by C. E. Murphy
Morrison glanced at me as he put the car in drive. “What?”
“I’m late for a meeting.”
“It’s six in the morning.”
“I know. Can you just drive me home?”
Morrison’s silence was profound before curiosity got the better of him. “You’ve got a 6:00 a.m. date at home?”
I slumped in my seat. “Yeah. You know. That boyfriend you didn’t believe in.”
Morrison snorted. I guessed he still didn’t believe. “You need to get that hand looked at.”
“I need a shower. If I can’t fix it I’ll go to the ER.”
“If you can’t fix it.” The skepticism in Morrison’s voice was thin. He’d watched me recover from impossible injuries enough times to know I could do it, even if he didn’t want to believe it. I felt an unexpected pang of sympathy for him.
I pushed myself up in the seat, toes pressed against the back of the footwell. “Forget I said anything.”
“Walker—”
“Really, Morrison, forget it. You’ll be happier that way.” I glared out the window, wishing I’d kept my mouth shut and just gone to the damned hospital with him. A ten point buck, its antlers glowing an unhealthy neon yellow, bounded out of the greenery at the side of the road and into the car. I yelled, flinging my arms up as if I could ward off the animal’s impact. Morrison yelled, too, slamming on the brakes.
“What the hell was that?”
“The deer! It almost hit the car!”
Morrison stared at me with furious concern that almost masked a complete lack of comprehension. “What deer?”
“The—” It dawned on me that there’d been no impact, nor any scrape of hooves over the car’s roof. I flinched forward, looking beyond Morrison at the street. There was no sign of the animal anywhere. My voice got very small. “You didn’t see it?”
“See what, Walker? Jesus Christ! What the hell’s the matter with you?”
I stared at the quiet street. “I thought I saw a deer. A buck. Come out of the woods and jump at the car.”
Morrison frowned and reached for my head, running a hand through my dirty hair. Mud flaked away, showering down the back of my tank top and leaving his fingers a muddy tan. I pulled away, frowning in return. “What?”
“Seeing if there are any lumps on your head. You sure you didn’t hit your head, Walker?”
“No.”
He kept frowning at me. “We’re going to the hospital.”
I sighed and slumped down in my seat again. “Yes, sir.”
* * * *
I had enough sense—barely—to bite my tongue when I saw the grizzly roaming unconcerned down the middle of the street, and to close my eyes and count to ten and hope the eagle sitting on the stoplight would disappear when I opened my eyes. It didn’t, but that gave me enough time to be absolutely certain Morrison wasn’t seeing it. Bald eagles do not hang out in suburban Seattle frequently enough to go uncommented on. But an utterly gorgeous thing with a bear’s head and a glittering body, scaled like a fish, made me gasp out loud and sit forward, which in turn made Morrison frown at me even more deeply. I couldn’t help it. It was beautiful, covered in iridescent reds and blues, with enormous teeth and tall deer horns. Beautiful and totally alien. It belonged in a picture book of mythology, not on a corner with its tail lashing, looking as if it were impatient to cross the street.
Whatever else had happened last night, we’d clearly succeeded in giving the spirits body. What I didn’t understand was why Morrison wasn’t seeing them. I clenched my eyes shut and my teeth together as we drove through a hippogryph, which I wouldn’t have betted on recognizing before I saw one. And that gave me some of my answer: there had to be a third step to the ritual that would make them solid. I could see them because…
God. Because I believed. The very thought made my head hurt. I put both hands against my temples and groaned. Morrison frowned at me again. “You okay?”
“I don’t know. Ask me again tomorrow.”
“I’ll ask you again after you’ve seen a doctor.” Morrison flicked a blinker on and I groaned again, watching Northwest Hospital come into view. I was spending way too much time there. A minute later he found a parking place, meaning I wasn’t going to get away with watching him drive off and then running home. “Out,” he said.
I got out, thinking that at least Judy and my spirit animals would be pleased. I was taking their advice to heart, and to active effect. I, on the other hand, wasn’t thrilled. I was happier with the world when I couldn’t see the magical things in it. Even if this was exactly the path I was supposed to be on. I made a gurgling sound of frustration in the back of my throat and Morrison shot me a concerned glare. “Walker?”
I was clearly too unused to having somebody else around. I needed to learn to stop vocalizing my internal annoyances. Either that or I needed to obtain a significant other so I could just tell people like Morrison to hand me over to him and stop worrying about me. At this point, the former seemed more likely. “Nothing. I’m fine. Honest. Can’t I just go home?”
“No.”
I slunk off to see a doctor. Morrison told them I was having hallucinations, and they tested my eyes after they’d stitched my hand up. The light shining into my pupils looked black to me, but my responses were all right and they told me I could go home. I very carefully didn’t mention the bright-eyed rabbit spirit sitting in the corner.
Morrison dropped me off at home, still scowling. “Get some rest, Walker. That’s an order.”
I got out of the car, smiling. “I’m not on duty, Captain.”
“You will be tomorrow, and if you don’t do what I tell you now, I’ll make your life a living hell,” he said pleasantly. I laughed, straightened, and saluted the roof of his car.
“Yessir, Cap’nsir.” I thumped the car and watched him drive off before heading into the building. About twenty-four hours of sleep sounded really appealing, truth be told. Of course, there were about eight reasons why I wasn’t going to get that, so dwelling on it would probably only make me miserable. I climbed into the shower, sat down on the tub floor, and went to see if Judy was still waiting for me while hot water beat the night’s grime off my skin.
Chapter Twenty-Six
She was, and she was agitated, pacing my garden with her skirt a-swirl. I sat where I was for a few seconds, watching her. Unlike Phoebe, she was far from an economy of motion. Every step she took seemed to eat up too much space, as if there was too little control behind it. She looked like she might fly apart at any moment.
Moreover, my garden looked terrible. The grass was curling brown and the sky flat with dust. Even the pool was dull, like someone’d poured charcoal over its surface and the particles hung there, distorting the water’s ability to reflect. I looked up at the sky, wondering if I could convince it to rain. It didn’t start to, so I shrugged and looked back at Judy. “How do you end up here, anyway, when I’m not here?”
She flinched, hands rising up from her sides a few inches, like a startled bird fluttering its wings. I hid a grin, suddenly seeing her as the black-eyed raven. She spun to face me, skirt whirling again. “There you are. We were worried. Where have you been?”
“We?”
Her eyebrows crinkled together. “The spirit animals and me. You’re late.”
“I didn’t know spirit animals got worried.” I glanced around, didn’t see them, and shrugged it off. “Sorry I’m late. It was a rough night. Anyway, so how can you be in my garden? How can you be waiting for me here?”
“You expect me to be here,” Judy said. “It gives me access.”
For a moment I thought I heard Marcia’s voice saying, “It’s a matter of expectation,” and frowned at Judy. She didn’t look anything like Marcia, even after the whole knife incident. The truth of the matter was probably that expectation colored a lot of what I did or what I was supposed to do. I said, “Okay,” through a yawn, and nodded. At least I’d gotten a night’s sleep, even if it’d been in a fallen t
ree.
Judy came and crouched in front of me. “You’ve changed a great deal.”
I tried to speak through another yawn and gleeked instead, then coughed as I clapped my hand over my mouth. My eyes teared with the effort of the whole thing and it took two swallows before I was able to say, “I have?” I glanced down at myself again.
My new suntan hadn’t followed me into my garden. Too much self-perception tied up in being pale-skinned. The tan probably wouldn’t last long enough for that to change. Still, it was a nice compliment. It made me feel like maybe I was doing something right with the whole mystical lifestyle thing.
Judy’s pause stretched on long enough to be audible. I blinked up at her, curious, to find her mouth pursed. “I meant the world around you,” she said gently. “You’ve changed a great deal out there.”
“Oh.” I felt foolish, a blush burning my ears. The tan might’ve been useful to hide that. And here I thought I’d been doing so well. Judy put her hand on my shoulder, smiling.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I think that you’re able to affect these changes means you’re finally beginning to accept your own gifts, Joanne. The world around you isn’t the only thing that’s changed.” She sat down across from me, folding her legs under herself tidily.
A little surge of happy pride tingled through me. I ducked my head, feeling ridiculous. I’d practically asked for the clarified compliment. It made me happy anyway. “So what’s on the agenda for today, bo—” I bit off the word. I called Morrison boss. For some reason I didn’t want to share his word with Judy.
I’d never put it in so many words, but it occurred to me that I had some interesting hang-ups about Morrison.
I put the thought firmly out of my mind. “What’s on the agenda?”
Judy leaned forward, suddenly full of intensity. It lit her eyes, making them blacker and brighter, reminding me of Virissong as he’d told his story to me. Which also reminded me that I’d wanted to ask him more questions, but it was going to have to wait until after the solstice ritual. At least then I’d be able to talk to him face-to-face. “I want to talk to you about tonight’s ritual.”
I sat up straighter and looked around with a nervous laugh. “Are you reading my mind? I was just thinking about that.”
Judy smiled. “No. I can’t read your mind.”
“Really? Everybody else can.”
Judy’s eyebrows rose slowly. “They can?”
I waved it off. “Never mind. What’d you want to talk about, about tonight?”
Judy’s eyebrows remained elevated for a few moments, but she nodded. “You’ll be asked a great deal tonight, Joanne. More than has been asked of you in the past.”
More than having a sword stuffed in me? I didn’t ask the question out loud, just nodded attentively like a good student. “Virissong will complete his journey tonight and return to the Middle World. He may need to rely heavily on your strength.”
“How do you know that?”
Judy smiled. “Teaching you isn’t the only thing I do. Since you mentioned him and have spoken with him, I’ve been looking in to the rituals you and the coven are pursuing. It’s quite clear that they have the desire, but you have the power, to help Virissong bridge the worlds. It’s part of why I’m so pleased at how far you’ve come in acceptance the past few days. Your belief strengthens us all.”
I felt another warm little glow of pride tingle around the back of my neck. Doing things right could get addictive, if people were going to keep complimenting me for them. My vision went inverted and I shook my head, rubbing my eyes. Judy’s voice lifted with concern. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah. Just, my vision’s been all funky for a few days. Ever since—” Reticence popped through again. I hadn’t told Judy about the talk with Big Coyote in the desert, and didn’t really want to. I didn’t want to talk to anybody about that yet. The deja vu brought on by Cassandra’s funeral after the desert still made me uncomfortable, sufficiently uncomfortable that I didn’t want to think about it. My vision narrowed down again and I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes, making black sunbursts behind my eyelids. “Ever since the first ritual.” It was close enough.
“Ah.” Judy didn’t sound surprised. I squinted my eyes open to find her nodding wisely. “It’s the power you’re using, almost certainly. Think of it like stretching muscles you’re not accustomed to. You’ll adjust.”
“Before I go blind?” I muttered. I stopped rubbing my eyes, but the after-images of darkness still hung around the edges of my vision. It was like looking into binoculars. “Anyway, thanks. So I’ve noticed some people aren’t seeing the spirit animals out there. What‘ s up with that?”
“A matter of faith.” Judy hesitated. “And maybe something more. You released a great deal of power last night. I’m not entirely sure it went the way it was intended to.”
I made a face. “Yeah, I kind of got that with the whole massive earthquake thing. I hope that was an accident.”
Judy shook her head. “I’m sure it was. And tonight’s ritual should finish everything and put it all back to rights. You’ll have to be brave tonight, Joanne. It’s going to be hard.”
“I can handle it. I just lived through being the epicenter of an earthquake, after all.” My, wasn’t I brash and cocky. Judy smiled at me.
“Good. I think we’ll move on to your next lesson in the morning. You should save your strength for tonight, now. You’ll be ready, in the morning.”
“You sure I won’t be all burned out?”
“Positive. It’s the nature of sacrifice, after all. The more you give, the more of you there is to give.”
That sounded very mystical and reassuring. “All right. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
Judy nodded. “Tomorrow. Good luck tonight.”
“Thanks.” I opened my eyes, still sitting under hot shower water. I felt cleaner and almost ready to face the day, even though my vision was still tunneled. I tried blinking it away and succeeded in blinking water into my eyes, nothing more. Oh well, it’d faded before.
The phone rang and I leaped out of the tub, all elbows and knees and flailing as I ran for it. I didn’t know why I was in such a hurry; my answering machine worked just fine. Telephones caused a Pavlovian response in me. Someday I was going to spend a few weeks training myself out of it, so that when a telemarketer called I didn’t compulsively leap up and race to see who it was. Possibly the whole training prospect would be more successful if I got more than one phone call a week.
I knocked the phone’s base off the nightstand as I snatched the receiver up, gasping, “Hello?” into it. Thank God genuine video phones hadn’t been invented. I hadn’t even grabbed a towel. Ford Prefect would despair of me.
“Joanie? You okay? This’s Billy.”
“Oh. Hi. Yeah. I was in the shower, that’s all. What’s up?” My heart rate slowing down, I edged back into the bathroom to reach for a towel. The phone cord wouldn’t reach. I stretched as far as I could, an awkward naked ballet, trying to snag the towel with my fingertips as Billy spoke.
“What the hell happened last night?”
“You sound like Morrison. What do you mean?”
“Earthquakes and monsters roaming the streets? Ring a bell?”
My foot slid out from under me. I seized the towel on my way down, but it didn’t provide any kind of support. I crashed to the floor, banging most parts of my body on the floor, the doorjamb, and the falling towel rack, variously. I lay there, afraid to even groan while I judged whether anything was badly injured, then fumbled for the phone, I’d dropped sometime during my dramatic descent.
“Joanie? Joanne? Are you all right? Joanie? Jesus Christ! Jo—”
“I’m okay,” I announced, hoping it wasn’t an overstatement.
“What the hell happened?”
“I fell.” I sat up cautiously, trying to extract my leg from around the door frame. “I think I’m okay. Um. Monsters roaming the street
s?”
“Don’t play dumb with me.”
“I’m not. I just didn’t know anybody else could see them.” Although if anybody could, of course it would be Billy. My friend the True Believer.
“Well, I promise you, it’s not just me. The station’s hopping like a madhouse. Calls coming in from all over the city, some of them from people who’re seeing things and lots from people who think their friends have lost their minds.”
“You the only one there?”
Billy understood what I meant, even if the question hadn’t come anywhere near asking it. “No, there’s me and Jen Gonzales in Missing Persons and a bunch of people from your little séance back in January. I donno who else.”
“It wasn’t a séance.”
“Joanne!”
I’d never heard Billy sound so annoyed. I winced, clutching my towel against my chest. “Yeah, sorry, not a good time for arguing details. Look, I’ll…” What the hell was I going to do? “I’ll come down to the station. I don’t know what good I can do, but somebody else on duty can’t hurt, at least.”
“Forget coming to the station, Joanie. Figure out what’s going on. Gimme a call when you know. Maybe we can figure out how to fix it.”
“It’ll be fixed tonight,” I said without thinking. I could all but hear Billy shake his head.
“Tonight might not be soon enough. Get busy, Joanie. This is important.” He hung up. I got dressed and went to find Faye.
* * * *