by Multiple
I looked as she spoke. Sure enough, there were bandages on the fleshy parts of both my forearms. Slipping a hand under my gown I ran a finger along the bandage there. I’d missed it in my previous inspection.
Vera continued. “He was aiming for your throat, but the druid stopped him.”
Right. The druid, also known as Malcolm my neighbor. “Have you seen him?”
Vera shook her head. “Not since he killed Kristoff. I would like to ask him a few questions, but he’s not around to answer and no one else is talking either. My guess? They shuttle druids back and forth from the future to the past to deal with people like Kristoff.”
“Why? Who made them time travel cops?” It wasn’t that I was ungrateful for their help, I was breathing now only because of their intervention. But the idea of druids as time traveling crime fighters was a little hard to swallow. They weren’t very good at it either, considering the failed rescue of Jason and the fact that Kristoff had gotten so far in his plans.
“I don’t know. Some Sidhe believe the balance between magic and humans has been upset since the Great Coming Out. They would say what we just went through was a prime example. When the human and Sidhe worlds were separate, there were no Kristoffs or renegades or dragons. So, since the druids are all about balance and Kristoff was definitely unbalanced…” She shrugged. “But it’s all a theory. The only people who know for sure aren’t talking.”
“What about Athena and the renegades?”
“Athena is dead. The police have arrested dozens of renegades. It’s the biggest sting in the history of magic trafficking. It’s been all over the news.”
“And the dragons?”
“Still in Fairy, but that’s not my story to tell.” She smiled. “In fact, let me go get the person who should be telling you about that part. He should be here by now. Hang on.” She left the room, and since, I was attached to several large pieces of beeping equipment, I had no choice but to wait.
The cold air prickling up and down my neck told me I wouldn’t wait alone. Sure enough, a second after I felt the first cold draft, Mark flickered into sight next to my bed.
“I was wondering when I would see you.” I hid my anxiety at his appearance behind a cheerful smile. I had no intention of living up to our agreement and wasn’t looking forward to telling Mark so.
“I’ve been popping in and out, waiting for you to wake up.” He returned my smile, but I noticed it didn’t quite reach his eyes. His aura seemed brighter since the last time I saw him, but flickered in and out of focus as if it wasn’t quite all there. “How are you feeling?”
“I haven’t decided. I’m awake and that’s about all I know.”
“I’m sure you’ll be fine.” He paused, shifting his nonexistent weight from phantom foot to phantom foot obviously uneasy. I tensed, waiting for him to demand I find him a body to inhabit. To my surprise, he said, “I don’t have much time.”
I raised my eyebrows.“Oh?”
“They didn’t even want to let me come back to say goodbye, but I told them it wasn’t fair to you.”
“They?” I frowned. “Mark, what are you talking about?”
He sighed. “Look, I was wrong to do what I did. To try and live again. I crossed a line, if they hadn’t intervened, I don’t know if I would’ve stopped. I just wanted to be with you.”
I stared at him, befuddled at his sudden remorse. Was this the same guy who had crammed his soul into someone else’s body and then forced his dead tongue down my throat? “You hit me with a bucket,” was the only thing I could think to say.
“I know. I’m sorry. I wasn’t ready to die, but I didn’t have any right to do what I did to you or to…to that guy whose body I used.” He looked up at the ceiling and swallowed hard. “I know now that death isn’t the end and that we’ll be together again, when the time is right. It’s just that I love you, so much.” He glanced at me and I saw ghostly tears rimming his eyes.
“I know, but I’m glad you understand our time is over for now.” I held up a hand and he pressed his freezing palm against mine, careful to not go through me. “I’m sorry Mark. About the accident. About everything. I wish…,” I had to pause and take a deep breath, “I wish things had turned out differently.”
“Me too.” He gently reached out with his other hand and traced a finger down my cheek. “But they told me it’s time to move on. Time to accept the past can’t be changed.”
Tell that to the druids, I thought. Out loud I said, “Who is this they you keep mentioning?”
“I’m not sure. God or the powers that be, a higher power of some kind. All I know is, they’ve helped me these last few days to accept what happened.”
“Good.” I smiled at him, happy to hear Mark had someone helping him adjust to the lousy hand of cards he had been dealt. God —or whoever— knew hanging around me wasn’t the answer. “So this is it, then? Our final goodbye?” I couldn’t stop my voice from trembling. To think I would never see Mark again hurt more than I expected it to.
He nodded. Above his head swirled a soft white light shot through with pale blue. “That’s them. I have to go.”
“Until later, then.”
He smiled. “Yeah, I guess so. Keep an eye out for my sister will you? I don’t want her to be like my mom.”
I nodded. I would try. Maybe I could arrange play dates with Grace and Mark’s sister. That should be interesting.
“Until later.” With that, he drifted up into the light and was gone.
I bawled like a baby. I couldn’t help it. It was like Mark had died a second time. To know I would never see him or talk to him again hurt. Granted, I was relieved he was no longer hell bent on becoming my zombie lover and couldn’t interfere with my life anymore, but still there was a empty place in my heart, one that wouldn’t soon be filled.
And that was when Jacob walked in the door. At the sight of his crooked smile and the black bruise on his cheek, I cried even harder. Was it possible for a heart to break and heal at the same time?
He came and took my hand in his. I pulled him to me for a hug, and head on his shoulder said, “I never thought I’d see you again.”
Jacob squeezed me close. “I know. It was a near thing.”
“How did you get out of the Wastelands?” I tightened my arms around Jacob, thinking of him all alone in the Wastelands.
Jacob rubbed a comforting hand across my back. “Did you know the Goblin King is not only a militant vegetarian, but he also works with the FIB a lot? He put me in touch with them when I explained what was going on.”
“You got the dragons to change their minds.”
“Sort of. I pulled every string I had and it still wasn’t enough. I couldn’t compete with the Sidhe crown and their oath to Athena. Magic oaths are literally binding, did you know that?”
I shook my head and looked up at him. “So what happened?”
“We got lucky. The FIB stole back the crown and then they struck against Athena while you were fighting the necromancer. It was a miracle of good timing.”
“The revolution fell apart then.”
“Yes, and then the dragons couldn’t agree to my terms fast enough.”
“Which were?”
He laughed and grinned at me. “I’d rather show you than tell you. Think of it as an incentive to get better, because you won’t be able to see it from a hospital bed.”
I gave him a look of mock irritation followed by a coy smile. “I can think of other ways to motivate me.”
“Whoa, third wheel in the room,” Vera said raising her hand. “Keep it clean.”
I laughed. It hurt, but it felt good, too. “Sorry.”
Jacob leaned down and kissed me, murmuring against my lips, “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you have as much incentive as you need.”
I kissed him back suddenly feeling better than I had in over a year.
Chapter Nineteen
I hummed as I made my way through the apartment collecting all the things I would need for
a night out; a black velour shawl lined with satin to keep me warm in the cool October night, my purse, and a picnic basket filled with cheese, fruit and water. Normally I would have packed wine, but I’d been cutting back on the alcohol lately. I just didn’t seem to need it anymore.
One last check in the mirror, a tug on my off-the-shoulder sweater, and a quick fluff of my hair with my free hand, and I was ready to go.
Outside, Jacob pulled into a parking spot just as I reached the sidewalk that ran along the parking lot. He honked the horn and waved. I smiled and waved back.
It was October now. Two months had passed since I woke up in the hospital. Eight weeks filled with police inquiries, a media frenzy that alternately exalted me as a saint or accused me of being a renegade looking to escape criminal charges. There had been such a hullabaloo, I’d closed my shop indefinitely. It got to be too much with the police stopping by on a regular basis, the photographers zeroing in on me with zoom lenses while reporters shoved microphones in my face, and customers gawked (but never bought anything).
Fortunately, the dragons had paid me my weight in human gold eliminating any immediate financial concerns. The book deals and movie offers pouring in meant it was quite possible I would never have to work again, which was good considering the media showed no sign of leaving me in peace any time soon. Even now, I heard the whir and click of a camera.
At first I didn’t understand the attention, but once I got out of the hospital and caught up on the news I began to see the attraction. The zombie detective that had first chased Jacob and I, forcing us into Fairy, hadn’t been the only person in a position of power who was dead. Kristoff had been systematically killing and resurrecting key bureaucrats and other influential people as part of the renegades’ plan for a New World Order. And not just in Salem, but in several different states. Kristoff had been criss-crossing the country on a regular basis to install zombies sure to follow his orders in key positions.
Court decisions, local legislation, and even some national senate campaigns were called into question when key people proved to have been zombies under Kristoff’s control. Laws had to be repealed, criminals retried, and a full investigation into campaign finance had been launched.
Between Kristoff’s infiltration of the power structure, the renegade’s logistical resources, and the sheer magnitude of the dragons, the United States had been in very real danger of a coup d’etat. And human intelligence didn’t even have a clue or an effective defense against such a threat. There was a lot of angry rhetoric about the government leaving us open to supernatural or Sidhe control and why didn’t we allocate resources to guarding against these kinds of situations.
Bureaucrats, for their part, tap danced as best they could and threw money at the problem. They passed a budget providing funds for the CIA and FBI to hire more psychics and develop an interspecies crime unit. The Sunday morning news shows were filled with earnest middle-aged politicians making vigorous promises for lasting change.
A few of the shows had asked me to come on and weigh in with my opinion, but I declined. For one, I wasn’t worried. Kristoff had been an unnaturally strong necromancer, one of a kind based on all the research I’d done in the last few weeks. His daughter, Grace was in Fairy under the care of a FIB psychologist. I visited her every so often and she seemed to be adjusting well. Because she hadn’t raised humans yet, she could stay in Fairy and at least there, she couldn’t raise the dead even if she wanted to. There wouldn’t be another necromancer as strong as Kristoff any time soon.
Besides, the compromise Jacob had worked out with the dragons effectively eliminated their interest in taking over earth and as for the renegades, well, there would always be magic trafficking. It was, after all, human nature to want what we can’t have, but it would take them a while to rebuild their black market. And anyway, I had a life to live and I was pretty sure I didn’t want to become a psychic pundit.
Not when men as handsome as Jacob were waiting for me.
The only loose thread was Mark’s family. Celia hadn’t been happy to learn her son had moved on and Mark had asked me to watch over his half sister. For the time being, though, I gave them some space. I’d sent over a lovely layette set and a bunch of baby books. Celia hadn’t even said thank you, but rude was her default setting so I didn’t worry about it too much.
With a shake of my shoulders, I focused on the present and made my way over to where Jacob had parked.
“You look lovely,” he said, stepping out of his car and locking it as he joined me on the sidewalk.
“Thank you.” I twirled, showing off my black peasant skirt and then laughed when the basket along with my heels threw me off balance.
“Very nice.” He caught me and pulled me in for a long, lingering kiss. I tried not to think too much about whether or not someone was taking our picture at that very moment. Hopefully the newspaper editors of the world had more class than to publish pictures of me making out with Jacob.
“Thanks.” I smiled up at him, giddy with happiness. The worst was behind us and now we could finally enjoy each other.
“You’re welcome. Here, let me get that for you.” Jacob took the picnic basket from me and I let him as it was heavy and we had a bit of a walk ahead of us.
“Are you ready?” he asked, offering me his elbow.
I nodded. “We should get going. They’re going to start soon.”
I slipped my arm in his, leaning against him and enjoying the scent of his aftershave. In companionable silence, we headed for the quay. It wasn’t far, but the traffic and crowds of people heading the same way slowed us down. What should’ve been a ten minute walk took a half hour. A lot of people wanted to see the first dragon mating in modern history.
Finally, we made it to the open grass by the water. Picnic blankets and patio chairs dotted the lawn while hundreds of boats bobbed out in the ocean, their lights blinking on as the last rays of the sun sank into the water. Around us, I noticed people pointing and staring as they recognized who we were.
Nervous, I fingered the gold charm hanging around my neck for reassurance. Vera had made three, one for her, one for me and one for Jacob. She’d finished them just this week and they were supposed to let people gawk, but prevent them from descending on us like locusts. Reporters would get a lot of pictures, but wouldn’t be able to bring themselves to talk to us.
Even with the charms though, we probably should’ve stayed home and cuddled on the couch, but neither Jacob nor I wanted to miss tonight’s festivities. We’d both fought too hard and suffered too much not to be there. Aware of everyone’s eyes on us, we spread our picnic blanket on the ground and kicked off our shoes.
Sitting side-by-side, we toasted each other with our water bottles. “To new beginnings,” Jacob said.
I smiled. “Hear, hear.”
Just then, with an audible popping sound, two dragons burst into the sky. I leaned against Jacob and watched them soar, the first spark of something completely new. We’d both started out in a dark place and now we were surrounded by brilliant light that obliterated all the shadows.
The crowd quickly forgot about us, oohing and ahing as the dragons spiraled high in the air, creating large rings of bright flame that illuminated the night sky like a second dawn. I reached for Jacob’s hand and he leaned in to kiss me as the sky exploded above us.
History was past and the future held the promise of a new life.
-Fin—
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Memoir of a Reluctant Shaman
(A Story of Native American Magical Realism)
Ty Nolan
Chapter One
My grandmother’s song would make her wooden dolls dance without strings, something I have sought to do in my own relationships without much success. Perhaps my song is not strong enough, or perhaps I would be better off with stiffer relationships than the blood and bone-based lovers I’ve chosen—or that have chosen me.
Living in cities that are so bright they blot out the stars at night, my lovers have had skin washed pale as fish bellies back home, and I have never quite figured out how to explain to them what happens on our reservation, where stars look new and are strong enough to burn our bodies brown. How do I explain to my vegetarian significant other that he can buy a t-shirt in the tribal store that reads, “Vegetarian is an Indian word for poor hunter.” How do those for whom meat is something wrapped in plastic you use plastic to buy, make sense of my siblings hacking meat off a still-warm carcass? Do they really understand that the smooth hardness of the drums of mine they touch and admire is the flesh of the animal scraped clean?
Like the hide, I think I have been scrapped smooth—but it wasn’t with the obsidian knives of my grandmother, their glassy blackness glittering against the brown fur—no, I’ve been scraped by the sharper knives of indifference and indulgence.
I was born in the Month of the Singing Frogs, when the wreckage of winter is overgrown by the timid leaves of spring—when the falling snow melts to soft rain and mist that leaves you wet without realization. My mother was in labor for longer than she would care to be—but that, I’m sure, is the attitude of all mothers, no matter how easily children pop out. I was the oldest boy, Pisces of twelve children, with my Aries sister preceding me—alas, she also preceded me in death, (alas? Given the choice I am sure I wouldn’t have liked to have been the first of the family through that dark doorway—alas is not the right word). Three of our family have marched through that doorway, two lubed through with alcohol and one who fell in a manner considerably heavier and more permanently than the rains of my birth month. Scorpio, Virgo, and Aries were removed from the calendar, in a way Pope Julian would have admired.