Shaman Winter (32 page)

He felt the pressure of his bladder, sat on the side of the bed, and stood slowly. He tested the strength of his legs, reached for the chair, and pushed it ahead of him into the bathroom.

He had finished showering and dressing when Rita knocked at the door. “Buenos días, amor. How do you feel?”

“Feel great,” Sonny replied, opening the bathroom door. Chica came rushing in.

“You look a lot better,” Rita said, kissing him.

“Glad to be back in the world of the living,” he said, caressing her back. “Gracias por tu amor.”

“Mi placer.”

“As the old people used to say, el amor fixes everything.”

“They were right, you know. Don Eliseo and Lorenza are here, breakfast's ready.”

“No time for a quickie?”

“Míralo,” she teased him. “What a man.”

“Gracias.” He smiled back. “You look great,” he said, admiring her.

“Thank you. You look great, too.”

“I'm hungry,” he replied. “Feel like I haven't eaten in weeks.”

“We've got a feast for you,” she said.

“I can smell it. Shouldn't you be at work?”

“I went by earlier. Everything's fine. Marta is working full time now, and she's a great manager.”

He slipped into the wheelchair, picked up Chica, put her on his lap, and followed Rita into the kitchen. Don Eliseo and Lorenza sat around the small table.

“Hey, Sonny, you're just in time for some huevos rancheros,” don Eliseo said.

“Buenos días,” Sonny replied. “I'm ready. Hi, Lore.”

“Hi to you. How do you feel?”

“Like a new man. Thanks for saving my ass last night.”

“De nada.” She smiled.

“I feel like James Bond getting rescued by two lovely women,” Sonny said, taking a hot tortilla from the plate and slapping butter on it.

“James Bond doesn't hold a candle to you,” Rita said, placing a plate of huevos rancheros in front of him.

The taste of eggs, potatoes, and beans smothered with green chile was like manna from heaven. He tore into the warm tortillas, the breaking of bread for the new day, and devoured them. He was alive, not fully recovered, but alive. And he had friends watching over him. He was thankful.

“That's a good sign,” Rita said, pleased he was eating. She filled big bowls with posole for everyone, garnishing it with oregano, freshly diced onions, red chile.

“Um, posole. It's beginning to feel like Christmas.” Sonny dug into the corn and pig's feet stew.

But even the renewed energy and the food could not completely dispel Sonny's anxiety about how little time was left to find Raven, and the impending doom of the consequences if he didn't.

While he ate, he told the dream. When he finished, he burped and sat back in his chair. He had eaten a huge plate of huevos rancheros, a big bowl of posole, and a dozen tortillas. Now he reached for the biscochitos, the Christmas cookies Rita baked for her restaurant, munching as he drank coffee.

“It's a good sign,” Lorenza said. “You stopped him from taking Rosa.”

“If I know Raven, he'll try something else,” Sonny cautioned.

“Yes,” don Eliseo agreed. “Never forget, Raven plays games. He recognizes you as an old soul, an old enemy. You stand in his way, and he doesn't like that. He won't rest until he gets you. Once and for all.”

Sonny paid attention; the old man's words were ominous. “Once and for all,” he had said. They had come to this point in history. Their struggle had to come to an end.

Stopping Raven in the dream was one thing, but in the real world he held three young girls captive, and he had the capacity to construct a bomb.

“I've got to find him.”

“Don't start thinking about going out again,” Rita said, rubbing his shoulders. “You need to rest.”

Sonny took her hand and kissed it. “I feel better, really. But I have to find the girls.”

“How?” she asked. There were no clues.

Sonny looked for help at Lorenza and don Eliseo.

“There is a pattern,” Lorenza said. “You figured out he would strike at
Las Posadas
.”

“Yeah. What's next?”

“He organizes around the winter solstice,” don Eliseo said. “December twenty-first.”

“Tomorrow,” Sonny whispered.

“Yes. The shortest day of the year, the sun is at its weakest point. This time of the year we are aware of the dying light. We
feel
the season ending, the cold, short days, so like our ancestors of long ago we respond. Our spiritual life needs to be renewed. Some put up Christmas trees, lights, reminders of days when we prayed to the sun. The Aztecs used to sacrifice butterflies and lizards on the winter solstice. Offer the beauty of the small creatures to the weak sun so it would return north to warm the land. To grow corn, squash, chile. In the pueblos the people hold dances. The deer come down from the hills. Without the sun there is no life. Raven knows this. At this point in the sun's journey he will try to destroy it.”

“Blow up the bomb?”

“Yes.”

“The sonofabitch has everything on his side,” Sonny swore.

“Not yet. He needs four of these young women for his kingdom,” don Eliseo said. “Until he has four, the girls are safe. After that—” He shrugged. No one knew. “Well, I better be on my way.” He sipped the last of his coffee. “Gracias por el almuerzo, Rita. Bien sabroso.”

“De nada, don Eliseo. Thank you for everything.”

“Ah, I feel I've done so little. In my bones I feel the time of the sun standing still. I keep thinking of the messages in the bowl. You know, being human, we have so many limitations. Just about the time we figure out what life is all about, we die.”

“You're not going to die,” Sonny said, and took the old man's hand. “You're as healthy as—What is it Concha said?”

“She says I'm as healthy as her grandfather's mule,” don Eliseo said, smiling. “I remember don Liborio riding that mule from here all the way to Bernalillo. Don Liborio used to go there to drink wine with his friends and gamble at the cockfights. Late at night he would get on his mule and fall asleep. The mule brought him back home. The old man died, the mule lived on for many years.”

“I agree with Concha,” Sonny said. “You'll live as long as the mule.” But something in the old man's tone caught his attention.

“Oh, my health is good,” don Eliseo agreed, glancing at Lorenza. “But sooner or later we begin to see death in our dreams. Just like you did last night. Raven is your death waiting to happen. Sooner or later we have to enter that dream …” His words hung in the air with an illuminating certainty.

Sonny cleared his throat. “So where are you headed today?”

“Up to Sandia Pueblo, to say prayers with the medicine men.”

“Are they performing
Las Posadas
there?”

“No, but they have a Matachines dance on Christmas Eve.”

“Doesn't Malinche play the part of the Virgin in the dance?”

Sonny looked from Rita to Lorenza. “Another dance with a virgin in it. If we follow this line of thinking, there are just too many bases to cover. Christians are celebrating the birth of Christ—” He paused. “The Virgen de Guadalupe was a new dream of peace after the Spanish conquest. Is that it?” He asked in frustration.

“You're close,” don Eliseo said. “But you have to extend the meaning of birth. The birth of every child represents a new dream, a new possibility. A child will come to lead us from war to peace. That's the hope. Owl Woman was to marry the capitán and give birth to a new community, a new possibility. There's a clue there.”

“A child shall lead us,” Sonny said, “but Raven doesn't want the child of peace to be born.”

He looked up at the old man. He was in his eighties and still going to the pueblo to join in the prayers. Walking out in the predawn cold to pray to the sun. His prayers, and those of many like him, were what kept the sun going. They believed that, and so it was.

He held the old man's arms. “Gracias,” he said.

“Que los Señores y las Señoras de la Luz iluminen tu vereda,” don Eliseo replied, leaning to touch his forehead to Sonny's. “Y que el Tata Sol, los santos, y las kachinas te cuiden.”

He blessed Sonny. He believed in the young man. He knew the ordeal Sonny was going through, and only he fully knew the import of Sonny's struggle with Raven.

“I am going to make you a dream catcher,” he said. “Some of the men from the pueblo brought down some juniper branches. It is one more piece of medicine in your fight against Raven.”

“I catch him with the dream catcher?” Sonny asked.

“No, you make him pass through the hole in the middle, and like a bad dream he disappears. You will see.” He turned and went out the kitchen door, into the cold morning. Chica scampered after him.

“I love that old man,” Sonny said. “Imagine, going to the pueblo to join in the ceremony. At his age he ought to be content to stay in front of his warm stove.”

“He needs to be at the pueblo with his vecinos. They consider him a war chief—” Lorenza began.

“War chief?” Sonny interrupted. “I never knew—”

“Those involved in the ceremony don't talk about their roles. But he's been around the pueblo so long they consider him one of them. He's fought the big battles in his time,” Lorenza said as she started clearing the dishes.

“Against Raven?” Sonny asked.

“Those like him,” she replied.

Yes, Sonny thought, in his youth don Eliseo had been like Sonny, tempted and pursued by the evil sorcerers who had always plagued humanity. Now he was instructing Sonny. Last night he had figured where Sonny was in the dream, and it helped Sonny face Raven.

“And the dream catcher?”

“We'll see.”

“One thing compounds to another, and I don't even have the time to—”

Rita put her arms around his neck. “Time to enjoy life. I know, amor. But what you have to do will save a lot of lives. I called your mom this morning. Told her you're fine. Didn't mention what happened. She sends her love, wants us to come and eat Christmas dinner with her.”

He kissed her hands. “Gracias.”

“And Chief Garcia called last night, just after we got here. To congratulate you on exposing Raven's lab. He was complaining that the FBI hadn't shared any of the information with him until last night.”

“They look down their noses on the local cops,” Sonny said, “but something like a nuclear threat will bring them together.”

The phone rang. Sonny frowned, looked at Rita and Lorenza, then picked it up. “Hello,” he said, crossing his fingers that it was not another report of a girl missing.

“Sonny, good morning, Leif Eric here. Talked to Matt Paiz last night, heard the good news. Thought I'd wait till you were up to call you. I can't tell you how much we appreciate whatyou've done.”

“I didn't do anything,” Sonny interrupted, “except nearly get myself killed. Paiz and his agents did the work.”

“Don't be modest, young man. Paiz told me how hairy things got. Too bad about Chernenko, but he played with fire, and he got burned. We brought that man in, gave him clearances here and at Sandia, never suspecting what he was up to. I suppose it's too cruel to say, but he got what he deserved.”

Yeah, Sonny thought. You brought him in and now that he's dead, he can't divulge information.

“Raven's still got the plutonium,” Sonny reminded him.

“Yes, but he no longer has Chernenko. Without him the bomb can't be put together. There's no one of that caliber willing to sell out. It's only a matter of time before the plutonium is found. But any media exposure of what happened at Sandia can hurt our credibility.”

“Does the media know?” Sonny asked.

He heard Eric hesitate, clear his throat. “No, not yet. You understand we have to keep it under wraps, for the time being. We're not releasing any information yet. That's why I'm calling you. Paiz should not have allowed the two women, your friends, into the labs. You know that. They called him, he met them at the lab gate, and he let them follow him in. Lab security thought they were with him. But they shouldn't have been inside the labs. We need to keep this quiet. Do you understand?”

“So my two friends are not supposed to talk to anyone, is that it?”

“That's it. We need to get Raven first. We get him and the plutonium, then we can clear up this whole bloody mess.”

Sure, Sonny thought, keep it under wraps. Don't let the public know there have been murders committed at Los Alamos and at Sandia Labs. Damn! Didn't Eric know Raven could hire others to put the bomb together! Lord, there were a hundred ways to import specialists without U.S. Customs, the CIA, or the FBI knowing. With the kind of money Raven was getting from the Avengers, it was easy as logging on to the Internet.

“Anyway, Doyle's satisfied the plutonium will be found shortly. By the way, any luck on reading the glyphs on the bowl?”

“No,” Sonny replied.

“If you need an expert in decoding, I can send it up to Washington. Let some of our men see it.”

“How do you know I have the bowl?”

Eric paused. “I think Paiz, or someone, mentioned it. I just assumed you had recovered it. Did you?”

“Yes—”

“Good. Remember, our deal was to let you keep it, hoping you could read the glyphs, decode it so to speak. What we're learning about this Raven character leads Doyle to believe that the glyphs on the bowl might contain information on him. He wants the bowl examined at the FBI lab.”

“I can't let it go,” Sonny replied.

Sonny felt Eric's irritation in the pause. “As you say. Remember, no statements to the press. Nada. Any questions from the press are directed to me. That's got to be absolutely clear.” The phone line went dead.