Jaguar at the Portal

by Aimee Easterling

  "There might be a young man, auntie. But that's not why I'm here." Then, pulling out the cat necklace from where it had been dangling between her breasts, she pushed the trinket toward her relative as far as the chain would allow. "I'm here to ask you about this."

  ***

  "It's a pretty charm, child," Aunt Maria began, her brow wrinkled in confusion. But then, as her leathery fingers brushed lightly across the trinket, her face cleared. "Ah, yes, of course. You've come about the goddess."

  "The goddess, yes!" Ixchel was so excited she jumped to her feet and walked to the room's sole window, even though no streetlights brightened the night. Turning away from the dark orifice and returning just as quickly to her aunt's seated form, she continued: "Mamá gave this to me on my eighteenth birthday, but she didn't remember the words that I should use to swear to Ixxie...I mean, to the goddess. And now—it's a long story, auntie, and I'm not sure if I can tell you all of it, but—I need those words. Do you know them?"

  Unfortunately, Aunt Maria merely shook her head. "No, chiquita. I loved your mother, but I was never truly a part of her family."

  The vet sighed, reminding herself of the one fact she'd blissfully forgotten in her rush south from El Azuzul. Maria was Ixchel's father's sister, of course, not a member of the line that had passed down their tie to Ixxie from mother to daughter for who-knew-how-many years.

  The vet sagged back into her hard wooden chair in dismay, the exhaustion she'd been masking with excitement finally overcoming her senses. Ixchel had been so sure that Maria—this aunt who was still so attached to the old ways—would possess at least a few clues to help the vet in her search. But it seemed she had finally reached the last potential trail through the jungle and found it to be a dead end.

  "Of course, the granny of the wood has to know," Maria continued tentatively after taking in her niece's slumped shoulders.

  Was it possible one last path had opened up before her? "The granny of the wood?" Ixchel repeated, trying without much success to keep the renewed hope out of her voice. This so-called grandmother couldn't actually be a blood relative since her mother's own mother had both died years ago. So why would a random old woman know secrets that had been kept from Ixchel's own tía Maria?

  "Claro que sí. Yes, she will know," Maria assured her niece. "But abuelita lives half a day's journey away through the forest. And I'm too old to lead you there."

  The whiplash of constantly changing emotions was nearly too much for Ixchel to handle, and she took a deep breath before speaking again. If she couldn't meet this granny after all, she might as well make the best of a bad situation and at least spend some time with her estranged relative before deciding what to do next.

  And where do I want to go now?

  The vet had fully expected the office to be at the forefront of her mind after a day and a half's absence. After all, the community's pets had been the focus of her life for the last six months. But Ixchel was surprised to realize that the idea of returning to her cozy little practice and to the animals whom she greeted by name no longer drew her as they once had. Now, when she thought of home, a vision of a tremendous black jaguar lanced across her inner vision instead.

  Not that meeting back up with Finn was a possibility for the immediate future. Not when he'd been the one to leave without a forwarding address.

  It's way too late at night to be making important decisions, Ixchel told herself firmly, forcing back another round of tears. When had she become so weepy? Everything will look brighter in the morning.

  "Yes, I can't walk that far. But your cousin's boy knows the path and can take you there tomorrow," Aunt Maria continued, seemingly oblivious to Ixchel's inner struggle. "Now remember, sobrina, the granny of the wood doesn't speak Spanish."

  It went without saying that the old woman wouldn't speak English either, and the vet silently blessed her aunt for teaching her the old language back when she'd been a pesky child. Perhaps Aunt Maria had somehow known her niece would need those skills one day?

  "That's okay, tía," Ixchel reassured her. "I haven't forgotten what you taught me."

  Chapter 30

  Aunt Maria refused to allow Ixchel to leave in search of a hotel...which was a good thing since the little village where the older woman resided didn't boast so much as a gas station. But the vet did try to fight her aunt when the latter settled her visitor for the night within Maria's own bedroom.

  "No, tía," Ixchel countered. "I'll sleep on the couch. There's no way I'm putting you out of your bed."

  "Then I'll sleep on the floor," her aunt rebutted and Ixchel rolled her eyes. As strong-willed as her aunt was, Maria probably would live up to her threat, leaving them both without a good night's sleep.

  And I wondered where I got my stubbornness from.

  Unfortunately, her aunt's house was little more than a shack by norteamericano standards, so there was only one real bed to choose from. I can't say "by American standards," Ixchel reminded herself. No, the phrase wasn't right to distinguish citizens of the United States when South and Central Americans could both lay claim to the same title. Funny how quickly those distinctions came back to the vet when she was in the presence of family once again. And how much of a norteamericana have I become in an effort to escape my brothers' eyes?

  But, even though her relative's house was small and drab in Ixchel's perceptions, Maria was obviously proud of her abode. And she was also proud of being able to offer a comfortable bed to her visiting niece. So Ixchel acquiesced, although she did take the time to grab a handful of pesos out of Finn's pack, tucking them away under her aunt's pillow to be found after she departed. Maria would be far too proud to accept money from her niece, but Ixchel would feel better knowing that she'd at least paid her own way. And Finn, clearly, could spare the cash.

  The financial matter taken care of to her satisfaction, the vet fell into the deepest slumber she'd enjoyed in years. Part of her intense sleep was due to exhaustion, but there was also something about knowing that a blood relative was right outside her bedroom door for the first time in nearly a decade that returned Ixchel to the tranquility of childhood. She'd been prone to insomnia and nightmares ever since leaving home a decade earlier, but now she slept without dreaming and didn't wake until unfamiliar bird songs pulled her eyes lazily open.

  Even though the melodies outside the window were unfamiliar to her, Ixchel allowed herself to drift into half-waking memories of huevos rancheros, rowdy brothers, and doting parents. The vet was just awake enough to keep her thoughts safely set in the distant past, when all of those brothers were still attending school and when none of them had fallen into troublesome ways. Instead, José would be jumping on his bed, already wired at the crack of dawn, and there would be cartoons on the television to keep the other kids amused. Miguel would be attempting to shush Antonio before he woke the neighbors....

  "I have to see her now, auntie."

  The voice of her second-oldest brother—the troublemaker—had deepened with age, but Antonio's intonations were unmistakable. Instantly, Ixchel's eyes popped open and she began peering around the room for a place to hide.

  "And that's why I called you, Antonio. So your family can be together," Maria said soothingly. "But Ixchel arrived late last night, the poor thing, and she needs her rest. Here, eat your eggs and she'll surely be up soon."

  Maria was right—Ixchel was on her feet and fully dressed in the time it took for her aunt to placate the vet's scariest brother. And before Antonio could get sick of waiting around for his kid sister to emerge, Ixchel had slithered out the one window in the wall of Maria's bedroom and made her escape.

  Sorry not to say goodbye, tía, Ixchel thought grimly. But it looks like I'd better find my own way to the granny of the wood.

  Chapter 31

  Tezcatlipoca had forgotten how much fun it was to play around with the lives of mortals. First on his agenda had been dear, sweet, little Ixchel. It had been so simple to slip into the veterinarian's mind, to emphasize t
he woman's own weakness, prompting her to root through Finn's bag. Then Tez had tweaked here and tucked there until the vet turned against her beloved were-jaguar. And all beneath Ixxie's wrinkly old nose too.

  Which wasn't strictly constructive, of course. After all, Tez's long-term goal was to hook his worshipers back up with each other so the humans could tempt Ixxie to take his place within the stone prison. But humans were endlessly malleable, so the wind god had no qualms that he might be unable to bend Ixchel to his will again any time he wished.

  Plus, the opportunity had been prime for checking whether Ixchel's continued belief in a secondary deity gave Tezcatlipoca a foothold within her mind. True, Tez's sister god possessed the ability to cut off his direct line of communication with the girl. But who needed to speak to mortals when you could twist their own thoughts in any manner you wished? Luckily, Tez's hypothesis had proven correct and Ixchel had been a breeze to manipulate.

  Take that, Ixxie!

  Teasing Ixchel had been a lark, but Finn was prey more worthy of the god of war. Any were-jaguar, no matter how far removed from his deity, was an opponent worth parrying with, and Finn was no exception. In the end, the shifter had held out against his god's wishes much longer than Tezcatlipoca thought he would. But Finn's agonizing regret and guilt after the younger shifter was gunned down beneath his nose were now echoing through the rather small confines of the were-jaguar's brain. Meaning that he would soon be easy prey.

  First you build them up, then you tear them down. Well, that course of action might work for certain people, but Tez found that he much preferred a more streamlined approach—first you tear them down...then you grind their faces into the muck.

  To that end, Tez figured that his primary worshiper had wallowed in self-imposed despair long enough. Time to give the lad something more solid to cry about.

  Yoo-hoo, cat boy. It was nearly pitch dark as Tez peered out of Finn's eyes, but both jaguar and god were able to make out trunks of trees well enough to avoid a head-on collision. Which was a relevant fact since it appeared that Finn was still running scared despite having fled from the now-bloody clearing hours before.

  Tezcatlipoca took a moment to drop into Mirabelle's mind, ensuring that the older, more powerful, but also more lazy shifter had given up on following Finn's trail long ago. The information was useful to have, but the god saw no reason to pass along that little tidbit to his prime worshiper. Not when it was so handy to catch Finn with his mind wide open from grief and fear.

  What do you want now? the shifter demanded. Maybe I should have thrown your little statue at Mirabelle and seen how well he liked having a parasite take up residence within his brain. I think the two of you would have gotten along much better than we do.

  Tez was surprised to find himself slightly hurt by Finn's analysis. Sure, the wind god knew better than to attempt friendship with his worshipers. But still....

  It had been a long time since the deity had bothered to spend more than a few minutes within any single mortal's mind. In contrast, as a result of his current predicament, Tez had seen a larger portion of Finn's soul than he ever had of anyone else's. And in the process, the god had grown a bit attached to his pet's misguided struggles to maintain his honor.

  Although it was about time to shoot down the shifter's moralizing tendencies so that everyone could focus on what was really important here—Tez's needs. So the god told himself that he was just being expedient rather than resentful when he replied curtly: Maybe you need to get a little more oxygen to your brain so you realize the implications of what Mirabelle showed you.

  Finn's headlong flight slowed to a more gentle trot as the shifter struggled to obey his god's request. Not that Tez had any inkling that his wayward worshiper was actually being obedient on purpose. No, behind the mental wall that Finn built (and how had a shifter with no training discovered a way to block out Tez's feelers so efficiently?), the were-jaguar was probably second guessing each of Tez's words.

  What a doubting Thomas! And wasn't that just exactly what Tez would have done in the shifter's shoes? Perhaps this were-jaguar was worthy of the wind god's regard after all.

  There are so many implications, Finn thought carefully and Tezcatlipoca felt like a proud papa. Who knew the innocent shifter could learn so quickly to bargain with the gods? Then the were-jaguar continued: Perhaps you can give me a clue about which implication you're referring to?

  It's simple, really, Tezcatlipoca replied. Mirabelle asked his prey if he had family, a sister. Ring any bells?

  This time, the shifter stopped dead in his tracks and the wind god smiled more broadly. His fish had been hooked and it was nearly time to reel him in.

  The stolen power, you might have realized, was only an afterthought, Tez elaborated. Mirabelle is looking for a female were-jaguar. To be a concubine, mate, sex slave—who knows what he'd do with her. But your foe is still searching for his preferred prey, so maybe he hasn't decided his end game yet either. Maybe he'll wind up killing her just like he did that boy....

  A heinous situation, I admit, Finn thought clearly. But nothing to do with me, right?

  The wind god could tell that his pet shifter didn't really feel so divorced from the situation. Instead, Tez was confident that Finn would go out of his way to save both male and female were-jaguars alike from Mirabelle's nonexistent mercies.

  But the shifter's altruistic tendencies weren't going to be enough to force Finn's hand in the direction Tezcatlipoca wanted it to fall. So the god finally played his trump card.

  What does it have to do with you? Well, I don't know, named-yourself-Finn-after-an-Irish-hero-who-spent-seven-years-hunting-the-fish-of-knowledge. Perhaps ignorance is bliss. Are you really sure you want to know the truth?

  His pet shifter was silent for so long that Tezcatlipoca began to think that perhaps he'd cast too soon and was going to lose his catch after all. But then Finn's resentful voice entered his mind.

  Okay, Tezzie, you win. Why is Mirabelle's nefarious plot relevant to me?

  Because of your sister, of course, Tez replied, and his heart filled with glee at the pit of despair he was sure was growing within Finn's stomach. After all, your twin is the only female were-jaguar currently in existence.

  Chapter 32

  The boy whom Ixchel had added to her retinue while rushing out of the village presumably understood both Spanish and English. After all, he'd nodded enthusiastically when she asked, "¿Sabes cómo encontrar la abuelita de los bosques?"

  "¡Sí! ¡Sí!" the boy answered, his eyes trained on the bills clutched in Ixchel's left fist. Then, in imperfect English: "I take you there. Go now?"

  The kid couldn't have been more than ten years old, and Ixchel didn't really want to worry his family with an extended absence. But she also didn't want Antonio to catch up with her while she chatted in the street. So she shrugged off her mother-hen tendencies, gave the boy a single bill with the promise of more to come, and followed him down a path that wound between small houses and large gardens before dipping into the trees at last.

  Since then, they'd walked in silence for what felt like hours. Her guide had stopped only once, the pause necessitated by his urge to pluck bananas no longer than her hand from a tree that was certainly located within some farmer's private field. Despite being averse to theft, Ixchel had accepted her fruit gladly and had been blown away by the intensity of the sweet flavor that tasted nothing like the bananas she passed over as bland at the supermarket.

  "What's your name?" she'd asked once, shortly after the banana incident. When the boy simply kept walking without any sign that he'd heard her speak, she raised her voice and tried again in Spanish. "¿Como te llamas?" This time the kid deigned to shrug but gave no other response, so the vet rolled her eyes and continued following in his footsteps.

  Soon enough, they began to climb, and Ixchel decided to save her breath for more important matters—like keeping herself upright. The lowland forests eventually gave way to tall but sparse stands of pine
. And when the vet thought her feet would carry her no further, the boy led them over the crest of a ridge and began picking his way down the hill along an unmarked path.

  Her knees were nearly at their limit when the sound of running water rose up to meet them. And when the boulder-lined banks of a river came into view, her guide finally opted to speak. "You go," he said at last, his face much more solemn than a ten-year-old's should be, leading Ixchel to assume that he was afraid of la abuelita. Or maybe he was just sick and tired of ferrying a tourist around through the woods.

  Whatever the reason, the boy's feet now seemed to be firmly planted on the ground, and Ixchel realized that her guide wasn't going to travel a step further. Instead, he pointed downstream, from which direction the vet could just barely catch a hint of wood smoke wafting up the valley.

  "You'll wait here for me?" she asked, yanking out more bills to wave in front of the boy's nose. This was worse than riding a taxi into a bad neighborhood and hoping the vehicle would still be there when you came back out of a shop....

  "¡Sí! ¡Sí!" the nameless boy responded, and Ixchel shrugged off her uneasiness. Either he'd wait for her or he wouldn't. The vet wasn't going to abandon her quest just because she might have trouble finding her way home afterwards, so she might as well stop worrying and start walking...again.

  After giving the kid one last glance, Ixchel turned to follow the river downhill. Soon, a little trail emerged before her, and then a squat adobe house thatched with pine needles became visible between the trees. In front of the house, a wizened woman sat on the bare dirt, tending a cooking fire in the residence's swept-earth yard.

  The woman couldn't possibly see many visitors since she was located so far away from any village, but she didn't seem surprised by Ixchel's presence. Instead, the granny of the wood simply greeted her guest in the old tongue, the rusty words creaking out across the clearing. "Oy ko mintë."