Immortal (6 page)

“Seat belts, everyone. Last call for food or drinks.”

It took Nathrin a minute to get himself and Mirali buckled in. I picked out another CD—Deuter's
Land of Enchantment
, fairly soothing—and swapped it into the player.

We were making good time, but we were leaving the freeway now so the driving would be slower. Heading northwest toward Mora, we left urban civilization behind and started climbing into the hills and high meadows of north-central New Mexico. The mountains to the west loomed larger, patches of aspen showing in vast, golden splotches against the blue of the evergreens. The air was cooler here. I'd definitely want my sweater later.

Watching the countryside slide by, driving at a slower pace, I began to relax. Caeran listened intently to the music; flute music, and he'd said he played the flute. I waited about halfway through the disc, then on a song he seemed less interested in, I posed a quiet question.

“Do you know if this curandero is planning to put all of us up?”

Caeran looked at me, wearing the frown that meant he was confused. I rephrased.

“If there's no place for us to stay in Guadalupita, we might have to go back to Las Vegas. No problem, we should be able to get rooms.”

He nodded, apparently trusting me. That gave me a good feeling but it also made me want to laugh.

We reached Mora and I glanced in the mirror. Nathrin was watching Mirali, who was conked out again.

“Anyone like raspberries? There's a farm we could stop at, if we need a break.”

Nathrin didn't respond. Caeran answered after a pause.

“Perhaps we should continue. How much farther is it?”

“Probably about half an hour. I brought a map, but it's in my pack in the trunk. Heck, I need to stop and get it out anyway. I don't know the number of the highway we're looking for.”

I pulled over at the raspberry place and hopped out. Raspberry picking season was over or I'd have been more tempted to linger. As it was, I was good and didn't even step into the store, just got the map and came back.

I showed the map to Caeran. “Here's the road we need—434. Did we pass a sign that said that?”

“I did not notice.”

I handed him the map and started the car. We drove around a bit and found the road (Mora's a pretty tiny town, though bigger than where we were headed.)

The sun was dipping toward the mountains. Sunset would be earlier because of them. I felt anxious, which was strange. Maybe the uncertainty of what would happen when we reached our destination was bothering me. Or maybe I was worried my adventure with Caeran would end before it had really begun.

“Hey Caeran?” I kept my voice low, glancing at him for his reactions.

“Yes?”

“Do you date much?”

“Date?” Frowning.

“Are you seeing someone. You know, a girlfriend?”

He was silent for a moment. “Are you asking if I have a lover?”

“Um—well, I was trying to be more subtle than that, but I guess yeah.”

“I do not.”

“Oh.”

I could feel my face burning. I was such a klutz! I tried to think of something else to talk about. Caeran didn't help, he just sat there brooding. I'd been too nosy, damn it.

“So, how about them Dukes?” I muttered to myself.

“Pardon?”

“Nothing. Stupid joke.”

“You know dukes?”

“It was a baseball team. In Albuquerque. They're gone, though—they went up to Portland and turned into the Beavers. We've got the Isotopes now.”

That shut Caeran up good, not that it had been my intention. I couldn't tell whether he was offended or just hopelessly confused, and I didn't want to make it worse so I shut up too. We arrived at Guadalupita in silence.

“Town”—even “village”— was a generous description. It would have been nothing more than a handful of ranches if it hadn't been for the post office. One house, right on the road, looked like it used to be a store.

The bar looked like it had been a house, up until, say, day before yesterday. Old adobe, the sort of old farmhouse that had started as one room and had more added on over time. The tin roof sported patches of rust. Black-on-white cardboard sign in the dusty window: “Open.”

Two pickups were parked in the driveway. I stopped the Saturn on the shoulder of the road, turned the engine off, and looked at Caeran.

“I think this is where we ask for directions.”

He looked at the building, doubt in his face.

“Shall I come in with you?”

He nodded, frowning, and got out. I joined him and walked up to the building, pulling open the ancient, blue screen door. The door behind it was painted blue also, which I actually took as a good sign. Someone had wanted to protect the house from evil spirits.

I glanced at Caeran as I opened the door, a silly thought fleeting through my mind that perhaps he wouldn't be able to enter. He proved that wrong right away, stepping through the door and looking around in silent wonder at the dim interior of the house.

A neon Budweiser sign on the wall behind the bar and a TV mounted high in one corner provided the majority of the light in the place. There were two tiny cafe tables—empty—and six tall, backless stools in front of the bar. Three of them were occupied by two men and an overweight woman, all Hispanic. They stared at Caeran in belligerent silence. I got a glance or two, but apparently I was normal enough to dismiss. Caeran was hard to ignore.

The bartender was a bleached blonde chica with hoop earrings and long, red nails. She looked at Caeran with more curiosity than animosity, then after a minute turned to me and raised an eyebrow.

I put on a smile I didn't feel as I stepped up to the bar. This was going to take some diplomacy.

“I'll have a Bud,” I said, glancing at the single tap mounted on the bar.

She snapped her gum once, then pulled a glass out of a cooler set into her counter and filled it. “What about your friend?”

“He'll have a Bud, too.”

I paid for both beers, then picked mine up and sipped it, trying to look like I enjoyed it. My taste runs more to ambers and dark beers. I guess I'm a snob, but to me Bud tastes like sour water.

I caught Caeran's eye and summoned him to join me with a nod. He took the stool on my left, as far as possible from the locals. The bartender put his beer in front of him.

“You look like someone I know.”

Caeran gave her a startled glance, then looked at me as if seeking help. I nodded and tilted my head toward her. Caeran turned back to her.

“Would his name be Madera?” His voice was rough. He was nervous.

“Yeah. You know him?”

“We came here to ask his help.”

“Oh.” She looked at me, as if trying to figure out what my problem could be. “He's very good.”

“Can you direct us to his place?” I said, impatient to get on with it.

Her eyes narrowed a little. “What's your name?”

“Caeran,” said my companion. “I called him yesterday, and he told me to ask here for directions.”

“Hang on.”

She walked over to the far corner of the bar and consulted a spiral notebook next to a phone. The people at the bar exchanged a few words in Spanish. I detected no outright obscenities, but couldn't catch the gist. Caeran shifted slightly on his stool, though. I glanced at him, but his face was neutral.

“OK.” The bartender came back and handed Caeran a business card with an address scrawled on the back. “Go north eight miles and turn left at the carved owl. You can't miss it.”

“Thank you.”

Caeran accepted the note with one of his quaint little bows, then slid off his stool. He hadn't touched his beer. I took a gallant swig of mine—dinner—and followed him out, leaving a tip on the bar.

Just in the time we'd been in there, the sun had set. There was already a nip in the air. I thought about getting out my sweater, then decided to wait until we got to Madera's place.

“Can't miss it” turned out to be a slight exaggeration. I was looking for a number or a mailbox, but there was only a gap in the fence, and I would, too, have missed it if Caeran hadn't pointed it out. The carved owl sitting on a fence post looked like a hawk to me at first glance. I had assumed it was alive, watching for supper to run by.

The driveway was half a mile of dusty, rutted road. I took it slowly, trying not to jostle Mirali too much, but I couldn't keep her from feeling some of the bumps. Finally a house came into view. More old, sprawling adobe. This one sprawled more than usual; it was a pretty big place, and had probably housed a big ranch family at one time. I wondered if Madera had a family.

The house faced east, and a deep
portal
ran its length, to provide shade from the fierce morning sun. An antique-looking amber glass porch light shone beside a large zaguan door—big enough for a wagon to roll through—with a smaller door set into it. Beyond the house, Venus hung above the mountains like a jewel in the velvet blue evening.

I parked near the door and shut off the engine, then hurried around to the trunk to grab my sweater and my pack. Nathrin and Caeran helped Mirali out of the car. She looked pale, and after she took a couple of shaky steps, Nathrin swept her up into his arms and carried her to the door.

No doorbell, unless you counted the giant brass bell hanging on the wall nearby. Caeran pounded on the door instead. I stood behind them all, feeling superfluous.

I was expecting the curandero to be Hispanic. Silly me. When he opened the smaller door within the zaguan gate I nearly gasped.

He was tall and lean, with fine bones and an unconscious grace. Sure, his hair was black and his skin was a shade more tanned, but he could have been a cousin to Caeran and his friends.

His gaze went to Mirali and he said something in a flowing language I didn't recognize. Caeran stepped forward.

“Señor de Madera?”

The healer stopped talking and looked up at Caeran, suddenly guarded. His gaze flicked to me for an instant, then returned to Caeran.

“Yes.”

“May we come in?”

He looked at me again, a little longer, as if trying to decide if I was dangerous. His eyes were a piercing blue, and for a second I felt a shadow of familiar dizziness.

“Of course. One moment.”

He stepped back inside the house, and some clunking noises followed, then the zaguan gate swung back. Good thing, because Nathrin would have had a tough time squeezing through the smaller door with Mirali.

The space we entered was wide and filled with plants, surprisingly humid. Evening sunlight streamed through windows to the west, looking out on an enclosed courtyard, a
plazuela
, standard hacienda style. The curandero led us through a doorway on the right, into a long room that looked like it served as both living room and dining room.

We left the humidity behind; here it was dry and a bit cool, though a fire was burning in a kiva fireplace in one corner. The furniture was all carved wood, beautifully made with designs that were traditional, but the carver had given them a twist. Images were more flowing than static, if that was possible in carved wood. Edges were softened, polished smooth.

Navajo blankets covered the seats of chairs and benches, and hung on the walls. The room smelled of cedar and sage, and in one corner I saw some bundles of herbs hanging from the ceiling to dry. I wanted to gravitate toward the fire, but tagged along after Caeran and the others instead.

“Bring her in here.”

Nathrin followed the curandero through another doorway at the far end of the room. Caeran paused, giving me an uncertain glance.

“I'll wait,” I said, waving him on.

He smiled briefly at me, enough to double my pulse, then went through the door. I drifted over to the fireplace and sat down on the banco, warming my hands and staring into the little cave full of flames.

This was my chance to regret my impulsiveness, and also my lack of planning. I should have packed a bag. I should have brought a coat. I should have made
some
kind of plan for what to do after I'd delivered Caeran and his friends here. How long would they need to stay, and would they expect me to hang around and take them back to Albuquerque?

What a klutz I was, and all because I was nutty on a total stranger. I was lucky something bad hadn't happened.

I drew a long breath and let it out slowly. It was worth it, I guessed. Being around Caeran, however unromantic the circumstances, was worth it. I knew I would never forget this trip.

I sighed. “Ah, Caeran.”

Footsteps startled me and I looked up to see Caeran returning to the room, gently pulling the door closed behind him. I felt my cheeks go red, though he couldn't have heard me. Could he?

He stood by the door for a moment, watching me. Hesitating. At least I'd gotten to know him well enough to tell.