Shaman Rises

Chapter Thirty-Two

Morrison’s living room floor was not drafty. That was really the first thing I thought when I woke up. My living room floor was drafty as hell, but Morrison’s was comfortably warm.

So was his lap, which my head and shoulders were resting in. I opened my eyes to smile at him, and saw the shimmer of magic beyond him. A power circle, or, really, a power dome. The sweat lodge I’d seen, inside. Somehow that surprised me. I hadn’t expected it to have a real-world physicality at all, even if Dad and Grandfather Coyote had both been there.

They were both here, too, kneeling on either side of me and Morrison. I looked at their three faces, then grinned. Morrison, with his blue eyes, fair skin and prematurely silver hair, looked very white-bread between the two Native American men. I could only imagine that if I could see all four of us, me with my dark gold tan playing up my Cherokee heritage, he would look even more white-bread. He saw me smile and returned it, upside down from my angle. “What’s so funny? We’re not doing anything.”

“What do you mean ‘we,’ white man? Nothing.” I slid a hand upward and pulled him down for a kiss.

He grunted and, when I let him go, muttered, “I’m going to have to start practicing yoga if you’re going to do that kind of thing a lot.”

The idea of Morrison practicing yoga made me grin again. “If I’m going to kiss you often? Better break out the yoga mat, boss.”

“If you’re going to wrench me around upside down for kisses,” he said loftily, but the loftiness faded almost instantly into relieved concern. “You look better.”

“I feel better.” Morrison helped me sit up and I did what I had done when I’d entered: reached for Grandfather Coyote’s hands. This time I succeeded, clasping fingers with him and feeling the fragility in thinning flesh and old bones. “Thank you. Thank you. I’m so sorry.”

The old man drew me into a hug, his iron-colored hair falling past my face and hiding me from the world. “I am less sorry now that I understand you a little, and why my grandson chose as he did. Do not forget, granddaughter, that he chose, too. For good, for bad, he chose, too.”

I nodded against his shoulder, and didn’t object when he held on for a long time. When we finally broke apart, I lurched toward Dad and hugged him, too. “Thank you. We gotta talk about the condition you left Petite’s clutch in, though.”

“We—you—what?” Dad spluttered in real enough offense that I laughed, and laughed again when he managed to get out, “I taught you to drive on a stick shift! Her clutch is in perfect shape!” through general incoherence.

“I know. I know. She’s fine.” I sat back smiling, and Dad’s offense faded into chagrin.

“You did that on purpose.”

“Yeah. I thought we could use a little grounding. How are you doing, after all of this?”

His face turned solemn. “Your mother would be proud of you, Joanne. I’m proud of you. I’m also... I’m glad it wasn’t me,” he confessed in something just shy of embarrassment. “Not that I’d have wished any of this on you, but...I don’t know if I could have handled it.”

“You would’ve if you’d had to, but I guess I’d been lined up to bat since before I was born. That’s enough of destiny-with-a-capital-D,” I added firmly. “I have had enough of that crap, and I think I’ve by god earned my lifetime of free will.”

“Your free will had better want you to get over and visit the Hollidays,” Morrison said. “Melinda called three times while you were out. Nothing’s wrong,” he added hastily, as I turned to him in alarm. “They just want to see you and make sure you’re all right. And find out what’s happened the past...week.” He said the word like he couldn’t believe it had been so little time.

I fully sympathized with that, though I got hung up on something else. “Three times while I was out? How long were we in there?” As if in response, my stomach rumbled. I glanced out the living room window, noticing the sky was dusky. “Please tell me that’s sunset and not tomorrow’s sunrise.”

“It is, but it’s still been a long day.”

“I can no longer remember a day that wasn’t. I’ll call them, but I’m not going over there tonight. At this point they can wait until tomorrow. Oh, crap. Suzanne. Has anybody talked to her?”

“She’s still at her friend’s house. Most of the roads are impassable, not just in Seattle but statewide. Up into Vancouver and down into Oregon, really. Her aunt can’t get up here. She said she’s all right.” Morrison sounded cautiously accepting of that, which was good enough for the moment. I would have to go see her soon and not only thank her for her part in saving the world, but give her a thorough psychic checkup to make sure the burden she’d taken on wasn’t poisoning her. That, I suspected, was going to become a lifelong habit. I couldn’t imagine just leaving her to cope, even if she was the granddaughter of a god.

It could probably wait until the weekend, though. I nodded, trying to catalog all the things I needed to do, and my stomach growled again.

“Food,” I said aloud, like it would put everything into perspective. “Food and sleep and...would it be all right if we had a memorial for Coyote tomorrow, Grandfather? At Thunderbird Falls, I think. I know you meant to leave tonight, but...”

“A memorial,” he agreed. “I will not leave his body here, though.”

“No. No, he’d want to be back in his desert.” The desert which he had never intended to leave, and where I had never been willing to join him. I nodded again, and accepted Morrison’s help in getting to my feet. We ordered an awful lot of pizza for only four people, and when it was demolished, I slept in Morrison’s arms all night without waking.

Police tape still marked off the murder site at the falls, but it looked like no one had been there to pursue the investigation in several days. Given the shambles Seattle was in, I thought it might be weeks before anybody was able to come back down here. I paced the outer rim of the circle, trying not to look at Morrison as I did so.

Apparently I needed to work on my subterfuge, because after I’d made a full circuit, he said, “What are you thinking, Walker?”

“That there’s no answer to this that anyone is going to like, and that maybe it’s a terrible shame the scene was disturbed during all the chaos.”

My boss—my former boss—looked pained. “I was afraid you would say something like that. What do you want to do?”

“Cleanse it. I managed to clear up the falls once—” and I didn’t look at them, either, all too aware of what that particular job had cost us “—but this area here is still stained with the murders. I’d like to wipe up the mess, like Melinda did at their house after the serpent attack.”

Morrison took a few steps back, like he could see over the top of the cliff and watch the Hollidays pull up in the parking lot. They weren’t here yet. Nobody was except me and Morrison. The memorial was going to be held at noon, one of the quarter points of the day, but I’d wanted to come over early. The falls had featured heavily in my redesigned personal garden, so I thought spending some time with the real thing would be a smart choice. We’d driven Petite, leaving Morrison’s Avalon for my dad and Grandfather Coyote to drive over. Dad’s expression at the idea of driving a modern, top-safety-rated vehicle had apparently been so similar to my own that Morrison was still inclined to grin when he thought of it. In fact, he did smile as I watched him, then chuckled, clearly thinking about it again. But then he drew himself back to the matter at hand, nodding at the police tape. “Are you going to do it yourself?”

“I thought I’d ask Melinda to lead it. She has more experience, and if we all come together to do it... I think Coyote would have liked that. It’s the best memorial I can think of for him.”

“You know not all of us can do magic, Walker.”

I came over to slide my arms around his waist. “We don’t all have to. Being here, sharing that energy—God, I can’t believe the things that come out of my mouth these days—”

“I’m going to buy you some hippie skirts and hoop earrings to go with the vibe you’re feeling,” Morrison said, straight-faced.

I was too close to kick him, so I knocked my hip into his and tried not to laugh. “Anyway, you know that it’s being here that counts.”

Morrison, deadpan, nodded. “Sharing the energy.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” I threw my hands in the air and stomped away, although I had nowhere to go and no actual pique to burn off. When I looked back, he still had the most neutral expression possible, making me laugh. “Stop that.”

His solemnity cracked. “Sorry.”

“You shouldn’t lie to a woman who can read your aura.”

“Your eyes are green. You’re not using the Sight.”

Damn. I was gonna have to do something about that. Not right now, though. Right now I went back to him to steal a kiss, then began working on a power circle. It wasn’t just for Coyote: it was for me, kind of marking this as my territory. I was responsible for the falls’ creation. I wasn’t going to leave it vulnerable to attack again. Besides, leaving a long-running circle here would link me to the falls and to Seattle in a way I was beginning to think was important, particularly in light of all the rebuilding we were going to have to do. I wondered if shamanic magic could convince the state legislature and politicians that rebuilding Seattle as America’s first totally green-energy city was an awesome idea. It was worth a try.

I was reasonably certain that that, and a lot of other random thoughts, went into the circle itself. I was also fairly certain it would influence the politics and decisions made over the next years and months, and since I’d already been riding the Acts of God horse pretty hard lately, I couldn’t find any dismay in myself over the idea. By the time I’d walked the circle a dozen times, imbuing it with a lot of be kind to each other and save the humans suggestions, the sun had climbed nearly to its zenith, and people were starting to show up.

Billy and Melinda were among the first, and came to envelope me in a hug I never wanted to escape from. All of their kids glommed into it, too, to the utter delight of Caroline, who was in a chest-strapped baby carrier and squealed happily as she left big slobbery baby kisses across all our faces. Through hugs and squishing and family, I whispered, “Thank you. Thank you guys for being there yesterday. Whatever. For being there when I needed you.”

“Always,” Melinda promised. “Always, Joanne.” Then pure wicked teasing splashed across her face. “Congratulations, by the way. It certainly took you two long enough.”

I looked for Morrison, who was greeting my father and Grandfather Coyote, and didn’t even manage to blush. “I guess there’s no point in that betting pool at work, then, huh?”

“You work with detectives,” Billy said dryly. “You really thought they wouldn’t put it together when five days after you take off, the boss takes his first vacation since he’s started, and says it’s emergency family leave?”

I wrinkled my nose. “Yeah, yeah, when you put it like that...”

Billy tugged me against him again. “It’s good to see you, Jo. It’s good to see you in one piece. I’m sorry about Coyote.”

“It’s good to be in one piece. Thank you. Oooh, Robert...”

The oldest Holliday boy cringed so guiltily that I nearly laughed. “We’ll talk about it later.”

“Talk about what later?” his mother demanded.

Robert sent me a look of terrorized pleading and I caved. “Oh, somebody told me Robert had a girlfriend. An older woman, even.”

“It’s Kiseko, Mom,” Robert said frantically. “We play chess together, that’s all.”

Melinda’s eyebrows rose and she looked between us, but more or less let it go with, “Kiseko seems like a nice girl. She is a little old for you, Robert.”

He wailed, “She’s not my girlfriend!” with such embarrassed outrage that I figured that he either really liked her, or was desperate enough to play into it so his parents wouldn’t find out he’d been working summoning magic without their supervision. Either way, I would talk to him about it later, but the horror of being teased by his family about a girlfriend was probably entirely sufficient in terms of punishment. More people had shown up while we were talking. An awful lot of them were people I never expected to see: guys from work, headed by Thor, who probably shouldn’t have been out of bed, never mind the hospital, yet, but there he was. I went over to hug him, and the embrace lasted a long time, even if we didn’t exchange any words. Jennifer Gonzalez from Missing Persons was there, which wasn’t much of a surprise even if she hadn’t known Coyote, and Ray, looking ruined and terrible in black, was there with a photo of Laurie Corvallis. Her cameraman, Paul, was with him, looking like the only thing holding him together was helping Ray hold it together.

Heather Fagan and her niece the coroner’s assistant were both there. Heather didn’t quite meet my eyes, but Cindy did, forthrightly, and flicked a salute like we belonged to some kind of secret brotherhood. In a way I guessed we did. Suzy and a cute girl who had to be Kiseko showed up. Kiseko made a beeline for Robert, but Suzy edged her way through the growing crowd to find me.

She looked older than she had when I’d last seen her, only three days earlier. Less ethereal, somehow, though that could have just been weariness dragging her down. Still, I drew her in and hugged her before asking, “You okay?”

“Kind of. The blackness is gone.” She didn’t sound as happy about that as she should. I put her back a few inches, eyebrows beetled in question. “I still can’t see the paths anymore, Ms. Walker. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to again. I’m afraid...he...is stopping me somehow.”

“I don’t think he’s separate anymore. So don’t try to split that part of you out, okay? It’ll just get confusing. Besides, your visions will come back.”

She lifted a dubious eyebrow at my confidence. I smiled crookedly. “You’ve been through a really rough patch here, kiddo. Even the best of us shut down what we can’t handle, sometimes. Hell, I shut it down for more than a decade, when it came to magic. I seriously doubt you’re going to bottle yourself up that badly, but give it a little time, hon. You’re going to be okay.”

“But I feel...” She put a hand over her heart. “Empty, somehow. Like there’s a part of me waiting to get filled up again and...and I’m not sure what’s going to fill it. I’m afraid—” She broke off again and eyed me. “He. What else do I call him?”

“Can you feel him? Separately from you?”

She shook her head and I put my arm around her shoulder for a hug. “Then all that’s going to fill you up again is you, honey. What we did there was as close to making the Master human as we could, and humans heal. You’re going to be fine. And I,” I said firmly, setting her back from me with my hands on her shoulders, so I could meet her gaze, “I am going to keep a close eye on you to make sure nothing at all goes wrong.”

Gratitude filled Suzy’s green eyes. “Okay.” She hugged me again before slipping away, back to Kiseko and Robert, whose parents were watching them with interested amusement. I thought Robert might never stop blushing. Smiling, I looked to see who else had arrived while I’d been speaking with Suzy.

Sonata Smith had, along with a number of people I half recognized from the murder scene a few mornings ago. They were the people I’d charged with going home and keeping the city safe, and there were pools of relative calm and order where they’d done their work. It was as they arrived that I began to realize the memorial wasn’t just about or for Coyote, but for Seattle and for everything the city and its people had been through recently.

Somebody said, “Hey,” behind me, and I turned to find my fencing instructor, Phoebe, standing there uncomfortably. I’d freaked her out with my magic and we hadn’t parted on the very best of terms, so I was completely taken aback to see her, and swooped in for a hug before I thought better of it.

She made a surprised sound and returned both the hug and the status quo, smiling in shy embarrassment as she backed away again. Things were going to be all right there. I could feel it.

I wasn’t looking at a clock or the sun, but I heard my voice lift unexpectedly, drawing attention to myself. “Thank you for coming.” As I spoke, church bells from somewhere nearby rang out the hour, which backed up my call for attention. Dozens—maybe even hundreds—of people turned my way, and I realized slightly too late that I really had no idea what to say. There I was, wearing my ridiculous white leather coat, bright enough in the noontime sun to be absolutely certain no one would mistake at whom they should be looking, and I hadn’t prepared a speech.

“A lot’s changed recently.” Hah. Mistress of understatement, I. “A lot of us have lost friends and family in the past few days, and Seattle’s a mess. There’s a god wandering the earth now, you might have seen him.”

A ripple went through the crowd, one part uncomfortable and one part thrilled. Some of them—the Sight came on, telling me this—some of them were true believers. Others were reluctant believers, and others still wanted to believe but couldn’t. Plenty just flat-out didn’t, of course, any more than people believed in other kinds of magic, but that was okay. “We’re here to say goodbye to the ones who have died, and maybe to greet the things that are rising in their wake. I’m not... I don’t have a big plan here. I’d just like everybody to hold hands, maybe, and make a circle and...fill it up with what we’ve been through. Put some thought and hope into the shape of things to come, because I really believe—now—that we get out of the world what we put into it. A friend taught me that—”

That was when I realized I hadn’t seen the Muldoons. My hands froze and my heart turned lumpy as I looked around for Gary’s shock of pure white hair.

“Right here, doll.” He came up on my left side and put his hand in mine, squeezing. A relieved breath rushed out of me and I gave him a suddenly watery smile that turned to slow astonishment.

He looked different without the tortoise. A little less...solid, in spiritual terms. No more armored shell offering protection against the world, no more slow steady strength shoring up a long life. Instead, the white raven sat on one shoulder, preening and proud of itself. It was all warrior spirit somehow, confident and strong.

On his other shoulder sat a walking stick. As long as my whole arm, its front legs folded in his hair, it met my gaping gaze with perfect equanimity. I squeezed Gary’s hand back in a kind of involuntary reaction, but my heart was stuttering with disbelief.

I mean, one walking stick spirit looked pretty much like another. But I knew, right down to my bones, I knew that it was Renee. That my spirit guide hadn’t bowed out of my life entirely, but had found a better place to reside. Somewhere she could do some good, because never mind the time traveling, walking sticks were symbols of eternity. She’d taken something away from Gary when we had fought in the Upper World, and now she was returning it. She would be the link to strength and long life that she’d helped destroy.

Turned out I had it in me to forgive her, after all.

I’d stopped breathing when I saw her. I started again in a gasp of tears, lifting my hand, fingers entwined with Gary’s, to dash them away. The white raven hopped over to my knuckles and peered at them, then tipped his head to examine me with one bright black eye. I gave him a watery smile and he stepped even closer, tasting one of the tears right off my cheek before spitting it out. Quoth the raven, “Nevermore,” and for a silly, heartening instant I thought he meant I’d never have to cry again. Then he stuck his head against my chin and pushed, making me turn my head.

The world faded out as I did, waterfalls and lakeshore bleeding into nearly infinite blackness. Nearly: it had the faintest curve to it, just enough to give me a sense of perspective and feel incomprehensibly small. It felt like it had been a long time since I’d been here, in the silence of the Dead Zone, though in a lot of ways my adventures had started in this place. I’d met Seattle’s dead shamans here, and lost Coyote for the first time here, and...and too many other things to count, really.

Seeing it made me realize that somewhere, subconsciously, I’d never expected to come back here again. Raven was my guide in this territory, and he was gone. Intellectually I guessed that didn’t make sense, because traversing the Dead Zone was part of my job description, but still. I hadn’t expected to come back. I exhaled and turned my face away, finding Gary’s raven still there, perched on my lifted hand. I started to say, Let’s go, but his attention was a million miles away, intent on the nearly invisible horizon.

Well, I hadn’t come this far down this road to ignore a spirit animal, even if it wasn’t mine. I sighed and looked where he was looking, wondering if maybe Seattle’s long-dead shamans were going to put in a final appearance. A benediction, maybe. I hoped. It’d be disappointing to get my hands slapped now. After a minute or two, I had to admit I was even kind of grateful for the silence. There was a lot going on out there in the Middle World, but it would be waiting for me when I came back, and the truth was, I hadn’t had a lot of really quiet personal time in the past several weeks.

It was probably a bad sign when hanging out in the no-man’s-land between life and death counted as quality personal time, but I would take what I was given. I stood and I waited and I wondered, and finally, after what felt like the short end of forever, I saw movement.

It was so far away, and so feeble, that it could have been my eyelashes fluttering. The only reason I knew it wasn’t was that Gary’s raven became even more alert, sticking his head out and rustling his wings like he’d take flight. When I didn’t move, he gave me a sharp look, then a sharper peck to the temple, like he was saying, Get on with it already. I flinched, then twitched into motion, muttering an apology. He was right. Of course he was right. No matter who or what was out here, if it was on the edge of the Dead Zone and trying to come back, then I had to go help it.

If I’d been asked, I’d have said it wasn’t possible to reach the edge of the Dead Zone. Not for me, anyway. Not for somebody still corporeal. But we ran and after a while we leaped and then we flew, great distances eaten up under my strides and the raven’s wings, and suddenly we were there: an abrupt cessation of one place and the equally abrupt start of another. It reminded me of the Upper World, only not: there it was all spirits and guides. Here it was the difference between a hope of life and death itself.

And there was a raven on the wrong side, battering at that wall.

He was a creature of light and lines and laughter, and of great determination. I couldn’t hear his raven calls, not from the wrong side of that horrible wall, but I could imagine the impatient kloks and warbling quarks, and found myself trying to echo those sounds from a throat too tight to make noise. Gary’s raven bit my cheek, then jumped forward to strike the wall with white claws. I put my hand out, pressed it against an inestimable coldness, then had to strike away the tears that ran freely down my face. The second time I touched the wall, that warm salt water fizzled against it, softening the barrier. I laugh-sobbed again, my heart breaking with hope. I felt on fire, healing magic turning my tears to something more. Despite every part of me knowing it was probably stupid, I leaned face-first into the coldness, letting tears scald its surface and praying.

It shouldn’t have opened. I knew it shouldn’t have, but I was trying so hard, and Raven was trying so hard, and maybe once, just once, the universe was willing to cut me a break, because suddenly there was a hole, and my raven fell through it into my arms.

He was so ragged, so light and thin, like he was made up of nothing more than a wish. I collapsed to my knees, cradling his delicate weight. I was numb all over, not from grief, but from relief and gratitude so overwhelming I couldn’t feel anything else, not even my body. After a long time I realized I was whispering. “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay now, Raven. It’s going to be okay. You’re safe. You’re with me. We’ll be okay now, sweetheart. It’s okay.”

I didn’t really notice when Gary’s raven carefully swept us up, got me on my feet and started me walking home again. I didn’t notice much of anything except Raven’s eyes fixed on mine, and his awful fragility reminded me of my own state as I’d knelt by Coyote’s bier after the battle. There had been nothing left of me, and there was even less than that of Raven. All I wanted to do was make him better.

The Middle World, when I emerged into it, was dreadfully bright and loud. I still held Gary’s hand, but my arms were tucked against my torso now, Raven’s insubstantial form nestled against my chest. I was at an absolute loss for what was happening, whatever thoughts I’d had completely undone. I could hardly bear to take my eyes from Raven, afraid if I stopped looking at him he would disappear.

Morrison stepped up on my right, concern creasing his brow. I whispered, “See?” helplessly, and to my astonishment, his eyes flooded gold and he Saw. Saw Raven in my arms, and understood.

He didn’t try unfolding my hold on the frail bird. Instead, he folded his left hand into my right and smiled. “We’re here, Walker. All of us. It’s going to be okay.”

Just beyond him, just beyond Gary, through the film of my tears, I watched the Hollidays take up on either side of us, Billy holding Annie’s hand just to Gary’s left, Melinda and the kids on my right. All of my friends, my father, Grandfather Coyote, they joined hands as close to me as they could, offering solidarity and love as they stepped into place, and I remembered what I’d been going to say.

I squeezed Gary’s hand again, giving him one brief adoring look even as tears ran down my face. “This friend. This man taught me to believe, and I know I wouldn’t have made it this far without him.”

I looked back at my exhausted Raven, making sure he was still with me, and spoke, uncertain if anybody would even hear me. “So whatever you’re bringing here today, I’m just asking you to share it. With words, with song, with silence, if that’s what works for you. Just hold hands for a few minutes and offer what you’ve got toward making this world a better place. We’ve had a hell of a time of it, and we could all use a little of that kind of positive thought.”

All over the place, people were taking one another’s hands, which kind of surprised me. I’d have thought it was a kind of hokey request, and maybe it was. But maybe I was right, too, and it was something we all needed.

As the last hands joined, energy crashed into the circle—the meandering, looping, lopsided circle—that they formed, and a pulse of magic swept me. Went right through me and sluiced into Raven, though I tamped it down, afraid that too much at once would blow him away. The lines of him strengthened just a little and I caught my breath on another sob, gathering him close to nuzzle his soft feathers. He pressed his head against my chin and made the softest sound I’d ever heard from him, a quark that was mostly my imagination, it was so quiet. But it was real, and it was him, and the tears that spilled over my cheeks were exhausted and joyful and so, so thankful.

It was only as I snuffled into Raven’s feathers that I realized I’d forgotten to ask Mel to take the lead with the circle. Oh, well. There was so much strength here, so much goodwill and hope and sorrow, tinged with faint embarrassment at participating in this, or delight at participating in this, that I would have to be really trying to screw it up. And at this particular moment in time, for the first time ever, I was absolutely certain I wasn’t going to screw anything up, because I’d gotten Raven back, and I wouldn’t do anything to risk him.

There were stains in the earth, blood-brown and black from the murder that had been done here. I Saw them running deep, like they were trying to escape the gathering magic here, and I smiled. Change. It was so simple and so hard, all at once. Just change.

The stains never stood a chance. White magic poured through them, sizzling, burning them away, and in less than a blink the land surrounding the falls was clean. I sent pure white magic deeper still, offering it to the strained earth, and felt its sigh of thanks. I sent it back into the people gathered here, healing touch to lessen their strain, and felt that ease, too. With each pulse of power, Raven got stronger, returning to form, until he finally gave a happy, familiar klok! and hopped from my arms to my shoulder, where he pushed his face into my hair and bit my ear as if to prove he was really there.

That was my future. Not the chaos of the past year, not the dreadful, exhausting knowledge that I was going to have to face something way out of my weight class, not all the predestiny and tangled time that had driven me forward whether I liked it or not. Healing people, healing places, making the world a better place: that was what I wanted to do now. I wanted Raven to help me, as if there was any chance he wouldn’t. I wanted to do it with Morrison at my side, and with Gary and Annie guiding me. I wanted to improve my relationship with my father, and get to know my son. I wanted to watch Billy and Melinda’s kids grow up, and see what kind of person Suzanne Quinley was going to become, and where her choices would lead her. I wanted all of that and more, and for the first time, all those dreams seemed within reach. Gary really had taught me the thing that mattered the most. All I had to do was...

...believe.