Forests of the Heart (55 page)

She closed her eyes and let the memories rise up.

“Perdona,”
she whispered. “Forgive me. It was unfair of me to turn away from you as I did.”

She listened for the sound of their voices, the high-pitched merry yelps.

“Come back.
Por favor.
Tell me how I may make amends.”

She could feel her wolf’s sudden tension at her side and knew what troubled him. One did not lightly put oneself in debt to old spirits such as these. But she didn’t care. The broken promise was an enormous weight that she hadn’t recognized she was carrying until
el lobo
had spoken of it earlier. She was at fault, so it was up to her to atone.

“I will do whatever you ask,” she said, “so long as it harms no other living thing.”

She reached out into the desert and deep into her heart, searching for the rainbow dogs, but could find no trace of them.

“Perdona,”
she said again.
“Por favor, mis amigos los espritus.
Do not abandon me as I abandoned you.”

She feared her wolf was wrong. That not even calling to them in this place would be enough.

Their aid in tracking down the Glasduine no longer mattered to her. At this moment it was of far greater importance that she make her peace with them, that she be forgiven her broken promise and given another chance to do right by them.

But if they didn’t come.

If they refused to hear her apology—

“Bettina,” her wolf said softly.

She opened her eyes to look at him and he nodded higher up the hill where a cluster of prickly pear were gathered like a skirt around the base of a towering, many-armed saguaro. The Baboquivari Mountains rose up behind the giant cactus, the rainbow lights that were the mystery of I’itoi Ki spiraling up from the cave hidden in their heart. Then she saw that an echo of the spiral’s rainbow colors was reflected on the ground at the base of the saguaro.

No, she realized. It wasn’t an echo of that light.

There were goat-footed, barrel-chested dogs standing there among the prickly pear, the bright shock of their pelts even more vibrant than the spiral rising in the sky behind them.

Los cadejos
had answered her call.

Her heart filled with a sudden happiness that just as quickly drained away. For there was no welcome for her in their small dark eyes. There was no emotion to be read at all.

“There is more … luck gathered here,” he said, “than I have ever seen in one place before.”

Luck, Bettina thought.
Si.
Or perhaps it was something darker.

The dogs moved towards them, fanning out in a half-circle, their cloven hooves clicking on the stones underfoot. Their happy voices were silent. The laughter she remembered in their eyes had turned to thoughtful consideration. Their gazes judged.

Bettina shivered. Perhaps what was gathered here was power.

Miki didn’t think she’d ever been more miserable than when she was slogging through this wretched weather. By the time she reached Battersfield Road her wet clothes made her feel as though she’d doubled her weight and her boots squished unpleasantly with every step she took. Her nose was running and she could already feel the telltale tickle at the back of her throat of a cold coming on. With her luck, she’d end up with pneumonia.

Bloody Donal.

What were the chances she’d even be able to get anything through that thick skull of his? Her new vow to watch her temper notwithstanding, if he was standing in front of her right now, she’d be hard-pressed not to pull the baseball bat out of the back of her belt and give him a good whack with it.

She had the streets to herself except for the maintenance crews desperately trying to restore power to the city’s core and the occasional army vehicle. The city and hydro workers were too busy to pay any attention to her, but the soldiers kept trying to be helpful. The third time one of the eight-wheeled Bisons stopped near her, the sergeant insisted that she accompany them to a shelter.

“Is the city under martial law?” she asked.

“It’s officially been declared a disaster zone.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

The sergeant sighed. “No. But be reasonable, miss. At least let us give you a lift to your mother’s house.”

The bit with her mother’s house was starting to wear thin, Miki realized. Next time one of the Bisons stopped for her, she’d have to think up something better. But it was too late to change her story in this instance.

“Right,” she said. “And as soon as you’ve got me on board, you’ll head off to one of these shelters.”

The sergeant shook his head. “I promise you we won’t. First we’ll pick up your mother.”

Oh, great. The mother who didn’t exist. She couldn’t have them drive her anywhere—certainly not to Kellygnow. Donal would go mad to see her pull up in the company of this lot. And since she had no mother waiting for her, there was nowhere else she could have them take her. With the way her luck was running, once they found out she was lying to them, they’d probably arrest her as a potential looter.

“I don’t know how to put this politely,” she said finally as the sergeant waited patiently for her response, “so why don’t you just sod off and make yourself useful with someone who wants your help. Would that be too much to ask?”

With that she marched off as resolutely as she could, feet squishing in her boots as she slid her way along the ice. The fine hairs at the nape of her neck prickled with uneasy tension. She expected them to come after her at any moment, and then what would she do? Defend herself with her trusty baseball bat? Oh, that would be so effective.

But no one followed and a few moments later she heard the vehicle move off.

Amazing. Her good luck was holding. If you could call slopping through this mess good luck.

She continued along Battersfield Road, inching her way along the side of the street where the footing was marginally less treacherous than the glare ice of the sidewalk. Five minutes later she heard another vehicle coming up behind her. Bloody hell. She didn’t know if she had the strength for yet another confrontation. She was so damned wet and cold and tired that the soldiers could just pick her up by the scruff of her neck like some bedraggled kitten and there wouldn’t be a thing she could do about it. But when she turned, it was to see a battered old pickup truck approaching her at a crawl. The driver was dark-haired with a thick moustache, Spanish, or maybe Lebanese. It was hard to tell at this distance. He gave a little honk of his horn, then the truck started to slew into the curb as he braked.

Miki had to jump back as the vehicle came sliding towards her. She made the pavement, but immediately lost her balance and would have fallen if there hadn’t been a NO
PARKING
sign there for her to grab onto. Meanwhile the pickup had come to a halt and the driver had opened his door. Standing on the running board, he looked over the top of the cab at her, plainly concerned.

“Are you hurt?” he called.

Miki straightened up. Spanish, she decided from his accent.

“No,” she told him. “I’m fine.” Adding, “Now go away,” under her breath.

He seemed friendly enough, but he also looked very strong and capable, and really, what was
he
doing out here? He could be one of the looters, for all she knew, what with that truck and all. Lots of room in the bed for all sorts of things.

“Let me give you a lift,” he said.

“It’s okay,” she said. “Really.”

“I can take you as far as Handfast Road.”

He
was
a looter, she thought. Because there was no way anyone from the Beaches would be driving such a scruffy old truck. But he didn’t look mean, and she was so bloody wet and tired, and he was going right to Handfast, and what was he going to get from her anyway? There was nothing to loot except a baseball bat and she was sure she didn’t exactly look the picture of enticement and allure, no matter how hard-up he might be. She was more like some half-drowned alley cat.

“Okay,” she said, sliding her way over to the pickup. “Thanks.”

When she got in, he turned up the heat then reached behind the seat and pulled out a colorful Mexican blanket which he handed to her.

“Here,” he said. “Maybe this will help you warm up a little. There’s coffee in the thermos.”

Oh, lord. Coffee. Warmth.

She hesitated a moment, then took the blanket and wrapped it around herself.

“How come you’re being so nice to me?” she asked.

He gave her a surprised look.

“I don’t mean to be rude or anything,” she went on, “but it just seems a little weird. It’s not like you know me or anything.”

“Wouldn’t it be a better world if we all looked out for each other?”

“Well, yeah,” Miki replied. “Except it’d also mean that we were on Mars or something.”

He gave her a thin smile. Putting the pickup into gear, he started it on its forward crawl once more.

“I think this storm is a good thing,” he said. “It reminds us that we don’t have to live in a faceless city, where we are all strangers. We are a collection of communities. To get by, we need to count on each other.”

“Until someone stabs you in the back.”

“I live over on the East Side,” he told her.

Miki nodded to show she was listening, though she didn’t understand the context of what he was telling her. There was a regular barrio there in amongst the projects, separate from, yet a part of the cheap housing the city had put up for those in need of shelter. The buildings had all been filled up and fallen into disrepair almost before they’d been erected.

“Today,” her Good Samaritan went on, “I saw known drug dealers and gang members helping neighborhood widows clear ice from their roofs, pick up groceries, move their families to the shelters when they lost their power.”

“And the point being?”

He shrugged. “We are working together for a change. I find myself wishing this community spirit was something that would last beyond the storm.”

Miki nodded. She helped herself to a Kleenex tissue from the box on the dash, then poured herself a cup of the coffee. All she needed now was a cigarette.

“So why are you going to the Beaches?” she asked.

“I work on one of the Estates,” he said. “At a place called Kellygnow. Their phone is out and I’m worried about how they are doing. I would not have come but Maria Elena—my wife—could see how I was worrying, so after I took her to stay with a neighbor who still has electricity, she told me to go.” He glanced at Miki. “I would not have left her otherwise.”

Miki felt about two inches tall.

“I thought you were a looter,” she said.

“Why? Because I’m Latino?”

“God, no. Because of the truck. I mean, can you see the rich hoity-toits up there driving something like this?”

“And now?” he asked.

“I feel like a bloody eejit.”

He smiled and took a hand from the wheel, offering it to her. “I am Salvador Flores.”

“Miki Greer,” she said, shaking.

“Should that not be Minnie?”

“What… ? Oh, right. Ha ha. Big Disney fan, then?”

“So where are you going?” he asked.

“Same place as you—Kellygnow.”

“I’ve not seen you there before.”

“I’ve never been there before,” she told him. “But I think my brother’s gone up there to cause some trouble and I want to stop him before he does.”

Salvador frowned. “Trouble? What sort of trouble?”

“I wish I knew. He’s fallen in with a rough crowd. Do you know anything about the Gentry?”

He shook his head. When Miki went on to describe the hard men, he added, “I’ve seen no one like that on the grounds.”

“Then maybe I’m wrong. Maybe they’re not at Kellygnow.”

“I hope they’re not. We don’t need more trouble. The weather’s enough.”

“Nobody needs trouble,” Miki said.

She sunk lower in her seat and finished off her coffee. She was warmer, but that only made her wet clothes that much more clammy and uncomfortable. Her throat was feeling worse by the minute.

“You are not a happy woman,” Salvador said after a few moments.

Wet and bedraggled as she was, who would be? But she knew that wasn’t what he meant.

“There hasn’t been a lot of good going on in my life these days,” she said. “Too many disappointments, I guess.”

“Because of your brother?”

Miki shook her head. “Not really. I’m more disappointed in myself.”

“That’s not so good,” Salvador said. “In the end, all you have is yourself.”

And when that’s shite? Miki wondered. Great. That made her feel just bloody wonderful. But he was right. If you couldn’t like yourself, how could you expect anybody else to like you?

“Do you mind if I have a smoke?” she asked.

He shook his head. “But we’ve arrived.”

She looked up through the windshield as he pulled over towards the curb. The pickup slid to a stop against the sidewalk. Salvador shifted into neutral and put on the hand brake.

“Or at least we’ve come as far as the truck will take us.”

No kidding, Miki thought. Handfast Road was one solid sheet of ice going up the hill. There was no way the pickup could make it up that slippery grade. She didn’t think anyone could even walk up it.

“Perhaps you should stay in the truck,” he added. “There’s plenty of gas and you can warm up while you wait.”

“No,” Miki told him. “This is something I’ve got to do.”

Salvador shrugged. Reaching behind the seat again, he pulled out a yellow rain slicker to match the one he was wearing.

“Put this on,” he said. “It’s Maria Elena’s, but she won’t mind.”

“Thanks.”

He waited for her on the pavement while she struggled to put the rain slicker on. Outside she lost her balance, but he plucked her up as she was falling and set her on her feet. He was strong, she thought.

“We can’t use the road,” he said, nodding towards it with his chin.

Miki took in the ice-slick slope of the street once more and sighed. Lighting a cigarette, she let him lead the way around behind the houses where they crunched a path through the crust of snow that covered the lawns in back.