The Soulkeepers (19 page)

"No. She is not dead, Jacob. But where she
is we cannot go."

"But that's great. She's not dead! Let's go
find her."

"It's hard to explain, Jacob. Your mother is
where the Achuar say the 'frightened ones' are. It's a place that
is everywhere and nowhere. It's a spiritual destination not a
physical one."

"Then, she
is
dead."

"That's not what she said either."

"This doesn't make any sense! Is this some
kind of a joke? You brought me all the way out here for this?"
Jacob shoved her shoulder, not thinking or caring that whatever she
was, she could hurt him if she wanted to. Her hand shot up and
gripped his wrist with bone crunching pressure.

"I'm sorry Jacob. I'm sorry you didn't get
the answer you were looking for. This is what she said. This is
what she dreamed for you."

He wanted to hit her. He raised his free
hand, clenched it into a fist, his knuckles white with rage. But
Dr. Silva's face was ice, and the malice seeping off of her was
enough of a warning. He instinctively knew if he were to hit her,
he might as well be punching stone. Instead he clutched the sides
of his hair, moaning softly as she released him.

Doubling over, he rubbed his wrist. This was
worse than any scenario he'd anticipated. He could've accepted his
mother was dead. But this, this half answer, was torture. Knowing
she was alive but not being able to reach her was worse than
awful.

Dr. Silva just walked away, leaving him
standing in the middle of the Achuar village, a writhing mass of
emotions. He turned in circles looking for some outlet, aware that
the people were staring again, aware that dark thoughts were
bounding through his skull. For a moment he thought his skin might
tear; it was too small for this thing inside him, this rage that
wanted to shred this village, to burn down everything including Dr.
Silva. Jacob was a protector and tonight he needed desperately to
protect himself, from the barrage of pain, the hollow emptiness
that Dr. Silva had caused.

Unable to let it out any other way, Jacob
turned his face toward the moon and released a howl that came from
somewhere primeval inside of him, a deep empty cry like a wounded
animal. The emotion poured out of him, the release of his power
happening almost without his knowledge. A series of thunderous
popping sounds exploded around him and he was showered in water and
clay. He followed the source of the sound only to find that every
gourd of water the Achuar people kept in front of their huts had
burst. The people stared at him with wide, fearful eyes. There was
no question. He knew he'd caused it.

At the sight of the destruction, of the
Achuar families huddled together protecting their children from
him, Jacob felt ashamed. Tears welled up in his eyes, then flowed
down his face until he completely fell apart and sobbed openly in
the middle of the village.

When at last the tears ebbed and Jacob was
quiet again, a young man about his age crept forward with a gourd
of bitter tea. The boy rested a hand on his shoulder and offered
the drink. Jacob sipped it, grateful for the merciful gift.
Whatever was in the drink began to relax him and soon he was
following the boy into a hut and lying on a hammock by a fire. To
the lullaby of the jungle, his mind cleared of anything but
thoughts of the crackling flame, physically and emotionally
drained, he slept.

Earth Mother

The medicine woman beckons him into the
village center, to the place he was during the ceremony. Only it
isn't a circle of dancing people this time, but a ring of spiky
plants that surround her. Red stones lie between each of the plants
and the medicine woman waters each one from a large gourd.

"Where's my mom?" Jacob yells. "Where is
this place that is no place? Tell me, so that I can help her."

The medicine woman holds a finger to her
lips. "Chuh, chuh," she says.

Under the starlight, the earth around the
stones begins to move: to pull together into an increasingly large
pile. The earth twists upward, building itself into two legs, an
abdomen, chest and arms. When it stops its dusty ascent, an old
dwarf woman stands before him, hunched and barely as tall as his
waist. The dwarf woman holds out her hand like she is the queen of
England rather than the corporeal formation of a swell of dirt. The
medicine woman motions for Jacob to kiss the dwarf woman's
hand.

"Yumi aishmag- jangke," she demands. Jacob
has no idea what the words mean.

The dwarf woman is ugly and dirty but he
understands that it would be an insult not to obey. He lifts the
small hand in his, running his thumb along the gritty backside.
Closing his eyes, he brings the shriveled brown offering to his
mouth. Rough skin rubs his lips. And then, her fingers melt out of
his. The dwarf woman comes apart. As he watches, earth sifts
through his knuckles and all of the red stones scatter to the edges
of the circle, back to the places where they'd been before the
medicine woman had watered them. All except one. In his hand, under
the spot where the dwarf woman's hand had been when he'd kissed it,
one flat red stone shines in the moonlight.

The medicine woman grabs him by the collar
and shakes. She points to the stone and says a word in the language
he does not know but by some miracle he suddenly understands

"Window," she says. She folds his fingers
over the stone and grips his fist in both of her hands. "For you."
Then she shoves him soundly in the chest with both hands.

* * * * *

He woke in the hammock and saw the Achuar
boy standing over him. The boy's hand was on his shoulder, a look
of concern on his features. Light cascaded through the window.
Jacob could hear the village coming alive outside.

All at once he was aware of a burning in his
fist. He was clutching something so tightly his fingernails cut
into his palm. Opening his fingers, he saw the red stone. He'd been
holding the flat disc so tightly that the edges had cut into his
palm and blood ran over its smooth, surface.

The Achuar boy's eyes grew wide. A jumble of
words spilled from his lips in the rhythm of a prayer or
incantation. He was speaking Achuar but somehow, just like in his
dream, Jacob knew exactly what his words meant. The prayer was for
protection from the Earth Mother's wrath for allowing his guest to
steal one of her precious red stones. He rubbed his eyes and
blinked at Jacob.

"It's okay," Jacob said. "She gave it to
me." The words sounded strange to his ears and he was surprised
when the boy seemed to understand. Either he'd just spoken perfect
Achuar or he was hallucinating again.

The boy turned to the corner of the hut.
From inside a woven basket, he pulled out a black cord that looked
as if it was originally some kind of animal tendon. He handed it to
Jacob and motioned toward his neck. The stone fit perfectly in the
loop at the base and Jacob tied the cord around his neck. He gave a
nod of thanks to the boy.

He left the hut with the surreal feeling of
walking straight out of a dream. Tucking the stone inside his
shirt, he decided he did not trust Dr. Silva enough to tell her
about it. After last night, he wasn't sure he could trust her at
all.

The Small Print

"There's something you should know about
Oswald," Dr. Silva said as she approached the wrought iron gate
that led from the back garden to the maple orchard. She and Jacob
had just returned from their visit to the Achuar medicine
woman.

"What do you mean?" Jacob snapped.

"There are some rules, some cautions, I feel
I must share with you," she said, holding open the gate for him to
walk through.

"Like what?"

"Well, you must always keep this gate
locked. This is very important. And, you must never, ever, travel
through the tree without me."

Dr. Silva locked the gate behind them and
sat down on the little hill at the base of the orchard. "There's
something I haven't told you about the tree, Jacob. You know that
Oswald's blood is a portal. That means we can travel places using
it but it also means that others can travel here. See, we put down
tracks, more like vibrations. How do I explain this? It's like we
unravel string. We are in the string, wrapping around time and
space and when we travel, others can slide down our string. Things
can follow us back. We must be very certain that doesn't
happen."

Jacob's vision went red. "Rules! Cautions!
Don't you think you should have told me these things before I went
through the tree?" He paced in front of her. He was sick of her
releasing information little by little on her own terms. "Is there
anything else I should know? Will I come down with the bends in an
hour? Oh wait," he said, throwing up his hands, "If I do get the
bends, it will be for my own good, right? You won't know or care
what it feels like because whatever you are, you don't feel!"

Dr. Silva didn't acknowledge Jacob's tirade.
She continued as if he'd said nothing. "The gate is a fail safe.
It's enchanted. It keeps people here from finding out about Oswald
and keeps them," she nodded toward the tree, "if there should be
any, from gaining access to our world. I can not stress enough how
important this is."

He stared at her, waiting for more, waiting
for her to show him some shred of understanding and decency. He
needed answers. The silence was deafening, so he nodded his head,
not so much because he agreed with her but because he was sick of
standing there in the expectant stillness. She stood up and brushed
off her seat. But Jacob decided he wasn't finished. Nothing made
sense anymore and it was her fault. It all started with her.

"What are you?" He dug in his heels,
determined to get an answer this time. "You said the gate was
enchanted but before you said you weren't a witch?"

"I'm not a witch, but I can perform
sorcery," she said toward the house.

"Show me."

She turned around to face him. All of the
casual energy she usually displayed was gone and her face took on
the icy hard look of sculpted marble, the same as it had been the
night before when she'd grabbed his wrist. Looking taller and
straighter than ever, her presence knocked into him as if her aura
were a living, physical thing. It was so unsettling Jacob took a
step backward.

Exposing her right palm, she circled her
left over it and a ball of blue fire appeared. It crackled as it
burned, like it was more than a flame. She threw it into the air
and caught it in her left. Again she tossed it above her head, but
while it sailed through the air she circled her palm and another
fireball appeared. She repeated the trick until she was juggling
three balls of glowing-hot energy.

This was no illusion. Jacob could feel the
heat against his face as the fireballs sailed by, several feet
away. He could only imagine how hot they must be in her bare palms.
Then, as he watched awestruck, she tossed them all in the air,
tilted her head back and caught them one after another in her
mouth. Jacob heard a sizzling sound as they hit her tongue. She
swallowed them down in one gulp and then blew a ring of smoke over
his right shoulder.

The whole scene reminded him of the
fire-eater at the circus, only oddly disturbing, like watching her
cut herself. His mouth was hanging open. He closed it. It fell open
again. He closed it again.

Jacob swallowed hard. "So, you're a
sorcerer?"

"Not really." She shook her head.

"Then, what are you? Tell me."

She whispered something under her breath and
looked toward the horizon. "Why does everyone need a label?"

Jacob didn't know what to say. He just
waited for an answer. None came. But he watched the humanity infuse
into Dr. Silva's body, a tangible, warm thing that seemed to wash
away the cold stiffness her magic had brought with it from the
inside out. The hard, marble quality of her features softened and
the unapproachable aura seemed to pull back within her. The next
time she spoke, her voice and appearance were as normal as anyone
Jacob had ever met before.

"Listen Jacob, I have to go away in a few
weeks—the first week of July. I'm visiting a group of
ethnobotanists in St. Louis about these plants." Dr. Silva held up
her leather bag. "We think there may be a cure for some types of
cancer in these leaves. The government of Peru won't allow us to
remove these by conventional travel but my colleagues will be very
excited I got my hands on some samples. Now I just need to find a
way to avoid the question of how."

She smiled at him but Jacob was barely
paying attention. His mind was in another world; processing what
he'd just seen.

"Would you mind caring for the garden and
feeding Gideon while I'm gone? There will be extra wages for
it."

He ignored her. "If you can do sorcery, why
can't you help me reach my mom? What aren't you telling me? Where
is she?"

"I told you. She's nowhere. She's in a place
between places. Nobody can reach her. Not even I," Dr. Silva said,
an empty sadness in her voice.

"I don't believe you." Jacob's hands balled
into fists.

"I'm sorry it wasn't the answer you were
looking for. I understand more than you know. I had a terrible time
dealing with Oswald's death but I did deal with it and moved on. If
you want to talk about your mother and moving on, I am here for
you."

"But she's not dead!" he snapped. "Why are
you talking about moving on? If she's alive, then she's someplace,
and I am going to search until I find her."

Jacob stormed through the yard and threw
open the heavy gate. Before he crossed the street, he turned back
toward Dr. Silva who was standing with her hands on her bag,
looking disappointed.