I felt as tired as he looked, despite all the sleep. I pulled up one of the chairs and sat; they continued to stand. So I had met Storm King. I had answered his summons. And I had been struck by lightning? That was interesting, because in a lot of cultures, shamans are called to their art through some traumatic event. Lightning strikes are actually common ones. Many of the local Indian shamans-already skeptical of the plethora of New Age white shamans-did not consider me authentic since I’d had no such profound initiation. Turns out I had. Score one for me.
“You made me forget. You got inside my head, and you made me forget. All this time…both of you have known and never told me.”
“We wanted to protect you,” he said.
“And what then? Did you think I’d never find out?” The heat rose in my voice again. “I had to hear it from gentry. I would have rather heard it from you.”
My mother closed her eyes, and one tear trailed down her cheek. Roland regarded me calmly.
“In hindsight, yes, that would have been better. But we never thought it would actually come out.”
“It’s out,” I said bitterly. “Everyone knows it. And now everyone wants a piece of this prophecy-and of me.”
“What prophecy?”
I told them. When I finished, my mother sat down and buried her face in her hands, crying softly. I could hear her murmuring, “It’ll happen to her. It’ll happen to her too.”
Roland rested a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t put much stock in gentry prophecies. They come out with a new one every day.”
“Doesn’t matter, if they believe it. They’re still going to come after me.”
“You should stay with us. I’ll help protect you.”
I stood up, glancing at my mother. No way would I expose her to more gentry. “No. This is my problem. Besides, don’t take this too badly”-I felt myself start to choke up-“but I don’t really want to see you guys for a while. I guess you meant well, but…I need to…I don’t know. I need to think.”
“Eugenie-” I saw raw pain on his face. My mom’s sobs grew louder.
I stood up, averting my eyes from both of them. Suddenly, I couldn’t stay here anymore. “I’ve got to go.”
Roland was still calling after me when I practically ran out of the house. But I needed to get away, or I’d say something stupid. I didn’t want to hurt them, even though I probably had. But they’d hurt me too, and we all needed to deal with that.
While opening my car door, I looked up and saw a red fox watching me from the same spot as last time.
I strode toward him, close but not too close.
“Go away!” I shouted.
He stared at me, unmoving.
“I mean it. I’m not speaking to you. You’re as bad as the rest of them.”
He lay down, resting his chin on crossed paws while he continued to regard me solemnly.
“I don’t care how cute you are, okay? I’m through with you.”
A woman working in her yard next door gave me an uneasy look. I turned my back on the fox, got in the car, and drove home. Yet, as I did, I couldn’t help but feel relieved Kiyo had survived. I honestly hadn’t known if he would. Strong and vicious he might be, but Aeson had been slinging fire at him. The question was, had Kiyo merely escaped? Or had he managed to kill the king? What had happened to Jasmine?
Tim still wasn’t back when I got home. I decided then I didn’t want to leave my house that day or make any pretense of productivity. I wanted to hit the sauna, put on pajamas, and then watch bad TV while eating Milky Ways. It seemed like a pretty solid plan, and I set out to make it happen.
Twenty minutes later, I sat immersed in hot steam, draped in humidity. Heat was great for loosening muscles, although that only made me realize how much I’d hurt them. At least I’d made it out alive. That was the real miracle, considering what a disaster last night had turned into.
I didn’t want to think much about it or about Mom and Roland, but it was hard not to. Part of me still believed-still hoped-that all of this was a mistake. After all, wasn’t it just everyone’s say-so? Of course, somehow I doubted my parents would make all that up. But really. Where was the DNA test? The photographic evidence? I had nothing tangible. Nothing I could see and believe.
Except my own memories. The memories Roland had covered up for me. Hypnotism wasn’t uncommon in our line of work. It was just another state of unconsciousness. Shamans who served as religious leaders and healers used similar techniques on their followers and patients to heal the body and mind. Roland and I, as “freelance shamans,” didn’t really have much need for it. Our contact with the spirit world often became more physical and direct. But I had done some healings and soul retrievals, so I knew the basics.
Leaning my head against the wall, I closed my eyes and thought about the tattoo of Selene on my back. She was my earthly connection, the grounding of my body and soul and mind in this world. I focused on her image and what she represented and then slowly altered my state of mind. Rather than slipping out to another plane, I crossed inward, back into the far reaches of myself and the parts of me buried in my unconscious.
It probably didn’t take long, but in that state, it was painstakingly slow. I browsed through pieces of me, both memories and hidden truths alike. All the things that made me Eugenie Markham. I concentrated on lightning, hoping it would snag my attention. Surely a lightning strike couldn’t be buried forever.
There. A faint tug. I dove in after it, trying to grasp it and the memory it linked to. It was difficult. The image was slippery, like trying to hold on to a fish. Each time I thought I had it, it wriggled away. Roland had done a good job. Steeling myself, I fought against the layers, clawing and fighting until I woke up in bed.
But it wasn’t the bed in my house. It was a different bed, a smaller bed covered in a pink comforter. The bed of my childhood. I lay in it, staring up at a ceiling covered in plastic stars just like the one I had as an adult. It was the middle of the night, and I couldn’t sleep. I’d been an insomniac then, just as now. This time, however, it was different. Something other than my churning mind was keeping me awake. Somewhere, outside, I could hear a voice calling me. No, not a voice exactly, but it was a pull. A pull I couldn’t shut out.
Climbing out of bed, I slipped my feet into dirty sneakers and put a light jacket on over my pajamas. In the hallway, the door to Mom and Roland’s room was closed. I moved past as quietly as possible, down the stairs and then out the door.
Outside, the air was still warm. It was high summer. Earlier temperatures had been in the 100s; even now, they had dropped only to the 80s. I walked down the quiet street of our neighborhood, past all the familiar cars and houses. With each step, the call grew louder. I followed, my feet moving on their own. The call led me away from our street, our subdivision, and even the small suburb we lived in. I traveled off of main roads, moving onto trails I’d never known existed.
Then, after almost two hours, I stopped. I didn’t know where I was. The desert, obviously, because that and the mountains were all that surrounded Tucson. The foothills were larger than at home, so I must have gone north. Otherwise, there were no distinguishing features. Prickly pears and saguaros spread out around me in quiet watchfulness.
Suddenly, I felt the air around me charge. There was a presence with me. A person. I turned and saw a man standing and watching me, far taller than my twelve-year-old self. His features were indistinct; I could not make them out no matter how hard I tried. He was only a dark shape, crackling with power.
“Eugenie…”
I took three steps back, but he held his hand out to me.
“Eugenie…”
I shook off the thrall that had brought me out here. Desperately, I realized I had to get away as quickly as I could. But I no longer knew the way back. The trails I’d followed were a blur. So, I backed up farther, but he kept coming, beckoning to me. My feet stumbled, and I fell. Still facing him, I tried to get up, but he stood over me now. In his indistinct features, I could make out a crown on his head, glittering silver and purple.