“Perhaps,” she told him.
Sterling remembered what they had said to him outside. “Say, who was that fella mentioned earlier? Someone looking for me…”
“You know the Killbillies?” Paco asked.
“I’m acquainted.”
“The man said he was with them, that he was looking for a necromancer dressed in all black. Do you think that he means you?” Abuela asked.
“I ain’t the only one around here that wears all black, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Do you know any other necromancers that wear black?” Paco asked. “Because that’s who he said he was looking for.”
“Yeah,” Sterling admitted with a smirk, “it sounds like he was looking for me. Guilty as charged.”
“There was something cold about him,” Abuela said. “I don’t know how to describe it other than that, something about his eyes. Some kind of animal behind there. Some kind of diablo.”
“Good to know. Was he one of the Adapted?”
Paco and his grandmother exchanged glances. Paco answered. “He didn’t say if he’s a mancer or not, if that’s what you’re asking. He didn’t show any power neither, but there was something about him, like she said.”
“What did he look like?”
“Believe it or not, he was dressed in all white,” said Abuela, the elderly woman biting her lip as she remembered him, the wrinkles sinking into the center of her face as if it were a black hole. “Three-piece suit, white boots, shaved head, tattoos on his hands, and bright blue eyes.”
“He was wearing a three-piece suit out here?” Sterling asked rhetorically. Then again, who was he to judge? His outfit of choice was black jeans, a black pearl-snap button-up shirt with a bulletproof vest beneath it, a black duster, and dark snakeskin boots.
Paco nodded. “All white. Said he was looking for you, and if you came by, to let you know that he was looking.”
“So he’s that kind of babosa, is he? Trying to intimidate me through you people? Theatrics, if you ask me. But I’m glad he’s simple to pick out in a crowd. Ain’t nothing like an easy target.”
The smell of fried meat reached Sterling’s nostrils, something mixed with peppers. His mouth started to water.
“Why did you come up this way?” Abuela asked.
“I got two things that need doing before I head back south,” said Sterling. “I need to hit up the Turquoise Trail and see if I can’t make it to Madrid, where I got a flectomancer buddy named Raylan. I also need to figure out where the Sunflower Kid is. Now if you don’t know who the Sunflower Kid is, I can’t blame you. In fact, even though Don Gasper has apparently mentioned my name to you, or at least the little pet name he has for me, maybe it’s best I tell you who I am. Why I’m here. And after that, we can enjoy some of that food them boys are cooking up top, and I can get on with it tomorrow. So let’s start there, who I am.”
“Please, tell us.”
“A little over three years ago, I put together a group of real ornery folk, and we tried to take on the Godwalkers. Crazy, right? It was me, a necromancer; the Sunflower Kid, a biomancer; Roxy, a regular old gal who had killed enough people to be stronger than all of us; Zephyr, an aeromancer. Them three are still alive, and I’m trying to find them. There were two others in our little ragtag band of vigilantes, both dead now. Karina, a pyromancer, and Liam, a hydromancer. They were husband and wife, fire and water that had come together after the Reset against all odds.”
“Muy interesante,” Abuela said.
“I ain’t going to go into great detail here, but the six of us, with assistance from Raylan—the same guy I’m trying to meet up in Madrid—were able to take a single Godwalker down outside of Santa Fe, a smaller one, sort of a baby one compared to some of them craft that folks are used to seeing. Let’s just say that didn’t sit well with them Godwalkers, and they came back at us hard. We gave up in the end, and went our separate ways,” Sterling said, feeling a tinge of guilt in his heart. “So long story short: I’m trying to get them all back together, the ones that are still alive, and hopefully find me some new folk interested in risking their lives to combat these aliens. Roxy is in the White Sands desert, not far from Alamogordo, held by militias there at what I’m assuming is an old military base. I don’t know where Zephyr is, but I’m going to find her if she’s still alive. As for the Sunflower Kid, I got a riddle I’m trying to decipher that will lead me to the biomancer.”
“What kind of riddle?” Abuela asked.
“I went to Las Cruces to find Don Gasper, which, as you can imagine, came with everything that normally comes with seeking out an old shaman—dead bodies and fist fights, wacky spiritualism, generally pissing people off, a sinful amount of narcotics, and trying to decipher what the hell it is he’s always going on about. You know the drill. But Gasper is good at what he does…”
Abuela nodded at the statement.
“Then you know. And so my general rule of thumb with Gasper is to just trust him, even if I think he’s crazy half the time. Anyhow, I asked him where the Sunflower Kid was, Zephyr too, and he performed a ritual to find them.” Sterling shook his head, remembering the woman who had appeared out of the darkness and turned into a coyote. “I don’t know how to say it other than this: a coyote spoke to me, and gave me the riddle.”
“Coyotes are tricksters,” Abuela said in a harsh tone.
“I don’t disagree with you, ma’am, and maybe the riddle she gave me is a trick of some sort, but after today’s ride, I committed it to memory. It’s all I got. If I get down to the bottom of this riddle, I’m pretty sure I will find the Sunflower Kid.”
“What’s the riddle?” asked Paco. “Maybe we can help you figure it out.”
“Sure, I guess what I’m saying would make more sense if I told you the riddle.” Sterling cleared his throat. “Here it is: ‘Sunflowers grow on the airy side of the mountain. Head north.’ Like I said, I memorized it.”
“On the airy side of the mountain?” Abuela asked. “¿Qué podría significar esto?” she mumbled under her breath as she brought her hand to her chin and looked up at the ceiling once again, the smell of food even stronger in the air now, Sterling realizing just how hungry he was once his stomach grumbled.
“Airy side of the mountain…” Paco said, mulling over the words. “Airy side of the mountain… Mountainair?”
“Mountainair? That’s a town, ain’t it? Due east?” Sterling asked, remembering that he had seen the name of the town on one of the maps in his travel guide, and wondered why the words ‘mountain’ and ‘air’ weren’t separated in the town name.
“Sí, I think Paco’s right,” Abuela said.
“I mean, it works with the riddle…”
“The Culto Demente Sagrado is out that way,” Paco said, “in a big compound. Real crazy.”
Abuela nodded in agreement.
“And that’s not all,” Paco said, light flashing across his dark eyes as he looked at Sterling. “The entire compound is surrounded by an enormous cactus, the biggest cactus anyone around here has ever seen. It’s like the outer wall of a castle or something, easily forty feet high, thick too, as long across as our kiva,” he said, gesturing between walls excitedly. “You said the Sunflower Kid was a biomancer, right?”
“I sure did, and only a biomancer could make an enormous cactus like that. Shit, Paco, I think you done cracked my riddle. It’s got to be the Kid.” An appreciative grin took shape on Sterling’s face. “Boy, did you save me a hell of a lot of headache trying to get to the bottom of this. Now what about this Culto Demente Sagrado? Never heard of them. Who the hell are they?”
“They are a cult that worships a woman who they believe is Jesus.”
“But Jesus was a man,” Sterling said. “I mean, last I looked up his skirt.”
Abuela clucked her tongue. “The woman is a telemancer. If you go within about half a mile of their compound, she’ll speak to your mind and lure you in. That’s how they got all the people that are there
now. She controls their thoughts, and she will control yours if you go anywhere near there.”
“A telemancer, huh?” Sterling asked. “Well, if that’s where the Sunflower Kid is, that’s where I plan to go, come hell or high water. You point me in the right direction, and I will ride out that way tomorrow.”
“It’s too dangerous—”
“—I can show you a shortcut,” Paco said, interrupting his grandmother. “But I won’t be able to go the entire way with you. We Hopi know better than to go anywhere near them; anyone who doesn’t want to be forced into their cult knows better.”
“I’ll take my chances, and I would greatly appreciate that,” Sterling said. “Unless it’s another biomancer, which ain’t likely, that’s the Sunflower Kid. Hell, I’ve seen the Kid do something similar before. You can see it for miles, can’t you?”
Paco and his grandmother nodded.
Sterling licked his lips. “That’s the Kid, all right. It’s got to be. Thanks again, and I really appreciate you taking me in here tonight. I don’t mind sleeping outside, but I ain’t one to turn down lodging and a warm meal.”
“You are always welcome here, Skeleton Man,” Abuela told him. “Always.”
.Chapter Three.
Sterling took one more look at the desert haiku he had penned, nodding as he read it in his head. The piece related to change, something that even the desert experienced from time to time, something that Sterling was currently living through. It was morning now, a cold bite to the air, coyotes howling on the plateau, ice in the seams of some of the crags that twisted up toward a foreboding sky holding court over the proceedings of man.
Birds migrating south
Frigid mornings and hot days
A desert snow falls
Sterling was seated on a stool situated on the wall walk at the top of the pueblo, his feet kicked up on the adobe parapet, bits of wood jutting from it. He didn’t know what he was going to do about the telemancer that was parading around as Jesus with her brainwashed Culto Demente Sagrado, but if the Sunflower Kid was there, and it sounded like the Kid was, it was Sterling’s duty to burn that place to the ground.
The Sunflower Kid could thank him later.
“Nukwang Talöngva.”
Sterling looked to his right to see Paco standing there in his overalls and moccasins, his long dark hair pulled into a long dark ponytail.
“I’m guessing that means ‘good morning’ in Hopi, right?”
“It does.”
“In that case, ‘morning. You want a cigarette?” Sterling closed his book of desert haiku, and sent it back to his list.
“No, I’m good. Breakfast is almost ready. After that, we can ride out.”
“And you’re sure you want to come with me?” Sterling asked.
“I know a shortcut, like I said. As long as we don’t get too close. I promised Abuela.”
“Well, in that case, is there anything I can do to help out?”
“No, we can handle things.”
It was a mighty fine breakfast, one that Sterling wasn’t expecting. He was given a ceramic plate with thick chunks of yellow cornbread on it, beans, a rabbit leg from the stew they’d had last night, which was even better the second go-around. There was a dish called piki made from blue cornmeal, apparently a staple of their diet. The cornmeal was mixed with the burnt ashes of a juniper tree, smeared onto a large baking stone heated through Paco’s power, then folded loosely into what reminded Sterling of a scroll. It was good, and he enjoyed the breakfast alongside the small tribe of Hopi men and women, about twenty people in total, including two children, all of whom were a long way from their reservation in Arizona. Once they were done, Paco said his goodbyes to his grandmother and the rest of the tribe.
Sterling was just animating Manchester when Abuela approached him, a stern look in her eyes. “Don’t let Paco get close to the compound,” she said in a tone that told Sterling it was best not to cross her. “He’s not ready for something like that.”
“Don’t you worry none, ma’am,” Sterling said as he tipped his hat to the woman. “He’ll be back before nightfall, I can guarantee that. Me? I might be sticking around, I’ll have to play it by ear. Like I said last night, I’ve dealt with a telemancer before, years ago, so we’ll see how strong this one is.”
“Jesus is very strong.”
“I’m sure she is, but she ain’t Jesus, she’s an imposter, and I can tell you one thing she can’t control,” Sterling said as he placed his saddle along the upper part of Manchester’s back. “Skeletons don’t have brains.”
“But the Skeleton Man does,” Abuela tapped on the side of her shawl, which was draped over her head to keep warm, “and he should be careful.”
Sterling nodded once again, and soon, Paco and the cowboy necromancer were riding to the east, staying a few miles off Highway 60. Sterling noticed a change in the country here, a geographic wrinkle starting to separate the desert of the south from the high desert of northern New Mexico. Plants seemed a tad greener, the altitude slightly higher, the mountains cast in deep shades of brown rather than reds and yellows, something bucolic about the whole affair. But there were similarities with the south—abandoned vehicles, the occasional touch of what was once civilization and was now bleak nothingness, billboards spoiled by the elements, fences long since trampled over, a society in ruins, ready for excavation.
The two rode in silence until Paco had a few questions. “So, you tried to take on the Godwalkers three years ago, but what happened before that?” he asked. “The Reset was five years ago.”
“I could ask you the same question.”
“If you want to know what happened with me, I’ll tell you,” Paco said as they trotted next to one another. “We were in Arizona when it happened. At the Rez. Maybe you don’t know, maybe you do, but we tribespeople have maybe done a little better than others since the Reset.”
“So I’ve seen.”
“We already lived closely together, and those of us whose heads didn’t explode banded together. We remembered our languages and our traditions, even if we didn’t know each other.”
“Is Abuela really your abuela?”
“No,” Paco admitted. “But that doesn’t matter, simply being alive is thicker than blood these days. She was the wife of the leader of our group, the medicine man had a vision, and here we are.”
“I suppose you traded one desert for another then, didn’t you?”
“It’s hotter there in Arizona, cooler here. The journey to get here wasn’t easy, and it is where I got most of my levels.”
“What level are you anyway? I’m Level 60,” Sterling told him. He had been meaning to check out his stats that morning, but had gotten lost in a desert haiku and a sketch he was working on instead.
“Me? I’m at Level 19.”
“Shit, son, you might as well try to get to twenty. I’m guessing you’ll get some type of Class Proficiency bonus if you do. I think I did at that level. It’s unpredictable, this damn system.”
“I wouldn’t mind,” Paco said, “but to do so, I have to kill people. I have no one to kill.”
“I didn’t say it wasn’t a fucked up system,” Sterling said as he dropped the reins for a moment. He equipped his rolling paper and some tobacco, and started rolling a cigarette after using the saddle horn to reposition himself. “But killing is the only way to move on up. I don’t quite know what we’re moving toward, but I know I’m going to need all the strength I can get. And I’m also not saying I’m looking to start murdering anyone I see. That ain’t my style.”
“It doesn’t seem like your style.”
“Hell no, it ain’t,” Sterling said. “But I’m going to need all the strength I can get, Technique Points mostly, and hopefully, I’ll figure out a way to level up my class skills a bit faster too. I just got a new one. New skill, that is.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“Mold manipulation,” Sterling said as he stuck a cigarette in his mouth and lit i
t. “Haven’t quite figured out the usefulness of that one yet, but I’m sure if I was choking someone, it would be a right fine thing to try out.”
“You can control mold?”
“Apparently I can. So, that’s your backstory?” Sterling asked, switching back to the conversation they were just having. “It happened in Arizona, and you and your tribe headed west, and had to fight your way here. Did I miss any pieces?”
“That’s about it. What about you? What happened in those two years after the Reset, before you tried to take on the Godwalkers?”
“Well, as I’m sure you have experienced, there was a whole lot of adjusting to do. It ain’t often that someone wakes up in a bar with the ability to animate the dead. Lot of soul-searching on my part, trying to figure out why I was even alive to begin with, and testing the limits of my power, things I don’t like to talk about. As you can imagine, I can animate more than just skeletons,” Sterling told Paco, nodding the tip of his cigarette to Manchester. “There’s a gruesome aspect to my work that don’t quite sit right with me, or at least it didn’t at the time. Now it’s just who I am. You can’t change who you are. You can try, but you’re always there, if that makes sense. Maybe I’m just some crazy fool out here rambling somewhere between Albuquerque and Las Cruces, waxing poetic, but that’s my philosophy. So like I said, that time was, well, that time. Just figuring it out, and then falling in love.”
“In love?”
“Have you ever been in love, Paco?” Sterling asked the young man.
“No, but I’ve seen a few girls that are pretty.”
“Luckily, the damn Godwalkers have left a few of them around, but not many, unless you go to one of the bigger cities.”
Cowboy Necromancer: Infinite Dusk Page 25