Spirits of Ash and Foam (39 page)

“Don't talk like that,” she said.
Why do old people
insist
on talking about their own deaths?

He waved the thoughts away. “Was anyone hurt?” he asked, touching her right arm and the few mosquito-bite scabs that her overworked snake charm had not quite gotten around to healing—at least in part because she wouldn't stop scratching.

“We're all fine.”

Next, he gingerly touched the flute, dangling from the spearhead, as if he thought the bat carved upon it might actually bite. “And he's really gone?”

“Forever.”

Naborías tilted her head down and kissed its crown, much as Wendy had done the previous morning. “Thank you, Cousin Rain. You bring joy to an old man's heart.” Then he rubbed the back of his hand roughly across his forehead, streaking the
bija
. He smiled. His teeth looked very white between dark red lips. “You hungry?”

“Starved,” she said. “I didn't really have time to finish lunch.”

They left the Old Synagogue together and walked to the taco cart outside the
catedral.
Isaac paid. He insisted.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

WHAT REMAINS

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 19

“So I know you can't see him, but this is my grandfather, Sebastian Bohique. He's a ghost.”

Miranda stared and then squinted in the direction Rain was looking but, as predicted, saw nothing.

“You don't have to try so hard,” Charlie said. “I can't see him either.”

Rain said, “He says hello.”

“Or hear him,” Charlie said.

Miranda said, “Hello, sir,” in 'Bastian's general direction.

'Bastian smiled. It was odd being formally introduced to someone he'd already spent so much time with.
Then again, what isn't odd about all this?

While waiting for the sun to set—and for 'Bastian to emerge—Rain and Charlie had used the time to fill Miranda in on everything that had happened over the previous fifteen days, starting with 'Bastian's gift to Rain of the first
zemi
—right up through a fuller explanation of what Miranda had herself witnessed the night before. They tried very hard to leave nothing out, constantly supplementing each other's points of view. It had, on occasion, been a challenge to get the words out—even to those who had lived through it, the events all sounded so preposterous, so fantastic, when spoken aloud—but Miranda had seen enough over the past week to believe anything. If they had told her Martians were landing, I'm quite certain she'd have bought that, too.

Rain looked around the N.T.Z. to confirm they were still alone. It was about 7:30
P.M.,
and since no other locals had shown up to see the sunset, she figured they had a good hour at least before anyone would journey up to start their weekend. Parties did tend to spontaneously erupt in the N.T.Z., but rarely before nine or ten.

Satisfied, she held the bat-spear out to 'Bastian, who truly liked having it in his ectoplasmic hand. It felt comfortable there. It felt right, and he felt strong holding it. Rain slid the snake charm from her arm and approached the sandstone slab at the cliff's edge. Charlie followed her; Miranda followed him, and 'Bastian followed all three. Miranda glanced back to see the spear and flute float after them. She shook her head involuntarily.

Rain knelt and pushed the vines out of the way of the circular indentation in the rock. On either side of her, Charlie and Miranda crouched for a closer look. 'Bastian stood behind them. Rain placed her armband in the circle, twisted and removed it. She and 'Bastian watched the blue glow envelop the entire slab, and all four of them saw it slide aside. Miranda knew what was coming but nevertheless was caught off guard enough to lose her balance, falling back on her butt. She was wearing a short skirt and immediately wished she had chosen shorts this morning, but she forgot her embarrassment as soon as the slab revealed the stone steps leading below.

Rain turned to Miranda and said, “Welcome to the Cache.” Then she nodded to Charlie to lead Miranda and 'Bastian down. Rain came last, pausing just inside the entrance to use her snake charm on the interior “keyhole” and seal the entrance behind them. Miranda, who had turned on her phone's flashlight app, watched this with a sense of dread, unable to shake the feeling they were trapped in Aladdin's cave or whatever. She had thoughts of coming out again and finding a century had passed. Frankly, she had a lot of random dark fantasies in quick succession, but really who could blame her?

It was a tight squeeze, but Rain slid past the others to take the lead. They descended single file, Rain, Charlie, Miranda and 'Bastian. Torches flared to life as Rain silently passed. Miranda gave a short yelp at the first one but composed herself quickly and tried to be nonchalant from that point.

They emerged into the Cache, and more torches lit in succession around the chamber, brightening the stone walls and enriching them with a large population of shadows. Rain turned to Miranda once again and said, “Okay,
now
, welcome to the Cache.”

The others patiently watched Miranda walk around. She looked at the nine thrones; she looked up at the high stone ceiling and across the open terrace at the spectacular view. A crescent moon reflected off the ocean while a cool breeze danced through the chamber. Miranda turned to face the stone shelf and the charred Spanish writing on the wall. Rain, who knew it by heart at this point, had already told her what it said, but Miranda silently read and translated the original message for herself.

Finally, she turned back to them and said, “What now?”

Rain shrugged. “Now we hope we got it right.” She crossed to the shelf and placed the Searcher/Healer
zemi
in the first slot. Then she turned and held out her hand to 'Bastian.

For some reason, he was reluctant to give her the spear.
But that's ridiculous. She's the Searcher.
He handed it over, and Rain carefully placed it in that second roll-of-quarters slot. The bottom of the spear slid in easily and fit perfectly. Nice and snug. Rain heard the music of the
areyto
again in her head, and she was hardly the only one.

All four watched the two
zemis
glow hotter and hotter. Rain stepped back as if from an oven or blazing fireplace. The glow expanded, washing over the entire shelf and then up the wall behind it. The wall burst into flame. Our quartet flinched and blinked as the light flared, too bright for even 'Bastian's ghostly eyes.

By the time they could see again clearly, what remained was flaming letters that moved as if alive. Rain didn't even try to read the words yet—though she felt them buzzing through her head. Slowly the flames burned out, leaving behind black, charred words and a new message in easily legible Spanish:

BIEN HECHO, BUSCADORA.

HAS ENCONTRADO EL SEGUNDO ZEMI. HAS ENCONTRADO EL SEGUNDO DE LOS NUEVE. EL PROTECTOR DE LOS TAÍNOS.

AHORA DEBES ENCONTRAR EL TERCER ZEMI. EL CONSEJO LO HA DEJADO EN ESTA ISLA. POR LO TANTO ES AQUÍ DONDE DEBES BUSCAR EL TERCERO DE LOS NUEVE.

RECUERDA, LLUVIA, EL TIEMPO ES CORTO. PERO TENEMOS FE EN TI. HEMOS PUESTO NUESTRO FE EN TI. Y TODAS NUESTRAS ESPERANZAS DE CURAR Y SANAR LA HERIDA DE LOS FANTASMAS.

BUENA SUERTE.

Charlie studied the words. He felt pretty certain he understood the first few sentences, but he didn't know the words
debes
or
consejo
or
dejado
and soon lost confidence he was getting any of it at all. He waited patiently as the other three read and translated for themselves. Rain was mouthing the words, a trait he found endearing. Then he realized he was staring at her lips and quickly looked away. He waited a little longer and a little longer still. Finally, he groused, “Next mystic quest, I want the messages in French.”

This snapped Rain out of her reverie, and she attempted to translate. “It says, ‘Well done, Searcher. You have found the second
zemi.
You have found the second of nine. The Protector of the Taíno.'”

'Bastian tilted his head to admire the spear and flute: “So it's called the Protector
zemi
.” He liked that.

Rain went on, “It says, “Now you must find the third
zemi.
The Council has left it on this island. So here you must find the third of nine.'”

Miranda said, “You didn't mention a
consejo,
a council.”

“This is the first we've heard of it,” Charlie said—and then, unsure, “Right?”

Rain and 'Bastian answered in unison, “Right.”

“Okay, go on,” Charlie said.

But Rain hesitated before reading the next bit. She exchanged looks with Miranda and 'Bastian. Then she swallowed hard and said, “‘Remember, Rain, time is short.'”

“It doesn't say Rain,
”
Charlie scoffed.
That's a word I'd have recognized.

Miranda said, “
Lluvia
is the Spanish word for rain.”

“Wait,” Charlie said, “Wait, wait, wait. This Council … they're calling you …
by name
?”

Rain nodded.

“Is this like an auto-feature for whoever turns out to be the Searcher, or did they … know?”

She shook her head. “I don't know.”
Except I do. If this were automatic, the wall would call me Rain. But somehow the Council sensed me without fully understanding the English word.
Lluvia
was the best—the closest—they could come up with. However many centuries ago, they knew the Searcher would be me.

For some reason, the ramifications of this freaked them all out as much as anything that had come before. Personally, I would have thought it reassuring—a
we knew what we were doing
kinda thing—but humans love to overcomplicate.

Miranda recovered first and took the liberty of finishing up. “‘Remember, Rain, time is short. But we have faith in you. We have placed our faith in you and all our hopes for curing and healing the wound in the Ghosts. Good luck.'”

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

FLAME AND SURF

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 19

The same moon Miranda had seen from the Cache was shining down through clear skies on the
Bootstrap,
which maintained position at specific G.P.S. coordinates in the Florida Straits. Thursday night, Callahan had—without knowing it, of course—led the ghost of Milo Cash onto the cruiser, where it was anchored off Punta Majagua. Just before dawn, the Pale Tourist had watched the big Australian weigh anchor and prepare to leave. Cash, knowing he was about to dematerialize for the day, had been afraid he'd return to find himself stranded in the middle of Back Bay with no
Bootstrap
or Callahan in sight. So he had been quite relieved to materialize aboard ship at sunset in this new location.
Good to know. Long as I'm on this dinghy before the sun comes up, Callahan's stuck with me.

Otherwise, he hadn't really accomplished much yet, haunting-wise. He'd followed Callahan up and down the length of the boat, down into the cabin and back on deck, all multiple times, but Callahan was blissfully unaware of his old business associate's presence. Despite the boredom, Cash was at a loss as to how—or whether he ought—to change the situation. Still, he had nothing but time to figure it out.

Callahan now waited on deck, turning the bat-jar
zemi
over and over in his hands. He was beginning to wonder if he was being ripped off. Beginning to obsess over it, actually. He had given up the first
zemi
—the armband—for 50K. But for all he knew, it was worth twice that. Now he was about to make the same trade with the gourd. It didn't look like much, but what if there was something valuable inside?
Those kids warned me not to open it. But it's not like they're watching out for my welfare …

So to Cash's horror, Callahan opened the jar.

Nothing flew out. Callahan pulled a small flashlight out of his pocket and shone it inside the gourd. He saw damp ashes and traces of seafoam. Cash breathed a sigh of relief. (Or would have, if he still had breath.) But Callahan growled in disappointment, coming to the not quite rational conclusion that the teens were messing with him.

Another boat was approaching. Callahan resealed the jar.

However, at that exact moment, my attention was drawn to the approach of heels on cobblestone. I looked up from my vision of the ocean to find Hurricane-Santa-Julia-Guanayoa-
Hura-hupia
-First-Witch drawing near. She wore one of her more visually pleasant guises—though that didn't help her scent.

Of course, Maq wasn't smelling too fresh at the moment either. He was Dumpster-diving once again behind the Plaza del Oro Mall. It's shallow of me, I know, but I couldn't help wishing his behavior was slightly more dignified in front of the enemy.

Julia stopped before the bin, waited and then cleared her throat.

“Stop barking at me, Opie,” Maq said from deep within the Dumpster—though I'm fairly certain he knew it wasn't me.

“It's not the dog,” she said angrily.

He popped his head out. “No. Apparently not. ‘The dog' has a better disposition.”

She looked down at me. I pointedly yawned, opening my mouth as wide as possible, showing my teeth.

“What can I do for you,
Hura-hupia
?” Maq asked.

She winced at the appellation, then took a deep breath and said, “
You
summoned
me.
”

“Did I? Why, yes, I suppose I did.”

They looked at each other. I looked back and forth from her to him to her again, as if observing the world's dullest tennis match.

“Well?” she asked, finally.