The Wind in His Heart

by Charles de Lint

  “You don’t know how?” I ask. It comes out pretty harsh, but what I leave unsaid is, because you seem to know everything, lady.

  As I’m staring at her waiting for an answer, she slowly crosses her eyes and gets a crooked smile on her face. She looks so ridiculous, I can’t help but laugh.

  “What are you—five?” I ask.

  Her features return to normal and she giggles. “You just looked like you needed a smile,” she says.

  Okay, she and that twin of hers are day and night.

  “You still haven’t said why you wanted to talk to me,” I try instead.

  Her smile turns into an expression of longing. “That body I was telling you about?” she says. “The one I need in order to break from Consuela?”

  I nod, remembering.

  “I want you to make it for me.” I see a flicker of hope dance in her eyes.

  “Me? I’m a musician, lady, not a sculptor.”

  She nods encouragingly. “But the creative medicine is strong in you. I was going to ask the boy—Thomas. It’s why I gave him the feather charm. I wanted to wake the shaman inside him. His medicine is strong and will grow stronger every year, especially once he starts training. But it will take time for him to grow into his potential, and I find myself unwilling to wait.”

  “If you need strong medicine,” I say, “you should talk to Morago.”

  “Perhaps that’s true. But he will require a favour in return.”

  “And you think Thomas or I won’t?”

  “I’ve no idea. I do know that whatever favour either of you might ask of me, it will be something easy to give. But Morago… Morago will ask me for something like bringing the tribe together again. To shut down the casino and everything that has grown up around it.”

  “And that’s a bad thing because?”

  “There is a purpose to everything,” she tells me. “Sammy Swift Grass might seem like a divisive force at the moment, but there will come a time in the near future when it’s he who will bring the tribe together once more. He and Thomas.”

  “You really think he’s going to change out of the goodness of his heart?”

  “What makes you think he doesn’t have the best interests of the tribe in mind?” she asks, instead of replying.

  “Because he’s all about making money? Because he doesn’t respect the traditions of his own people?”

  “Much of the money he makes goes to the tribe—just as a portion of your earnings from royalties and publishing rights does.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie.

  She shrugs. “Both he and the traditionalists will come to terms. They each have something to teach the other. And this will become important when water rights become an issue.”

  “Say what?”

  “The city expands more and more every year. The same neighbourhoods that have sprung up everywhere else in the city have already begun their march toward the mountains. Before long, all the new houses and schools and golf courses and businesses will require water, and where do you think they will get it?”

  I shake my head. “I’ve never thought about it.”

  “When storms come, the water flows down from the mountains of the National Park and through the canyons. But the water itself is on Kikimi lands, between the two halves of the rez. The city will try to negotiate for the rights, perhaps build a reservoir. But it will have to be on Kikimi lands. What will happen if the tribe refuses? Or the city decides the asking price is too steep?”

  I don’t have to even think about that. It’s an old story in the desert, and an older story when it comes to Native land claims.

  “Trouble,” I say.

  She nods. “And it will require a man like Sammy to negotiate with them because he understands both worlds. Just as it will require the Warrior Society to stand guard and protect what belongs to the tribe. They will have to learn to work together. Why do you think the Women’s Council let Sammy go ahead with his plans? Because they could see ahead to when they would need his expertise and the money that his enterprises raise.”

  I look at her in a new light. “You’re awfully worldly for a ghost bird,” I tell her with a wink.

  This time, she doesn’t laugh. She just keeps staring at me in earnest. I know she has only one thing on her mind.

  “So you want me to sculpt a body for you,” I say.

  She nods.

  “I’m crap as an artist,” I tell her. “The most I can draw is stick figures. I’d hate to see what kind of sculpture I’d do. Believe me, you wouldn’t want to be the butt-ugly thing that I’d put together.”

  She shakes her head. “It’s the intent that’s important,” she says. “Not what it might look like.”

  I try to consider this from every angle, but my perspective is severely limited.

  “And no harm will come to anyone if I do this?” I ask.

  “Not directly. That is, it will not be by my intention. Consuela will not be pleased, but she can ask the thunders for help creating another shadow-self, if she even wants one. This would be a new beginning for her, as well. She might even decide to live in the present, and hold on to more of the beauty in life, rather than focus on her sombre thoughts.”

  Her eyes twinkle. “Or a hundred years from now I might trip someone,” she says with a chuckle. “Only you can decide if it would be all your fault because you gave me a body.”

  I laugh and nod. Are parents responsible for what their grownup kids might do? Yes, because they brought them into the world. No, because you can’t control another being. Nor should you try. Which makes me decide that it’s time Si’tala had her independence.

  “Okay,” I tell her. “I’ll do it.”

  The look of gratitude shining in her eyes is worth every stupid thing I’ve gone through today.

  “Should I start now?” I ask. I look around, but all I see is rock.

  “You need to return to your body first,” she says. “And you have unfinished business to take care of before you can fulfill our bargain.”

  Before I can ask her what she means by that, she adds, “What do you want in return?”

  I wave a hand. “You can owe me.”

  She smiles. “I knew you would say that.”

  “Because for you, the future’s happening at the same time as right now.”

  She shakes her head. “No, because of the man you are. I don’t even need to ask for your own promise that no one will be hurt by whatever favour you might ask.”

  “What did you mean by ‘unfinished business’?” I ask.

  She stands and points past the edge of the plateau, down to something that’s out of my sight. This is my meditation place, so I know there can’t be anything there, but I stand up anyway and see something floating out in the air. It’s a body, I realize—a woman’s body turning in a slow circle.

  53

  Sadie

  It was a long walk with Manny down Mission Street to the neighbourhood where Sadie’s family lived. Sadie’s hands were jammed in the pockets of her hoodie, the right one reaching longingly for the utility knife that Manny had taken from her. Manny’s long black hair swung loosely with his gait. He didn’t speak to her. The crows continued to follow.

  She missed her knife. The closer they came to the Higgins house, the more she felt the need to cut something. Herself. Manny. Some random stranger. She didn’t care which right now.

  Her crappy neighbourhood only made her mood worse. The yards were all dust and dead weeds and half-assed cacti, most of it browned and unhealthy. A few yards sported ragged palms, and most had at least one dead car, usually up on blocks. The pavement was cracked and rutted, the houses in poor repair. No wonder she was such a mess, growing up in this Loserville.

  And here she was, back again, and the only way she’d be getting out this time was by going to jail or scoring some cash and running as far as she could. That dream of a big payday selling out Jackson Cole felt like it was centuries old, gone and turned to du
st like the dirt underfoot. Now she’d settle for enough money to get a one-way bus ticket out of town. Maybe then she could start over again. It all depended on what kind of cash Reggie had lying around the house. And how many broken bones it would take before she got her hands on it.

  But first, she had to get the drop on him.

  “This is close enough,” Sadie said when they were a block away from the house.

  Manny nodded and stopped. “Here’s something you need to remember,” he said before she could head off on her own.

  “Yeah, what’s that?”

  “Aggie dies and all bets are off.”

  Sadie took a step back from him. “You can’t hurt me. You promised you wouldn’t. And the witch made a bargain.”

  “That you paid for with the soul of someone who only wanted to protect you.”

  Sadie did feel bad about that. “I never meant—”

  Manny cut her off. “Doesn’t matter what you meant. What matters is what happens. And I didn’t make you any kind of a promise. My clan made a promise to Aggie, and that ends with her death. So you’d better pray she doesn’t die.”

  “I don’t want her to die. I just want people to leave me alone.”

  “Guess you should have thought of that before you started pissing on anybody who came near you.”

  “The witch’s magic will protect me.”

  She remembered how the cops hadn’t even seen her when they were in the witch’s yard.

  “Maybe,” Manny said. “Maybe not. But I think blood magic is stronger than anything a witch can conjure.”

  “What do you mean by ‘blood magic’?”

  “The magic that a blood debt can call up. Don’t count on your witch’s spells to save you if Abigail dies.”

  Then he changed right in front of her eyes. Man to crow, the transformation so fast that she never actually saw it happen. One moment Manny was standing there glaring at her, the next a big crow went winging up into the sky. Something clattered on the pavement where he’d been standing. She looked down, then bent and picked up her utility knife. She smiled and blew the dirt from it, slid the blade out then back in again. She did that a couple of times before she put it her pocket.

  Her gaze went to the crows. They were still everywhere. In the trees, on the rooflines. She couldn’t tell which was Manny. They all seemed to be watching her. Stupid asshole birds. She gave them the finger and walked on, toward the house. When she got one yard full of dirt and scrub away, she walked down the neighbour’s lane to where their own little junkyard started with the rusted remains of a few cars and a pickup truck. A tall, ratty palm rose up at the back of the property, throwing what shade it could on the junked vehicles. Three crows up in the browning fronds watched her approach, like it was any of their business. Sadie ignored the birds and found a seat on the running board of the truck. From here, she could watch the house by peering around the front fender, but couldn’t be easily seen by anybody in the house.

  It was going to be a long wait until it would get dark, longer still before her parents would finally fall asleep. She took out the utility knife and played with the blade again, sliding it in and out, in and out. She should have stopped for water on the way here. She’d thought of it, but she didn’t have any money, and it wasn’t like stick-up-his-butt Manny would have spotted her any.

  So. Here she was. Thirsty and bored, with way too much time to think and nothing to do except play with the utility knife.

  She felt a little bad for what she’d said about Steve, and for cutting Aggie. But the old woman shouldn’t have tried to stop her from leaving, and Steve needed to realize she didn’t need anyone to plan out her life for her. Just because you were old didn’t mean you knew anything, especially not if your idea of a good time was living in the frigging desert with a bunch of rocks and cacti. But basically, he’d been a good guy. He hadn’t shared his dope with her, but he hadn’t tried to fuck her, either. Most guys wouldn’t have passed up the chance for a quickie.

  She hadn’t really meant to dump on him in front of the cops and his friends the way she had. That was all his stupid furry girlfriend’s fault. She frowned, remembering how Calico had tried to bully her. She’d happily drop a big rock on Calico’s head.

  She peered around the fender. Still no movement in the house. Was Reggie home or wasn’t he? For all she knew, he and Tina had gotten wasted and were sprawled out on their bed, completely oblivious to anything going on around them. It wouldn’t be the first time that happened, especially on a Saturday. It wasn’t like they had jobs or anything, but any excuse to get shitfaced would do.

  She was still pissed at what had gone down back at the witch’s house. Reggie’s soul was supposed to be her payment to the witch, not Ruby’s. It was a no-brainer. Reggie deserved the worst that could happen, but if he had a soul he wasn’t using it, so it wouldn’t even be missed. But Ruby…

  Why the hell would Ruby even do that? It made no sense. But not much that people did made sense to her. Working at crap jobs. Living in this part of town. Or how about being a loser like Reggie, working twice as hard with his scams to make the same kind of money he could get from a real job?

  She thumbed the utility blade out of its handle and in again. Leaning her head against the rusty door of the truck she looked back up into the palm tree. Now there were only two crows up there among the half dead fronds. The missing one made her feel uneasy, but when she looked around for it, too many others were perched in the area to figure out where it had gone.

  A sound from the direction of her parents’ house made her look around the fender again. The back door opened and Aylissa appeared, holding the door ajar while she shooed the two younger foster kids out. Riley and Gabriela looked nervous and scared, which had been pretty much their general demeanor from the first day Reggie and Tina had brought them home.

  They were the children of some crack whore who was either dead or in prison—Sadie couldn’t remember which. They’d only stopped being nervous around Sadie when they realized that she was getting the same rough indifference from Reggie and Tina as they were—worse, in fact.

  The pair stepped out holding hands, looking younger than Sadie recalled, which was weird because she’d only been gone a day or so. Gabriela was the eldest of the two—six, to Riley’s five. Other than that, Sadie only knew that their father had been Latino, their mother, white.

  Aylissa was close to Sadie’s own age, fair-skinned, where the little kids were a light brown, but her hair was a dark glossy black, where theirs was brown, and she usually wore it tied back in a loose chignon. Sadie watched her shut the door carefully, then lead the kids out into the backyard. The small leather satchel that was never out of her reach hung from her shoulder.

  Sadie stood up to study the house, staying as much out of sight as she could behind the pickup. She couldn’t sense any movement, but Tina and Reggie were pretty much the laziest people she’d ever met, so that didn’t mean anything. She watched Aylissa take the kids across the yard, angling for where the packed dirt of the neighbour’s lane at the back met that of the yard. They were probably headed for the playground, which was what Tina called the empty lot down the block where the neighbourhood kids hung out.

  Sadie considered the house for another moment before starting off after them. She froze as a cop car pulled up in front of the house. A sheriff’s department car, not one from the rez police, like that was going to make a difference. By this point they’d all be after her and here she was, out in the open. All they had to do was look in front of their noses.

  If she bolted now, it would look suspicious and they’d be all over her. If she didn’t, she’d lose precious time for getting away.

  Crap, crap, crap!

  While she was trying to decide what to do, one of the car doors opened and a big Latino cop got out. He did an automatic check of his surroundings, his gaze travelling past her as though she wasn’t standing right here in front of his big stupid face.

  She almost lau
ghed out loud.

  He couldn’t see her. Of course he couldn’t see her. The witch’s spell was still working. He meant her harm, so she was invisible to him.

  She turned away, ignoring the prickle of anticipation telling her that any minute, whatever was hiding her would fall away and he’d be after her. Keeping her hoodie up over her head, hands in her pockets, she slouched off after Aylissa and the kids and caught up with them at the empty lot.

  Only some of the crows—a half-dozen or so—followed. Sadie ignored them.

  The three kids were alone, facing away from Sadie’s approach. Aylissa sat on a stack of three old tires watching Riley and Gabriela toss pebbles at a tin can that had been wedged into a sorry-looking prickly pear.

  “Got any water in that bag of yours?” Sadie asked.

  Aylissa started, but when she turned a big grin spread across her face.

  “You’re okay!” she said.

  She didn’t jump up and hug Sadie. They didn’t do stuff like that, although right at this moment, Sadie could have used a hug. She settled for seeing three familiar faces, none of which belonged to someone who wanted to smack her in the head or throw her in jail.

  “So are you rich now?” Aylissa asked. She pulled a plastic water bottle out of her satchel and tossed it over.

  “That kind of fell through.”

  Sadie had a long drink before she put the cap on the bottle and tossed it back. Aylissa caught it easily.

  “Life sucks that way,” she said.

  “No shit.” Sadie smiled at Gabriela and Riley. “You guys okay?”

  They both nodded, eyes wide.

  “Did Reggie really drive you into the desert and throw you away?” Riley wanted to know.

  Sadie wasn’t surprised that Aylissa had told them. They had a pact: no bullshit between them.

  “Yeah,” she said, “but it didn’t work out the way he expected. Is Reggie at home?”