The Painted Boy (28 page)

Lupita had been just as helpful. Maybe it was a cousins thing.

“You’re a quick study,” Abuelo said as they worked. “I can feel the heart of your medicine growing stronger and more focused by the moment.”

Jay could, too. The sound of shifting scales was a constant murmur in his mind. Deep in his chest, his
qi
was like a red-hot stream, radiating strength as it centered him.

“My grandmother had me doing exercises like these,” he said, “only she never told me what they were for. And I sure never felt the same intensity in my
qi
before.”

Abuelo gave him a considering look, but all he said was, “I suppose dragons have their own methods of passing on knowledge.”

Then Abuelo showed him how to throw the fire.

“You don’t have to do it the way I do,” he said. “I just like the feeling of throwing something. With your medicine strong and centered, you can simply direct the path of the lightning with your mind.”

But Jay liked the feeling of throwing, too, and soon the sky above the plateau was like a fireworks display. The lightning Jay threw was yellow dragon gold, but Abuelo’s were all the colors of the rainbow.

It was fun, but finally, Abuelo called enough. Jay turned to him, grinning, his face flushed. The more fire he’d thrown into the sky, the stronger the flow of energy inside him had grown. His
qi
. The heart of his medicine. He felt as though he could have kept this up all night and not even begin to be tired.

“So can all of the cousins do this?” Jay asked.

Abuelo shook his head. “It has to be in your nature. Dragons are rare creatures, Jay. Your elemental spirit embraces all the elements. Fire and water, rock and air. You could make the earth shake, call up a wind or a rainstorm, light the sky with your lightning.”

“Can I change into a dragon—you know, the way Lupita can become a jackalope?”

“You can, but it’s probably not a great idea. While you and the dragon are one, it’s still a formidable skin to wear. That big old lizard . . .” He spread his hands. “Without a lot of practice and discipline, the dragon nature can easily rise to the fore and if you don’t keep a firm grip, it doesn’t take much for it to rage out of control.”

“I understand.”

“And remember,” Abuelo went on. “Your enemy will have his own powerful medicines. So be careful when you confront him. The truth is, the only way you can be sure of a quick victory is if you ambush him.”

“I don’t want to kill him. I just want to send him away.”

“You might not have a choice.”

“People keep saying that, but we always have a choice.”

Abuelo nodded. “Just as we can all die. Or the people around us can be hurt.”

“Señora Elena says if I win this by killing El Tigre, the cousins will resent me and I’ll have to prove myself over and over.”

“She’s right,” Abuelo said. “But there are times when we have to act quickly and decisively, or we lose our chance for victory. Surprise is a great ally.”

Jay shook his head. “No, I have to do this right, or not do it at all. I can’t just sneak up behind him and kill him.”

“He would.”

“But I’m supposed to be better than him.” Jay waited a moment, then added, “You could come with me.”

“I don’t think so.”

“But—”

“Remember what I told you. However good my intentions, I always manage to screw it up. Without me at your side, you have a chance of things working out.”

“But you’re already involved. You helped me figure out the dragonfire.”

“I did.”

“So why help me that much?”

Abuelo shrugged. “You want to make a difference and maybe you won’t screw it up. I’ve been away from the world long enough to think it might be possible. But not if I come with you.”

“I’m still going to do this.”

“I know you are. Many people are counting on you.”

“I guess. But I’m doing this for me, too. I think I really do love the desert and the barrio and I want the people who live there to be safe under my protection. I could do this. I have to
know
I can do this.”

Abuelo grinned. “Good for you. You’ve already learned the biggest lesson this situation could teach you.”

Jay shook his head. Did people never stop with saying that kind of thing? But he couldn’t help asking, “Any last advice?”

“Don’t get too cocky. El Tigre hasn’t survived as long as he has by being a pushover.”

“I’ll remember. And thanks for everything. I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t run into you up here and—”

Abuelo held up a hand, cutting him off.

“Don’t thank me until you’ve actually succeeded,” he said. “All I might have done is send you more quickly to your death.”

-
8
-

 

 

 

JAY HAD HOPED
to see Lupita before he reached El Conquistador. But she wasn’t in
el entre
. He couldn’t find her when he stepped back across into the barrio, either. Both Tío’s house and Rosalie’s trailer were dark. The dogs were awake. They sat in a silent line by the fence and watched him as he walked past. He gave them a nod and continued down the dusty street. At the far end of the block, he tried calling Lupita’s name—he kept his voice low, putting as much
intent
as he could into it—but it didn’t make any difference.

He would have liked to have said good-bye to her. To Rosalie, too. To Rosalie and Tío and the friends he’d made through them and the band. And then there was Anna . . .

Considering how things had gone in the parking lot, he supposed they’d already said whatever good-byes they were going to, hadn’t they?

He also wished he could have called his parents, but how could he explain what he was about to do? It wasn’t just the upcoming confrontation with El Tigre and his
bandas
; when Jay tied himself to the barrio and the desert, he would also be giving up everything to do with his past life. Paupau would understand, but Jay was still too upset to want to talk to her.

The desert was the one thing he couldn’t escape here, but he didn’t mind. It called forth something deeper that resonated in him as nothing ever had before.

He could almost feel the land breathing underfoot. No, not breathing so much as radiating its presence with a pulse that felt like a heartbeat. He wasn’t connected to it the way he supposed Señora Elena was, but he found himself walking in time to its slow rhythm all the same. He could understand the depth of its power, even from his place on the outside.

And although he couldn’t tap into that medicine, its rhythm laid an odd calm over him, settling the ever present rustle of scales in his head.

As he neared Camino Presidio, the early dawn light came creeping above the peaks of the mountains where, in the other world, he’d left the stranger who’d called himself Abuelo. But here he was alone, walking down the street like a character in a Western, heading for the shoot-out. All he needed was a six-gun strapped to his hip.

He called up a tiny spark of dragonfire and flicked it at a candy wrapper lying in the dirt. The wrapper vanished in a burst of flame and turned to a smudge of ash.

Jay’s lips twitched with a small, satisfied smile. He had his own built-in six-gun. He just hoped he wouldn’t have to use it.

He was still a couple of blocks away from the pool hall when a dark-skinned man with glossy black hair fell into step beside him. The calm of the desert medicine kept Jay from starting at the man’s sudden appearance; the
ping
of recognition told Jay the stranger was some kind of cousin. He must have come from
el entre
.

The stranger gave him a grin.

“” he asked in Spanish.

Jay nodded. “”

“”

“Guadalupe?” Jay asked.

“”

“” he said.

“I can dig it,” the stranger said, switching to English. “But you know . . .” He laid a closed fist against his chest. “I’m just here to tell you that
los cuervos
have got your back.”

For a moment Jay wondered if the cousins had their own street gangs, but then he realized that the air above them was full of crows. Cousins.

“Thank you,” he said.

“Give ’em hell,” the stranger said.

He grinned again. He lifted his arms straight up, and when he jumped, the man was gone and a crow rose to join its circling companions.

Okay, that was cool, Jay thought. And now that he was paying attention, he felt dozens of little
pings
. There were cousins all around him. He couldn’t see them, but he knew they were there. The little cousins. Birds and insects and rodents. They wouldn’t be much help, but then, he didn’t want them to be. If he was going to take over Señora Elena’s responsibility for this little stretch of desert, he needed to do it on his own.

But it was comforting to have them as witness.

 

 

“We need to get going,” Rosalie said.

Ramon nodded. He and the rest of Malo Malo had spent the last couple of hours setting up their gear on the flatbed trucks. Having hung around with the band for as long as she had, Rosalie knew enough about the stage setup that she could help with the basics—lugging amps and instruments, laying down cable—but fine-tuning was beyond her. She could make no sense out of the arrays of foot pedals or the thicket of wires that went into the soundboard, so at that point she’d pick an out-of-the-way spot to sit and wait, as she did now.

She wondered what kind of a turnout they’d get for an impromptu early morning gig deep in the barrio. The band had put up notices on MySpace and Facebook, and sent the information out through Twitter and to their regular e-mail list. Malo Malo had a loyal fan base, but most people were still asleep and it was a weekday.

“Do you think the
policía
will try to shut us down for playing without a permit?”

Rosalie turned to see Hector’s boyfriend, Conrad, standing beside her. She scooted over a little on the bass drum case she was sitting on to give him room. It was funny, she thought, how she and the other boyfriends and girlfriends of the band referred to Malo Malo with a proprietary “us.”

“I guess it depends on whether anybody complains,” she said.

“That part of the barrio?” Ramon called over. “Nobody calls the cops about anything.”

“It’s the
bandas
we have to worry about,” Chaco said from behind the drum kit. “Nobody has a shit down there without first checking if it’s okay with El Tigre’s lieutenants.”

It was weird seeing Chaco setting up when it should have been Margarita. That especially hardened Rosalie’s resolve about what had to be done.

“That’s why Jay’s going to take care of this,” she said.

Chaco shook his head. “No offense, but I’ve met Jay. He’s a nice guy, but come on.”

“No,” Anna said, surprising Rosalie. “He’s lots more than that.” She caught the look on Rosalie’s face. “Well, he is,” she said. “And he won’t be alone.”

Rosalie nodded, remembering what had happened earlier when they got to the junkyard that Billy’s uncle owned. Car parts had been stacked high on the two flatbeds they were planning to borrow.

“Aw, man,” Luis had said. “It’s going to take us hours to move all that crap.”

Ramon nodded. “So we better get started.”

Except before they could, a handful of tall Indians had come walking out of the desert night. They wore jeans and T-shirts and old cowboy boots and their hair was tied back. None of them seemed much older than teenagers, but they walked with a confident grace that even Ramon couldn’t match onstage. Their eyes were as dark as their hair, and seemed to swallow the light cast from the junkyard spots.

“Guadalupe asked us to give you a hand,” one of them said.

As Hector started to make the sign of the cross, Rosalie smiled, knowing that Hector half believed the saint had spoken to the strangers. But she knew they weren’t Indians. Lupita was a diminutive of Guadalupe, so the men must be her friends. Cousins. Desert spirits, like the little jackalope girl.

“Thank you,” she told them.

The one who’d spoken vaulted easily onto the bed of one of the trucks.

“Where do you want this stuff?” he asked.

“Just over here,” Billy said, pointing to an open stretch of parking lot behind the trucks.

The band members and their friends didn’t even get to pitch in. In what seemed like only moments the strangers carried fenders and engine blocks and other car parts off the trucks without even breaking a sweat.

Rosalie and the others stood staring until the last piece had been removed.

“See you at the pool hall,” one of them said.

Rosalie couldn’t tell them apart. It might have been the first who’d spoken, it might be any of them.

“Yeah,” one of the others said. “Play a kick-ass set!”

And then they melted back into the desert night as silently as they’d come. Rosalie thought she heard the sound of wings and exchanged glances with Ramon.

“Magic,” he mouthed to her, and grinned.

Rosalie smiled now, remembering. The whole world was changing around them, but what surprised her the most was that it didn’t bother her.

Hector stood up from where he was fiddling with the setup for his turntables and laptop. He looked at Rosalie.

“Do you really think those—what did you call them?”