He pushed himself up from the ground and walked toward his home. He had to remind himself to pay attention to time. He wasn’t accustomed to doing so, but he’d never hunted anyone like Jaguar, and until she truly became his ally he had to be careful. He didn’t imagine she could kill him. She was strong, but she didn’t have his years, his capacities, or his experience. There were very few ways to kill him anyway, and none she could do alone. But she might elude him for longer than he wanted, and he was hungry for her.
When he reached his home he stood on the front steps and sniffed the air. He smelled blood. That was good. A good sign. It meant the children were already playing with Alex. The shots to the legs, the sexing, had already begun. He entered the building, stood in the hall and sniffed some more. Definitely blood. A lot of it.
“Peter?” he called. No answer.
He followed his nose, followed the scent of blood, which led him to the bedroom. He opened the door.
Alex was not there. Instead, the swollen, dead bodies of his children lay on the floor. All of them. No—not all. The little girl was missing.
Rage gathered in his belly. Alex was gone. The girl was gone. His other children were dead. He raised a hand and lowered it, tossing out his fury.
The bodies smoked and disappeared. He raised his hand again, not sure what he’d hit this time.
Then, he realized. Of course.
He could find the girl. She’d been with him long enough that he could do so easily. And Alex would probably be with her. He could find them both and toss his rage at them from where he stood. It was an exorbitant expenditure of energy, but well worth it. He’d smell them burning from here.
He raised his hand high, seeking the girl, but something stopped him. A call, faint and weak at first, then growing stronger.
Jaguar, calling to him.
Leave them alone, Dr. Senci. I’m waiting for you
He lifted his head. She was far away, but she wasn’t hiding. In fact, she was leading him to where she waited, in an arid land where she appeared as if she’d fallen from a strange star to that place.
“Yes,” he whispered, and felt a thrill of anticipation, so unusual.
Home. This was her home, where her power grew from. And he could feed on her where her power was greatest. Then, he frowned, considering a new thought.
This land and its people were protective of her. He needed to proceed with caution, make sure she wasn’t trying to trap him in some way. He’d approach her carefully, move toward her in stages, and it would take a little time. But he had all the time in the universe at his disposal. That well never ran dry for him.
Ready, Jaguar? he asked.
Whenever you are, she replied.
Chapter 18
Alex brought the air runner in to land just outside the ring of adobe houses that squatted in the shade of the mesa.
“Well,” he said to Maya, “we’re here.”
She peered out the window, pressed a small hand against the glass as if that would help her see better. “This is where she lived?”
“That’s right,” Alex said. He opened his door and got out. Went around to her side and opened her door, helped her out.
“Is she here now?”
“I don’t think so,” Alex said, “But I hope we can find her from here.”
Alex had been here before and knew the protocol of the people and the place. He stood with Maya, letting the area adjust to his presence before he walked toward the houses. He saw people looking out of windows, staring at them. One head emerged, disappeared, then reemerged. Alex went to the center of the circle the houses formed and stood, holding Maya’s hand in his.
“What’re we doing?” she whispered to him.
“Waiting,” he replied.
Soon he saw movement inside the house he wanted. The flick of a curtain at a window. He walked forward, to the door. It opened and an old man was visible, an old woman at his side. Jake and One Bird.
Alex stayed where he was. He read relief, but very little surprise in their faces. They’d been waiting for him. They were glad he was here.
They stood facing each other silently. When enough time had passed for courtesy, Alex nodded at Jake.
Jake returned the nod. “It’s been awhile,” he said.
“It has.”
“Since the sun ceremony, year before last.”
“Yes. Since then.”
“You come all the way back to give away stray kittens?” Jake asked, indicating the little girl at his side.
“No,” Alex said. “I’m looking for Jaguar.”
A click of time passed. One Bird and Jake turned to each other and a conversation ran between their eyes. One Bird seemed to come out of it ahead of Jake.
“Come inside,” she said. “It’s time for supper.”
They entered the cool interior. Maya stayed quiet, eyes large. She was taking it all in.
One Bird and Jake set out dishes and food. They ate and spoke of local matters. How the gardens grew. What happened to Kerodon’s truck. How the rains were late this year. Nobody brought up Jaguar, but Alex could feel her recent presence everywhere. He reined in his questions and let Jake and One Bird lead the way.
After they’d finished dinner Jake pushed his chair back from the table and held a hand out to Maya. “I know some people who’d like to meet you, if you’re willing.”
Maya rose and put her hand in Jake’s. She stopped briefly at the door and waved over her shoulder at Alex. He waved back and sighed—in relief or in sorrow, he wasn’t sure—at her departure.
“There’s a young couple here don’t have any kids yet,” One Bird said. “They’ll probably have their own soon enough, but they want some in the house now. They’re good people. They’ll teach her the right ways.”
“I appreciate that.”
“She’ll be fine. This is her home now.”
“I know,” Alex said. “So does she.”
One Bird pointed down the hall. “You can sleep in the room down there. You’ll recognize it when you get there. It’s Jaguar’s.”
* * * *
Alex passed the night impatiently. Dreams woke him twice, and once awake he had to work to remember where he was. He kept feeling Jaguar close to him, then realized it was her residual presence, so clear in this space which was so like her. Delicate and sparse as fire. Durable as earth. Extravagant and simple as jade. Pure stone, waiting for water or fire or both.
The next day, he saw Maya sitting in a circle with three other children, watching them play a game with small round stones and smooth sticks. Once or twice she tried to jump in, but they silently rebuffed her attempts. She sat back and watched. They weren’t unfriendly. They just wouldn’t let her play until she knew what she was doing.
Good, Alex thought. They’d help her set boundaries of a new kind, based on courtesy and respect. Jake and One Bird would heal her, just as they’d healed Jaguar. She’d be fine here. He could leave her without guilt. Maybe that’s why Jake kept him waiting—so he’d know that.
He made it through the day and through a quiet supper with Jake and One Bird, but when it came time to sleep, he couldn’t. He tried tossing and turning for a while, then he got up and went outside to observe the stars in their infinite stillness, hoping it would help still his own anxiety. As he stood staring up at the sky, just outside the circle of houses, he heard soft steps behind him. He turned and looked.
Jake came and stood next to him. “Couldn’t sleep?” he asked.
“Nope,” Alex said.
“Something on your mind?”
“Something,” Alex agreed. “Thought I’d come out and see if the stars could help.”
“Jaguar always loved to watch the stars,” Jake said. “She slept outside more than inside. Makes sense she lives up there on those Planetoids.”
“It does,” Alex agreed. He wouldn’t push. He would wait and let the conversation develop.
“You must miss her,” Jake said, “going through all this
trouble to find her.”
“I miss her,” Alex admitted.
“And I bet she’s lonely out there, under that big sky.”
Alex opened his mouth, then shut it again. So she was in the area. Under that big sky. Jake sent her to walk the mesas maybe. Get her vision straight.
“Maybe not. She didn’t want me to come along,” Alex said truthfully.
“But you got here anyway.”
Alex grinned. “Yes, I did.”
Jake rocked back and forth on his heels and gazed up, away toward the jagged edge of mountains. “Had a funny dream last night,” he noted.
“Good night for it,” Alex said. “Full moon.”
“That’s right. Jaguar moon. That’s what I dreamt about. Funny.”
“Funny,” Alex echoed.
“The moon was way up in the sky, then it fell down and down to earth. Landed west of here about 30 miles, way up on a mesa. Place where the snake lives. Place where the rainbow visits.”
“Sundagger?” Alex asked.
“Just left of there. The next one over. And when it landed, it turned into a big cat. The cat looks up and lets out one of them cat howls, but nobody answers.”
“Why’s she howling?”
“Some guy’s got her tail in a trap. Trying to hold her down.”
“That’s not very nice.”
“Not very smart, either.
They were silent for a long time. Jake spit into the dust, sang a tuneless chant.
“Jaguar’s mother saw visions,” he said at last. “That’s why she left the village, following a man. Some people said he had yellow eyes, like a cat. Some said he was a Spaniard. She followed him for a week. When she came back, she was pregnant. Most people thought he was a spirit man. Cougar man, they called him. She wouldn’t say. Then she had Jaguar. Then she died.”
Alex made no comment. This was Jaguar’s story as Jake saw it. All he had to do was listen.
“When Jaguar was little she started like her mother. Dreams. Visions. Her grandfather taught her to be careful. Not get carried off like her mother did. But she was stubborn. When she came back from Manhattan, she was even more stubborn. She went off to the mesa to be one of the sun people. They don’t have children. She won’t have children.”
Jake turned toward him. “To some people, that makes a difference.”
“Not to me.”
Jake was quiet. He looked at the sky. He looked at the ground. He considered his hands. “Jaguar—she’s not the kind of woman who takes help easy,” he said flatly. “She might bite.”
“I know that about her,” Alex replied. “And that doesn’t matter either.”
“Good,” Jake said. “That’s good”
He held out his hand, opened it. Cupped in his palm was something small and dark. Alex stared at it until it assumed coherent shape. It was black and shiny. Obsidian, intricately carved in the aspect of a face that was half cat and half wolf, threaded onto a leather thong.
“Her grandfather made it when she was born,” Jake said. “Gave it to me when he went to New York. He said I’d know who it belonged to, when the time came. You think you want it?”
“I know I do,” Alex replied.
“Then it’s yours.”
Alex took it, put it around his neck and tied it at the back. The carving was smooth and cool against the skin at his throat.
“There’s some things you should bring with you,” Jake said. “Some things you should know. I’ll get what you need and—hey—how about a beer before you leave?”
* * * *
When the stars were moving through the night toward morning Alex took the airrunner and headed out, circling the canyon, looking for the best place to put it down. Jake said the mesa next to Sundagger, so he chose a mesa one over as his stopping place. From there, when the sun rose he could find her visually, see what she was up to before he approached. He was grateful for the almost silent engine of this vehicle, glad the night was clear enough to forgo using its large headlights. He’d rather his arrival was a surprise.
As he got out and looked around he already felt her presence, but couldn’t yet pick her out as distinguished from the land. She’d become a part of it, the beating of her heart joined with the pulse of the planet. But she was here, and she was alive. That much he knew, and that was enough for now.
He scanned his landing spot. Here, the bones of the earth were laid bare and available for consultation. Layers of birth were recorded here, movement carved in time. The rocks had eyes and each one housed a spirit. He checked in with them.
All friendly, as far as he could tell. Perhaps they would help.
He found shelter under the dome arch of rock carved by wind and water. He could see well from here. A good view of the mesa next to him. He knew she wasn’t there yet, but the land was so quiet, he thought that when she arrived he should be able to pick up her pulse on a bet.
He settled in to listen to the wind’s story and wait for her to show.
* * * *
Jaguar watched the sun pull itself up over the horizon, then climbed slowly toward the sky.
She walked to a rock where a bowl had been carefully carved out for offerings, prayers.
She splashed water from her bottle into it. Sprinkled mint on it. Said the morning blessing.
Then she sat, the sun to her right, facing north. Where her enemy lived.
The sparse arid lands stretched out before her. The clarity of this place, the absolute absence of clutter, should make it easy for Senci to find her, now that she’d called him.
Or so she hoped. On the other hand, she might be difficult of apprehension. She’d become like this land, honed to bare necessities. Clean and narrow as flame. She would blend in with her surroundings. And she was about to be refined even further as she sat on the rocks and let the sun find her. A dry sweat, to burn herself clean of any extraneous matter.
The sun climbed its way into the sky, pressing itself against her back, fiery hands stroking her, rubbing at her skin. She let it burn all superfluity away, leaving nothing in her heart except her work and her death.
She lay back on the rock and stared up. What else was left to let go of? What else did she regret leaving behind? The answer came swiftly, with the heat of the sun.
Alex.
She saw his eyes. The sweet pleasure of his eyes. She pushed a hand skyward, pressing him away.
“No,” she said. He was one of the remaining thoughts to burn away. She rolled over and stretched herself across the rock, belly to stone, as if it were her lover. She pressed her face into its rough surface, her lips against it, her tongue licking its dry bones. The earth pulsed against her groin in the rhythms of lovemaking, more intense than any she’d known with any man.
Except for Alex.
“No,” she whispered again into the sandy surface of the rock. It was gritty against her skin, old and capable of absorbing even that fire. She had to cut herself from the thought of him. When Senci arrived, she must have no distractions. The sun, an old friend, would help her get rid of them.
There was a song One Bird used to sing, the story of a woman who saw a shaft of light enter her darkened room. It struck deep within her, engendering new life. She grew round and, for her part, she was happy. She was filled with life.
Soon, she gave birth to twins.
Twin sons, bursting with health.
The young woman’s father was angry. He’d kept her safely locked away, walls of stone around her, and now this. His daughter, giving birth to twins. But she remained happy. She dreamed. She dreamed and dreamed of the sun.
She dreamed of him until he found her again, and their joy was so profound, their lovemaking so intense that she became the fire she loved and left her people, left her twin sons, left the earth. Now, she was a star in the southern sky.
One Bird learned that story from Jaguar’s grandfather. It was part of the Mertec tradition of Sun Watchers—young women who waited for the sun at the summer solstice and seduced
his return in midwinter. They were made sacred by the contact, their dreams and visions taken seriously. One Bird told her about these young women, and warned her of the dangers they faced. Easy enough to die, out in the sun all day or freezing through the winter night, and even if you didn’t, what you did set you apart. Young men saw you as too powerful, as already husbanded by fire. Sun Watchers rarely married, and they didn’t have children except the spirit kind.
But while telling her all the reasons not to do this, One Bird also taught her all the steps of the ritual and where to perform it. Thus, in her sixteenth year, Jaguar stole Jake’s horse and rode to Sundagger on the summer solstice, stood naked and faced the sun.
What she felt and saw there was part of a vision she never revealed. It had to do with her name, and where her gift of chant shaping came from. It had to do with who she would become, and what would be asked of her in return.
One Bird was right. It set her apart. The young men of the village stepped aside when she passed. They looked at her with admiration and respect, but didn’t ask her to dance. And no lover had been the same since.
Except Alex.
“That’s not true,” she protested. “It can’t be true.”
The golden face of the sun stared down at her. She felt his heat rake like nails down her back. She raised her head from the stone and looked around.
There was motion nearby.
“Snake,” she said.
She waited, watched a sleek form uncoil itself and emerge from under her rock. She pulled a glass bottle from her pack, along with a forked stick carved to just the right proportions.
She brought the stick down at the back of the snake’s neck, holding while it twisted and rattled and writhed. She lifted the snake and got the glass bottle under its teeth and let it bite until venom flowed. When it ran dry, she let it go.
It slithered to a different rock, found itself a different patch of shade. She saw it curled in shadow, staring at her with something like irritation at her rudeness.
“Little brother,” she whispered, “thank you for your help.”
She closed up the bottle and put it away. She’d milked seven snakes since she’d arrived. That was more than enough by any standards. She wouldn’t be bothering them again.
The Green Memory of Fear Page 17