Shaman Rises. C.E. Murphy

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      But it wasn’t. The green was vibrant, and I knew that color. I knew it down to the depths of my soul. The creature who wore that color within himself had wormed his way in, way deep inside me, and he had no intention of leaving. I would know his mark anywhere. It was Cernunnos’s color, blazing green that threatened to burn my eyes, my mind, away if I looked at him unguarded for too long. Cernunnos had been there when Annie died, in the memories Gary had recovered.

      I set Gary back a few inches, my hands on his shoulders, and met his eyes. “Tell me again, Gary. Tell me exactly what happened when she died. All of it. She had two spirit animals with her, a cheetah and a stag—” Embarrassment caught me and I blushed so hard I couldn’t speak for a few seconds. Of course Cernunnos had been in attendance, if a stag, of all creatures, had come to her. Cernunnos wasn’t the horned god for nothing: every year he grew a crown of antlers, becoming more and more of the stag, before shedding them again and regaining something approaching humanity. In the parlance of my teenage years, d’oh.

      “—toldja, Joanie, at a minute past midnight he came through the damned wall and Annie sat up, reachin’ for him, and the whole goddamned world went white and next thing I knew I was back with the Hunt, headin’ back to you.”

      “What did he say?”

      Gary shoved a hand through his white hair. He had a headful of it, but it needed washing or brushing or some kind of attention, because it looked thinner than usual. So did he, for that matter. “He said...hell, Jo, I don’t know. He said somethin’ about the stag and sagebrush—”

      I shot a look at Morrison, whose eyebrows were raised. “Call Dad. Find out what sage has to do with anything.”

      “He’s in the car, Walker. He shouldn’t talk while driving.”

      “Call him anyway, please. Go on, Gary.”

      “And he said somethin’ about bending time to come to her when the stag called, an’ he said...hell, Jo,” Gary said again. It wasn’t, I thought, that he didn’t remember, so much as, as I had discovered time and again, it was hard to talk about magic. People loved stories about it, and liked to imagine maybe it was real, but faced with real magic in their lives, a reticence cropped up even when everybody listening knew the truth. I gripped his shoulders and nodded, encouraging him, and after a minute he went on. “He said we’d been waitin’ for the very end so we could make our move, like we’d talked about. An’ he said she was beyond my reach, but that she always had been as long as I’d known him. An’...an’ he said he’d guide her to her resting place when it was all over.”

      A tiny thump of hope squeezed the air out of my lungs. It escaped as a laugh, almost without sound. “And she went into the light, is that what you said before? She actually literally went into the light, that was the last you saw of her?”

      “Yeah.” Gary gave a smile, thin and watery, but a smile. “Yeah, Horns said she’d gone into the light an’ he figured that wasn’t the fate the Master’d been plannin’ for her at all, so it made it kinda bearable. Except...” He looked back at his wife, then at me, all humor gone and his gray eyes hollow. “C’mon, Jo,” he said, as quietly as I’d ever heard him speak. “Who’re we kiddin, doll? What’re the chances that’s really Annie lyin’ there?”

      Morrison glanced up sharply, relief and admiration in his expression. My lungs emptied again, this time with a blow-to-the-gut rush, because although it was what I’d been dreading telling him, I didn’t want Gary to have thought of it himself. It was too sad and too cynical, and far too likely, when I wanted like crazy to pull off some kind of fairy-tale ending.

      But the fact that he’d thought of it made it a little easier to draw a deep breath and admit “Not good” aloud. “I hope like hell it is, Gary, but...”

      He nodded. A nurse came in to check Annie’s blood pressure, stopped short at seeing a crowd in the room and said in an excellent, hackle-raising warning tone, “Visiting hours aren’t until—”

      “This’s my granddaughter and her partner,” Gary said flatly. “They’re family. They stay.”

      The nurse was old enough to have the authority age brings, but Gary’s tone and greater age apparently trumped hers. She stiffened from the core out, then gave one sharp nod and went about her business. Morrison, who wasn’t exactly uncomfortable with authority, and I, who often had problems with it, both stood still as hunted mice until she left, pretending if we didn’t move she wouldn’t notice us again.

      Gary’s big shoulders rolled down in apology after she was gone. “Sorry ’bout that.”

      “For preemptively adopting me? I’m okay with it.” I hugged him again and he grunted, casting a look at Morrison. I caught a glimpse of Morrison’s smile before he said, “Partner works for me. Holliday’s going to have to adapt.”

      To my surprise and pleasure, Gary gave a huff of laughter. “Diff’rent kind of partner. ’Sides, Joanie quit the day job, so Holliday’s gonna have to adapt anyway.”

      He was still calling me Joanie, which meant he was really not okay. Gary had never called me Joanie, always Jo, unless I was undergoing some sort of major emotional meltdown. Unless, as it turned out, he was undergoing some sort of major emotional meltdown. I didn’t think he even knew he was doing it. I put on my best smile, which was pretty wry. “Yeah. Billy is going to kill me for quitting without even warning him. I’m hoping he’ll have cooled down in the two weeks he hasn’t seen me.”

      “Him and Melinda came by yesterday,” Gary said. “He’s worried, not mad. Worried about a lotta things.”

      Including, no doubt, Annie Muldoon’s reappearance on the scene. I nodded, then lifted my chin a little. “Go on, go sit back down, or go get a drink of water if you want. I’ll do everything I can, Gary. You know I w—”

      A doctor swept in imperiously and glowered at us all. “Mr. Muldoon, I understand we have some more family visiting. It’s already well past visiting hours and we don’t normally allow more than one family member at a time—”

      “My dead wife turned up again outta nowhere and you’re tellin’ me my granddaughter ain’t supposed to be here? I’m an old man, Erickson, and I’m tired. You need to talk to anybody from here on out, you talk to my granddaughter, Joanne Walker. Jo, this’s Dr. Pat Erickson. Erickson, this’s Jo’s partner, Mike. If Jo ain’t here, you talk to him.” Like a cranky bear just out of hibernation, Gary lumbered back to Annie’s bedside and sat.

      Dr. Pat Erickson was about forty-five, with expertly dyed auburn hair and a long nose. She was about six feet tall, just like I was, and I bet she was accustomed to people deferring to her because of her height, if nothing else. So was I, so there was a possibility of an interesting-in-the-Chinese-sense dynamic raising its ugly head, but after a few long seconds of sizing me up, Dr. Erickson sighed. “I’m sorry for the confusion with your grandmother, Ms. Walker. May I speak to you outside for a moment?”

      My jaw flapped. Erickson herded me into the hall while I collected my wits and, once we were there, apologized again. “Hospital records get lost,” she said unhappily. “People do not. Ms. Walker, can you explain any of this? The only thing that makes sense is that she’s been in private care for the past four and a half years, but there are no records of it, and clearly your grandfather has no recollection of that....”

      “You’re right. She has been in private care.” If my suspicions were right, it had been very, very private care, and there would never be СКАЧАТЬ