"Good afternoon, Jacquel & Ibis Funeral Home." Shadow answered the kitchen extension of the phone carefully, using the solemn tone he'd practiced. At the moment, Ibis was downstairs doing another cleansing on Corso. After a week of daily cleansings and mystic ceremonies, Ibis was still unsatisfied with his progress, and coming up with ever more esoteric procedures. (Where do you get cobra venom in Mississippi, anyway?) Meanwhile, Jacquel was out meeting with someone from the committee for urban renewal about a grant program for small businesses.
"If it isn't Wednesday Junior," a familiar, throaty voice rumbled in his ear. "Your buddy left a message for me yesterday, I'm returning his call."
Why did everyone think he and Corso were friends, Shadow wondered. "He's in with Mr. Ibis at the moment, Cerridwyn. I can give him a message, or get him to call you back."
"How's it going out there? Those boys helping him any?"
"No, they say he isn't dead enough."
She thought that was funny; her snuffling laughter came through clearly. "Not dead enough?"
"They can't do anything about that in case it draws the wrong kind of attention on the other side."
"Hmm, good point." She sounded thoughtful. "What have they tried?"
"I don't know the details. I know they've been doing ceremonies for cleansing."
"I've done some calling around. If they don't have answers, there's a gal in your neck of the woods who does a rite...I don't know if it's ever been cast for something like this, but it's not like the poor bastard's got anything to lose. Her name is Skyflower--"
Shadow rolled his eyes at the New Age pretentiousness and grabbed a pencil to scribble the info she gave him. "Got it."
"Look, when you get ahold of her, you have to keep in mind, she doesn't know anything about anything. She thinks I," Cerridwyn's tone was wry, "am a simple herbalist in New England."
"Another seeker of higher truths?" Shadow suggested.
"Exactly. What she really knows about gods could dance comfortably on the head of a pin. I try to keep track of the charismatic Earth Mother types, and the fact that she's had success with this ritual certainly proves she's channeling something."
"So, have him call her and say what?"
"Maybe you'd better have him call me first. How's Jinx? Having fun with Bast?"
For half a second, Shadow felt himself blushing, then he realized she was asking if Jinx was having fun with Bast. "Yeah, uh, yeah, they're hanging out. You wouldn't believe it, Jinx has gotten attached to Corso, is that wild, or what? Bast says she's trying to lessen his pain."
"Oh?" Cerridwyn pounced on that. "Bast says so? Since when do you speak Khat?"
Shadow mentally slapped himself upside the head. "Hey, I'm a multi-lingual kind of guy. I know how to say 'Where's your john?' in eight different languages."
"Yeah, but do you ever understand the answer?" He didn't for a minute think she'd been distracted by his retort, but she didn't pursue it. "Ah, well, tell her 'hello' for me."
"I will, and I'll have Corso call you as soon as he can."
As soon as he hung up, Shadow did smack his forehead. "I don't believe you just did that," he said to himself. He must've been spending too much time listening to Corso babble about auras. He pulled a coin from his pocket. "Misdirection only works if you don't drop the dime." He vanished FDR. "And you dropped that one big time."
It wasn't like he and Bast weren't consenting...whatever. Cerridwyn didn't need to know about any of that any more than Corso did, although he'd caught the man scrutinizing Bast's feline form curiously. The thought of the Junoesque sow goddess deciding he might be on the market was a bit scary. Junoesque...hmm, Juno was a goddess in her own right; maybe he'd better come up with a more original adjective. Porky was accurate. (Not too diplomatic, though.) Voluptuous ought to be safe enough....
Have Corso call Cerridwyn. At least he knew Corso was paying for it--Ibis and Jacquel had told him over beers last night that his friend--there was that word again--had given them a substantial sum to cover the phone bill, since they were ringing up anyone and everyone they could think of who might have a solution to Corso's problem. When they'd told him how substantial, Shadow whistled appreciatively. They could afford conference calls to several small Third World countries with that much cash.
On his second beer of the evening, Shadow worked up enough nerve to mention what he'd been wondering since his return. "I'm not trying to pry," he said, tracing the wet ring left by his glass on the tabletop, "but I've gotta say, you guys are looking good. Better than the last time I was here. What's up with that?"
Ibis and Jacquel exchanged glances. "A modest resurgence," Mr. Ibis confided. "A greater awareness on the part of the general public in our humble selves."
"This urban renewal jazz?"
Jacquel gave a deep bark of laughter.
"Moving pictures," Ibis enlarged helpfully. "It seems that over the last few years, there have been several moving pictures about ancient Egypt."
Shadow nodded. Although he hadn't tried sitting through a lot of American movies with foreign subtitles or dubbed dialogue during his time abroad, he knew which ones Ibis meant. "They're not true, though."
"No, but it stirred up an interest in our culture. There were the pictures, and television made some documentaries as well."
"An awareness has been raised, as my partner says." Jacquel raised his glass. "Not quite as effective as being worshiped, but certainly better than fading away."
"Indeed," said Ibis. "We haven't felt this much attention since they discovered Tutankhamon's tomb."
"Was that, by any chance, during the 1920's?" asked Shadow, glancing around the dated kitchen.
"Nineteen twenty-six," Ibis beamed.
Shadow grinned to himself. Hollywood!
The kitchen door opened, and Corso entered, wafting a peculiar odor. "Don't ask," the other man said before Shadow could do more than wince at the aroma. "I know. It stinks. But according to Mr. Ibis, it's supposed to repel lesser demons."
"And everybody else. Whew! Hey, while you were out rolling in something dead, Cerridwyn called. She's got a line on some ritual for you to try. Give her a call back."
"When did she call?"
"Ten, twenty minutes ago, maybe." Shadow rose from the table. "I'll be out on the porch." He escaped the kitchen as Corso picked up the phone.
There was an old cane-bottomed rocking chair on the back porch, and Shadow sat carefully down on it. It creaked slightly at his weight, but didn't wobble, and he slowly rocked, looking out at the neighborhood. The foundation of a new building graced the lot to the right of the funeral parlor, and the big Victorian house on the other side had a fresh coat of paint. Was this part of the resurgence Ibis had spoken of, or did urban renewal just happen to coincide with renewed awareness?
Shadow wasn't sure how long he sat there, rocking, thinking of what his future here might be like. If--when--he could get Corso taken care of. Damned if he knew why it was his problem. He didn't want Corso to remind him of himself.
Who, me? I'm no college boy. I'm not an intellectual. Look at where all that got him. He's in the middle of something he barely understands, with strangers trying to kill him. Yeah, and I remember how that feels. At least I had people telling me what was what, some of the time, anyway....
When I offered him a ride from the airport, I thought it was gonna be simple--drop him somewhere in Massachusetts and go on my way, but that's not how it turned out. It wouldn't've made much of a difference, would it? Shadow wondered. Cerridwyn would've sent Corso here anyway. No, he'd never have made it this far, Shadow was sure of that. Considering how bad his condition was when they landed, Corso would probably have collapsed at the baggage pickup or the car rental counter and been hauled into some hospital to die. Or would've driven off the road on the way to Cerridwyn's house. If by some miracle he'd made it that far, The Blonde waylaying him somewhere between there and here was a high probability.
As he was reaching that conclusion, the back door clattered, and Corso walked out. "I've talked to Cerridwyn, and the woman she recommended--she calls herself Skyflower. She's meeting us in Arkansas. She wants us there the day after tomorrow, something about the positive influence of the moon phase." He grinned wryly. "She says it's an agricultural ritual. I'm thinking crop circles, what do you think?"
"Us, huh? You're in decent shape to drive, what do you need me for?"
Corso grew quiet. "You're not going?" He looked alarmed at the idea. "Please, Shadow--if she shows up I'm as good as dead!"
"I'm going." Shadow sighed. "You need a keeper, Corso."
The other man looked away. When he spoke, his voice was husky. "No. I need a friend I can trust."