Spirits of Ash and Foam (34 page)

Miranda swallowed hard. “So now … we're going to fight this … this swarm thing?”

“We did okay with Aycayia.”

“Yeah, Aycayia turned out to be misunderstood and nonviolent. And kind of wonderful, really. Is that what you think Mosquito Boy is? Misunderstood? He murdered one guy and nearly killed another.”

“Which is why we have to stop him. I mean, that's why I have to stop him.” She looked at her two friends and realized she was actively putting them in danger. She didn't want that. After what nearly happened with the Kimlets, she
definitely
didn't want that. “But you guys don't need to be there when it goes down.”

“You trying to ditch me?” Charlie asked.

“I'm trying to keep you safe.”

“Oh, like last time. With Callahan and the plane and everything? You really think you can deal with this alone?”

“I won't be alone. You know that.”

“Who's Callahan? What plane?”

Rain groaned. She looked from Charlie to Miranda and said, “Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I could use help with the research. Help figuring out where the
zemi
is and how to use it. No one'll get hurt doing that. The rest…”

“We'll burn our bridges as we go,” Charlie said. He sounded slightly angry.
Sometimes,
Rain thought,
I just don't understand him. He never wanted to be part of this craziness in the first place!
She shook her head involuntarily.

The ferry docked. The kids disembarked. Constable Thibideaux and Sycorax security guard Jimmy Kwan were watching the Vector Control people set mosquito traps at intervals along the pier. Thibideaux, who'd been supervising this rather dull activity since daybreak, spotted Rain, Charlie and Miranda heading for the Old Manor, and the thought crossed his mind that the three of them had been on the fringe of every odd crisis he'd been called in to investigate over the last couple of weeks. Jean-Marc Thibideaux didn't like coincidences and thought that when he had a few minutes to spare, it might pay to have another talk with those kids. Then one of the mainlanders asked him a question, and he turned to answer.

Soon enough, the kids were back in Mr. Guerrero's study, trying to maximize their time by working three sources at once. Rain was skimming more of Pablo's books, Miranda was on her smartphone, and Charlie was using the laptop on the desk, as each searched among a long list of topics: the Taíno, their legends, their
zemis,
vampires, mosquitoes, even malaria—since Rain figured that like Dr. Strauss, other scientists might have mistaken otherworldly events for malarial symptoms.

Not having much luck, Charlie said, “Could really use Phil's help right about now.”

Miranda looked up from her phone. “Phil's your oldest brother?”

“Youngest. He's like the Internet whisperer. No, he's the World Wide Web Whisperer. We call him W-4.”

Rain rolled her eyes at him. “We do not.”

“We should, though. I may start.”

Rain shook her head, laughed and turned another page. She spotted something intriguing and read aloud, “‘The Taíno traced their descent through the female line back to a female ancestress.'” She looked up. “Does that help?”

Miranda shrugged. “It's empowering. Kinda.”

Charlie grumbled, “I've got to get some guy friends.” Then he perked up. “It says here that if a vampire encounters a pile of rice, he's
compelled
to count every grain. We should get some rice.”

“I'm sure we have rice in the kitchen,” Miranda said. “But would that work on a Taíno mosquito-vamp or just the regular Transylvania Dracula kind?”

“Don't know,” he said, “but, hey, the Taíno aren't the only ones with mosquito-vamps. The West African vampire's also associated with mosquitoes … or, um, fireflies. It's called an
adze
.”

“You're an
adze
,” Rain said from behind her book. She couldn't resist.

“
Adze. A-d-z-e.
”

Miranda said, “I bet a firefly vampire's pretty. Bet it sparkles.”

Charlie put in, “Hey, when we get the rice, can we get some garlic, too?”

“My dad loves garlic. I'm sure we've got a ton.”

“Vamps hate garlic for some reason. If I were a vampire, I still think I'd hate anchovies more than garlic.”

“Wait,” Miranda said. She studied her phone. Then, “The ancient Egyptians used garlic to protect themselves from malaria, and the pharaohs slept under mosquito nets.” She looked up at Rain. “I think you were right. Mosquito-vamps and malaria have walked hand in hand for like centuries.”

Rain smiled, feeling quite self-satisfied.

Charlie stood and stretched. It was getting close in the room, and he was getting sleepy. He crossed to the French doors and opened them to let in a late afternoon breeze. Then he sat down behind the computer again.

They were quiet for a time. Surfing, skimming, reading. It had gotten very easy between them. Relaxed. Miranda was studious by nature. Charlie had to work at it more but could take pleasure in the process once he sank his teeth in. The surprise was Rain. She had never been one to enjoy perusing a book—for work or pleasure—but perhaps all she needed was the proper motivation. And a killer swarm of mosquitoes paired with her own destiny as Searcher and Healer seemed to be doing the trick. Silently, she read more about the Taíno, new details mixing in with old, and was fascinated by a culture that resonated for her deeply …

The word
taíno
means good or noble.

The
Nitaino
were the nobility of the Taíno, and the
naborii
were the commoners, but slavery was unknown.
Caciques—
who could be either male or female—were tribal chiefs.
Bohiques—
also known as
behiques
or
bohutí
or
buhuithus—
were healers and shamans.

The Taíno lived in large multifamily homes.
Sort of like the Nitaino Inn,
Rain thought. There were two kinds of houses: the rectangular cane variety and the round or oval
bohio,
which had high-pitched conical roofs.

Zemis or cemís
were spirit-gods or icons of the same, infused with the spirit-god's power and stored in the home of the
cacique.

Public plazas were used for the
areyto
ritual dance, for recording astronomical events and for the Taíno ball game,
batey.

There was competition, even war, between Taíno
cacicazgos
—or chiefdoms—prior to the arrival of the Spanish, after which everything changed …

From the other side of the large room, Miranda, who had been wandering back and forth with her phone, perked up. “The Taíno drum was called the
mayohuacan,
and their flute was the
baijo
.”

Charlie looked up from the laptop. “That's what you and I play in orchestra.”

“Kinda. Listen. There's a lot here about
baijos.
They were played to declare love or to announce the return of a hunting party or to summon guests for a feast. The
baijo
was said to weep or talk, and the sacred flutes granted power to women or men—they could even summon the stars.”

Rain and Miranda looked at each other. Something was tickling simultaneously at their memories. Rain put her book back in its place on the shelf. Miranda slipped her phone into the pocket of her shorts. They both approached the wall of
zemis
on either side of the door to the great room.

There were two thick, carved, bleached driftwood flutes on exhibit against the wall. Once again, Rain felt her left arm tingle. Once again, the eyes of the Searcher snake briefly flared with blue light. But this time when Rain reached for the bat with folded wings, Miranda didn't try to stop her; she was too busy picking up the owl-flute herself. Each girl turned her flute over in her hands. Miranda even tried blowing into the owl and played a few pretty notes. Rain stared at the bat and then at her snakes, hoping for some revelation: for her Searcher snake to glow again or for her mind to suddenly open to the
zemi
's power. Nothing quite that obvious occurred. Rain and Miranda looked at each other—then traded flutes. Rain held the owl, and still no great epiphany came. Miranda tried blowing into the bat-flute, but this time no sound came out.

“This is odd,” she said. “You can't play this flute.”

“Maybe there's something stuck inside?”

“No. It's not that. The holes are in the wrong place. None run the length of the flute. They go side to side. And this hole at the top doesn't connect up to the others. I can't figure it out.”

Charlie said, “I can't see from here.”

The two girls turned and held up the bat and the owl.

Charlie searched
bat
first and started reading off a couple items of mild interest. “Bats are associated with vampires, because vampires can transform into bats.”

Miranda frowned. “That's so circular.”

Charlie ignored her. “Bats are nocturnal and active in twilight.”

“That's when mosquitoes are most active, too,” Rain said. “In twilight, I mean. So the two kinds of vampires can team up.”

“I dunno. Could be they're more rivals than teammates,” Charlie said. “This says little brown bats—the kind we have on the Ghosts—eat up to twelve hundred mosquitoes per night.”

“Great,” Rain said. “So all we need to do is bring rice, garlic and vampire bats to the hunt.”

“Little brown bats,” Charlie corrected. “Not vampire bats.”

Miranda said, “I think there's another bat
zemi
over here.” Still holding the unplayable bat-flute, she crossed to examine the wooden spear. The carved bat-shaped stone spearhead could have been the flute's smaller brother. They were stylistically the same. Miranda slid her hand along the two long leather sinews that hung down from the spearhead. She lifted the ends of the two cords and studied them. She held the flute up to the light. “Hmm,” she said.

Rain returned the owl to its home on the wall and said, “What?” But she was already feeling something stir. The music of the
areyto
was back, playing in her head with such strength she had to glance over at Charlie to confirm he wasn't on the Web site.

“These go together,” Miranda said.

“Maybe they depict the same spirit-god,” Charlie said.

“No. I mean, yeah. They're the same spirit-god, the same
zemi.
” And Rain knew before Miranda could say out loud, “They're
one zemi.
” She handed the bat-flute to Rain, who held it up, allowing Miranda to thread the sinew through the useless hole at the top.

Charlie came around the desk to join them. Miranda knotted the threaded cord to the other sinew. Rain lifted the spear off the wall. The flute hung soundly by the cords, halfway down the length of the shaft. Rain's Searcher snake glowed again—and this time the glow maintained.
The second
zemi.
It was here. All the time. But in two pieces and too weak to fully register with the snake
.
The “roll of quarters” shape we've been looking for is the base of the spear! It'll fit perfectly into the Cache's second slot!

So there was her epiphany. Shame it arrived a minute too late.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

RIGHT PLACE, WRONG TIME

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 18

All three teens had lost track of time. The sun had set. Night had fallen. 'Bastian emerged from the armband.

But before the ghost could say boo, the mosquitoes poured in through the open French doors. Miranda began to scream, but her cry was choked off as a portion of the swarm attacked her, many flying right into her open mouth. Charlie faired no better; the insects were all around him, biting and sucking viciously.

But the vast majority of Mosquito Boy's …
totality
descended upon Rain. She held the bat-spear-flute-
zemi,
but it provided no protection. Her own Healer snake glowed—but even its power couldn't keep up with the bugs' assault.

All three kids swatted at the insects—and squashed a great many. There was mashed bug and the resulting tiny bloodstains on their skin and their clothes. And more mosquitoes every second.

Miranda did an old-fashioned stop, drop and roll, perhaps hoping she could snuff out the mosquitoes like a flame. But this was a spirit from beyond the fire. He—it—they—were ash, alighting on everything, impossible to escape and everywhere at once.

Charlie tried to run to the French doors to shut them, but a wall of bugs forced him back.

And no one was more ineffectual than 'Bastian. All his feelings of impotence, of powerlessness, of uselessness seemed to culminate in that moment, as he tried to swat at bugs that passed right
through
his hands. He couldn't help these children. All he could do was watch.

As if to emphasize the point, a segment of the swarm seemed to coalesce into the form and shape of a small boy, buzzing with a kind of contemptuous laughter that chilled all four of them down to their souls.

Rain tried to pull her mind together, to think of what they could do.
Water! Water saved me and Isaac!
But they were too far from the ocean. She didn't even think they could make it to the hot tub.
But it's our only chance!

But before she could move or even articulate the plan, Charlie choked out, “Rain, use the
zemi
!”

She yelled back, “It's not doing anything!” Every word allowed more of the creature into her mouth.

“It's a spear! Throw it!”

She had been holding it straight up and down and suddenly felt horrifically foolish. She pulled it straight back over her head, but the spearhead was facing the wrong way—it pointed back toward the wall—and the mosquitoes were still biting, still draining her lifeblood via hundreds of tiny wounds. She had to change her grip without dropping the spear—more difficult than it sounds, given the nature of the
Hupia
's attack. She wound up twirling it in her hand, so that the point faced outward. The flute hanging loosely from the cords whipped around, emitting a short high-pitched whistle. She lifted it high over her head, brandishing it, ready to throw. About to throw.