He let himself relax again.
“You’ve been working yourself too hard. As a matter of fact, you know you shouldn’t even be here, right?”
Moss laughed and pushed himself away from her embrace. Swiping moisture from his face, he sighed again.
“Thanks, Julia. Yeah. A bunch of people told me to stay home, but I had to be here. Too much at stake.”
He looked at her watery brown eyes. She was so damn kind.
“And frankly,” he said, “I’m too angry to just lie around.”
“All right. Go get ’em. But you let me know if you need anything. And I mean that.”
“Thanks, Julia. You’re the best.” He gave her arms a squeeze and scanned the room for Tariq. His comrade stood closer to the front, in a group off to one side of the chairs.
Squirrel, one of the younger anarchists, paced in the center of the large group that stood or sat in white folding chairs or directly on the hard concrete floor. Wearing a red bandana around his pale white neck, black skinny jeans, black sneakers, and a black and white T-shirt, he was thin and always animated. Moss didn’t know if the guy was powered by sugar, like a hummingbird, or just naturally wired.
“Hey man, I saved you a chair.” Tariq gestured to a folding chair at his side. Moss almost groaned, knees and rib cage twinging as he eased his way down.
“Thanks, man. You have no idea,” Moss murmured.
“They’ve attacked our comrades,” Squirrel said, “and this will not stand! The Black Rose has license plates from at least two of the reported incidents of rocks being thrown at cars and in two cases, at people on bicycles. We’re ready to dox these fuckers!”
Doxxing was serious business, and only done when there was a direct threat to people’s safety. Moss didn’t have strong opinions on it one way or another. It was just another tactic, and as long as people weren’t using it to hurt people who weren’t an actual threat? Well… He shrugged inside.
Squirrel’s head whipped around, green eyes landing on Moss. Moss’s throat and mouth were dry. He’d left his water bottle at home. Wished he’d asked Julia for a lemon drop.
Squirrel swept an arm toward Moss. “They put our comrade here into the hospital. They slaughtered Heather Heyer in Charlottesville, killed three people on the MAX train, and have beaten and sexually assaulted we don’t know how many others. What are we gonna do about this?”
Moss waved an arm, then hissed in pain.
“Wait a minute,” he croaked out. “Tariq, man, you got water?”
Squirrel paused in his frenetic pacing and waited, foot tapping, while Tariq took the lid off his steel water bottle and passed it to Moss.
The water felt glorious going down Moss’s throat. All water is one water, he thought, then cleared this throat and spoke.
“As a Japanese American, I’m down with facing white supremacy and kicking it in the teeth”—he cleared his throat—“but these aren’t the same people. Let’s not get mixed up about that. This is some bad corporate magic, man. These are people out to destroy the river. We need to act accordingly. The threat to all these activists and elders is a threat to the whole city, just like the racists and fascists are. But let’s be strategic here, and not go off with only half the information.”
Some activists were always willing to join the fray, which was great, but damn, they lacked strategy. And there was always a protest where every damn group under the sun showed up to push its cause, instead of rallying around the focus of the march or gathering.
Tariq placed a supportive hand on Moss’s shoulder before speaking.
“This is institutionalized racism and corporate fascism that affects St. John’s and the rest of Portland,” Tariq said, “not an organized group of racist hotheads. With the elders’ permission, we’ll be facing the threat head on this Saturday, and want all bodies who can be, in Cathedral City Park. And if Black Rose has damning information on these attacks? All the better. We can use it as ammunition, try to trace it back to these corporate vampires. Thanks as always, comrades.”
“We need to remember that the folks who live in North Portland have been under attack for decades,” Moss chimed in. “The poisoning of the river…after the Yakama, Chinook, and other indigenous leaders, the Black Environmental Group, and the Clean Rivers Coalition put in years of labor holding groups accountable and getting the water as clean as they could? This is not only a slap in the face, it’s a danger to all our communities, as much of a danger as the white supremacists we’ve all worked so hard to get out of our city. The rivers need us, and we need the rivers.”
Moss grabbed Tariq’s hand and got help to stand up. Goddesses, his body hurt!
He slowly turned to address the people gathered in the cavernous space.
“You with us on this?”
The people lifted their fists and shouted “Yes!”
28
Shaggy
Shaggy and Phoebe walked through the little neighborhood of Cathedral Park, past bungalows and single story Victorian houses. The sun was out for the third day in a row, though rain was forecast for the following week. It was a sweet place, filled with trees and bordering the Willamette in North Portland, a neighborhood Shaggy had never visited before. Terra had agreed to meet them at the park itself beneath the St. John’s Bridge. As they approached the towering green gothic structure set on massive concrete arches, she saw a powerful-looking Black woman around her own age. She talked on a cell phone, one foot resting on a park bench, eyes trained down the sloping green dotted with birches and what might be cherries, past a huge maple tree, leaves turning orangey gold, to where the the river flowed.
Terra must’ve sensed their approach, because she quickly ended her phone call, shoved her phone into the pocket of her cargo pants and gave a slight wave, heading across the grass toward the cement walkway that ran beneath the bridge and up to a set of stairs leading a small parking lot.
Shaggy strode forward, trying to act more confident than she actually felt in the moment. She could feel sweat under her arms, despite the mild day, and hoped Terra couldn’t see how nervous she actually was. As they got to within a foot or two Shaggy stuck out a hand.
“Terra? I’m Shaggy and this is Phoebe.”
Terra enfolded one of Shaggy’s hands in her own. Her skin was warm, and she smelled like peppermint gum.
“Thanks for meeting with us,” Shaggy said.
“No problem,” Terra replied. “Moss wouldn’t have hooked us up if you weren’t cool.” Terra gave a slight smile at that, which lit up her whole face. “Both your phones off?” Shaggy and Phoebe nodded. They’d taken care of that in the car. Moss’s basic training was starting to kick in.
“Good. Let’s walk.” Terra led them back out from underneath the bridge. Then they were on an open green past some birches and the maybe-cherries, at the edge of several tall, raggedy edged firs. No one was around except one dog walker and a lone kayak paddling in a small, protected lagoon. Terra stopped and turned. “So, you actually want to rappel down from the bridge? Do either of you have experience with that?”
Keeping her hands low, she gestured up at the green steel expanse.
Shaggy squinted at Terra, half-dazzled by the sun and half-hoping Phoebe would answer.
“I have a lot of experience working with safety harnesses in different situations,” Phoebe replied, “and Shaggy has gotten pretty good at aerial work. I’m willing to train her on the rest.”
“By tomorrow? That seems pretty risky.”
“We know that,” Shaggy said, “but if I can do aerial work without a harness twenty feet in the air, I’m pretty sure I can do it in a harness, no problem.”
“No problem!” Terra laughed at that. It was clear she was skeptical but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she would get them the equipment, even if the thought half-terrified Shaggy.
Shaggy and Phoebe both paused, staring at Terra, listening to the seagulls squawking nearby. All three women just stared at each other
for a moment, no one willing to cede ground. Finally, Terra shrugged.
“All right. Plan is to rappel down from the central section of railing there, past that big support, where the bridge heads over the river. Right? You want to be over the water itself, and not the park here?”
“Right,” Phoebe replied.
“Okay. I’ll be anchoring one of you, and have a second person on board. We’ll also be taking care of a banner drop. Usually we’d work on this for weeks, but I’m going to trust you, and you’re just going to have to trust me and my team. I’ve got two harnesses and the rest of the gear in the car. I’m parked just over there. You got a car?”
“A few blocks away,” Phoebe replied.
“Meet me in the lot, then. But Phoebe? Anything goes wrong with this tomorrow and it’s on you. My team will do our best, but you’re new to us…and frankly, we argued about whether or not to even help you do this. Also, we’re going to have our hands full with a lot of other stuff. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“And Shaggy? Stay safe, will you? Moss will kill me if something bad happens to you.”
Shaggy gave the other woman a tight smile and a nod. “Got it.”
Phoebe loped off toward the car, Shaggy trailing behind her. They had all afternoon to practice at the circus school. Phoebe had already cleared a corner of the room on the school schedule. They could practice into the night if they had to. Shaggy really hoped it would be enough.
Butterflies filled her belly, and she didn’t know which sense was stronger: excitement, or fear.
All she knew was, despite the danger, it still felt right.
29
Moss
Moss and most of Arrow and Crescent, along with a few of their close allies, were gathered on Brenda’s forest-green couches and creamy linen-covered footstools, making plans for the next day. Her living room was soothing. It had pale green walls, and bright artwork of a variety of Goddesses and Gods. Over the fireplace mantle was a brilliant painting of the sun dancing with the moon.
Raquel’s buff, Thor-looking boyfriend Charlie give her thigh a squeeze. Watching that made Moss wish Shaggy was there, but her text said she and Phoebe were busy practicing with the safety gear “for a big show coming up.” That made him smile. In one short week, he’d been cramming as much security culture training into her as possible. Encrypted text system or not, nothing was foolproof. Oblique messages were best.
He needed to meet with the lock-down crew later himself. A few of them were doing reconnaissance at the bridge, figuring out the best places to lock down to block the span.
Shaggy had said he could swing by her place after he was done with it all. He wanted to. More than anything. He also needed to keep his head in the game. If he swung by, they would have sex. He could feel it. And he wanted it. That meant that despite his messed-up body, a late night, and an even earlier morning, he was probably going to comply with the urge to see her. To touch her. To reassure himself that life was worth living and that the battle to come would not, could not, be the end.
He rolled his shoulders, trying to release the tension, and was just reaching for some gluten-free cookies when Brenda’s door opened again and Alejandro walked in.
At first glance, he was neat as a pin, but looking more closely, Moss saw Alejandro’s lavender shirt wasn’t as well pressed as usual, and one of the lenses on his glasses had a streak down the side.
“Should you be here, hermano?” Lucy said.
Alejandro threw up his hands. “They can’t prove I told you anything, especially since I haven’t.”
“Is that actually true?” Jack asked. Jack was Lucy’s new boyfriend and a coder and had been a friend of the coven for years. “They could still claim we got information from you, even if we found it out ourselves. That could bite you in the ass, badly.”
“Us, too,” Selene remarked from their perch on a velvet tuffet that looked designed especially for the femme Goth that they were. “Especially Moss.”
Alejandro shrugged, looked around the room, and dragged a cushion next to Selene before sinking down. “Frankly, let them. I’m so furious at what they’re doing, what their plans are, and that damn press conference stunt they pulled, that I…” He ran his hands across his hair––a sign of distress, Moss realized––before looking up again. “I’m done. I’m done with all of these pendejos, and that includes half of my current client list. There’s too much gray area in my life. What am I going to tell my nieces and nephews that I do, huh? That I make money from corporations that green wash and pink wash their sins? I’ve got to figure something else out.”
Raquel reached over and ran a hand down his arm. “Hey. We got you. We’ve always got you. You’ll figure it out. Besides, you already have more money than anyone else in this coven,”
“Put together!” Lucy interrupted.
“Put together,” Raquel said. “In other words, you’re smart, you’ve got a great portfolio, and you. Have. Time.”
“I’m glad you’re here, man,” Moss said to his friend. And he was. It had felt really weird to even briefly be on opposite sides of something with a man he had been able to trust with his life. “And we live under capitalism. No money is clean.”
“Yeah, well…” Alejandro waved a hand, making Moss smile. Alejandro would never say he wasn’t a capitalist, and Moss loved to point out all the ways the system rubbed his coven brother wrong.
Brenda poured some sparkling water into a clear wine glass and handed it to Alejandro. “We’re all glad you’re here. And I’m really glad you’re making this change. Raquel and I have been a little worried about you. Come by the shop for a reading next week. We’ll see what the Gods are cooking.”
Alejandro wiped at his eyes, then took his tortoiseshell glasses off and wiped the lenses with the white handkerchief. Only man Moss knew who pressed his hankies.
“Thanks, everyone. Where are we at for tomorrow? And how can I help?”
“We were just figuring that out,” Raquel said, leaning forward to grab a piece of cheddar from the wood block on the coffee table. “You’ll need magical backup to deal with this egregore, right? Have you figured out any more about it? What can you tell us?”
Moss shook his head. “I’ll be in lockdown. Someone else is going to have to deal with it. I thought you would, given your connection to the river.”
“You were just in an accident!” The words burst from Raquel’s mouth. “And what if the whole river decides to channel itself through your body, locked down or not? It’s too dangerous, Moss!”
“It’s not going to happen.” But he couldn’t deny the pressure on his skin. The river. It had been there all week, only growing more intense over the past few days. But he also didn’t believe the river kami would take him over that way. No other animating spirit had ever done that before.
“That’s not how my magic works. My relationship with the kami is different than your relationship with your matron Goddess.”
“And you’re sure of that because…?”
“It’s never happened before.”
Raquel scowled and gave a hmph, while Brenda burst into laughter. “Oh, you sweet summer child! How long have you been training with us? You still think something won’t happen just because it hasn’t before?”
“You think Tonantzin ever took me over like that before I was up there on the roof with all those DHS cops down on the ground, shooting less than lethals?” Lucy bristled. “Come on, man, don’t be a douche. Listen to your elders.”
Moss chewed his lower lip. “I promised my crew I’d lock down, from the minute we started talking about this action. I don’t feel right backing out of it.”
“Can your body even handle it?” Alejandro’s voice was soft, but insistent.
“Locking down is no different than standing around in the park. What, am I supposed to stay home in bed?”
“Locking down for Goddess knows how many hours,” Raquel leapt in, “and getting sawed apart by the fire department,
and then dragged away by the Portland cops? Maybe gassed? Cuffed? Having your arms half ripped from their sockets? Come on, Moss. Don’t act like we haven’t been there with you before.” She threw her hands in the air and sat back on Brenda’s couch in a huff.
Moss closed his eyes and fought to slow his breathing back down. He felt every twinge in his body, from all the screaming tendons surrounding his left knee to the ever-present headache. He could also feel the pull of the river and the pushing of the kami to do this thing.
“Those bastards threatened me. They cut my fucking brake lines. I have to lock down. And it isn’t just that, or my crew. It’s the kami of the Willamette.” He held up one hand to forestall objections. “It’s not just my ego saying that, either. I can’t tell you why, but locking down at St. John’s Bridge is the most necessary thing I’ve done in my life. I’m sure of it. If you want to help me, help me do that. And if some of you want to do your psychic thing and pump me some energetic support or information, that’d be great. But I’m doing this. I have to.”
The energy roiling around the room rose, then left in a whoosh, as though a mighty force had opened up the front and back doors and sent a cross breeze wafting through to clear the air.
“Okay,” Raquel said. “Nothing else we can do then. We’ll honor that, Moss”—she fixed him with her intense, dark eyes—“but don’t make me regret this, or I’ll kick your damn ass. Now, tell us about the egregore. What do you know?”
Moss exhaled. “Okay. I still don’t have a lot of information, so whoever decides to do the astral work will be mostly flying blind. Sorry about that. But I can tell you it seems to be deeply connected to a woman named Patricia Sloane.”
Alejandro nodded. “Having seen her, I think you’re right. There’s something around her that felt off when I shook her hand the other day, but I couldn’t place it. Didn’t think too much about it, frankly. I was just looking for ways to avoid being roped into that contract.”
By Dusk Page 12