Moonfire

by M. Rae Gogetap

  She nodded to us. “Good morning,” she said. She pulled at the only stray black hair from her French braided hair behind her ear as we watched each other. Gabe looked from Julia to me and cleared his throat. I raised my eyebrows, waiting for her to make the first move.

  She finally stuck out her hand. “I’m sorry for the way I acted. I’m not unkind.”

  I accepted Julia’s handshake, with a relieved sigh. “No worries, I didn’t believe it myself.”

  Julia led us inside the small house. Poli rose from her rocking chair, and hobbled towards us, speaking rapidly in Hopi. She wore a dark blue flowered blouse and a brown skirt.

  Julia nodded at Poli. “She’s talking about making you some special ointment. Okay, she's saying it may not be a good idea to give a snake it’s own venom. She insists we must find a way because you're pahana and you have enemies. And you should be protected from demon magic.”

  Gabe’s mouth fell open. My toes cramped. I’d forgotten he didn’t know yet.

  “No way, you are the banana? I knew it! I knew you were epic, Che. I can totally be your Mial. What if they make a movie about your road to magnanimity someday. Do you think I could have a say in who plays me?”

  I shook my head. How could he accept this crazy idea? And with optimism? Was he not human? Taking in his bright-eyed expression, I sent out an energy wisp to him. No natural defense mechanism snapped at me. Yep, very human. Another regular person, besides the daughter of a demon dictator, didn’t think I was crazy.

  “Yeah, it’s no big deal, Gabe. Give me a second.” I tried not to look guilty when I smiled at Julia. “I am completely lost. What’s Poli talking about?”

  Julia narrowed her eyes, looking from Gabe to me. “Devil’s claw ointment, it’s a way to resist the powers of the demon. We’ve used the balm for centuries, mostly for arthritis. But it also works for muting demonic power. You’ll need to use it, too, as the pahana, as a human. There are humans and demons alike who will try and stop the ritual. They will use powers, and you must prepare and have a protective shield. But the shield could also kill you, since you are part demon.”

  I swallowed a lump of fear. Forcing myself to show a brave front despite my nerves, I nodded. Kale had mentioned devils claw.

  Gabe listened with attention. “Start with a little at first. You’ll build tolerance and can titrate the amount of ointment you use up to the therapeutic dose.”

  Julia and I stared at Gabe. “He’s the pharmacy student,” I said. Julia nodded. She translated Gabe’s theory to Poli, who smiled and patted Gabe on the arm.

  “She thinks it might work. Here, she prepared you a jar,” Julia said, handing me a glass pickling jar full of a semi-clear white substance. “Now, she wants to walk with you in her garden.”

  My pulse hammered in my ears. I swallowed hard and nodded despite my nerves. Please, no more revelations. Lucky for me I had no reason to worry about falling asleep and dreaming in Hopi with Gabe around.

  Gabe stayed inside to help fill the pill box for the week and discuss Poli’s decrease in diabetic medication with Julia. Poli’s wrinkled hand wrapped around my arm, familiar as if I was her granddaughter. The gesture comforted me in a way, but my shoulder muscles tensed. This type of affection was foreign to me, having grown up with Aunt Mer and her air kisses.

  My own grandmother had died years before I was born, in her home country of Chechnya. Her death had been the inciting reason for my mother and Dede to make the journey to the United States. My grandmother had insisted on staying in her war-torn Chechnya until the end. Dede was from Russia, and not as attached to Chechnya as his wife. But he respected my grandmother’s wishes until she passed away. The next day, Dede and my mother escaped their hometown of Grozny. He had thought the United States would offer a new beginning for them.

  The soft, comforting sounds of the Hopi language filled my ears as Poli spoke. I stopped brooding on my lack of family and smiled at her.

  We wandered through her garden, arm in arm. I watched and nodded at intervals as she spoke, pointing to individual plants. The humming of bees and Poli’s voice were the only sound in her garden. Green leaves and flowers stood pretty despite the desert climate. A few dozen rows of raised garden beds between irrigated channels lined a neat square. Although several species of plants adorned the garden, I could only recognize one.

  The closest I’d ever been to gardening was handing our landscaper the monthly check. But being a Nebraska native, the green stalks of corn caught my eye. Anyone from the Cornhusker state would recognize the crop, farmer or not. Unlike the straight rows of Nebraska corn, however, several plants crowded in a tight circle, bunched in small groups in the unique Hopi way. The tall stalks already stood chest height.

  Poli spoke slow and a conviction filled her voice. My heart rate slowed. I inhaled a lungful of dry air, savoring the fresh oxygen as I listened. Her words sounded foreign, yet becoming more familiar. Soothing me, remind of a feeling like home. An invisible tie connected Poli and me.

  She cared enough about me to protect me from perceived enemies. She compounded an ointment of devils claw. She knew I wasn’t completely human, yet she held faith I’d still be able to take part in a sacred ceremony. A ritual that her people had waited for millennia to pass. Her faith humbled me, and I envied her conviction, her ability to throw trust into the unknown. To believe in something so strong she helped a stranger who didn’t even speak the same language.

  Faith sounded comforting, but the concept proved elusive in my life. Up until now I always thought faith entered the hearts of people when they needed to believe in something greater, to help them through troubled times.

  My life wasn’t perfect, but I’d never wanted for much. A patchwork of neat and tidy events made up my life’s quilt. Although my Mom had died, and my Dad had left, Aunt Mer raised me. Dede provided the warmth that Aunt Mer lacked. I’d lived in an upper-middle class home, drove a nice car (eventually), and never wanted for anything.

  I never spent much time contemplating the unknown. Why worry about what you couldn’t see? My faith limited to what I could see, hear and feel. Seeing was believing. As a teenager, metaphysical properties like auras became another tangible sense.

  But my abilities stemmed from my angel/demon side of the family tree. The quilted squares of my life had unraveled, leaving me exposed and chilled.

  Yet here stood a sweet, determined lady chattering on in Hopi. Her grip on my arm grounded me despite my nerves. I patted her hand and smiled. Her faith in the ritual exponentially exceeded my own.

  My feet vibrated minutely. I closed my eyes, feeling electricity buzz through my legs, continuing up through my torso. My neck and head felt the thrum of power. A sudden jolt from my toes to my hands startled me, and the buzzing stopped.

  Poli squeezed my hand. “And chiltepin pepper leaves crushed to a paste will alleviate most joint pains,” she said. I squeezed her hand in return.

  “Like a homemade capsaicin ointment. Wait, you know English?” My mouth hung open. Poli laughed.

  “Finally, I thought you’d never figure it out. I’ve been boring myself talking about my plants, and gardening techniques, waiting for you to open your mind and use your gift. Ray told me you understood him last week. I felt jealous you couldn’t communicate with me.”

  “But that was the first time it’s ever happened, and I fell asleep. It was a dream,” I said, eyes wide. This time, I was awake. I could understand when Poli spoke Hopi like she talked through a magic language filter.

  “Your kinds powers are always stronger nearer the full moon,” Poli said. “Now we can speak to each other, let us get down to business.”

  Before I could contemplate this new linguistic phenomenon further, she led me away from the garden, towards the open desert. The high desert mesas towered before Poli and I. Small shadows stabbed through the rocky, uneven earth. I walked with care, conscientious of my elder charge beside me. But Poli’s stamina did not match her age. We walked at least a mi
le. Her physical fitness impressed me, probably a bonus of living in the high desert her entire 90 years. When the sunlight began to darken, I patted Poli on the hand.

  “Mrs. Tawayesva, I think we better head back. It looks like a dust storm might be brewing,” I said, pointing at the darkened horizon ahead. Thick clouds created a dark brown curtain in the sky.

  “Yes, the storm brews. And you hold the spoon,” Poli said, giggling. I shuddered at her cryptic remark.

  “You know, I’m actually a crummy cook. But my roommate Fia shouldn’t even step foot in a kitchen. Funny story-“

  “Here,” she said, ignoring me. “Here is the way. Here is the recipe.”

  She pointed at a large round table-shaped rock, five feet in diameter. It stood about knee height. The tree-stone Gabe and I used as a landmark for the turn to her house. I gasped.

  Faded, chalky outlines of rudimentary figures adorned the rock, too faint to notice when driving by in a car. One figure stood below a ramp, on the ground. Other figures stood on the incline. Stars dotted the space above the top of the ramp. The drawings looked ancient.

  “The time of balance is upon us. There are too many souls. Too much energy fills this world. Earth cannot sustain such power. Earth fights back. The storms are worsening. If humankind does not restore the balance, the Earth will find a way. If we do not fulfill the ritual, Earth may kill us all.” Poli wasn’t smiling now. Her warning made me shiver.

  I attempted a light-hearted laugh but ended up making a choking sound. Clearing my throat, I gave her a small smile. “Great, so no pressure.”

  Poli patted me on the arm. “Nothing you and the others cannot handle.”

  There it was again. Faith and trust. But what if I didn’t believe this ritual would work? Did you have to have faith to believe? I had to see to believe, and so far all I saw was an ancient stone against a vast desert horizon.

  “How can I believe your story fits with mine? How can a tree be the answer to your prayers?”

  Poli knelt, picked up a handful of dirt, and let it filter through her leathered skin.

  “Each grain by itself is alone, but when each grain combines they become earth.” She motioned to her and me. “We are earth. We are sand. With others, we are one. We can’t move mountains. But we can make mountains.”

  Poli took my hand, and we walked.

  “The tree remembers. The sky remembers. Helps the world to remember. To restore balance.”

  “But why should I be the special piece of grain that makes the tree work?”

  Poli laughed. “Not special. Just lucky. Many other brothers could be the special grain. No, you are just lucky.”

  Lucky? I shook my head. Not what I’d call it.

  I stared at the stone in front of us. Inspecting closer, I noticed the ridges and imperfect curves. A petrified tree. The once vibrant tree had turned to stone ages ago. Ancient. Mesmerized, I reached out to touch the engraved figure on the tree stone. Poli’s words echoed from far away as my fingers brushed a painted figure holding a stick of -fire?

  “No, you must not touch-“

  Wind howled. Dust flew. Sand pelted my exposed face and arms, stinging my eyes. Late morning sunlight gave way to pitch black night as dirt and sand filled the blowing air, blocking visibility. I think I screamed, at least I could feel the sound tearing at my throat. I couldn’t hear anything above the raging blasts of wind. My hand shot out for Poli. I couldn’t feel her. My other hand still touched the tree-stone. I reached like a wild person. Pressure built in my throat and sand filled my mouth as I tried to scream.

  Gravity disappeared, and I flew airborne, tumbling through the air. I flailed around, arms over legs. Flying rocks tore at my skin, and burning pain tore at my flesh.

  “Mrs. Tawayesva… Poli!” I heard myself scream.

  Strong arms wrapped around me, flying us away from the rampaging storm. I struggled against them.

  “Let me go, Alef! Help Poli. She’s down there!”

  Dust and rocks fell from the sky to the ground as the winds ceased. Sunlight filtered through the settling dust. Alef landed on the hard desert sand with grace, placing me on my feet. I rubbed my eyes, filled with dirt. A heart-wrenching scream pounded in my ears, and seconds later I realized it was from my throat.

  “Poli! No, no, no!”

  Her small figure lay on top of the tree stone. Like a twisted human sacrifice, she lay crumpled in a heap. Brown and red streaks on her skirt caused my heart to race. Stumbling towards her, I lowered my voice.

  “Poli, are you okay? It’s going be okay. Alef will get help.”

  I rambled on, channeling my inner-caretaker despite the helpless fear in my heart. I knelt by the stone, heart racing. My breath came out in shallow gasps.

  “You must not touch…” The words echoed in my ear.

  How could I help her if I couldn’t touch the damn tree stone? What the hell happened? I forced myself to take a deep breath to dispel the panic. A large red gash on her forehead bled profusely, pooling on the rock. Too much blood loss. I ripped the cleanest strip from my dirty shirt and placed pressure on the wound.

  “I’m so sorry. What did I do? I don’t know what I did.”

  “You had no grandmother to teach you,” Poli said. She was injured. She was probably dying. But Poli smiled at me with the same conviction in her eyes she always carried. She reached a trembling hand to touch my face with affection. Her touch felt warm, a comfort I didn’t deserve.

  “Poli, you’re going to be fine. We will get a doctor, just hold on,” I said. Steadying my left hand long enough to dial the hospital, I breathed deeply. Cell phone towers were few and far between this far out, and with the settling dust, my phone received no signal. I aimed the phone in different directions, desperate for reception.

  I felt a squeeze on my shoulder. Alef.

  “I’ve already called the human authorities, Chelsea,” he said.

  His arms crossed against his desert camo t-shirt. His khaki cargo pants held guns and knives, and he exuded power. But his calm demeanor made my heart thud. I glared at him.

  “Why are you just standing there! Bring her to the hospital!” I yelled.

  “Chelsea Shephard, I’m not afraid of the next world. I am at peace with this world.” Her wrinkled eyes crinkled with kindness, and again, she smiled at me. “So you shall be soon. Believing is seeing, my child. And I believe I see the way.”

  Her brown eyes closed, and I knew it would be for the last time. No, I couldn’t give up. Not yet. I wiped at the muddy tear streaks on my face.

  “Take her to the hospital!” I ordered Alef. “You know you can get her there faster than the ambulance.”

  Alef shook his head, his eyes sad, but determined. “I can’t. I’ve not registered for flight here.”

  “You flew in the damn dust storm! Don’t pull this demon law shit with me.”

  “My orders are to protect you. My flying orders include you as a passenger. No one else.” His black wing span shrank as he incurvated them out of sight.

  I glared at him. “If you don’t fly Poli to the hospital this fucking instant I swear to god you will regret ever being my guard.”

  Alef’s eyebrow twitched. “The laws are for everyone’s protection. If I break one now, what’s one more? Humans will panic, people will get hurt. She’s not going to make it, Chel-“

  My head pounded. My legs felt weak.

  “Stop! I know you guys can cloak yourself into hiding with that concealment ability. Use it! Fly Poli to the hospital and make yourself invisible!” My voice wavered, and I stumbled forward, waves of dizziness filling my head.

  “Concealment only works with dark energy,” Alef said. My knees gave out. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders to keep me from falling to the ground. The back of my throat stung as I refused to shed more tears.

  “It’s going to be okay, Poli. It’s going to be okay.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Circle of life

  I INHALED THE steam
from the foam cup in my hands, savoring the humid and earthy aroma. I held coffee number four, my caffeine buzz fueling my pacing around the hospital. I counted 454 steps from the inpatient ward of the hospital to the cafeteria. I made the trek at least fifty times.

  Rosy beige walls lined the hall and waiting area, with mottled square tiles lining the floor. My mantra during these laps around the hospital repeated in my head. “Please let her be okay.”

  I wondered to whom I prayed. There obviously was a God, right? I mean, angels and demons existed, a human legend proved true. It stood to reason that God existed, too.

  Meredith did take me to church every Christmas, Easter, and we also went to Hanukah services with a friend of hers. But we prescribed to no formally adopted religion, and never discussed the subject outside of services. My mother had been raised in Chechnya by a Muslim mother and Russian Orthodox father.

  My Dede believed, but he did not attend services regularly, either. My stomach twisted with regret at the absence of religious beliefs that could comfort me, to provide me with peace and security in my time of need. I prayed in vain, with little faith that God would hear.

  I wished with a heartfelt intensity I could be like the Hopi, and raised with ritual and cultural beliefs so my faith could be steadfast, unyielding.

  Why had I been so stupid? Why had I wanted to touch that rock? Did this happen because of my demon side? I couldn’t help but think 100% human pahanas would not have created the storm. The wind storm began when I touched the stone. Because of my ability to manipulate energy? But why did she take me there in the first place if I could never touch it? Was she going to explain the ritual further, and now I’d never know? What possessed me to reach for the stone in the first place?

  I needed to talk with someone, but Seema refused to reply to texts. Meredith was still on my shit-list. Dialing Dan’s number went straight to voicemail, and I couldn’t bring myself to leave him a message.

  Kale sat in a chair while I paced. The guilt I felt stole the breath out of my lungs, and if I sat next to Kale, I might be the first person to suffocate with shame. Kale sat stoic, his face blank. His eyes were closed, his full lips set in a straight line. He prayed with his chin held high. Nose straight as a rod. He could have been a statue.