The rendezvous was at--of all places--a cemetery a couple miles outside of Sage, Arkansas. Arriving long before the meeting time, they'd hoped Corso could rest during the worst daylight hours, but the little town had no motels--not even a darkened movie theater for diversion. Shadow got lunches to go from a diner while Corso made some purchases at a dusty general store.
They drove on, looking for Shell Cemetery Road.The ritual would take place in a nearby field, but their contact had said that the old graveyard had paving that would keep their vehicles from getting mired in case of rain. Rain seemed unlikely, but at least there were shade trees. Shadow parked under the biggest one to give Dean as much relief as possible. Corso spent the time in the backseat with a spiral-bound notebook propped up against his knee, writing the letter Shadow had suggested.
To pass the time, Shadow studied a coin trick from "On Magic". Knowing how much the old pulps were worth, he felt funny about handling them. Although Corso's insinuation had been that that book--being autographed by Houdini himself--was worth much more, Shadow knew he'd paid five dollars for it; that was what it was worth, period.
When a minivan pulled into the little cemetery later that afternoon, Dean shut his notebook and climbed out of the car. Shadow slid "On Magic" into the thigh pocket of his cargo pants and joined his friend. Skyflower was enthusiastic--three people would have a more numerologically significant impact on the ritual than two. Shadow resigned himself to joining in the fun.
Skyflower wasn't quite what Shadow had expected. Imagination had supplied an aging, tye-dyed Flower Child, complete with long hair and love beads, or an anemic Gothling laden with pentacles, talismans, and too much eye makeup, clad in black from head to toe. Instead, the woman who met them was brisk and thirty-ish, well-tanned and garbed in neatly pressed khaki slacks and camp shirt, wearing no makeup at all that Shadow could tell. The only thing around her neck was a business-like compass on a lanyard. Carrying a clipboard, she looked more like a phys-ed coach or camp counselor than Cerridwyn's so-called "Earth Mother" type.
"Tell me again what you want to accomplish?" she asked. "You mentioned healing on the phone; what exactly is the problem?"
Corso answered with his old charm. "I've been to a series of doctors and none of them has been able to pinpoint the problem. It's been suggested to me that there may be an underlying problem of a spiritual nature which needs to be addressed." Every word of what he'd said was the truth--leaving out the more sordid details.
"Like a curse," Shadow contributed. While Cerridwyn had been definite about what not to tell this woman, it didn't seem right to hold out something with so much potential for backfiring.
"Curses have a kharmic rebound on anyone foolish enough to cast them. I'll specify that any ill-will is being returned to sender." Shadow had a sinking feeling. This woman had no idea what she was up against.
As she busied herself with the compass, he edged over to Dean. "I don't know about this."
"Me neither, but I'm running out of options fast," hissed Corso out of the corner of his mouth.
"You can read her freaking aura," Shadow muttered back. "Does she have a clue, or not?"
Corso gave the woman a sidelong look. "Down to earth, confident--she believes she can do something....I've got an idea." Skyflower scribbled on the clipboard, referring to the compass, then jotting down more numbers as they strolled over. "Excuse me," Corso murmured. She held up a finger, finished the calculation. Tucking her pen behind her ear, she looked at him. "I was wondering," Corso said with his most engaging grin. "Can you tell me what my aura looks like? And his?"
She beamed at him, moving to one side so that the setting sun wasn't directly behind him. "Green," she said decisively. "Quite dark, spruce green, I'd say. A lovely shade with the light behind it." Looking at Shadow, her expression became perplexed. "I've never seen an aura like yours before," she said, staring at him. "It's...metallic. Sort of silver-grey, bluish at the edges."
"Well?" Shadow asked as soon as they were out of earshot.
Dean looked worried. "I'm not sure," He reached for a cigarette, looked at the knee-high stalks and nodded toward where the car was parked. "Yours, yeah, she's probably right about never having seen anything like it before--there aren't many sons of gods running around out there, are there? And that wasn't a bad description of it. But mine? Shadow, if I had the aura she was describing, I wouldn't have a worry in the world. It's green, alright, but it's more swamp than spruce."
"Was she being diplomatic, or is she full of shit?"
They walked back across the field to the cemetery, a couple hundred yards, and Corso lit up. "She has some talent," he admitted.
"But you have more." Shadow remembered Cerridwyn administering the elixir. "Funky shrimp and all. Do you want to go through with this or not?"
"We're here, we may as well." They watched Skyflower covertly as she consulted her notes and pounded stakes with fabric pennons in at intervals. "Cerridwyn says she's had some success, and she certainly looks like she knows what she's doing."
"And if it doesn't work?" Shadow hated to ask, but they needed to get this out in the open.
"I don't know. Our friends in Cairo tried every trick in the book. Can you think of anybody else at all?"
"I know a god in Florida," Shadow said, thinking of Mr. Nancy. "He's not a healer, not that I know of, anyway. He's down in Fort Pierce--and doesn't have a phone, so they wouldn't've had any way to get in touch with him."
Corso smiled tiredly. "When you were in school, did they ever make you write, 'How I Spent My Summer Vacation'? If I wrote this shit down, I'd get sent to counseling." The blast of a whistle in the field startled them. Skyflower, of course. Corso crushed out his smoke in the ashtray and they hiked back out to where she waited.
"It's almost time," she said, looking up at the deepening blue of the heavens. "Let me explain to you what will happen. First, I'm going to cast a circle of protection. Then I'll name you as the person the ritual is dedicated to helping. I'll need a donation from you, hair or blood." Skyflower pulled an no-nonsense blade from the tote she'd had the stakes in. "I won't need much of either."
"Blood," Corso said without hesitation.
"After I've drawn blood, I'll drive my blade into the ground at the center of the circle. You'll feel the wind pick up, and whatever you do, don't break the circle, either of you. Stay here until the wind's died down and I've released the elements. Is that clear?"
"Perfectly," Corso nodded. They stood there a moment longer, and Shadow wondered what they were waiting for. He got the answer when Skyflower's watch begin to buzz. She turned it off, held up the dagger, and began the ritual.
Striding the perimeter of the circle, clockwise, her voice rang out distinctly, calling the spirits of north, east, south and west and invoking the elements of earth, water, air and fire. Returning to where they stood, she proclaimed their intention to seek healing for Dean Corso. Corso extended his hand, and she nicked it slightly, enough for a red streak along the edge of the blade.
"Great Mother, we ask Your healing!" Skyflower intoned, stabbing the dagger hilt-deep into the Arkansas soil.
They waited tensely. The wind didn't pick up; if anything, there was less of a breeze than there'd been a moment ago. Skyflower looked expectant, Corso tense. Shadow thought he smelled smoke; for a moment, he wondered if somehow embers from Corso's cigarette had drifted. Then he saw a faint haze of in the air. "What's that?"
Corso turned to look, went ashen. "Something's wrong," Skyflower said at the same time. The phenomenon came closer, smoke rising in waves, each band closer than the one before. There was no sign of fire, but black lines seemed to be etching themselves into the vegetation, spiraling ever nearer. It stopped about twenty feet away, just beyond the stakes ringing the circle.
"The circle is the only thing keeping it out," said Corso, sounding remarkably calm--or in shock, Shadow thought. He was looking at something Shadow couldn't see. Some kind of aura? One of the spirits Skyflower had summoned? Whatever it was, patches of the crops beyond the circle where they stood were now black and shriveled.
Shadow cleared his throat. "Can you get rid of whatever it is? Say 'thanks, but no thanks'?"
Her voice shaking, Skyflower thanked the powers attending for their aid and bade them depart. She wrenched the ceremonial knife from the earth.
"It's gone now." Corso exhaled. "I don't think that worked."
The rite's mistress looked first at him, then at the ruins of the field, and shook her head. "I don't know what just happened," she said, "but it wasn't favorable. Good luck, Mr. Corso...you're going to need it." She strode away swiftly. At the perimeter of the circle, she swung her knife as if slashing something. Suddenly, Shadow smelled the reek of scorched crops, a nasty stench of ashes, sulfur and decay.
As soon as he crossed the perimeter, Corso began to choke. "Shadow!" he gasped, sagging to the ground. Shadow hoisted the other man over his shoulder, heading for the car. Crossing too many of those black lines could be fatal for Corso; he found himself traveling in a long spiral to get away from the ritual site. The graveyard, just a couple hundred yards distant in a straight line, was considerably farther away in an ever-widening circle.
A/N--Stay tuned: the next installment will post after midnight, EST, on Halloween morning....
Oh, and btw, there is a town called Sage, Arkansas and a Shell Cemetery Road in the nearby countryside...the names are all I know about these locations and I used them because they fit in with the tone of the story. No disrespect is intended in any way. vanillafluffy