Petra continued. “Wei-Lin died, two weeks after you disappeared. Internal bleeding from the wreck."
"Oh.” Sally's eyes stung. Ben's fighting in the van had caused the wreck where he'd died. But Wei-Lin ... a third fatality from her Bringing Five. “Oh."
Had Wei-Lin worried over her? Perhaps not. There were failures from time to time among the Bringing Fives, although few as spectacular as theirs.
The years stood between her and Petra, blocking the telephone line, guarding the three deaths they shared. Sally felt her nerve eroding, her certainty of the solution ebbing away under the pressure of the lost time, the lost lives. Even Ben, whom she had cursed ever since that night, was a sudden tear in her eye.
"Girl?” whispered Germaine, stroking Sally's hair.
"Where are you?” Petra suddenly snapped, her voice back to life, colored with anger and relief. “Are you safe?"
"Safe, yes.” Sally realized it might be a lie, but in another sense was also truer than it had been in years. “Safe for now, and trying to solve a big problem."
"All right.” Petra's voice was still tense. “If it brought you out of the woodwork after all this time, it must be a real prize-winner."
Urged by the puzzle in her head, Sally rushed into her solution. “I need your help. You and Gavin, if you can find him, and we need a Projective."
"Gavin's right here, dear. And we have lots of friends, if you know what I mean. When and where do you need us?"
Sally realized that Petra wasn't even going to ask what was wrong, or why it had taken this long for Sally to tell them she was alive. Petra didn't have to know more than Sally's need. The trust of the Five, that she had envied, that she had longed for since her terrible Bringing, was as real for her as she had ever dreamed.
"Austin, Texas, as quickly as you can get here.” Sally had Germaine's American Express on the low table before the pouf. It was a platinum card, the first Sally had ever seen. “I have a credit card here."
"Oh, Sally.” Petra sighed. “Don't worry about money. We'll be there. Just give me a number to call when we get in."
* * * *
Against all her expectations, Sally slept well that night. She wasn't willing to share a bed with Germaine again yet, especially so soon, but they had kissed goodnight before Sally curled up in the basket chair in Germaine's living room and passed out into a dark, dreamless sleep.
The next morning she awoke to another fresh-cooked breakfast. The odors were a little more challenging than yesterday's as Sally slipped into a seat at the kitchen table.
"Cheese and eggplant on toast. Grow my own vegetables, you know, over at the Sunshine Community Gardens.” Germaine was too damned cheerful in the mornings. “All the vitamins and minerals nature ever intended for you."
Sally thought it tasted like a salted sponge, but still she gulped hers down. The puzzle slid back and forth in her head, trying different configurations. Sally felt whole for the first time in years, her Skill returning in confident strength. “Did you dream last night?"
Germaine nodded, her mouth full of eggplant. “Maman,” she mumbled.
"Speaking English?” Sally's voice was sharp as her eyes narrowed.
"Don't be like that. You know I believe in you."
"Well, what did she say?"
Germaine shook her head, eyes now on her plate. “I don't remember."
Sally stared at Germaine, willed her to speak, flexing her newfound power of silence.
"Maman...” Germaine's words stumbled. “Maman says she just needs one Skilled right now."
Sally waited out the pained pause.
"Sally, Maman wants you."
How did Sally's name get on the hit list so fast? She wondered if the Venator had sold them out. It didn't matter. The puzzle writhed in her head. “Not Maman, Germaine, but Aristides,” Sally said firmly. “Aristides wants me."
Germaine stared at her plate again. “I'm sorry."
Sally ignored her. It all made sense, the puzzle clicking and shifting in her head. “If I'm on the hit list, it's because Aristides knows about me. Maman might even have given you my name to warn you, depending on how much control she still has. But if I'm right about Aristides working up a power grab, building Fives of Skilled on the Other Side while eliminating his loose ends on This Side, then I've become one of those loose ends. The most dangerous one. Aristides must have people flying here from New York right now, surely a good Venator at the least. Guns kill a hell of a lot faster than Skill."
"What will you do?"
Sally realized that she hadn't told Germaine her plan with respect to Petra and Gavin. Hell, she hadn't told herself her plan yet. She and the puzzle in her head were making it up as they went along, running on Skilled intuition and low-grade panic. “I'm going to lead us on a great work of our own. We're going to assemble a Five with Gavin and Petra and whoever they bring for a Projective, and that Five is going to help Maman. But we need a sacred space, a spiritually safe place close to the Other Side. I think I know where, not far from the airport, actually. That number you had me give Gavin and Petra was your cell phone, right?"
"Yes."
"Fine. They'll call when they get in. We've got to get moving."
Germaine stood, walked to the sink and set her plate down. “Where to?"
"Got any bolt cutters? We're going to church."
* * * *
The abandoned Montopolis Church of Christ stood in four or five acres of wildflowers, mostly bluebonnets and Indian paintbrush. It was an old black church in an old black neighborhood, hand built from scrap timber and corrugated sheet metal. An enormous live-oak tree rose just to the east side of the ragged building, punctuating the wide carpet of blue and red flowers. The congregation was long departed for better quarters, but the church still anchored the neighborhood within the flow of history.
Sally drove past the church, turned off Montopolis Drive to park along Walker Lane. The neighborhood around the church had never been wealthy, but it had decayed to a serial palimpsest of low riders, rusted pickups, unmowed lawns, abandoned swing sets, and all the other paraphernalia of urban poverty in the New South. Sally and Germaine left the gold Toyota parked behind a burned-out Cadillac frame-down on the pavement and walked back toward the church. Germaine carried the bolt cutters from her tool kit wrapped in an Indian blanket, while Sally had a small gear bag.
"How'd you know about this place?” Germaine asked.
Sally laughed. “You mean, because I'm white?"
"No. Because it's an odd part of town."
"Best wildflowers within twenty miles of downtown, right here. Come Sunday, all the kids will be out here in their Easter clothes for the annual photo. When I was in high school I used to drop by every spring to take pictures and admire the scene."
They crossed the sandy turnout that marked the remains of the church's driveway and walked a narrow path through the wildflowers toward the church door. Bees buzzed, servicing the riot of red and blue as well as their more reticent neighbors, pale wild clover and maroon wine cups. The meadowed yard smelled of green and growing things.
The church steps led to a narrow white door, made of one-by-four planks. For all that the church exuded an air of elegant decay, someone from the congregation must have been maintaining it. The door was clean, the white paint bright, Bible verses painstakingly lettered in black across the header trim and the planks of the door itself.
"'The entrance of thy words giveth light,'” Germaine read.
"'For a great door and effectual is opened,'” Sally added. “'Strive to enter in by the narrow door.’”
"I can see why you wanted to come here.” Germaine unwrapped the bolt cutters. “This whole building has powerful Colors.” She stood close to the door, shielding her hands with her body as she worked the bolt cutters.
Sally didn't yet feel fully comfortable with reading Colors, although the thought no longer frightened her. She looked back across the bees and the wildflowers at the desultory traffic on
Montopolis Drive. No one was watching them.
The padlock snapped under the pressure of the bolt cutters. Germaine grunted as she eased it off the hasp. She shoved at the rusted knob, wincing as the hinges shrieked. “Open the door and let your sister in."
Sally took the bolt cutters from Germaine's hand and stepped inside. “Don't forget the phone."
* * * *
"Hello? Sally?” Petra's voice echoed from the church doorway.
Sally stepped back from the makeshift workspace she and Germaine had created. Two Indian blankets lay in front of the old pews shoved away from the preacher's lectern, surrounded by candles and incense boats, with lavender scattered about. Several hand mirrors and two small basins filled with bottled water hastily purchased at Eckerd's perched on the blankets. It was as close as she could come to the feel of the teaching room Wei-Lin had used for their Five. Her heart jumped with memory and anticipation. “Come in."
Germaine hurried over to the door. “Come on, girl, don't let anyone see you out there."
Petra stepped in, followed by Gavin and a trim, handsome, white-haired man in a worn pilot's jacket, one of those green ones, not leather. Sally looked over the old man for a moment—was he really a pilot?—then turned to Petra.
Her Five-mate was tall and pale, just over six feet, with a nose so large it would have ruined the looks of a smaller woman. Petra's black hair was cut in the same Prince Valiant she had worn years earlier, shot now with lines of gray. Her large brown eyes stared steadily at Sally. Petra's mouth creased into a smile. “Sally, it's really you."
Small, wiry, with that indefinably English pasty complexion, Gavin stepped past Petra. “Lovey, you do live and breathe."
He gathered Sally into a tight hug, which Petra joined. Sally felt as if she was among family, the way she had always imagined family was supposed to look and act.
"Gavin, Petra, I ... thank you."
Petra shook her head. “You're alive, that's enough for me.” She let go of Sally, stuck a hand out toward Germaine.
"Germaine, I'm Petra."
"I gathered.” Germaine's voice was dry as she took the offered hand. “And the little man glued to Sally must be Gavin."
"Guilty as charged,” said Gavin over Sally's shoulder, all grinning yellow teeth with bad British dental work.
"Sally, Germaine, this is Robert."
"Suits,” Robert said, in a gentle voice with just a trace of the Midwest, slow, polite ... charming. Sally warmed to him immediately. “Robert Matthew Suits. A Projective. Ain't crashed one yet."
Sally watched Germaine shake Robert's hand, formal as two bankers meeting. As Robert turned toward her, Sally shook his hand as well, and smiled. “I'm glad you're here, Robert. You've come a long way for someone you don't know."
Robert met her eye, a bright smile of his own dawning. “I owe Petra a debt of Skill. We agreed an urgent service for her long lost Five-mate seemed worthy repayment."
Gavin paced the interior of the church. “Nice place you gels have here. Good Colors, too. Perfect for power Skill work."
Sally looked around the dusty church. It was hot in the late afternoon, even for Texas in April. Smudged windows high up covered with chicken wire let in muted light. Mismatched old pews, wood dried and cracked with years of neglect, filled the sanctuary at random angles. Sally and Germaine's vandalism of the church had been as respectful as possible.
The walls were odd patches of paneling, cut wood and bare beams where the corrugated skin of the building showed through. It was a place of hand-built quiet, of peace, of spiritual centering. Sally felt the echo of generations of choirs calling and responding, congregations clapping their way to a vision of glory she had never shared but would nevertheless borrow shelter from now.
"What are we doing here?” Robert asked softly. “What is your need?"
The puzzle in Sally's head rolled into a new position with such a firm movement she expected to hear an audible snap. “Going to the Other Side to stop a very dangerous man."
Robert and Gavin shared glances, while Petra just stared at Sally, her mouth crooked with pride. Sally smiled at all of them as they gathered into a circle, like any good Five. “First, though, let us greet each other properly."
Sally let her Color sense focus for the first time since Ben had died, since Wei-Lin had Brought her to Skill. Their ad hoc Five blazed with strength, curiosity, impatience, love, all the Colors of active, healthy minds, all of them tinted with the overlay of Skill. It was her turn to lead, finally after all these years. “My name is Sally, and I am a Finder. I was Brought to Skill by Wei-Lin, a Skilled from San Francisco...."
* * * *
They each sat cross-legged, in a circle on the Indian blankets. Outside, the day faded into a burnt orange sunset, the creaky screech of the gathering grackles subsiding into the lonely peeps of nighthawks and the chittering shrill of Mexican freetail bats. Scored with the smoky odor of a single candle, the smell of lavender hung in the air around them, mixed with the old paper scent of stored hymnals and the gentle rot of the aging church.
"Finder, Seeker, Crafter, Necromancer, Projective.” Petra shook her head, smiling at Sally. “You don't do anything the customary way."
"I go my own way.” Sally shrugged. “I guess we all go my way, for now."
"We are your Five,” said Gavin formally.
"We are your Five,” echoed the others.
"We are here to craft with Skill.” Sally saw the Colors of her Five blaze with expectation. The puzzle continued to slide and click in her head, helped her to the right words. She surprised herself as the formalisms came to her lips. “We are here to right a wrong done with Skill, by Skilled, to Skilled. This is not a matter for the authorities, nor is it a matter for the ultimate judge of our spirits. This is a matter for Skill. And so we are here to perform a great work of Skill."
One by one, she made eye contact around the circle. The other four of her Five stared back, eyes clear in the gathering dark, gleaming in the light of the single candle.
Sally studied the puzzle in her head for a moment longer, then laid out her plan. “We are here so that the Necromancer can open the way to the Other Side. The Crafter will make forms for the Seeker and the Finder to travel there without the death of our bodies. The Projective will propel those forms across the opened way to the Other Side. Once there, we will release a deceased Necromancer who is under compulsion, and Bring her to Vivimancy. As a Vivimancer she shall reach into This Side and compel her tormentors to lay aside their plots and snares. This is our great work of Skill, to remedy a greater misuse of Skill."
Petra reached into her small satchel and removed a block of modeling clay. She looked at Sally and Germaine, her expression mild. “Very well, Sally. Gavin and Robert will take counsel together on the best opening of the way to the Other Side. From you and Germaine, I need a lock of hair and a drop of blood.” She began to roll the clay between her fingers, then added without looking back up, “I hope we will eventually learn the story behind all this."
"But of course,” Sally said as she caught Petra's small smile.
Germaine reached over, stroked Sally's hair. “May I?” Sally glanced at Germaine, who held a small pair of silver scissors twinkling in the candlelight, matching the twinkle in the other woman's eye.
* * * *
Sally had begun to see almost purely with her Color sense. Gavin had said it was the only way to see on the Other Side, and that they should quickly find the habit. After years of fearful avoidance, Sally was amazed at how easy and comfortable it seemed.
They were on their third candle. In Color, it glowed red and green, the Colors of heat and life. The entire church around them had a purple glow, the Color of old magic and contented souls. Ripples of paleness ran through the purple, the simple self-awareness of the building layered into place from generations of worship, fervor, and belief.
"Never seen a church so alive,” Petra remarked over her working fingers. “Been in European cathedra
ls with less power."
"A century of gospel choir will do that.” Germaine spoke with obvious effort. Her voice was distant from Sally, for all that they sat with arms and thighs touching. Perhaps it was Sally herself who was distant. Her thoughts echoed in her own head, immersed in Color, while her Skill's puzzle throbbed gently in time with her breath.
Gavin and Robert sat on each side of Petra, their Colors shot with the white and black of death and the foaming blue of transitions.
Gavin shifted, a ripple in his Color preceding his words. “The door to the Other Side is ready. While you are there, be wary. And do not leave the protection of the church. The further you go from us, the more difficult it will be to retrieve you."
Robert's gentle voice warmed her ears. “When I send the forms to carry you to the Other Side, something may be returned to us. Be forewarned."
"I am ready,” Petra announced into the silence that followed Robert's statement.
Sally could feel herself slip into Colors, the puzzle in her head softening with her dissipating sense of self. She heard Germaine's voice, very distant, whispering words of love. As Petra's fingers plucked Sally's Colors to draw her into the form, Sally's puzzle sharpened again, providing a jerky vision. In the focus of her mind, she saw an automobile, moving fast, passengers Colored with frustration, anger, and violent intent.
"Be wary, Aristides sends his men for us.” From her distant place in the clay between Petra's fingers, Sally couldn't tell if she had spoken aloud.
"Hush, sweet Sally,” soothed Petra. “It doesn't matter now. You have a job to do."
As she slipped into Robert's kind hands for the sending, Sally realized her Five had not heeded her words. Guns kill faster than Skill, she thought, having Found a distant matte-black shotgun on its way to her body.
* * * *
"Germaine.” Sally felt ordinary.
The grip on her arm closed a bit tighter. “Here."
Sally tried to open her eyes, found that indeed she could see only with Color. “Gavin was right."
Asimov's SF, Oct/Nov 2005 Page 24