Owl Dance

by David Lee Summers

  The two men behind the apothecary looked uncertainly at one another. One of them went over to where Fatemeh was kneeling on the ground. Another person from the crowd also joined them. The two men picked up the reporter and moved toward the cemetery gates. Fatemeh followed.

  “Mercedes Rodriguez consorts with the devil,” said Candelaria. “She must have been summoning demons when the reporter stumbled upon her. They’ve possessed him.”

  Duncan looked toward them. His eyes narrowed. “Ramon Morales: Subject of interest.”

  Ramon shook his head and wondered if he heard that correctly. Two people in the crowd knew Ramon and studied him with puzzled expressions. “I think we better get out of here.” With that, he took Mercedes’s hand. The two quickly pushed past Candelaria and ran toward the cemetery gate. Fatemeh and the men carrying Duncan moved toward a nearby house, in the opposite direction.

  Ramon looked at Mercedes. “Where do you live?”

  “On Calle de Guadalupe, near the Corn Exchange Hotel.”

  Ramon nodded and moved that direction. However, when they reached Calle de Santa Ana, he pushed her behind a shrubbery that lined an adobe wall. She gasped in surprise, but Ramon covered her mouth. He pointed as Candelaria and three other men walked past.

  “Where’d they go?” asked one of the men. “I lost sight of them.”

  “They must be heading to the vampire’s house,” said the apothecary. “They can’t be far ahead.” They continued down the street.

  Once they were out of sight, Ramon led Mercedes from behind the shrubbery and quietly went the other direction.

  << >>

  One of the men who carried Luther Duncan lived in a house near the cemetery. They took the reporter inside and laid him on a divan in the main room. The man who owned the house introduced himself as Oscar Sanchez. “Should I call a doctor?” he asked.

  “Give me a minute. I think I can help.” Fatemeh looked into Luther Duncan’s eyes and listened to his rambling. He sat up and took her hands. Although his grip was firm, it did not feel like the uncontrolled clenching that would accompany a seizure. “Mr. Duncan, can you hear me?”

  He nodded. “I can hear you.” His voice changed. “Alexander Gorloff arriving by train…”

  Fatemeh inclined her head. “Who is Alexander Gorloff?”

  Duncan shook his head, as though fighting something. “Military attaché from Russia to America,” he grunted. “Plan to interview…”

  “You said you heard voices in your head?”

  Duncan’s mouth moved, as though he was struggling to find words. “It’s like I’m hearing hundreds of questions all at one time,” he said after a moment. “It’s like I’m giving answers whether I want to or not and I don’t have to speak.”

  Fatemeh squeezed Duncan’s hand, then helped him lay down on the divan again. As a Bahá’í, she didn’t believe in literal demons. However, she had heard about a French surgeon named Étienne Eugène Azam who had written a monograph on the subject of a woman with multiple personalities. He had used hypnotism to calm the mind and separate out the personalities. Fatemeh wasn’t versed in hypnotism, but she had some herbs that could calm the mind. She stood and looked at Mr. Sanchez. “Do you have some bourbon, honey, and a teapot?”

  Sanchez nodded.

  “I think I have something back at my room that can help. I’ll go get it. In the meantime start boiling some water.” She looked back at Duncan. Even if this wasn’t a case of multiple personalities, she suspected something that would relax Duncan would help considerably. Still, there was always a chance she could do more harm than good if she was wrong. She turned to the other man who helped them carry Duncan to the house. “Go get the doctor. It would be a good idea if he was close at hand.”

  The man nodded and Fatemeh left the house.

  << >>

  Ramon led Mercedes into the brightly lit Palacio Saloon. He stopped by the bar and ordered a beer for himself. “Can I buy you something?”

  “Just water for me.”

  The bartender delivered the drinks. Ramon and Mercedes made their way to a table near the back. “This hardly seems a good place to hide.” Mercedes looked at all the people sitting at tables and at the bar. It seemed as though people were entering and leaving almost constantly.

  “I doubt this is the first place someone would think of looking for a wayward…what did he call you again?”

  “Vampire.” She said it as though it was a dirty word.

  “What? Like those creatures from the dime novels that drink the blood of the living?” Although tales of shape-shifters, witches, and vengeful ghosts were a common part of Ramon’s upbringing, vampire stories were only recently imported with settlers from back East.

  Mercedes nodded.

  Ramon drank from his beer. “Why would he call you that?”

  Mercedes told Ramon about her blood condition and explained that she had sought Fatemeh’s help. “People have always been nervous around me because I’m never out in the daylight. I have lived by myself ever since my husband died.”

  The former sheriff studied the woman and thought she seemed awfully young to be a widow, but he knew from experience life could be cruel. He’d seen several young men killed and maimed in mine accidents around Socorro. There had even been several close calls while he worked on Thomas Bull’s ranch.

  “What I don’t understand,” said Mercedes, “is why Mr. Candelaria got so angry and blamed me for the reporter’s condition.”

  Ramon snorted. “When the reporter started speaking in all those strange voices, he got scared. I could see it in his eyes. When men get scared, they try to find something they can attack. Sometimes it’s easier than trying to fix what actually went wrong.”

  “Is that what Fatemeh will try to do? Fix what’s wrong with Mr. Duncan?”

  “If she can, she will.”

  “What will we do?”

  “Wait right here for a while. Hopefully, with a little time, Candelaria will simmer down and Mr. Duncan will be better. Then we can sort things out.”

  “What if Mr. Candelaria doesn’t simmer down?”

  Ramon took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. After a moment, he picked up the beer and took another drink. “Let me think on that.”

  << >>

  When Fatemeh returned to Mr. Sanchez’s house, she was surprised to find the living room full of people. The doctor knelt by the divan, listening to Luther Duncan’s heart with a stethoscope. Mr. Candelaria was there, making the sign of the cross. Duncan still muttered incoherently. Fatemeh found Oscar Sanchez and took him aside. “Did you boil that water?”

  He nodded and led Fatemeh to the little kitchen. She poured the water into a mug and added some bourbon. Then she pulled the cork from a small vial she had in a pouch at her waist and added a green liquid to the brew. She stirred the mixture, then summoned her resolve and returned to the living room.

  “Doctor, I think I have something that can help,” she said.

  The old doctor looked up. “You’re that Persian curandera I’ve heard about, aren’t you?”

  Fatemeh shrugged. “I guess I am.”

  “Some of my patients have told me good things about you,” said the doctor. “If you think you can help, be my guest.”

  The apothecary stepped forward and grabbed Fatemeh’s arm. “She consorts with witches and vampires. Don’t let her near the reporter with that vile brew.”

  The doctor put his hand on the apothecary’s shoulder. “Please, Mr. Candelaria, let her give this a try. Do you have anything in your shop that would help?”

  The question seemed to give Candelaria pause. Finally, he shook his head.

  “If Miss Karimi’s herbs don’t work, you can summon Father Duran to exorcise the demon—presuming that’s what’s wrong with this man.” The doctor patted Candelaria on the shoulder.

  The apothecary frowned, but let go of Fatemeh’s arm.

  She knelt next to Luther Duncan and helped him sit up. She handed him the cu
p and told him to drink. He sipped the warm liquid. His breathing relaxed and the torrent of words slowed to a murmur and finally stopped. His half-lidded gaze darted from person to person in the room.

  << >>

  Legion tried to learn more from the man called Luther Duncan, but the human’s brain cells began to go quiet. The woman called Fatemeh Karimi had given him chemicals that distorted and slowed the reporter’s thought patterns. It grew increasingly difficult to extract any useful information. Legion considered the information he had acquired. The human called Alexander Gorloff sounded rather interesting. He was a liaison between governments and might provide much insight into human behavior. Observing the room through Duncan’s eyes, Legion concluded he had made a mistake by entering the reporter’s mind while he was awake and in a public place. The reporter had drawn attention to himself and Legion’s presence might have been exposed if not for the apothecary—Mr. Candelaria—who invented an excuse to explain Duncan’s rambling. Legion would regroup, wait for Gorloff, and follow him. When the man went to sleep, Legion could enter and quietly integrate with his brain cells. He had learned humans sometimes spoke in their sleep. Satisfied with the plan, Legion departed Luther Duncan.

  << >>

  The reporter smiled. “Thank you, Miss Karimi. The voices…they’re gone.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.” Fatemeh patted Duncan’s hand, then stood. She took a step and then looked around. “How did you know my name?”

  He tapped his forehead. “The voices…” His eyelids fluttered and he lay back.

  Fatemeh knelt down beside the divan. “Earlier, you mentioned Ramon.” Her voice was a sharp whisper. “What do you know about him?”

  “I’ve been following you two.” His words were slurred. “He’s wanted up in Socorro…” Duncan’s eyes fluttered closed. A moment later, he began to snore.

  The doctor helped Fatemeh to her feet. “He looks a lot better. What was in that tea you gave him?”

  Fatemeh blinked and stammered for a moment, trying to focus on what the doctor had asked. “Oh, the tea…it’s an herb I brought with me from my homeland. It relaxes the mind. I thought it would help.”

  “It certainly seems to have done the job. He said the voices were gone. I think that counts as a cure in my book.” The doctor cast a meaningful glance at Mr. Candelaria.

  The apothecary folded his arms and narrowed his gaze at Fatemeh. “A potion to drive out demons. It seems suspiciously like witchcraft to me.”

  “Balderdash!” The doctor stepped over and put his arm around Candelaria’s shoulders. “Luther Duncan was just suffering from overwork. I’m afraid you’re pushing yourself toward the same end. You should get some rest.”

  Candelaria pursed his lips and remained silent for a moment. “Perhaps you’re right, but I still sense evil was at work here in some form.” He strode across the room, retrieved a coat from the rack next to the door and stalked out into the night.

  Fatemeh handed the teacup back to Mr. Sanchez. “If there’s anything else I can do for Mr. Duncan, let me know, but I think he just needs a little rest now.”

  “I think you may be right,” said the doctor.

  Without acknowledging the doctor, Fatemeh stepped through the door bound for the marshal’s office near the downtown plaza.

  << >>

  Ramon yawned, then looked at his watch. “It’s getting late. I think it may be safe to walk you home, now. Hopefully those people who chased us out of the cemetery have gone to bed.”

  Mercedes nodded. “For Mercy’s sake, I hope so.”

  Ramon thought she looked surprisingly wide awake for the hour. Perhaps it was her sensitivity to sunlight. The former sheriff suspected she might be used to keeping later hours than he did. They stood and started for the door.

  Fatemeh burst into the saloon. “There you are!” She pointed at Ramon.

  Several laughs and catcalls sounded from the drunks around her. Ramon led her outside. “I was just about to walk Miss Rodriguez home and return to the boarding house.”

  “Yes, I think she’ll be fine now.” Fatemeh cast an apologetic glance toward Mercedes. “Mr. Candelaria seems to have lost interest in vampires. Now he’s concerned about the witches in town.” She grimaced and pointed to herself.

  “Don’t tell me it’s time for us to clear out of town again. Just when I was getting to like it here.” Ramon snorted a laugh, but cut it short when he saw the look on Fatemeh’s face.

  They walked Mercedes back to her house and bid her good night. Ramon turned around and started toward the Castillos’ boarding house, but realized Fatemeh wasn’t following. He looked around and saw she was stalking off toward the center of town. He ran to catch up with her. “What’s going on?”

  “You’ve got to see this,” said Fatemeh. She led him to the marshal’s office and pointed to the wanted poster on the wall. “Luther Duncan was following us before he collapsed and started hearing voices.”

  Ramon read the wanted poster by the soft light of the moon and shook his head. “I was afraid they might decide to track me down. I’d just hoped this was far enough away.” He put his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry, Fatemeh.”

  Her frown softened into a gentle smile. She reached out and touched his shoulder. “What are you sorry for? Saving me?”

  “I’m sorry we have to run again.” He hugged her.

  “Let’s get a good night’s sleep, Ramon. We’ll get going in the morning.” Hand in hand, Ramon and Fatemeh walked back to the boarding house.

  Chapter Five

  The Trial

  The next morning, Ramon met Fatemeh at the breakfast table. Mrs. Castillo carefully folded the newspaper she was reading, set it aside, then left to get breakfast. A few minutes later, she returned carrying plates piled high with flapjacks and a ham steak apiece. “We’d like to settle our bill, Mrs. Castillo,” said Ramon.

  She nodded as she set one of the plates in front of him. “I’m sorry to hear that. It’s been so good to have you here.” She placed the other plate in front of Fatemeh. “May I ask where you’re going?”

  “Uh…” He hadn’t discussed the question with Fatemeh yet. He took off his glasses and made a show of inspecting them.

  “California.” Fatemeh’s tone was matter of fact. “There are good opportunities there.” She cast a meaningful glance at Ramon.

  He nodded and replaced his glasses. “After all, with winter coming on, Mr. Bull doesn’t need as much help at the ranch. I need to find something more permanent.”

  “We will certainly miss you.” With that, Mrs. Castillo left the room.

  “So, where are we going?” Ramon looked at Fatemeh over the top of his glasses.

  “Don’t you like California?” She removed the ham steak from her plate and deposited it on Ramon’s. Then she took one of his flapjacks. It had become a habit.

  “I don’t know.” Ramon cut the first piece of ham. “I’ve never been to California…”

  He popped a piece of ham into his mouth just as Mrs. Castillo returned from the kitchen carrying a pot of coffee. She poured a cup for Ramon and then one for Fatemeh. With a sad smile, she disappeared again.

  “Doesn’t it make sense?” Fatemeh spread some preserves on each of the flapjacks. “There are a lot of people in California. I would think it would be easy to blend in.”

  Ramon nodded. “But why not Texas or Kansas?”

  “I’ve heard the people in California come from all over the world—from China, Spain, Russia—anywhere you could think of. Doesn’t it excite you to consider the possibilities?”

  Ramon took another bite of ham and shrugged. “We could find that further east. What about New York City or Boston?”

  Fatemeh laughed lightly. Ramon frowned and concentrated on his food. After a moment, she reached across the table and touched his hand. He looked up and saw her smiling pleasantly. “I’ve been to New York. You wouldn’t like it. There are far too many people.”

  Ramon took a deep breath a
nd let it out slowly. “I feel like you know so much about the world and I’ve hardly been anywhere.”

  “Well, we’re going to fix that, aren’t we?” Fatemeh took a bite of one of her flapjacks.

  Ramon inclined his head. “You’ve been running a long time, haven’t you?”

  Her smile turned wistful and she nodded. “Being here through the summer has been nice. I’d like to settle down somewhere.”

  Ramon swallowed hard, then took a drink of coffee. “Do you want to settle down with me?”

  She looked up. “I have grown comfortable with you.”

  Ramon shook his head. “That’s not exactly the answer I was looking for.”

  “I know.” She looked down for a moment. “I love you and the prospect of marriage pleases me, but I think we still need to learn a little more about each other before we decide to take that…most sacred step.”

  Ramon’s breath caught as she looked up and he found himself gazing into her earnest, green eyes. “If I was to ask you to marry me, what is required in your faith?”

  Fatemeh chewed her lower lip for a time. Ramon thought she was contemplating the question longer than necessary. “We would need to seek our parents’ approval,” she said at last. “If they granted us permission, we would be free to marry.”

  Ramon’s shoulders slumped. “My father is dead and it seems we’re getting farther and farther away from my mother in Estancia.”

  Fatemeh wiped her lips with a napkin, then stood and stepped around the table to Ramon. “We are even farther away from my father and mother. They’re back in Persia.” She stopped short, as though she had more to say. After a moment, she added, “I don’t think this is our most insurmountable challenge, though.”

  “I’ve been afraid to make a commitment to you because of your beliefs, but last night, I finally realized that you’re already committed to me.” Ramon gathered Fatemeh into his arms. “Let me show you I’m no longer afraid.” He pulled her close and kissed her.

  A throat cleared from the sitting room doorway. Ramon and Fatemeh looked around. They saw Mr. Castillo next to the doorframe. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but there’s a man here to see you, Mr. Morales.” He stepped through the door and held it open. A stocky man with a thick, handlebar mustache stepped into the dining room.