t think they can do that.”

  “My hound bit you.” He looked at my blackened arm.

  “And was killed.”

  “Yes.” He shook his head sadly. “This is not a good day.”

  “No, it is not.”

  The huge genie took a lungful of air and slowly exhaled. His breath had not improved. He seemed to see the battlefield for the first time, and it didn’t please him. He nodded to himself as if he’d come to a conclusion, then stood erect and shouted for all to hear, “I, Kalil, say this battle is over. We will leave and fight no more.”

  Eddy lowered her sword. I heard metal clinking to the pavement.

  “Thank you,” I said, and eased my hand—and the pearls—down. His gaze followed them. Kalil did see something in the pearls. The thoughtful way he looked at them told me that.

  “Daughter of Eve, you may keep your pearls,” he whispered.

  “Kalil!” Eddy called out. “Iblis will not be pleased.”

  He gave her a defiant look. “He lied. These pearls will not destroy jinn. They are no threat to him or me.”

  Eddy said, “It is of no difference to me, but you will have disobeyed, and he will seek vengeance.”

  Nigel told Kalil, “You are welcome here. There are others of our kind here.”

  Kalil shook his head at Nigel and Bruce. “No. You chose your path, I choose mine.” He bowed slightly to Eddy. “He lied and is without honor. I will face Iblis. I will not hide.” He raised his sword, but only to signal his troops. “We leave.”

  And that was it. Both sides separated without more talk and the firemen hurried in, spraying foam and making a thicker fog of the steam and smoke around the damaged cars. If they saw the genies, or Cathal and Eddy, it was not apparent.

  I rushed back to Werling. My arm was a length of fiery pain, but I brushed back his scorched hair and felt his forehead. Oliver still held Werling’s head in his lap, and cried. Ben held one hand and loosened Werling’s charred shirt with the other. Worry sickened me, and I gently shifted the pearls onto Werling’s chest. They would help him. They had to. I wanted to shout at him for being so stupid. “You persistent idiot,” I whispered.

  If the firemen could not see the spirits, they saw us. Paramedics clustered around Werling and tried to press us back. I fought them and held the pearls to his chest. The haze swirled and smoke thickened. It was hard to breathe. My vision grayed, and Ben reached out and kept me upright. A medic took a look at my arm and waved for a stretcher. I was so tired, but I knelt next to Werling and took his hand with my good one and squeezed, willing life into him. I thought he squeezed back.

  Sixteen

  The Promise

  I was rushed to an emergency room at the university hospital, where the nurse who cleaned my wounds agreed with me that my arm seemed broken. She asked if I needed anything for the pain. I gave her a big “Yes.”

  I was scheduled for an X-ray. Ben had stayed with me and Oliver went with Werling. The paramedics had refused to let me ride in his ambulance.

  A huge, complicated light hung over me. I’d been transferred from the ambulance gurney to an ER bed and had a blanket over me. My arm was examined, wrapped in gauze, and immobilized. There were endless questions about my medical history. Beeping, booping sounds went off all over the place, and the pillow smelled of bleach. My head pounded and I felt ridiculous. Ben was by my good elbow. In between nurses, I said to him, “I’ll be fine, Ben. See how Werling is.”

  “Oliver is with him. I called Mom,” he said. “She and Dad will be here in a few minutes.”

  “Did you tell them about the battle?” I asked.

  He gave it some thought. “I’m not sure they’re ready for that. The police think it was some kind of a freak traffic accident.”

  “Traffic accident? Yeah, right.”

  Ben leaned in close and lowered his voice. “If you start talking genies and axes, what do you think the doctors here will do?”

  He had a point. The curtain for my ER room swooshed and Aunt Mary entered. She paused at the sight of me and then gripped the bed’s rail and said, “Wendy, you poor, poor girl. I am so sorry.” She ran her hand along my cheek, and then squeezed my shoulder. “How do you feel? What have the doctors said?”

  “The doctor said he’d know more after he’s seen my X-ray. I’m waiting to have it done. My arm sure hurts enough to be broken. They’re bringing something for the pain.”

  She looked at my wrapped arm.

  I said, “The burns are second degree, they said. Things could’ve been worse. Werling saved me.”

  Uncle Craig came through the room curtain, writing on a clipboard and followed by a woman. He said to her, “She was put on our insurance when we took her in. We don’t have a card yet, but they’ll cover it.”

  The woman took the clipboard. “We’ll run it. Thank you.” She left.

  This couldn’t be good. Hospitals cost money. That was what my mother always said. I was a burden.

  Aunt Mary took Uncle Craig’s hand. They both looked at me with concern. She asked, “What happened?”

  Ben cleared his throat and got their attention. “There was a terrible smash-up. A multiple-car collision on Lake Street.”

  Uncle Craig asked in a frustrated tone, “How the dickens did you kids get in the middle of a traffic accident?”

  Aunt Mary patted his arm. “Go easy. They’ve been through a lot.”

  I looked to Ben and tipped my head for him to continue. To be honest, I would’ve blurted out everything and probably made no sense at all.

  “Werling was critically hurt,” Ben said, not answering his dad’s question. “We’re not sure if a dog running across the road caused it, or whatever. Cars piled up.”

  “A dog?” Uncle Craig questioned.

  I said, “I was bit. They said, unless it’s found and tested, I’ll receive shots for
rabies.”

  “Oh, God!” Mary whispered.

  Uncle Craig eyed Ben. “This is incredible. Werling’s here, too? Has someone contacted his family?”

  “I called,” Ben replied. “They should be here soon.”

  “It was a battle.” I rasped. My head was splitting.

  “Battle?” Aunt Mary said and looked up at Ben, who managed a puzzled expression.

  Uncle Craig looked pissed. “I’m not even going to ask what you all were doing.”

  “Could one of you check on Werling?” I said. The image of him burned and lying on the sidewalk flashed before me.

  Uncle Craig rested his hand on my shoulder and looked at Mary. “I’ll check.” He looked at Ben. “He’s in the ER, too?”

  “Yes,” Ben said. “His ambulance got here just before us. Oliver was with him. He said they were taking him straight into surgery.”

  “Okay. I’ll check.”

  Aunt Mary looked at Uncle Craig in pleading kind of way.

  He sighed and said, “Listen. You two have been through a lot. We’re here now, so don’t worry. Ben, you’ve done great getting hold of us and Werling’s parents. Wendy, don’t worry about anything.”

  I noticed now that Aunt Mary’s eyes were red and swollen. She smiled at Uncle Craig, and he nodded and disappeared through the curtain. She caressed my cheek and took a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m sure Werling will be fine.”

  I pushed myself up and felt a shock of pain through my arm. I welcomed it. It woke me up. “He has to be okay,” I said.

  We were all quiet for a moment and Ben fished in his pocket and held up his closed hand. “The paramedics gave them to me. I doubt the doctors would have let them into the operating room.” Ben unfolded his hand and there they were, the big black pearl and its smaller twin.

  He handed them to me and I felt a wave of concern. “He needed them. You must get them back to him!”

  Aunt Mary said, “Those look like pearls. Where did they come from?”

  A nurse came in. “Transport’s here. We’ll take her to X-ray now.” She gave Ben and Mary a look that said it wasn’t a question. She turned to me and set down a tray. She rolled my sleeve back and wiped a spot with alcohol. “I’ve got something for your pain, too.”

  I handed the pearls back to Ben and gripped his hand. “Get those to Werling. He will get better. He will. Nothing is going to happen to him. You won’t let anything happen to him.”

  He twisted his mouth around but didn’t answer.

  “You won’t!” I pressed the pearls deep into his hand. “Promise!”

  He took the pearls. “I promise,” he said.

  * * *

  In the darkened X-ray room, the painkiller kicked in, and I started to drift a little into a warm place while I waited, a delicious place filled of my favorite smells and colors and feelings. I must have nodded off. Her Ladyship stood in the pool below Minnehaha Falls. Sheets of water crashed down noiselessly around her. Her sheer white gown melted into the froth while her long white hair waved and rose up, like she was floating weightless. All the blood and gore of the fight had been washed away. It was night, under a full moon. The stars were incredibly bright.

  “Wendy Adair,” she said, “You have proven yourself a true friend of the water and earth. We thank you and are at your service.”

  She bowed so slowly and elegantly that I wanted to cry. Out of the falling water, Cathal stepped in his horse form. Water came off him in sheets. His coat glistened in the moonshine. He was almost more beautiful as a horse than a man. Beside him were Nigel and Bruce. They were whole and uninjured. I remembered they had been hurt, but I couldn’t recall how.

  Cathal whinnied and I heard him say, “You are a bonnie lass, Wendy Adair. ’Tis a deep sorrow the fight became yours, but you showed the spirit and wisdom of a true warrior. I’m sorry for you and glad for you. There is little to be said of your loss. It was a fine human act. ’Tis a love beyond life itself. You are truly a lucky lass.”

  This made no sense, but I remembered I was dreaming and didn’t worry.

  Together, Cathal, Nigel and Bruce bowed . . . but not just to me. They bowed to someone beside me, a warmth I felt at my side. Then Werling appeared next to Her Ladyship with his goofy expression. Typical Werling. She placed a hand on his shoulder and he glowed with a sudden smile, like the first time he saw me. He was perfectly fine, not burned. I was relieved beyond relief. Werling was fine! And he was every bit as beautiful as Cathal, maybe more so.

  “Werling?” I said. I wanted to run to him, but I couldn’t. My legs would not work. I was stuck where I was—and he was going away. I suddenly knew this. “Where are you going?”

  He didn’t answer me.

  To Eddy, I cried, “Don’t take him away!”

  But Werling turned away. Bruce and Nigel followed him back into the veil of water. They vanished. Her Ladyship bowed gracefully again.

  “Do not dismay, Wendy Adair,” she said. “To part is all we know of life. And a farewell is necessary before we meet again.” She backed away and dissolved into the fall’s spray.

  “No!”

  Just Cathal remained in his black horse shape, pawing at the water. Then the falls flowed over him and they were all gone.

  The X-ray technician softly shook my shoulder and I came out of my dream. It had lasted only a second, as dreams do. My cheeks were soaking wet. I thought of the falls, but I was in the hospital, not the dream, and I had been crying. The X-ray room was dark. The hall outside was filled with sounds of doctors being called, and electronic bings.

  Seventeen

  Regret

  I tried to stay as small as possible at Werling’s funeral service. My cast made me stick out, but I did my best to keep behind Aunt Mary and Uncle Craig. I felt so sad, and suspected everyone wanted to look at me—the person responsible for his death.

  His parents seemed very nice. I just couldn’t face them. If he’d talked to them about me, they didn’t say. For that I was grateful. Everyone was nice, but my real support came from holding the pearls. They kept me together. If I thought I was going to lose it, I squeezed them and felt a kind of hope and relief. They helped me where all the hugs and words from Aunt Mary and Uncle Craig didn’t. They were a gift, a gift from my dad.

  It wasn’t that long ago when I stood next to my mom, holding my camel, and stared at the box that held my dad. The hole in me where his laughter and love used to be had been so big, and hurt so bad that I hadn’t cared if I lived or died. No one should have to feel that. I had promised I’d never feel like that again, that I would do everything possible to avoid that kind of pain again. Yet there I was at Werling’s funeral, my eyes full of tears and my heart bursting. I’d hardly known Werling, and had done nothing to make him like me. It wasn’t fair.

  After the service, my aunt, uncle, Ben, and I drove home. I went up to my room and held the pearls. I let myself get lost in music, not thinking, not seeing. Aunt Mary brought me soup and sat with me, sometimes stroking my hair, sometimes holding me. Ben stayed away. I didn’t want to see him, anyway.

  “It was my fault Werling died,” I told Aunt Mary. I felt like a broken record. I had said it so many times and everyone told me it wasn’t true. It didn’t help. Aunt Mary didn’t bother to answer. She stroked my head and said, “It’ll be okay. Maybe not today, but it will be okay.” We sat like that and listened to the music, sad instrumental music—Loreena McKenitt. I felt that bad.

  The days dragged by and I stayed around the house. Like with my dad, the hole Werling left slowly filled with everyday stuff, things I did, and the pain slowly became bearable. I felt guilty for feeling better.

  Oliver came over a few times and though he still was not keen on a girl belonging to the River Rangers, he no longer objected. It didn’t much matter. I had no interest in going to the cave or joining him and Ben on their expeditions.

  It was a gray time I hardly remember: watching stupid TV shows, reading endless mysteries, and helping Aunt M
ary by cleaning the house a little and gardening with one arm. The cast was an ugly reminder. I kept thinking how badly I’d messed up. I had brought all sorts of evils to my aunt and uncle, even if they didn’t know the real truth of what went on. They said nothing, but what else could they be thinking? There was no way they’d want to keep looking after me. Every day I expected them to sit me down and tell me I was just too much trouble.

  Eighteen

  Healing

  You can beat yourself over the head only so long before you get totally exhausted. You start to think of other things. The August weather was beautiful, and I sat in the sun and watched joggers run by. My broken arm itched and felt strange. The doctor said the itching was my arm healing. Holding the pearls made it feel better.

  I tried reading my entire collection of Elmore Leonard mysteries, but I grew tired of sitting. One day my aunt came out with a peanut-butter-and-banana sandwich and parked herself next to me. I sighed and closed my book. I could tell she wanted to talk.

  “Your mother called,” Aunt Mary said real soft, like she was testing to see how I would react. It was the first I’d heard from Mom since she left.

  “Where is she?” I asked. After everything that had happened, I wasn’t ready to jump up and down.

  “She didn’t say. She heard about the accident and was worried.”

  “Did she say when she’s coming back?”

  I saw Aunt Mary’s chest expand as she thought this over. “I think she wants to come back, but it’s hard for her.” Aunt Mary leaned forward and gripped my knee. “I’m sorry. She didn’t say when she was coming back.”

  There it was. I guessed I kind of knew it. In a way I was glad Mom called now. It would help Aunt Mary and Uncle Craig make up their minds. If I ever have a kid, I will never, ever leave her alone!

  “She loves you, Wendy.”

  “Sure.” I must not have sounded too convinced. Aunt Mary squeezed my knee again and leaned back.