by David Bowles
The jaguar had turned to look at them, her eyes almost human. Then she had turned and run into the mountains. They had watched her disappear in the pre-dawn dark.
~~~
Carol awakened to loud sobs. She felt her own cheeks: they were dry. Sitting up, she saw that Johnny was still fast asleep on his bed, curled up like a napping cat. From the ground floor came more sounds of sorrow: a stifled scream, furniture being scraped across tile.
“Johnny!” Her brother snapped awake. “Something’s wrong. People are crying and freaking out downstairs.”
He shook his head as if to clear a few cobwebs, and they descended together. They found their aunts and cousin in their grandmother’s room. Helga Barrón de Quintero lay cold and lifeless on the bed, her body more emaciated than ever, as if some essential part of her had left forever. A smile lay lightly on her lips.
It was her. She ran with us last night. Somehow…she escaped her own broken body. Tears came to her eyes, but she had to fight not to laugh with joy.
“She waited.” Johnny’s voice was husky with emotion as he leaned toward her. “She could have been free years ago, but she waited. For us. To make sure we knew.”
They went to their family, then, trying to console them in a grief they didn’t share. What a burden she carried. And now it’s ours, too.
Hours later, when Uncle Carlos, his wife, and the other relations had arrived, Andrea handed Stefani the keys to her car. “I know it’s tough, but you’ve got finals tomorrow, and we can’t afford for you to ruin your last year at prep school. Drive back to Monterrey. Pack me some nice things and my black dress, you know the one. After your exams, drive back. We’ll have made all the arrangements by the then. The funeral should be on Wednesday or Thursday.”
Carol placed her hand gently on her aunt’s back. “Andrea? Can we go with her? We didn’t bring many of our clothes with us and we’ll need more. We can also help her pack and stuff so she can focus on her studies.”
Andrea’s face was conflicted for a moment, but Carol put on her most mature expression and waited. After a few seconds, her aunt gave in. “You sure you two will be alright? Lupita will be by to clean tomorrow afternoon—I’ll call her and ask her to cook for you while she’s at the apartment. I’ll get my downstairs neighbor Susana to check in on you, too.”
She’s actually relieved. What she doesn’t need right now is a pair of pre-teens underfoot when she’s trying to deal with all this tragedy.
“Thanks, Aunt Andrea. We’ll behave ourselves, promise. It’ll also give us some time to…digest all of this.”
Andrea hugged her tightly. “Oh, baby, I know this must be hard for you, losing your grandmother so soon after—” Andrea concluded the sentence with kisses.
~~~
It was impossible to suggest to Stefani that they stop at the caves on the way back. The eighteen-year-old wasn’t as devastated by her grandmother’s passing as some of the other family members, but she was somber and focused as she drove through the desolate landscape, listening to loud, growly alternative music. An apparent frivolity like exploring the wide expanse of ancient grottoes was not going to fly.
lets wait til shes n school tmrw & take a taxi , Johnny texted Carol.
K. Good idea. Wait, do you have money? she texted back.
no but i saw where andrea keeps stash we can borrow some .
Would it kill you to punctuate?
rly? thats what u r concerned about? id be more worried about why u turn n2 a wolf n not a jaguar maybe u r defective .
She punched him, but it was strange. Pulling out her mother’s diary, she read the rest of the entries carefully. One passage in particular caught her eye:
Thank God I’ve got mom to talk to about this. Eventually, if I have kids, one of them will be like us, and then the three of us can share the secret together. Unless I have twins. Mom says that hardly happens. She says there haven’t been twin shapeshifters in centuries.
She handed the diary to Johnny, pointing out the paragraph. His eyes grew wide.
see? theres something about us & maybe moms disappearance is related to it.
Hopefully. We need to be ready for anything, though .
~~~
They both spent the rest of the trip researching the caves and lore about naguales. A lot of what they found on the Internet was just nonsense, urban legends or embellishments created for non-Hispanics who wanted to use Mesoamerican creatures in their role-playing games and so forth. But there was plenty of information that seemed legitimate. Carol even found a scholarly monograph on shape-shifting sorcerers. Though the researchers treated the beliefs of villagers seriously, it was obvious they thought the Mexicans who believed in naguales were just trying to find explanations for tragic deaths in their communities. Still, their interviews of elders in the southern Mexican towns yielded some tidbits of lore. Apparently, it was tough to kill a nagual without ritually prepared weapons, but there were many ways to make a sorcerer revert to human form in order to lynch him. Carol had no idea if any of this was applicable to natural-born shape-shifters, like her brother and her, or just to people who used spells to make their tonal come forward. She could only hope that the folk in the mountain would enlighten her.
~~~
That night was the first during which she was aware of her transformation, though it seemed distant and dreamlike. From deep within her came a pressure, an almost physical need. Instead of fighting against the rising sensation, she mentally relaxed, dropping all barriers and inhibitions. A hungry, eager part of her leapt into the gap left by her relinquishing of control. It was her tonal, a glowing, vital force that required more than human flesh to inhabit the world. It hooked itself deeply and molded her, like masterful fingers pulling at clay. She reached out to the tonal, tentatively at first, but then with excitement, embracing it, linking with it. She saw through its eyes. The former darkness of the bedroom was startlingly clear, and her keen vision was enhanced even more by her powerful sense of smell and hearing, revealing a world she barely glimpsed as a human girl. Every subtle movement around her, every glimmer of light, conveyed incredible amounts of information.
It was dizzying.
Her transformation, as far as she could tell, was complete. She could smell the jaguar on the other bed, could tell that his senses were changing, too. Then he thudded to the floor beside her. They could not speak to each other, but so much could be communicated with gestures of muzzle, ear and tail.
They turned to the open window. The night called to them, and they rushed to answer, leaping into the moonlight.
~~~
“You two stay out of trouble,” Stefani warned as she scooped up the keys from the counter in the morning. “Just hang out here. Surf the Internet, watch some TV, read a book. I’ll be back around 2:00pm.”
Carol assured her that she’d keep Johnny in check, and Stefani almost smiled at the conspiratorial us-against-them tone.
They let some time pass, then they grabbed their knapsacks and headed to one of the main streets, hailing an Eco Taxi and asking the driver to take them to the caves.
“Shouldn’t you two be in school?”
“We’re American,” Johnny answered with a smile. “School’s already over for us. We’re meeting our parents at the park to explore the caves.”
The taxi driver shrugged. “So long as you can pay.” Johnny foolishly flashed the pesos they’d taken from their aunt’s bedroom; the man nodded, turned on his meter and drove off to the polka rhythms of some norteño band on the radio. The twins chatted excitedly in English about their experiences during the most recent transformation, comparing notes and speculating on ways to trigger the shift while they were still awake. Before long, the taxi dropped them at the parking lot near Friar Mountain with Johnny leaving him a generous tip from the borrowed funds. They hiked up the trail a way, then paid sixty pesos each to ride the aerial tramway up the steep slope. After ten minutes of hanging precariously in the air, they walked with a group of
tourists into the large principal chamber. The air was comfortably cool, and the great expanse of rock hanging overhead suitably impressive. A guide gathered the newcomers, giving them maps and a choice: the A twenty-minute or one-hour tour. Not sure what to expect, the twins opted for the longer one.
Metal walkways that had been painted yellow led the way from chamber to chamber, each of which had a distinct name. As they moved through the chambers, they were duly amazed at some of the massive rock formations: the ‘Christmas Tree’, the ‘Frozen Fountain’, the ‘Chinese Tower’. There were walls like melted wax, pools of sterile water, and what was extravagantly called The Eighth Wonder: a stalactite and stalagmite that met exactly halfway from the ceiling and floor. Carol saw that Johnny was entranced by the structures, but she could hardly focus on them. She kept looking around, searching for some sign of the mysterious folk in the mountain.
The twins lagged well behind the group they were with. As they mounted another set of rickety metal stairs, Carol noticed some fossils embedded in the rock to her left. As she took a moment to study the ancient sea creatures that had left their mark, she glimpsed something moving in a gap just beyond the walkway. She leaned over the railing, peering into the darkness that lay between two formations. Straining her eyes, she managed to make out a form: a boy, it seemed at first, maybe six or seven years old. But then a glow came from his hands, and she stepped back, startled, bumping into Johnny.
“Hey, watch out, dude! You’re going to knock me down the stairs or something.”
She ignored his complaints. “Johnny, look.”
It was not a boy. It was a small man-like being, pale-skinned, with a shock of black hair and large, widely set eyes. It wore a simple linen loincloth and sandals. In its long-fingered hands it held a rock, the source of the light.
“Come,” it whispered. “Over the railing. Quick. Before they see you.”
Carol and Johnny stood stock still. The being grew impatient. “Carolina, yes? And Juan Ángel? You’re here for a reason. If you want to know what it is, I reckon you’d better climb over the railing this very minute.”
They obeyed, jumping across the short space with ease. Carol saw that the little man only came up to her chin. Surreptitiously she sniffed the air, a new habit she was picking up from her shifted existence. He had no smell. Or rather, he smelled of rock and water and sterile sand, like everything else around her.
“Come on then,” the little man said in his lilting, old-fashioned way. “The others are waiting.”
Carol found her voice. “The other what?”
“The other tzapame, Little People. We come to set you on your path. Now, enough dawdling.”
He moved quickly through the darkness, and the twins rushed to keep up. After a couple of minutes they came to a solid wall. He placed his hand on a particular spot, chanting strangely in some language Carol had never heard. A section of the wall faded, and the three of them stepped into a dimly lit chamber that was not on the tour map.
It was full of tzapame. Some were a little taller than their guide; others shorter. The males wore loincloths or breeches; the females, linen robes. Most of them were adorned with bracelets and necklaces of feather, bone, metal and jewels. They stood in a semicircle around a large, polished disk of black stone. The distant stalactites reflected darkly in its surface.
“You’re…you’re elves.” Johnny’s voice was tinged with wonder.
“We’re tzapame, and no doubt about that.” Their guide seemed a little offended, but mostly amused. “Little People, older children of the Feathered One. We were here before humans, in other words.”
Carol tried to smile, but hundreds of stony eyes regarded her, and she faltered. The folk in the mountain. A stern, cold race. “Did you…did you train my grandmother?”
“Train? Well, we sure did teach her a lot. Your mother, too. Though there’s some as thinks that was a big mistake, all things considered. They call me Pingo. I am pretty much the youngest here. They chose me to guide you and to be their voice because I can speak English. Most of these older fellows have barely gotten used to Spanish. Many of them still think Nahuatl is too new-fangled. Tzapame live a horribly long time.”
Johnny’s hands clenched and unclenched with nervous energy. “Pingo, our mother disappeared six months ago. We…I thought she was dead. My father thought she left on purpose. Do you…can you…”
“Take it easy, son. You’re getting ahead of me. First off, your ma ain’t dead.”
A wave of emotion hit Carol and her knees buckled. Two female tzapame stepped forward and grabbed her elbows before she fell. She’s alive. Thank God. Johnny was wrong.
“She’s been taken. Abducted by dark forces and dragged down to Mictlan, the Underworld.”
What? Carol knew what Mictlan was, one of the possible destinations for the dead in the Aztec religion. Her mind boggled. Wait. It’s real? There’s an actual Aztec Land of the Dead?
Johnny seemed to just brush aside the impossibility of what they were hearing. “But why? Why would anyone want to kidnap her?
Pingo lowered his eyes for a second, and then glanced back up, his expression somber. “Because of you two. Because of what you are.”
Carol took a deep breath, steadying herself. “Shapeshifters? But so is she!”
“Not just shifters: twin naguales. Very special.”
Shaking his head, Johnny grunted his disapproval. “Doesn’t make sense. If these ‘dark forces’ wanted us, why not just kidnap us?”
Several of the tzapame began speaking simultaneously. Pingo nodded, gestured, and muttered quick replies.
“We don’t rightly know. There are possibilities, but there’s no time. You have to go after her. Now. He’s had her too long already.”
Carol’s heart felt as if it might explode any moment. “Wait. You want us to travel into…Hell to rescue our mother? How are we supposed to do that?”
Pingo sneered. “First, it’s Mictlan, not Hell. The Underworld. Place of shades. The dead go Beyond by many paths, each one different from the next; for the living, however, only the old roads will serve. But twin naguales…such must take the Black Road through the Nine Deadly Deserts.”
Carol thought she might throw up.
“Okay,” quipped Johnny. “That doesn’t sound too good.”
“You’ll have help, I promise. There are many things we can offer you.”
Several tzapame approached, bearing items in their slender hands. They gave each of them a strange leather amulet from which dangled feathers, animal teeth and bones.
“Johnny, your bracelet and Carol’s necklace will help you get past most obstacles, once you master their use.”
And who’s going to teach us to use them? Carol didn’t ask.
Another pair of Little People placed a clay jar in each of their hands. Water sloshed inside them and they were sealed with a wax plug. From a small handle on the side of each hung a leather thong.
“When the heat becomes unbearable and clouds of ash choke you, may this water provide some relief.”
Two more tzapame strode forward.
“Now, open your mouths. If you don’t mind.”
This is insane , Carol thought, but she complied. The Little Person in front of her laid a piece of red jade on her tongue.
“I reckon this is a lot to ask, but please swallow the jade. It’ll keep your hearts safe when all appears lost.”
I give up. She swallowed the stone; Johnny did the same. Another of the tzapame drew near, bearing a little bag full of jewels.
“Okay, this is where I draw the line,” Johnny exclaimed. “I am not going to swallow all those damn stones Pingo.”
Pingo laughed. It was a harsh sound, but joyful all the same, and it reassured her. “Johnny, you don’t have to eat these, partner. They’re gifts for Mictlantecuhtli and Mictecacíhuatl, Lord and Lady of the Dead. When you reach the end of your journey, they’re going to have their big bony hands outstretched for some goods. Give them the jewels,
and they’ll let you through.”
Behind him, a group of tzapame had formed a ring around the black disk. They began chanting in that ancient language Pingo had used to access the chamber. A thrumming filled the cavern, building so that it was soon vibrating Carol’s bones. Smoke began to ooze from the dark, mirror-like surface.
“Listen,” Pingo said, coming closer to them. “There’s not much I can tell you. But know this: I’m not like the others. I was once human, like you. I also lost my mother, but I never got her back. There is no worse feeling in the universe, I promise you. It almost tore me to bits. So you push ahead, no matter what. I know you’re thinking this is madness, that you’re not prepared. None of that matters. You have our gifts, and I pray they will serve you. But the most important gift we cannot give you—it already lies within you both.”
The black disk groaned. Great gouts of smoke billowed into the cavern, thick and foul. The thrumming began to shake the walls and mineral dust showered down on them.
“You have to pass through the chay abah, the sacred obsidian mirror.” Pingo’s voice had become a shout. “Be wary of the river. And look to the dog. He will scare the bejeezus out of you, but you can trust him.”
The tzapame herded them to the smoking mirror. Carol’s soul seemed to gibber with fear, but she remembered the glow of her tonal, and she grimly set her teeth. Johnny looked at her and stretched out his hand. She took it.
“At the end of things, remember who you are!” Pingo’s face contorted as he screamed to be heard above the ghastly howl of the mirror. “And don’t forget. Look to the dog!”
Then the twins stepped onto the mirror, and the world shattered.