The Wind in His Heart

by Charles de Lint

  Thomas had no idea what Consuela expected to see ahead. There were mountains in the distance, but he knew from his own experience of living in the foothills of the Hierro Maderas that the mountains ahead were actually a lot farther away than they appeared. Between the mountains and the car was a stretch of desert scrub with the road cutting straight through it as though it had been drawn by a ruler.

  “Who’s back there?” Thomas asked. “And why are you so worried?”

  “I’m not worried.”

  Thomas glanced at her again. “Well, you look worried,” he said, “and so does she,” he added, tilting his head toward them both.

  His gaze went back to the rearview. The big truck was gaining on them. “And if it’s something that makes the spirit of death nervous, then I figure I should be, too.”

  He gave the gas pedal more pressure and the Ford picked up speed.

  “I’m not the spirit of death.” Before he could question that, she added, “Gordo is. We just choose to travel together. And he’s not the spirit of death, either. He’s a spirit of death. Do you think Death has the kind of time to visit every dying person individually?”

  “But—”

  She cut him off. “Right now I need you to pay attention. When I say make a sharp right into the scrub, just do it. No arguments, no discussion. Got it?”

  Thomas glanced at the speedometer and then the rearview. Even at ninety miles an hour, the tractor-trailer was rapidly gaining on them.

  Great. Thomas thought. He was in the otherworld with the travelling companion of the spirit of death and he was about to die. Who was going to see his spirit off when no one in his family or his tribe even knew where he was?

  “Turn—now!”

  Thomas didn’t hesitate. He let up on the gas and hauled on the wheel. As the Ford started to slide into a turn, he goosed the gas a couple of times until the car was travelling at a ninety-degree angle to the road they’d left, then he floored it again. The car shot forward and he saw that they were almost upon a steep dip made by a dry wash cutting through the scrub. The Ford was bouncing on the uneven terrain, taking out cacti, which he knew would be ruining its perfect glossy finish, but he didn’t care. What he cared about was that wash. There was no way they were going to jump it—even at this speed—and they were too close to turn aside.

  But then the wash was gone.

  As was the desert.

  Instead they were roaring up a narrow road of packed red dirt with red rock cliffs rising hundreds of feet tall on either side of them. He’d taken another momentary glance in the rearview right before they sped into this new world, but it had been long enough to see the long, black eighteen-wheeler follow them off the road.

  If that thing caught up with them here, it would run them over like they were a slow rabbit and flatten them.

  “Stop at the top of the road,” Consuela said.

  Thomas nodded. “And then what?”

  “Then we climb up one of those cliffs and hope Gordo can stop them.”

  Thomas didn’t bother to look around for the dog. The way things were going today, it would just magically appear somehow.

  He was so regretting having volunteered to replace Morago.

  But it was too late for regrets. Right now he had to survive. Later he could yell at the shaman.

  When they got to the top of the incline he braked hard and threw the Ford into park. Glancing back, he watched the black eighteen-wheeler appear on the road behind them. He heard its gears downshifting as it started its own ascent. Not bothering to shut off the engine, he popped his door, jumped out, and scrambled to where Consuela was already waiting for him at the bottom of the cliff.

  “Can you climb?” she asked.

  Clearly, she’d never grown up on the rez. That was pretty much all the kids did in the Painted Lands, scampering up and down the sides of the canyons for hours at a time. It’s not like they had Xboxes. Some families on the traditional side didn’t even have TVs.

  He didn’t bother answering. Instead he just started up, his zigzagging path determined by where he could find a decent handhold. He half expected her to turn into a raven and just fly up—it was that kind of a day—but instead she clambered at his side, flashing him a grin whenever he glanced her way. Her raven aura was nowhere to be seen.

  Halfway up, they came to a good-sized ledge and paused to take stock of what was happening below.

  Thomas blinked. That old customized black Ford was gone. An oversized Gordo sat in its place, awaiting the arrival of the tractor-trailer as it roared its way up the last part of its ascent.

  37

  Leah

  Leah almost felt like an old pro when Ruby led her back into the otherworld desert. She’d already done this and she hadn’t even suffered the vertigo that Marisa had. But as they left the parking lot of the tribal police station and moved into the otherworld, the red fur under Leah’s hand changed texture from fur to cloth, and the next thing she knew a young Native woman was rising from all fours to stand upright beside her.

  The dog was gone.

  No, Leah realized, her pulse quickening. The dog wasn’t gone. She’d changed into this woman.

  Except that couldn’t be.

  Images of Aggie White Horse’s paintings flashed through her mind and she remembered the old woman’s words.

  They are animals, but they can wear human shapes as well.

  Heart racing, Leah took a couple of quick steps back from where the woman stood.

  “Ohla,” the woman said. “Don’t be nervous. I’m just Ruby in another form.”

  Leah swallowed hard and tried to seem cool, like she saw this kind of thing every day. From the worried look in the woman’s eyes, she doubted it was working.

  She didn’t know why she was so freaked out. The woman version of Ruby certainly didn’t appear to be dangerous. She wore jeans, hiking boots and a red and black checked flannel shirt over a white T-shirt. Her long red hair—the same colour as the dog’s—was pulled back in a loose braid. Peeking out from under the collar of her shirt was a neck tattoo of a bird in flight. Only the head, shoulders and one wing of the bird were visible, the wing rising up behind her ear.

  For a moment, Leah fixated on that—how strange it was that a dog would have a tattoo of a bird on her neck.

  She cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders. “I’m not nervous,” she said. And she promptly sat down on a nearby rock because her legs felt like jelly, or maybe the ground felt like jelly. She wasn’t sure which. She just knew she had to sit down before her legs gave out.

  She lowered her head between her knees until she no longer felt faint. When she raised her head again the young woman was still there. Ruby sat on her haunches a few yards away. She studied Leah, head cocked to one side.

  “I’m sorry,” Ruby said. “Sometimes I forget how strange this might seem to someone who has never experienced it before.”

  “That’s me. Feeling a little freaked out, to be honest.”

  “So I see. But is it really so different from stepping between worlds?”

  “Um—yeah.”

  “How so?”

  “It’s just…” Leah didn’t know quite how to explain, so instead she said, “I did an online quiz once and according to it, my spirit animal’s a spider.”

  Ruby’s eyebrows went up. “Are you worried that you’re going to turn into one while you’re over here?”

  “What? No. I mean—that’s not going to happen, right?”

  “Not unless you have cousin blood, and I can sense that you don’t.”

  “Right. Of course not. Sorry. I’m just nervous so I’m babbling.”

  Leah stopped herself from going on. She took a deep breath and let it out. Ruby said nothing. She gave Leah the impression that she could easily spend the rest of the day sitting there in the sun, soaking up the heat. Considering how fall was so much chillier back in Newford, the warmth felt wonderful, though Leah was a little thirsty. What she wouldn’t give for on
e of the bottles of water that were in the rental back at Aggie White Horse’s place.

  “So,” Leah said, “you can turn into a dog.”

  “Not exactly. I was born into the Red Dog Clan. What I can do is turn into a human. Reuben’s boys turn into dogs.”

  “Reuben?”

  “The guy who was with Steve. It’s a tribal thing. There’s something in their blood that allows those who join the Warrior Society to be able to change into dogs.”

  “But you’re really a dog?”

  “Is that such a bad thing?”

  Leah shook her head. “No, it just seems strange—from my perspective, I mean. Which do you like better?”

  “Definitely being a dog. We don’t have your drama—like what was going on back there with Sadie and Steve and everybody. When we’re not playing, we just lie around and take it easy, explore a little, sniff each others’ butts.”

  Leah’s eyes opened wider and Ruby laughed.

  “Just seeing if you’re paying attention,” she said. “Are you feeling any better?”

  “Actually, I am. You being a dog seems to make perfect sense now.”

  “Good, though I have to say that if we were both dogs, we would have gotten to this understanding a lot more quickly. Now I want to ask you something.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Why is it so important to you that Steve is this person you say he was? Why can’t you just accept who he is now? Maybe he was that person once, maybe he wasn’t—but either way, why does it matter to you?”

  Leah didn’t say anything for a long moment.

  “If you’d asked me that a week ago,” she finally said, “I would’ve had an easy answer for you. Now it’s gotten more complicated.”

  “Complicated how?”

  “I’m not so sure anymore that it’s anybody’s business—you know, a famous person’s private life. Especially when there’s so much else going on in the world, bad stuff that affects ordinary people’s lives.”

  “If that’s the case, why do you still feel this need to confront Steve?”

  “I don’t want to confront him so much as ask him a question.”

  “And if you don’t like the answer?”

  Leah shrugged. “Then I have to live with it.”

  Ruby studied her for a long moment before she finally nodded. “Okay,” she said. She stood up, the motion an effortless flow.

  Leah wasn’t sure she’d be able to manage to stay upright, but she got up from the rock anyway. She swayed for a moment until Ruby put a hand on her bicep, steadying her. “Will you be all right?” she asked.

  Leah nodded. “But I could use a drink. You don’t have a water bottle magically stashed away somewhere, do you?”

  Ruby lifted her head, her nostrils working.

  “Better,” she said after a moment. “I smell a spring…” She turned slowly, then pointed to some distant rocks. “That way. Can you make it that far, or do you want me to get you some?”

  “And carry it in what? Your mouth?”

  “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “I can make it as far as those rocks,” Leah said. “Maybe you can tell me what the deal is with that kid Sadie while we’re walking.”

  Ruby’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know what to tell you,” she said as they started across the desert scrub toward the spring. “I usually don’t have any trouble reading you five-fingered beings, but she’s complicated.”

  “Five-fingered beings?” Leah asked, falling in step beside her.

  Ruby lifted a hand and wiggled her fingers. “You’re born with five fingers on your hands.”

  Leah smiled. “And you’re born with paws.”

  Ruby nodded.

  “Why are you having trouble reading Sadie?” Leah asked.

  “We dog clans tend to be impetuous,” Ruby told her. “We jump in because something feels right rather than thinking it through. We form these immediate bonds with people and because of our nature, we remain loyal to them long past the time that anyone else would have cut themselves loose. But we can’t. We’re too trusting and loyal, and we keep expecting the best from those we befriend.”

  “None of which sounds like a bad thing.”

  “Tell that to the dog chained up in somebody’s yard, or the one that gets cuffed every time the five-fingers around her are in a bad mood.”

  Leah frowned. She’d never had a pet dog or cat. Not even a fish. But she wasn’t so naive as to think that pets were never mistreated.

  “Okay,” she said. “That sucks. But what does any of that have to do with Sadie?”

  “I always seem to be drawn to damaged humans—the ones that need help. When Sadie arrived at Aggie’s place I could smell the bruises and cuts on her. She was scared of me—she was scared of the whole pack—but I thought maybe I could help her.”

  “But you couldn’t.”

  “Not when half her hurts were self-inflicted. She cuts herself.”

  Leah nodded. Kids like that showed up from time to time at the Arts Court back in Newford. Kids that did more harm to themselves than to anyone around them, and all you could do was try to be there for them. Maybe gently suggest counseling in a way that made it seem like it was their idea. But mostly, you had to show them you’d stay the course, no matter how messed up they were. Or got. It wasn’t easy. Mostly, it was heartbreaking.

  “What did you do?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” Ruby said. “I didn’t know what to do.”

  “It’s hard to know what to do in a situation like that.”

  Then Leah thought of what Ruby had said about being drawn to damaged humans. She remembered that when Ruby was a dog, she lived with Aggie.

  “So is Aggie—”

  “Damaged?” Ruby replied before she could finish her question.

  “It’s just, when you said—”

  Ruby laughed. “Aggie’s the most well-adjusted person I know, ma’inawo or human. I live there because those dogs are my pack. The Red Dog Clan have always lived on White Horse land.”

  They were at the rocks now and Leah scrambled up, following the route Ruby took. Water trickled from a seep higher up, forming a clear pool in the rocks below, the bright sunlight glinting on its surface.

  “Where does the water go?” Leah asked.

  Ruby shrugged. “Back into the ground?”

  She cupped her hands and drank. Leah followed suit and was startled at how cold the water was. She drank again before joining Ruby where she sat on a slab of red rock up above the seep.

  For a time, Leah simply got lost in the view. From this vantage, the desert scrub seemed to go on forever, flat and unending, but having just walked through a part of it to get to the spring, she knew how the deceptive the look of the terrain was from this height. Down there, the land was broken up with hidden washes and any number of dips and swells.

  Finally she turned to her companion to find Ruby with a faraway look in her eyes, her brow creased.

  “What’s the matter?” Leah asked.

  Ruby gave her a quick smile. “Oh nothing. I was just thinking about Sadie.”

  “How she might be hurting herself?”

  Ruby shook her head. “Partly. But after her performance back there, I’m more worried about her hurting somebody else.”

  “We should go back.”

  “No. I told Aggie I’d bring you to Steve and keep you safe.”

  “Steve can wait.”

  Ruby gave her a sharp look.

  “Really,” Leah said. “You can find him any time, right? So let’s go back and make sure everything’s okay.”

  “You’re sure? You flew all this way…”

  In truth, Leah wasn’t sure. But nothing had turned out the way she’d expected it would and she felt she needed time to process it. She certainly hadn’t expected to find Jackson Cole actually alive, and meeting him had not gone well. If he was Jackson Cole. Maybe he really was Jackson’s cousin. Who knew?

  And then the conversation she’d h
ad with the old desert rat last night at the motel was still echoing in her head, making her question not just what she was doing here, but what she was doing with her life.

  She had too many questions and not nearly enough answers.

  Somebody else’s problems were a perfect distraction. Not that she wished problems on anybody, but since they were there, she might as well let them take her outside of her own head.

  “I’m sure,” she told Ruby.

  The young woman’s grin made her whole face light up. She jumped to her feet and reached for Leah’s hand.

  “I know a shortcut back,” she said.

  38

  Thomas

  The boom/hiss of the tractor-trailer’s air brakes rose in the air, echoing back and forth in the canyon.

  Thomas stared down the rock face at Gordo, teeth bared, crouching on the ground where the Ford had been. He remembered what Consuela had said about her and the dog being travelling companions. When the Caddy had pulled into the trading post parking lot, the dog hadn’t been there. It was the same when the Ford had sat at the mouth of the canyon waiting for them. Both of the vehicles were black. Like the dog. And now the dog was huge, and the Ford was nowhere to be seen.

  “Are you serious?” Thomas said. “Gordo shapeshifts into a car? What is he—a Transformer?”

  “A what?”

  “You know, the little toy cars that you can twist around and turn into robots?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Consuela said.

  But he was longer listening to her. With the truck stopped, the doors of the cab opened and a trio of enormous men stepped out onto the road, one from the driver’s side, two from the passenger’s. They were tall and bulky with muscle. One was a black man with a shaved head. The other two had a Native cast to their skin and features, but Thomas didn’t recognize the tribe.

  “Who are they?” he asked.

  “It’s a salvage crew.”

  “Salvaging what, exactly?”

  “Anything alive that’s travelling down the roads of the dead. It’s usually old vehicles—something that’s been invested with so much love that when they’re finally set aside, their spirits keep driving, except now they’re heading down the highways and byways of the spirit realms. If they happen to stray onto one of the roads of the dead, they become fair claim to the salvagers.”