Cool Hand (15 page)

I got worried when I planned something this complex, so having to trust others so completely didn’t come naturally.

But among all the distractions, I realized that I had Mary right here, and a question for her that had been worming around in my brain the whole day. A question that was important, even if I had no idea why.

“Mary, can I ask something that’s not related to any of this immediate stuff?”

“One question.” Mary was looking around nervously now. We were nearly back at the Hill Bitch and Mary’s car.

“The temple we found out at Bow Creek, the children, the ritual…is all that a working of some kind? The construction itself, it felt like it was crawling with energy.”

Mary shuddered. “It probably was, but it’s nothing in the temple or the rituals themselves. Inert objects can only receive workings from us. A dagger is a dagger, a temple is a temple. We can imbue them with workings. We can store workings and energy in them, but the shapes of the temple or the dagger don’t make any difference. We could imbue a garden shed and an old trowel with the same energy.”

She went quiet and I thought I’d gotten as much as I was going to get from her this time, but she spoke again as we got to the cars.

“You wonder why the Adepts are so concerned about Were and Athanate using the energy consciously, without training. This is an example. It may be they started forming this ritual with good intentions: to help them shorten crusis; to reduce the need for Blood; to hide from humans. I don’t know, but whatever it was originally, from the description it seems like the ritual has gotten away from them.” She grimaced. “It’s difficult to explain this in a few words. Tullah will have more time to talk to you about it.”

She took my hand and squeezed. “The ritual and the energy have no intelligence, no direction, but the power that it gathers is corrosive over time. A little step is taken, everyone can see it’s a necessary step, hardly a concern, but it leads to another and another, and suddenly they are trapped. The steps above are too high to climb back out. They reach the major rituals. Progress requires pain, then blood, then death. First an animal, then a human.” She shook her head. “Then a child.”

“Understand me, Amber. The energy doesn’t just come from the sacrifice. The child dies, and that’s the awful end for him or her. But as much energy comes from the damage it does to the person who conducts the ritual, the focus of energy through that person, the creation of a channel for that energy. A channel that needs that energy, makes the user desire it, makes them want more and more. I’ve said to you before, there’s no such thing as a demon. You can’t summon one. But the power raised in a ritual like this feeds into the basest human desires. You might as well say it creates a demon of the person who performs the ritual.”

Her brown eyes were staring into mine, as if from the bottom of a well. She scared me.

“The energy can do so much. It sits there and tempts us to use it. The greater the Adept, the less they use it. What if I told you we could make a ritual to help a werewolf change, but it would require the sacrifice of a rabbit? You might say:
What harm?
It’s only a rabbit. The wolf would go and kill rabbits anyway. It wouldn’t make any difference to the rabbit.” She shook her head again. “That’s a trap.”

Mary stopped talking suddenly and gave both of us a hug.

“I’m putting my trust in you that you’ll see the traps and avoid them. Spirit guide you,” she whispered, eyes red, and then she turned and hurried to her car.

We got into the Hill Bitch.

“Are we going to be a good girl, Boss, and go quietly to sleep?” Tullah said sweetly.

I glared at her, but I pocketed the sunglasses, settled back in the seat and tilted the Stetson down over my eyes. Like a good girl.

“Wait, Kaothos
,” I thought. “
I have a couple of questions.”

“Yes, Amber Farrell?”

“This lock they put on Tullah.”

“Yes.”

“Don’t bullshit me, lizard. You can break it.”

“Yes.”

“Tullah doesn’t know?”

“No.”

“And because Tullah doesn’t know, Mary doesn’t know. That’s why Tullah doesn’t know yet, because you don’t want Mary or anyone else to suspect how powerful you are.”

The lizard went silent. There was a quiet hiss, like a radio station that had gone off the air.

“Yes. They will react in fear if they know,” she said eventually.

“But lies with good reasons and lies by omission are still lies. You can’t lie to your community. And you really can’t lie to Tullah. And if you’re lying to Tullah, why should I trust what you say to me?”

More silence.

“You are right. We will speak with Tullah tonight. For the others, when we are ready, I will need to reveal my power.”

“That’s too slippery. We’ll talk with Tullah tonight about a schedule for telling everyone in our community.”

Again the silence: not yes, not no, exactly.

I went on.
“And at the same time, we are going to explain that while there are perfectly good reasons for me to be off on a trip with Tullah, I haven’t forgotten that you want me to bite her. And that decision is going to remain hers to make.”

Any Athanate would want an Adept bound to their House. I could feel it like a constant little tugging in my head. I’d have to be careful to keep my guard up. And it was hard to second-guess a spirit dragon’s motivation, but I could smell sneaky. Kaothos confirmed it by her argument.

“The benefits—”

“I don’t care if there will be benefits. I don’t care that you think if I partly infuse her she will be able to channel more energy. All I care about is that she is the one who will make the decision when she’s ready. And if you keep trying to manipulate and maneuver her, I warn you, Tullah will start to hate you.”

Silence again—a long, thoughtful silence.

“One more thing, lizard. Tullah can’t hear me now.”

“No.”

“But I can tell you something and you can tell her?”

“Yes.”

“Tell her I say her butt’s getting bigger—she needs to spend more time down at the Kwan.”

“Amber!” Tullah squawked.

I tilted the Stetson up and allowed myself a small snicker. “So, apprentice, we can speak telepathically so long as the lizard acts like a telephone exchange. Might come in handy.”

I dropped the Stetson back down.

“Amber Farrell?”

“Yeah, hit me already, lizard.”

“I will not lie to you, even by omission, so one last matter. I said I could break the lock on Tullah. I can, but…”

“But?”

“Other than small workings, like this talking with you, or helping you rest, my use of the energy is limited. For bigger workings, I need to channel through Tullah, but as with the explosion at Longmont, I cannot channel as much as I need to through her. And in fact, I cannot channel any major working through her while she is locked. I need to channel through you to break the lock, and I will need to channel through you if we try something major.”

After Mary’s little talk about the lure of channeling energy, that made me shiver. And channeling Kaothos through me had cost something last time. It’d hurt my spirit guide in some way and blown a few fuses in my head. But if we needed to, we needed to. At least Kaothos was getting the message about being open.

“Thank you. I understand.”

A flicker of panic went through me as I felt Kaothos’ grip in my head. What if I remembered none of this conversation when I woke? What if Kaothos could control me…

Those were my last thoughts before I sank into the darkness.

I floated up. It was night and we were just pulling off an interstate. I guessed this had to be I-25, and that would make this the outskirts of Albuquerque.

I wasn’t about to tell the lizard, but I did feel much better.

“What’re we doing?” I said.

“Finding dinner,” Tullah replied, as if that explained everything. “I hear a dog calling me.”

She frowned as she said it.

“That’s—”

“Yeah. Weird,” she said.

“Just a craving?” I asked.

Was she catching my paranoia?

“Dunno.”

Visible from the interstate was a fairground with rides, sideshows and craft stalls. And enough flashing lights to power all of the city’s discos. It was almost 10 p.m., closing time, as we parked. Kids were being hauled back to cars and the rows of food stands were getting a late evening surge on the way.

Just because Jen had me eating gourmet didn’t mean I couldn’t appreciate carnival food. From time to time, anyway.

There was nothing obviously dangerous in the scene. Other than being in New Mexico, home to a possible traitorous Athanate House and packs of psychopathic werewolves.

We parked and wandered down the likeliest looking row, noses locking onto the best-smelling hot dog stand where we picked up a couple of the most popular offerings.

“Hmm. Some dog with your chili?”

Tullah tried to swallow before laughing. I looked around for anyplace willing to sell me a beer, but there wasn’t one in this row. I had a look at the next row and was about to motion Tullah to follow.

When I looked, she wasn’t chomping. Instead, she was turning slowly in a circle, peering into the thinning crowds.

We were surrounded by fast food stands and booths selling cheap souvenirs. There really wasn’t that much to look at.

“What’s up?” I said.

“Dunno, Boss. Itchy feeling. Something not right.”

I laughed as if she’d said something funny and nudged us closer to one of the quieter booths.

Ostentatiously looking around for a trash can for my wrapper, I gave everything a once-over. Twice.

Performers were starting to drift in, some of them still in their costumes. A tired cowboy in a buckskin jacket and a sad-faced clown a couple of booths along were eyeing us as they ate their burgers. A spaceman and a five-foot rabbit walked by, laughing over something.

Nothing obvious, but I didn’t know what I was looking for.

“Any idea what or where?” I asked quietly.

“No,” Tullah said. “Boss…neither of us likes hot dogs and, okay, this is only a couple of minutes from the road, but still, why are we here?”

A little chill went down my spine.

“Hey,” a voice said from way below my line of sight.

“Well, hello there.” I bent my knees until she could look me in the face without getting a cricked neck. Given my luck with kids recently, I might have kept a little tension in my legs and a bit more distance than usual.

She was about eight, with dark eyes, wild hair like Jofranka’s, and the most solemn little face I’d seen outside of church. Her blue dress had been pretty once, about a hundred washes ago. She wore no shoes, but silver bangles tinkled on her wrist as she pushed her hair back out of her face.

“What’s your name?” I said, trying not to be obvious about scanning the crowd behind her. I didn’t think she’d been set up as a distraction, but most of the people who were after us wouldn’t bother about that. They’d take advantage of anything that distracted me.

“Tansy.”

“That’s a pretty name.”

Tansy gave me the look that the comment deserved. “I’ll get a better name when I’m older,” she said.

“What would a better name be like?”

“Whatever I’m good at.” She’d clearly had enough of the dumb grown-up questions. “Grandma says to come with me.”

“Uh huh. And where would you take us?”

She had to have learned that exasperated look from the TV. “The booth, of course.”

I cleared my throat. This was a new marketing ploy for me, and I was more than a little pissed at Grandma, sending an eight-year-old out to hustle for business.

“Actually, we’re just here for the hotdogs—” I started.

“Amber, no.” Tullah knelt beside me, looking intently at the girl. “Your grandma is Chatima, isn’t she.”

“Shhh.” Tansy put her finger to her lips. “We shouldn’t say her name where other people can hear.”

“Okay. We’ll come with you,” Tullah said. She was frowning again as she leaned in to me and whispered: “Chatima means Caller. I guess that’s one of her talents.”

I wasn’t happy, but Tullah was my expert on anything to do with Adepts, and thinking it through, it seemed unlikely that Athanate or Were could have had enough time to find out we were here, let alone set up an ambush.

We licked our fingers, ditched the wrappings and followed the strange little girl through the food area and out towards the craft booths. All the bright arc lights had been turned off here, though a few trails of flashing bulbs still pulsed away in the night. Booths with generators had small spotlights making bright pools around them.

I checked the HK in my shoulder holster as we walked.

The bad part was that the area was full of shadows. I could have hidden a couple of platoons of Nagas here. The good part; it was empty of innocent families. There were no buyers left, just vendors busy packing their goods away.

Except at the booth where Tansy led us.

It was an old, dusty, brown van with a hinged panel side that lowered to form a counter. One of the supports was missing. It had been replaced by a stack of fruit boxes and the counter sloped down on that side, sagging under the weight of beaded jewelry and blue stone trinkets, Navajo blankets and wooden ornaments.

There was a woman on a chair beside the van. She was snoring. It might have had nothing to do with the half-empty bottle of rye next to her.

“Grandma doesn’t look like she’s asking anyone to come to the booth,” I said.

I got the look again from Tansy. “That’s Louise. She’s only here to watch.”

Watch. Hmm. I bit my tongue.

Tansy’s task of delivering us to the booth completed, she proceeded to ignore us and began to load their goods into the back of the van.

“Come,” a voice said from the dark inside the van.

Tullah started to move forward and I held her arm.

A dry laugh. “Sometimes too cautious, other times not cautious at all. Don’t be scared of me and my gifts.”

“Who are you?” I said.

“I’m Chatima, shaman-Adept, and a friend to Mary.”

Mary had vouched for her, and maybe she’d be able to tell me something about the Were ritual.
That
had to be worth some risk. I followed Tullah into the back of the van. The side panel was still open, letting in what little light there was outside, but the corners of the van were dark and full of shapes.

“Greetings, Mother,” Tullah said as she sat.

“Welcome, Tullah.”

“Greetings,” I mumbled. It wasn’t that I was deliberately being less polite than Tullah, but I was still trying to rein in the paranoia. A working, like the Weres’ Call, but focused on us, calling us here to meet this woman. That was some serious talent.

“Welcome, daughters of Speaks-to-Wolves.”

Daughters.

Chills ran down my back.

One of the shapes moved and there was the scratch of a lighter.

The candle was tiny—the light didn’t even reach the sides of the van—but the flame painted Chatima’s face in the soft red and yellow of fresh river earth, hiding her eyes and making a net of the wrinkles on her face, like a tracing of every path she’d ever followed.

The side panel was closed with a screech of hinges and a bang. Maybe Louise had woken up, or maybe Tansy was stronger than she looked.

“Sunstone and Sky-fallen,” Chatima said, peering at me. I was as poorly lit as she was, but she seemed to see more of me than I could of her.

Sunstone meant Amber, I knew that. Sky-fallen I hadn’t heard before. My wolf spirit guide’s name was Hana, which meant Sky in Arapaho.

“Is Sky-fallen your name for my wolf spirit guide?”

She smiled. “No, not Hana. Sky-fallen is Tara.”

My mouth fell open, and she laughed. “Oh, I can see her there beside you, but I won’t tease you that I’m talking to her or I can read her name from your mind. No, Mary told me about Tara. New-fashioned messages rather than old-fashioned magic.”

She reached to one side and brought out three small beakers and a bottle.

“Just water,” she said. “The rye seems to have gone missing.”

I snorted.

“Tara means Sky-fallen. A name from the old stories,” she said, and waved us closer. “Come. No time for old stories tonight. We haven’t got long and I have a gift for you.”

We shuffled closer around the candle. I sipped the water carefully.

“Mary has told me what was lost,” Chatima said, shaking her head. “Speaks-to-Wolves was caught, like you are caught, between one world and another. Between the old ways and the new. A hundred years ago, the working would have been passed from one hand to the next.”

“You mean the necklace?” I asked.

She sighed. “The necklace is a part. The working is the whole: the token, the person, the place and the ritual.”

“Then we can’t help the Were unless we find the necklace first?”

“So rushed, but maybe tonight that’s for the best.” Her hands moved restlessly in her lap. It looked like she was pouring beads from one hand to the other. “The necklace is the easiest part to replace. The person, that’s not so easy.”

“What about the ritual? Can I learn it? Would that make me able to help the Were?”

She grimaced. “You might be able to learn, but who would teach you? This is Speaks-to-Wolves’ ritual, not mine or Mary’s. Not today’s need.”

“The ritual’s lost, then? There’s no point to the necklace?” My heart was doing a rollercoaster that would have worked for the fairground outside. One moment, I thought we had it, the next it was all a waste of time.

“No and no.” Chatima leaned back. “I needed to see you to be sure, and I’m still not sure. Workings like this aren’t lost, but they must be rediscovered.”

She rocked where she sat for a moment, as if comforting herself. “It’s a heavy burden you’re so willing to take up. All of you. You must work together to do this.” She looked to Tullah. “Your mother has turned away from the old ways, but did she teach you the steps?”

Tullah nodded, wide eyed.

“Teach them in turn to Sunstone and Sky-fallen. Then together, you will find a spirit place and one who needs your help. You may rediscover what was never quite lost. Make anew.”

Tansy had been placing loads quietly into the back of the van. Now the van dipped as someone heavy stepped up.

I spun around in a crouch, the HK in my hand.

It was Louise.

She stopped where she was, looking at the gun with a hard, unhappy glare before turning her eyes to the old woman.

“You’re casting, Chatima,” she said. “They’re looking for us again. I can feel them. Time to go.”

I put the gun away, feeling stupid. Either Louise had been on watch in her own way, just as Tansy had said, or…I couldn’t tell what was happening in the Adept world. Or both. All the things my everyday experience and instincts told me weren’t necessarily so.

“Yes. Time to go, for all of us,” Chatima said, and caught my hand. She drew it down near the candle’s flame and held hers above it.

Suddenly, I remembered something Mary had said to me. In the deep, dark night, the energy was more powerful. I felt it now, hanging above me, like the promise of thunderstorms.

“So many of life’s patterns dance in the candle,” Chatima murmured. “Look at it, be part of it.”

It was quiet, except for the beating of hearts and the rush of breath. It didn’t feel like we were in the back of a van. There was only us, the vastness of night and the tiny flame.

That flame seemed to grow and pass through our hands like cool yellow smoke, soft as a feather. And beads flowed out of hers and pooled in mine, taking a shape and weight as they fell.

It was a necklace, made the same way as my bracelet, warm and strangely heavy in my hand. It had no wolf’s eye, but strange patterns seemed to ripple across it.

The candle flickered and dimmed until all I could see were Chatima’s eyes looking at me.

Shadows and embers. A figure swayed in the darkness. Fragrant smoke coiled in the air.

“Cursed and blessed,” she whispers. “You tread a difficult path, Amber, where every way bears death and sorrow and pain and loss. You are none of the things they will think you are. In the end, you will have no guides but yourself.”

Her hands press around mine.

“This is a token, a holder of knowledge, a helper to seekers, and it is more. It bears three truths for your spirit quest, three patterns written on it. That much I can do. The dark pattern others have written on you, that I cannot touch.”