Ben Soul

by Richard George

pushed himself to his feet. His blood, returning to its usual free flow through his arteries and veins, tingled in his flesh. A wave of almost nausea came over him prompted by the sensation. He looked around for Val. She was snoring softly on the pew. He probed at her mind without thinking. A sudden mental image of Val, shaking a finger and saying “No!” came to him. Only after he disengaged did he wonder at this strange skill he suddenly seemed to have.

  He called softly to Val. “Val,” he said, “wake up, Val. Are we done, yet?” Val stirred, but did not waken. “Val,” he called a little louder. He started to grasp Val’s shoulder where the tattooed bird resided. Before his fingers had done more than touch the cloth, he felt a beak peck savagely at them. Val, startled by Ben’s jerking his hand back, woke up.

  “Hi,” she said. “Sorry I fell asleep.”

  “Are we done?” Ben asked.

  “Yes,” Val said. “Everything went much easier than I thought. You’re a natural psychic, Ben.”

  “Sure,” he said. “I’ve got a bridge you’ll really want to buy.”

  “Take it from someone who knows, Ben. You are a natural psychic.” She went on to explain to him how she had perceived the barriers in his mind, and how she had left them with doors he could open or close at will. Then she had him practice several times opening and closing the doors. Ben surprised himself with how easily he manipulated what he still thought of as a kind of mumbo-jumbo. When Val was satisfied they had done all they could for the day, they left the Chapel and went to the cottage, where Dickon prepared them a simple meal of meatloaf, potatoes, and spinach.

  Into the Maelstrom She Goes

  Vanna proceeded unnoticed through Pueblo Rio. Her flannel shirt and jeans and boots only marked her as a passing Lesbian, no matter of note in the small community that sometimes billed itself as the Lesbian Capital of the World. (We should note, in passing, other communities on both coasts disputed the title.) One urge moved Vanna now: to revenge herself on Dickon, and any of Dickon’s friends she could find. She had come to believe he alone had caused all her troubles. Neither food nor drink distracted her.

  The River, however, thwarted her. Every time she approached the water, something turned her away. One time it was a wren’s song. Another time she followed a blowing plastic sack as it danced in the air. On a third try, when she unaccountably found herself paralleling the River instead of crossing it, she stopped to consider the phenomenon. It was then she heard the voice of Shikunok in her head.

  “Water’s no good for witches,” he said. “You’re a full-fledged witch, now. If you want to cross water, you’ll have to get someone to carry you.” Shikunok cackled. “Water dissolves witches, my dear. Always has.” Vanna cursed, and kicked at a fire hydrant in front of a store called The Antique Junkyard. She bruised her toe, which brought forth yet more vile curses from her. A young man with long stringy hair handed her a pamphlet as he passed. She looked at it. “Jesus Saves!” the print shouted at her. She cast it away in disgust. It joined a group of its fellows in the muddy gutter.

  Vanna stood a little while staring down River Road. Then it occurred to her that she didn’t need to cross water to come to San Danson. The highway ran on the north side of the River, turning away from it near its mouth. It did cross Martyr’s Creek. That presented a problem, she supposed, but maybe she could find someone to carry her across the stream. Maybe being in a car could be considered being carried. Shikunok in her mind was silent, and gave her no help. Vanna walked to the sea-bound side of River Road, stuck out her thumb, and waited for a car to stop for her.

  In San Danson Village, Emma and Haakon kept watch on the small Crystal Cat. When it began to glow, they knew, it would be a warning Vanna was near. Harry Pitts frequently lay a palm on his Bible. If it grew unbearably warm, Val had assured him, it meant Vanna was in the vicinity. The Swami touched his Boddhisattvas several times a day. They, too, could sense Vanna’s propinquity. On the mountain, Notta kept a lookout on the jade unicorn. It, too, would glow, should Vanna attempt an invasion over the mountain. Ben’s Bamboo Buddha was expected to indicate, probably by temperature, that Vanna approached. As it happened, Harry’s Bible alerted the Village first. He immediately activated the siren they had installed over the Import/Export Emporium and gas station. It was the signal for the Villagers to gather in the Chapel. Vanna had found a ride, and was about to stalk the Village.

  Vanna’s ride from Pueblo Rio crossed several small streams tributary to the river along the way. Each time she crossed one, agony assailed her body. The whiskey drummer (his self-description—he actually sold local wines to various bars and restaurants along the coast) chattered happily on about vintages and tannin and oak and raspberries and wine noses without noticing Vanna’s momentary distress. She did not distract him. Her aim was to get to San Danson before dark, so she could lie up in the redwood grove across from the Station until daybreak.

  The drummer was surprised when she urged him to let her off just before they got to the Station. Vanna didn’t want to risk anyone at the Station recognizing her, now that Shikunok had reversed her disastrous cosmetic surgery. She finally slowed her driver’s arguments by threatening to jump if he didn’t stop. He, fearing a lawsuit, or even prison time for sexual harassment, jammed on the breaks, let Vanna exit to stand at the side of the road, and roared away as soon as he could.

  Vanna waited until he was out of sight and went into the woods to camp in a spot where she could watch the Station without being seen. Food, fire, and water were no longer necessary to her. The Dark One had taught her system to subsist on dark currents drawn from the nether ether. She felt no chill, no hunger, and no thirst. Dark fog flowed in from the Cove and obscured the moon. Vanna settled on the ground, her back against a tree, and waited for her hour to strike the Village. While she waited, she drew more strength from the dark earth.

  On the mountain, the young unicorn with the unique horn paced restlessly across the pasture. The disturbed llamas clustered around her to guard her.

  The Villagers Assemble

  The unease that struck the unicorn, She-Who-Smells-Like-Violets, quickly transmitted to Ermentrude, Butter, Charles Algernon Burnswine, and the nameless crow tattooed on Val’s shoulder. Val heeded the warning her tattoo gave her. She quietly went from cottage to cottage, asking folk to come to the Chapel. She then went to the Station to alert Harry, Olive, Rosa, and the Wong brothers. Harry rang the Manor House. Notta rang DiConti, who was just about to leave the sheriff’s station in Las Tumbas, with the news. Then she gathered Hyacinth, the jade pendant, and Ermentrude, and went to find Willy Waugh. When she found him, he led Notta and Hyacinth down the trail in the thickening fog to the Chapel. The rest of the Village, including Butter and the other six objects of power were already present. Val nodded at Notta.

  “Where is DiConti?” Val asked Vanna.

  “He’s on his way. He’ll take up position with Dickon outside when he gets here.”

  “Good.” Val looked at Dickon. “Perhaps you should begin to circle the Chapel,” she said to him.

  “Right,” Dickon said. He hugged Ben hard and quick. “Be careful, Ben,” he said. He started to say more, but his throat filled. Ben smiled at Dickon with tears in his eyes.

  “I’ll be careful,” he said. Dickon went out, with only one lingering backward glance. He sighed as he went out the door and began his slow circling of the cottage as the fog settled down around it.

  Inside the Chapel, Princess Valiant arranged the seven power objects in a circle. For those that had faces, she arranged them face out. They were to ward off evil. Inside this circle she put Hyacinth, with Ermentrude to guard her. Under her Kelly green sweater with cable-knit patterns running vertically, the crow tattoo flew in purposeful circles, clapping its beak in a silent chant.

  Notta started for the circle to be with Hyacinth.

  “No, Notta,” Val said. “Not there. That protec
tion is for Hyacinth. I need you and your fierce mother love by the door, with Butter on one side of you, and Charles Algernon Burnswine on the other.”

  Notta opened her mouth to argue, and then thought better of it. Princess Valiant knew more of these matters than any of them. Notta quietly took a position by the door. Butter and Charles joined her, Butter at her feet and Charles Algernon Burnswine perched on her shoulder.

  “Let the rest of us gather in a circle around Ben,” Val said. “No particular order but let each of us touch the persons on either side, whether by holding hands, or some other body-to-body contact. Once we have melded into one will, I will meld that will with Ben’s will. We can pass our joint power to him through me.”

  The Villagers circled around Ben, who sat on a cushion on the floor. The others had brought each his or her own cushion to provide what softness down and fabric could against the cold Chapel floor. Princess Val had warned them the session could be long, and their bodies would be full weary when the struggle was over.

  Across from San Danson Station Vanna waited for evenfall. She observed Rosa, Harry, and Olive leave the restaurant. The motel had a sign lit saying it had no vacancies tonight. A little later she watched the Wong brothers