Forests of the Heart (64 page)

“Oh, shit,” she said, the words drowned out by the Glasduine’s bellowing cries.

It was definitely time for Plan B, but
los cadejos
couldn’t get near the Glasduine now. Whenever they charged the creature, no matter from what direction they made their approach, they were batted aside as though they were no more than toy dogs.

They had screwed up big-time, she realized, and now they were going to pay.

Why didn’t they simply kill it? Donal had wondered when the strange little dogs first rendered the Glasduine helpless. That’s what he would have done, put the bloody bugger down, quick and fast, no regrets. Then its only victims would have been the Gentry and his own grand bloody self, and they’d brought it on themselves, so there’d be no great loss.

Truth was, Donal was ready to go on. Better or worse, at least there was a chance to start over again with a clean slate in whatever place came next. Given a choice, he’d choose the unknown over the shite he already knew.

But when he realized what Bettina and the others were hoping to do, he found himself agreeing it was worth the effort. If they really could turn the creature around, then perhaps something good could still come from all of this. Maybe someone with a bigger and better heart than his own could awaken the Glasduine’s true potential, turn the monster into an avatar of joy and spiritual growth. Christ knew, the world could use something like that about now.

With the Glasduine immobilized by the dogs, he felt free to drift from its body. Guilt reared strongly in him when he hovered near Tommy, but it was far worse when he looked to Ellie and Miki. Caught up in making a new mask, Ellie, at least, was able to focus on the task at hand instead of dwelling on his betrayal of them. But Miki… oh, Miki. She always wore her heart on her sleeve, and right now he could see it broken and bleeding. If he was given only one wish, one chance, it would be to make it up to her. How could he have done this to his own bloody sister? It was worse than anything their da’ had done—he at least could claim the doubtful immunity of having been blind bloody drunk every time he’d taken after them.

Donal had no such excuse.

That’s what had to hurt the worst, he realized, as he drew near to his sister. That he, the one who’d always protected her, could have become this monster.

When had he changed? she’d be thinking. How much of their life together had been a lie?

He reached towards her, trying to brush away a tear that crept down her cheek, but his incorporeal fingers sank into her flesh. He pulled back with a start and fled. For the rest of the time that Ellie worked on the mask, he floated up near the top of the canyon, so busy hating himself that he almost missed the moment when the mask was done and Ellie was fitting it onto the struggling monster’s face.

Quick as a thought, he darted back down, reentering the Glasduine just as the wet clay of the mask settled onto its features.

The agony he shared with the Glasduine made his own experience of first calling the creature up back in Kellygnow seem no worse than if he’d stubbed his toe.

It’s grown so strong, he realized. While he was off playing the bloody martyr, so busy feeling sorry for himself, hating himself, the Glasduine had been quietly building up strength. And now that gathered strength was feeding back against the mask, intensifying the pain as the Glasduine struggled against the magics Ellie had managed to call up.

The raw, acid burn of it was nothing a human could bear.

His own wailing shriek merged with the Glasduine’s howl as the creature broke free from the little dogs and tore one-handedly at the mask. He shared its agony for one long moment, then thrust himself out of the Glasduine’s body with such force that he went tumbling and spinning down the canyon. Stunned, he could only watch as the Glasduine fought off the little dogs, scrabbling and ripping at the mask. He saw the ribbon of light, how it began to change, the colors bubbling and boiling. The change began where the light connected to the Glasduine, then went coursing away, following the ribbon back to its source.

Jaysus, Mary, and Joseph, Donal thought. The Glasduine was so foul, its evil grown so powerful, that it was overcoming both the purity of the light as well as the enchantment snared in Ellie’s mask.

He stared as the ribbon of light began to discolor, feeling sick and disoriented.

Why hadn’t her mask worked? When he’d used the other one it had easily pulled everything that was ugly out of him to give the Glasduine purpose and shape.

And then he knew.

There was nothing pure or good in the Glasduine. It had only Donal’s ugliness, his meanness and spite and hatred, blown up into enormous proportions. There was nothing good left for Ellie’s mask to call up. Everything else, every potential for goodness, had been shed when the creature had been born.

Sweet Mother of God, he prayed as he sent himself back into the creature. Let there be enough decency left in me for her mask to work. I don’t ask it for me, but for Miki and Ellie and every other good soul that this monster will hurt if it’s not stopped here and now.

It was like plunging himself into a fire.

The raw agony of his pain made him reach out, wanting to connect with the parts of himself that he’d used to bring the Glasduine to life. To strike back at the cause of the pain. Because it hurt too much to try to do good. What he felt was all the pain and shite of his life gathered into one, unending moment that threatened to burn him forever.

But he forced himself beyond it. He made himself look at Miki and that helped. Not to ease the pain, but to divorce himself from all the dark and ugly emotions he’d used to create the Glasduine. He made himself think of good things, good times. Of those moments when he’d made a positive difference in the world, instead of shitting on it. Like every time he’d protected Miki from their da’. Those were the parts of himself he offered up to the enchantment of Ellie’s mask.

But it felt like a losing battle.

Deep in his mind he became aware of a pinpoint of pure light, that he was falling toward it. Into it.

The real irony, he thought, was that even if he had managed to turn the day, no one would have known. They’d still carry the memories of what a little, mean-spirited pissant he’d been.

The light was suddenly huge, enveloping him.

I would’ve liked one wee drink before I went, he thought. I’d like to have heard Miki squeeze one more tune out of that old box of hers …

Then the light swallowed him and he was gone.

Bettina stared in growing horror as the Glasduine batted away her
cadejos.
She could feel the creature growing stronger, rather than weakening. She saw its power flood out into its
vida en hilodela,
fouling the purity of the greens and golds until the ribbon boiled and foamed. The light lost its intensity. It became discolored and spent as it sped back to its source while the Glasduine stood taller than it had before. Something was sprouting from where
los cadejos
had torn off its arm, a bristle of twigs and buds that quickened and grew as she watched.

“We blew it,” Ellie said. She stood so close the words were like a breath in Bettina’s ear.

Though Bettina shook her head, she couldn’t even convince herself. Her
cadejos
continued to rush at the Glasduine but it was much stronger than the little dogs now and it was all they could do to keep it backed up against the wall of the canyon. Ellie’s clay mask was still attached to the creature’s face, the features mobile now, the good humor and warmth of the saguaro that Ellie had infused into it distorted and changing.

What had gone wrong? Bettina had been so sure that they’d found a creative solution rather than a destructive one. That they could heal the Glasduine, turn it from the awful path it had stumbled upon when Donal first called it up. But the healing hadn’t taken. Instead the Glasduine’s dark nature had swallowed the
brujería
of the mask, spoiling it like a cancerous growth as it rampaged through a once-healthy body.

For some things it seemed there was no healing. That realization made the world feel like a smaller place, raising walls where once the view had been unending. Except…

Bettina looked down at her hands.

She’d learned today of the healing gift she’d been given. But such healing required the laying on of hands. And strength. More strength than she had, certainly, but she wasn’t alone here.

“No,” her wolf said as she turned to Ellie.

Oh, he was quick, that one, Bettina thought. He could read her like a tracker read signs.

But she shook off his grip.

“Ellie,” she said. “Will you lend me your
brujería
as you did Aunt Nancy?”

“Bettina, please,” her wolf tried.

Los cadejos
chorused their own protests.

“No good will come of this,” they cried.

“The monster is too strong.”

“You can only flee.”

“We will hold it back as long as we can.”

“But go now.”

“¡Pronto!¡Pronto!”

“We must flee.”

“Do what you must,” she told them. “And so will I. Ellie?” she asked again.

The sculptor gave her a slow nod.

“I understand your fear,” Bettina told her. “I’m scared, too.”

“No, no, no!”
los cadejos
cried.

“You risk your life.”

“You risk your wings.”

“You risk our home.”

Bettina ignored them. She looked to Aunt Nancy.

“I’m not in the kind of league that can handle this sort of thing,” the older woman said, nodding at the monster with her chin, “but you’ve got my support. If I can do anything …”

“Only say the word,”
el lobo
told her.

“You’ve changed your mind?” Bettina asked.

He shook his head. “Not about our chances. But I was never going to walk away and leave you to face this on your own.”

“Count me in, too,” Hunter said. He stood with his arm around Miki whose gaze remained locked on the Glasduine. “Don’t know what use I can be, but…”

Miki finally looked away, turning her anguished gaze to Bettina.

“Just finish it,” she said.

“You can all help,” Bettina told them. “Pray for us. Lend us your hopes and strengths.”

Aunt Nancy nodded. She crossed her arms, making an X of them upon her chest. The shadow of a spider rose up behind her, inclining its head to the shadow of a hawk that lifted its strong features behind Bettina in response to the spider’s appearance.

Anansi,
the hawk said, its voice ringing in all their minds.
You are far from home.

The spider shook its head.
Not I
, it replied.
I am but an echo of my father’s presence.

As am I
, the hawk replied.

“Àngwàizin,”
Aunt Nancy said.

Bettina smiled. Yes, she thought. That was what was needed here. Luck, not power. The borrowed, not the owned. And the reminder that not all the spirits of
la época del mito
stood against them—only this one, and even it was not to blame for the horror it had become.

She reached forward and took Ellie’s hands.

“Hold my shoulders,” she said.

She gave Ellie’s fingers a squeeze, then let go and turned around. Ellie hesitated for a moment, then placed her hands on Bettina’s shoulders and fell in step behind her as Bettina approached the monster.

The Glasduine was twice as large now, barely contained by the wearied
cadejos,
a towering monstrosity that seemed only mildly affected by the pain that had so ravaged it earlier. Its lost arm had partially grown back. Glittering eyes focused their gaze on the two women. The kind smile Ellie had worked into the red clay of the mask twisted into a grin.

At Bettina’s approach,
los cadejos
finally broke from the Glasduine. One by one, they circled the two women, flowing like quicksilver, a shimmering rainbow of colored fur. Then, as they had so many years ago in another part of
la época del mito,
on the slopes below the Baboquivari Mountains, they entered her, vanishing into her torso like ghosts. Spirit dogs, adding their strengths to hers.

Bettina knew a surreal calmness. Her father had told her about it once, how it could come to you when you were in enemy territory and all the odds were against you. You told yourself, I won’t get out of this alive. I am already dead and there is nothing to be gained by worrying over the exact details, the how and when of it happening.

She held the rosary her mother had sent her in one hand, the strand of desert seeds wrapped round and round her palm, the carved cross hanging free. She called on the spirits of the desert, on the saints and the Virgin, to help her with this healing.

The Glasduine grinned hugely. It opened its arms to embrace them, the one arm stunted, the other long, a supple branch. Then lifting from between its legs came a third appendage, knobbed and swollen.

“Oh god, oh god,” Ellie moaned.

The sculptor gripped Bettina’s shoulders too tightly, hands shaking.

But neither the proximity of the Glasduine nor her companion’s fear were able to pierce the calm that had come over Bettina. Part of this was a gift from
los cadejos,
she realized, given to her so that she could face the creature unencumbered by fear, clear-headed, her entire being focused and sure.

Bettina drew on Ellie’s
brujería
and felt the warm pulse of it flow into her. She heard the supportive chants of
los cadejos
echoing deep inside her. The spirits of the desert drew close, the living presence of the aunts and uncles; of coyote, mesquite, and marigold; of cholla, lizard, and mountain lion; of turtle, poppy, and javalina. A hawk’s wings unfolded inside her chest. The soothing voice of St. Martin de Porres, the patron of paranormal powers, seemed to join her own as she sent a silent prayer to the Virgin.

Ave Maria

gratia plena

Dominus tecum

Benedicta tu in mulieribus

et benedictus fructus ventris tui Jesus