Jemez Spring (23 page)

The blade hung in the air, caught in that instant in that space of twelve o' clock, the exact equinox moment when the sun teetered on the edge of yes or no, the time on Sonny's broken wristwatch that at least twice a day was correct.

A banging at the door shattered the silence. Raven cocked his head at the loud thumping. Help was on the way.

Someone shouted Sonny's name.

Raven paused. Noetic justice, he whispered.

Sonny heard, neurotic justice.

We need to plan another meeting, Raven said. He knew that sparing Sonny meant sparing himself.

Name the place, Sonny answered.

The movie house. I have things to show you. A new technology that creates dreams.

I'll be there.

The banging rattled the door.

Someone knocking at the door reminds me of a poem, Raven said. He looked at Sonny with a raven's cold eyes, always the teasing trickster. I set sail for Burque where I make my deals. The dream, or nightmare if you prefer, continues. See you at the movies!

And he was off in a flutter of dark wings.

I'll see you in hell, was all Sonny could muster.

15

The door of the hut opened with a rush of wind, and the hinges, forged long ago by a Mexican smith at the Estancia de Las Golondrinas near Santa Fe, tore away from their rusty nails, screaming, “Heeeee's gaaawn! Heeeee's gaawn!”

Lorenza rushed in, followed by Augie with his state trooper service revolver drawn. Just like the movies, and just as in the movies the dark shadow of Raven disappeared, leaving in its wake the smell of cobwebs.

Lorenza, who had been with Sonny through the travails and paralysis of the shaman winter, was instantly at his side.

“Dios mío!” she cried.

Sonny nodded toward Raven's tracks on the dusty floor.

Outside in the owl light filtering through the bare cottonwood branches a huge flock of muttering crows rose into the air. Augie, with drawn pistol, dashed out the back door.

“You're hurt,” she said, looking at the bruise on Sonny's forehead.

“I'm okay. Untie me.”

Lorenza looked down at Sonny's hands. “You're not tied.”

Sonny thought for a moment, then brought his hands from behind his back and rubbed his wrists. He was sure he had been tied, but he knew enough of Raven's powers to suspect hypnosis. A very strong type of hypnotic aura, perhaps stronger than dream, came from the deepest recesses of the mind-soul bearing Raven's eternal message: I'm going to give you some of your own medicine, confusing both essence and the body's nervous system.

“Raven,” she said.

“Yes. And you?”

“I waited for you. I ran into Augie outside. Why is he here?”

“I'll explain later. How did the meeting go?”

“It didn't last long. There's an agreement to stop Dominic. Code name, 1680. What's going on, Sonny?”

“Augie's covering for Dominic's group, I'm sure. I just don't know how deep he is. Anyway, thanks. You got here in time.”

He tried to stand but felt wobbly.

“Sit still awhile,” she said. “Let me look at your eye.”

Dressed in jeans and turtleneck sweater, Lorenza looked like Rita's double, as beautiful a native Nuevomexicana as walked the valley. Before her earthly beauty the sylph, who now was cursed to remain in the breeze that caressed the highest tree branches, rose and disappeared with a sigh. Her cards tumbled down on the dirt floor. One fell face up: the Fool.

Raven's last message. He was rubbing it in. Raven had led him by the nose as a bull is led by a ring, made him walk right into a kind of waking dream. Dream or not, the bruise above his left eye was real.

“Who hit you?” she asked.

“I don't know,” Sonny stammered. And he didn't. Someone had shot at him from a distance, but whoever hit him over the head had been close by.

“Did you see José?” he asked.

“No. Is he here?”

Sonny nodded. “He came with me—”

“Say nothing to Augie. The police are looking for him.” She looked out the door where Augie had exited.

She held his head back and peeled up his eyelid. Her owl eyes peered deep into the light cells.

Her body smelled of sweet herbs. Her gentle touch seemed to move into his skull, then down along his spine. He relaxed, knowing she possessed the power of healing.

“It didn't cut the skin, but it's going to swell and close your eye.”

She took a small bottle from her curandera pouch and touched a drop of the contents to the bruise. The pain eased away.

“Gracias,” he said. She had the healing powers of the owl in her.

“You know the story of Horus,” she said as she held a handkerchief to his eye.

“Yeah, the guardian son who while avenging his father lost one eye in a battle with his uncle. Funny you should mention it; I've been thinking of that story today. But it doesn't apply to me.”

“Every story taking place in your mind's eye applies,” she corrected him.

Yes, she was right. A man carried a bag full of stories. The winged eye was one such primal image. Horus was the falcon god of the ancient Egyptians. Was there a falcon god in the Indian pueblos of New Mexico? There were eagle dancers who in feathered costumes imitated the eagle so gracefully that they transported the viewer into a world in which man became the mediator between the gods and the earth's people. But, no, there were no gods like Horus in the pueblos. Perhaps someday a storyteller would write a poem for Isis, and such a thing would come to pass.

In his metempsychotic dreams Sonny had wandered along the banks of the Nile with his brothers, Osiris and Seth. He understood the Egyptian pantheon, and its stories reached even the shores of the Rio Grande.

“Did you talk to Rita?”

“Yes. She's all right. It's you I worry about.”

Sonny knew Lorenza was soul-sister to Rita. Even the preacher Ezekiel, he who had been transported into the realm of God in a flying saucer, knew the power of soul-sisters.

“He took the Zia medallion.”

“Damn!” she cursed. “We came too late.”

“Not your fault, I walked into it.”

I'm sorry, the old man said from the corner where he sat in quilted shadows.

Not your fault either, Sonny replied. He struggled to understand what had happened. He had walked into Raven's circle totally unprepared. And it wasn't just the blow to the forehead that had him off balance. Raven was working a strange new medicine. Would it be possible to enter Raven's night world and rescue Rita's child? The feeling of impotence overwhelmed him.

“What now?” Lorenza asked, stooping to retrieve the dream-catcher.

“Get it back—”

“Sonny, that's a bad blow you got. You're not—”

“Able,” he said, standing. “I'm okay.”

He felt uncoordinated. But he had no choice. Raven had thrown the gauntlet. Dared Sonny to go to him. Now he had the Zia medallion. The solar disk. The same symbol carved on a Babylonian stone, twelve centuries before the birth of Christ.

“He wants you like this,” Lorenza said. “Weak—Let me go with you.”

“This time it's just the two of us,” he replied. “I'd feel better if you checked on Rita.”

He felt lousy. Stumbling into too many incidents. Unprepared. And the old man seemed unable to help. But why dump his chagrin on the old man? He just had to plant his feet more firmly.

He walked to the boulder Raven claimed was the Zia Stone and kicked it. The soft tufa stone crumbled.

“He never quits.”

He can't, the old man said. It's his nature. He loves to play games.

“Yeah, except the bomb on the mountain isn't a game.”

“You bet it isn't,” said Augie, entering, pistol in hand. “Nothing out there but a flock of crows. Went up in the air like a black cloud.”

“What in the hell are you doing here?” Sonny asked.

“Hey, that's a bad bruise you got there. What happened?”

“How did you find me?”

“I followed you.”

“To take a shot at me!”

“Shoot you? Why the hell would I—Hey, you're really mixed up. You're not well—”

“Let me check your pistol!” Sonny challenged him.

Augie looked at his pistol, then at Sonny. He shook his head. “Against regulations,” he said, smiling. “If it goes off, you might be dead. I'd lose my job. The force doesn't like messy cops.”

The two men gauged each other, then Augie's smile turned to a grin. He tossed the pistol for Sonny to catch.

Sonny smelled the barrel. “It hasn't been fired.”

“God no,” a very satisfied Augie chortled. “Only time I get to fire this baby is on the range. You don't think I'd take a pot shot at you, do you?”

“So why here?” Sonny handed him the pistol.

“I saw your truck leave the drive-in and followed.”

“Why?”

“Hell, Sonny, you're driving into the bosque with a wanted felon in your truck and you're asking why I followed?”

“José? A felon?”

“Yup, one José Calabasa. We got him on a misdemeanor. Threatened to blow up Cochiti Dam. He's with those so-called
Green
Indians. Troublemakers is what they are. He was in the Bernalillo jail last night—”

“José?”

“That's right. Broke out early this morning. Hell, everybody breaks out of the Bernalillo jail. He headed up 550. Where did you meet him?”

“Never mind. Have you talked to anyone on the mountain?”

“Nope. I know what you know. It's ticking. Hey, let the lab boys handle that. What I've got is a lot more interesting.” He turned to Lorenza. “Nice meeting you. Sorry I couldn't be of more help. But when this thing blows over maybe I can call you.”

Lorenza picked up the Fool's card from the floor and handed it to Augie. “Maybe.”

He looked at the card. “Yeah, right.” He stalked out the door.

Sonny and Lorenza followed him outside. They watched the police car disappear down the dusty road.

“Safe to come out?” José asked, coming from behind a thick tamarisk clump, pistol tucked in his belt. “Whatju find?”

“What do you mean what did I find?” Sonny retorted.

“Did you see Raven?”

“Did you?”

“Saw a flock of crows. Guess he flew.” Looking at Lorenza, “Did you tell him?”

“Yes.”

“So what now?”

“Who sent you to find me?”

“I did,” Lorenza said. “José's on our side. Yes, he was in jail, but the charges are ridiculous. Intimidation. It's Augie doing Dominic's dirty work.”

Sonny nodded. The professor had fingered Augie, saw him coming out of the Bath House, but admitted the light was dim; he only thought the man looked like Augie.

“It's a big conspiracy,” José said, “but you can't go to the attorney general with a conspiracy theory.”

“Yeah.” Sonny agreed. The whole thing was murky. Let the good cops find out who murdered the governor. Still, he had a bad feeling that Naomi was in danger. Both the governor and Naomi knew the fringes of Dominic's plan. When the governor backed out, they drowned him. And Raven was playing all sides.

Chica! He would go after Chica!

He turned and sprinted up the dirt path to the truck. The door was open, and Chica was gone.

He looked into the bosque and shouted “Chiiii-ca!” But he knew Raven had struck. Four black feathers rested by the door.

“Damn!”

Other black feathers fluttered in the tree branches, droppings of the whirlwind of crows.

“He took the dog,” José said. “Why?”

“To get at Sonny,” Lorenza answered.

“I don't have much time,” Sonny said, jumping into his truck.

“You better take this.” José handed him the pistol.

Sonny tossed the pistol in the glove compartment.

“I'll go by Rita's,” Lorenza offered. “You take care—”

“I will,” he replied. “You?” he asked José.

“Lorenza can drop me off. Hey, Sonny, I'm sorry. I should have stayed by the truck.”

“I'll find her,” Sonny said. He started the truck and screeched out of the bosque, following the road back to Bernalillo.

He sped through town and took the old Camino Real to Alburquerque, thinking, the old man is right. I've made too many mistakes. Not thinking straight. But I'm not going to rest till I get that sonofabitch.

Overhead, in the clear spring light of the equinox a swirling cloud of birds swooped over the bosque, and Sonny thought he heard Raven's laugh echo up the slope of the mountain.

But as confused as he felt, he now knew Raven's plan. The events of the day were falling into place. Raven wanted respect, if only momentarily. He would meet with the mayor and the Los Alamos Labs director and promise to clear up everything. The Al Qaeda operative had been planted as the fall guy. The events of the day meant everything had been orchestrated to draw Sonny into Raven's net.

Half a mile from Tramway Boulevard Sonny swerved, the truck skidded sideways, and he brought it to a stop on the shoulder of the road.

A turtle, probably finished with its winter hibernation, had pushed its head up from the riverbed of damp earth and rotting leaves, smelled spring in shoots of grass, and was once again alerted by its reptilian brain. Arise and rumble! Its nature and the mud-ooze of the hidden waters called it to make time. Time to eat and procreate. Spring had dug its fingers of renewal into the flesh beneath the skin of earth.

Sonny jumped out of the truck and ran back to the turtle, which had been sideswiped by a car.

He picked up the wounded creature tenderly, and hot yellow pee squirted out of the shell, a sure sign of trauma. He held it and then slowly the four leathery feet and the small, green head came out of the shell.

From a scratch on one foot oozed a dark green liquid, just starting to form a crust. Although the acrid smell of turtle blood still hung in the air, its sodden, burnished shell had saved it from the blow of the car, which had hurtled it through a space it had not anticipated. The green fragrance of the river shone in the turtle's sad eyes, a plea for help.