Bettina looked down at her hands.
She’d learned today of the healing gift she’d been given. But such healing required the laying on of hands. And strength. More strength than she had, certainly, but she wasn’t alone here.
“No,” her wolf said as she turned to Ellie.
Oh, he was quick, that one, Bettina thought. He could read her like a tracker read signs.
But she shook off his grip.
“Ellie,” she said. “Will you lend me your brujería as you did Aunt Nancy?”
“Bettina, please,” her wolf tried.
Los cadejos chorused their own protests.
“No good will come of this,” they cried.
“The monster is too strong.”
“You can only flee.”
“We will hold it back as long as we can.”
“But go now.”
“¡Pronto! ¡Pronto!”
“We must flee.”
“Do what you must,” she told them. “And so will I. Ellie?” she asked again.
The sculptor gave her a slow nod.
“I understand your fear,” Bettina told her. “I’m scared, too.”
“No, no, no!” los cadejos cried.
“You risk your life.”
“You risk your wings.”
“You risk our home.”
Bettina ignored them. She looked to Aunt Nancy.
“I’m not in the kind of league that can handle this sort of thing,” the older woman said, nodding at the monster with her chin, “but you’ve got my support. If I can do anything…”
“Only say the word,” el lobo told her.
“You’ve changed your mind?” Bettina asked.
He shook his head. “Not about our chances. But I was never going to walk away and leave you to face this on your own.”
“Count me in, too,” Hunter said. He stood with his arm around Miki whose gaze remained locked on the Glasduine. “Don’t know what use I can be, but…”
Miki finally looked away, turning her anguished gaze to Bettina.
“Just finish it,” she said.
“You can all help,” Bettina told them. “Pray for us. Lend us your hopes and strengths.”
Aunt Nancy nodded. She crossed her arms, making an X of them upon her chest. The shadow of a spider rose up behind her, inclining its head to the shadow of a hawk that lifted its strong features behind Bettina in response to the spider’s appearance.
Anansi, the hawk said, its voice ringing in all their minds. You are far from home.
The spider shook its head. Not I, it replied. I am but an echo of my father’s presence.
As am I, the hawk replied. “Àngwàizin,” Aunt Nancy said.
Bettina smiled. Yes, she thought. That was what was needed here. Luck, not power. The borrowed, not the owned. And the reminder that not all the spirits of la epoca del mito stood against them—only this one, and even it was not to blame for the horror it had become.
She reached forward and took Ellie’s hands.
“Hold my shoulders,” she said.
She gave Ellie’s fingers a squeeze, then let go and turned around. Ellie hesitated for a moment, then placed her hands on Bettina’s shoulders and fell in step behind her as Bettina approached the monster.
The Glasduine was twice as large now, barely contained by the wearied cadejos, a towering monstrosity that seemed only mildly affected by the pain that had so ravaged it earlier. Its lost arm had partially grown back. Glittering eyes focused their gaze on the two women. The kind smile Ellie had worked into the red clay of the mask twisted into a grin.
At Bettina’s approach, los cadejos finally broke from the Glasduine. One by one, they circled the two women, flowing like quicksilver, a shimmering rainbow of colored fur. Then, as they had so many years ago in another part of la epoca del mito, on the slopes below the Baboquivari Mountains, they entered her, vanishing into her torso like ghosts. Spirit dogs, adding their strengths to hers.
Bettina knew a surreal calmness. Her father had told her about it once, how it could come to you when you were in enemy territory and all the odds were against you. You told yourself, I won’t get out of this alive. I am already dead and there is nothing to be gained by worrying over the exact details, the how and when of it happening.
She held the rosary her mother had sent her in one hand, the strand of desert seeds wrapped round and round her palm, the carved cross hanging free. She called on the spirits of the desert, on the saints and the Virgin, to help her with this healing.
The Glasduine grinned hugely. It opened its arms to embrace them, the one arm stunted, the other long, a supple branch. Then lifting from between its legs came a third appendage, knobbed and swollen.
“Oh god, oh god,” Ellie moaned.
The sculptor gripped Bettina’s shoulders too tightly, hands shaking.
But neither the proximity of the Glasduine nor her companion’s fear were able to pierce the calm that had come over Bettina. Part of this was a gift from los cadejos, she realized, given to her so that she could face the creature unencumbered by fear, clear-headed, her entire being focused and sure.
Bettina drew on Ellie’s brujería and felt the warm pulse of it flow into her. She heard the supportive chants of los cadejos echoing deep inside her. The spirits of the desert drew close, the living presence of the aunts and uncles; of coyote, mesquite, and marigold; of cholla, lizard, and mountain lion; of turtle, poppy, and javalina. A hawk’s wings unfolded inside her chest. The soothing voice of St. Martin de Porres, the patron of paranormal powers, seemed to join her own as she sent a silent prayer to the Virgin.
Ave Maria
gratia plena
Dominus tecum
Benedicta tu in mulieribus
et benedictus fructus ventris tui Jesus
Sancta Maria,
Mater Dei
ora pro nobis peccatoribus
nunc et in hora mortis nostrae
Amen
She spoke the last word aloud and the Glasduine laughed, a harsh booming sound that echoed up and down the canyon. Bettina merely gave the creature a serene smile in response. Beyond fear or anxiety now, she was strong with Ellie’s brujería and her faith, bolstered by the support of those gathered here to help her and a host of invisible spirits. She stepped into the Glasduine’s open arms and laid her hands upon its chest, pushed through the tangle of vines and leaves to the bark beneath that served as skin.
The Glasduine’s laughter died, cut off as though severed by a knife.
Their gazes locked, Bettina’s and the Glasduine’s. The healing brujería mixed with that of Ellie’s mask and the creature’s own. White light flared, deep inside them and burst out through the pores of their skin like a hundred thousand laser slivers, blinding those that watched. The Glasduine’s vida en hilodela was immediately made pure.
But there was a price. Their blood turned to lava, hot and burning. Every nerve end screamed. Wailing filled the air, harsh and keening, both their voices howling their pain. The Glasduine bucked and Ellie lost her grip on Bettina’s shoulders. She went stumbling, blinded and moaning, before she fell into the dirt. But Bettina dug her fingers into the vegetative matter of the Glasduine’s chest and held fast. She repeated another “Hail Mary.” The Glasduine grew again, a sudden spurt that took Bettina’s feet from under her. She kept her grip, hanging from the Glasduine’s chest, forcing herself to ignore the pain, to concentrate on the task that had put her here.