Chapter Thirty-Eight
Saturday morning was again filled with calls. Surprise. Between times I wrote an email for pledged voters and surfed news, seeing the Italian villa had been joined by disruption of smuggling rings, seizure of drugs by the ton, and liberation of many more people being trafficked. Police forces across Europe were involved, but there was as yet no link between the stories, operations driven only by 'information received'. I wondered what vamps not in Bonarata's seethe were making of it, but that led to thinking about Stefan and I wasn't going there. My speeches were attracting heavyweight analysis that agreed main parties were in trouble. The website numbers, still rising, had given me credibility, extending to my slate, but they wanted more names, and weren't going to have to wait long.
Most of my calls were about putative candidates for various races. Jenny was supervising vetting, wolves and half-fae across the country doing legwork, and while there had been rejections the cleared list was long enough for a substantial release Monday. Vanna was good to go in Manhattan, and half-fae would run for governor in two Eastern states, with others trying for the House, but most were human and an interesting if motley bunch. Ranges of ethnicity and age were pleasing, and they were going for everything, federal, state, mayoral, and DAs. Ecology was a big part of it, but so were minority rights and the Paths of Assertion and Mercy. The Pacific North-West was well-covered, with a high proportion of First People, and dialogue with the Bible Belt about the preternatural was bearing fruit, faith candidates sufficiently driven by stewardship and Medicine Wolf as a godsent warning to accept my positions on other things. SAGE helped there, and though I was known to be pro-choice I'd been clear abortion was a last resort and never routine. I also had First People in Alaska and Hawaii, and if there were plenty of holes, especially in the deep South and upper Mid-West, next week should help fill those.
I dealt briefly with Coyote, who turned up with a new iMac to copy my music library, and fielded a call from Leslie, who'd been to see Chief Rodgers with some partly redacted medical reports on bereaved sheep, and done what reassuring she could. She wasn't happy with having to stall either, but better pleased by rolling European news and the prospect of tomorrow. I threw Buffalo Rangers into the mix for her to chew on, and they came up again when the Man called on the secure line.
"You've had quite a week, Ms Hauptman. Wednesday night aside, it's been a pleasure to watch, though not so much fun for you, I'd imagine."
"The launches were good, sir, though I preferred in-and-out at Bison Paddock to schmoozing at the Rupp Arena. But yeah, the waiting not so much. Needs must."
"Tell me. And you bet the launches were good. I'm still smiling about 'Scarlet Begonias'. The European stuff is a doozy as well, and the CIA is very happy with you, but have already had to lean on the Italians. Ambassadorial briefings have induced worried phone calls from all over, and though leaders I've spoken to are up for waiting while we deliver cases of wooden slugs, and listening hard to wolves the Marrok has asked to be forthcoming, I can also hear stakes being sharpened. I've told them we expect significant developments sooner than later, which may make things easier for them, and if they jog our elbow meantime we will be very unhappy. They heard, but they're also working out that the political calculus when this breaks will make it impossible to refuse assistance with vamps, to NATO allies, at least, and that there are all sorts of interesting possibilities in helping the Russians, Chinese, and Indians. And then there are domestic notifications. I am not happy telling foreign leaders without telling governors, nor will they be when they find out. I think I can keep it down until Friday, but if it goes beyond that …"
"I hear you, sir. And I have no problem calling Geronimo anytime we have to. It's just …" I waggled hands. "The shape of it. Who knows what'll happen when it blows, but charges can be seriously directional."
He looked at me curiously. "Good luck with that, Ms Hauptman. Do you know what shape you want?"
"Want, yes, but it's all contingent on what goes down. If Bonarata's dust it'll be easier." I thought some more. "It's complicated. There are human events, vamp events, manitou events, and I don't want Mississippi Basin governors hit with vamps before Friday because it'll leak."
"That I get, and I'll try."
"Thank you. It's also about magic and mine being not so predictable. I need to give it potentials to work with, and that means bringing things together. I'm using the debate as a focus." David's worries came back to me. "And if I'm dead you'll need to call Geronimo, sir, fast, because coming after Ol' Manitou River it'll be taken as a racist political hit."
We talked about that, which was not enjoyable, until he segued to cleaning up the Mississippi, which we'd already talked about a little and was the real reason he'd called, so I added Buffalo Rangers and an autonomous agency to our agenda.
"A federal authority covering only thirty-two states?"
"Only parts of a dozen or so, but yeah, covering the whole river system. Pollution, flood control, and river freight." I laid out the dynamics of minimising the first and maximising the last for the same win-win gains the Columbia Restoration was generating. "Something has to co-ordinate and absorb existing Watershed initiatives. Levees, riparian buffer zones, greener transport, the lot."
"Huh. A Department of the Mississippi Basin, then, not an agency. Excluding 18 states from a federal authority is a big problem, plus Cabinet Secretaries have more clout than directors, and it'll need some of that. The fight will be pesticides and fertiliser."
I hadn't thought of creating new departments of federal government, and wondered where you put one, but the argument made sense and the Man knew he'd need to offer Ol' Manitou River something concrete, so that would be his headache. He was right about Big Corn, though, and that was high on Sawyer's agenda.
"Un huh. I don't know what's possible, sir, but flood plains are rich land, and I'm hoping Ol' Manitou River can control silt as well as water. Natural fertiliser. But systemic pesticides and nitrates have to go, whatever Iowa wants. And that renewable fuels plan based on corn ethanol — they really didn't think that one through."
"They usually don't, Ms Hauptman. But I like your thinking, and can have something half-way coherent for next Saturday, assuming it's all worked out and I can go to St Louis as planned. Will you still be there?"
"I sincerely hope not. I'm supposed to be doing my own launch, with one for the slate, here, and all sorts of people are due, including the Dead."
"They are? Huh. Are you inviting Oregon and Washington?"
"Yup. Washington's coming to Warren's launch this afternoon, and they're both due next week."
"So maybe I'll go on West from St Louis, if timing allows. I owe them some return solidarity."
"And you'd catch the gig."
"I would." He grinned, but glanced aside. "Incoming. Take care, Ms Hauptman."
With that done I got in some therapeutic baking, making a fruitcake for Mrs Andrews and listening to Jill tell Brent and Lincoln about beadwork, and the explosive effect of glass when the Spanish and Anglos introduced it. The craft had existed for centuries, but First People are suckers for bright colours, and bone or shell beading was a lot more labour intensive. She also had a portrait jacket by Marcus Amerman that had cost an arm and a leg but she thought well worth it, and having seen some of his work I'd bet it was.
I was taking care of meat pasties for lunch when the weekly Yoke's restock came, so there was bustle putting stuff in fridge and freezers. Tom was there to tote bags, and cheerfully told me he was applying to Wazzu for the fall, and thought the road-safety segment on Living Free and Moonbound had been great. He'd really dug Purity, and as he'd turn eighteen soon was looking forward to voting for me and Warren. As always he left me with a sense of mild bemusement at his thought processes, but feeling cheered, and my pasty sustained that.
KEPR's coverage of Sacajawea State Park had started, the crowd was large and still swelling, First People in heavy evidence, and with a local jugband Kyle knew starting to play the atmosphere felt more festival than rally, a lot of goodwill on show. The talking heads were all over the place, but when Caroline began interviews I was better pleased. Yes, there was me and all the excitements of the week, but also Warren, and the 1776 thing made them proud he was one of theirs, by long residence if not birth. And yes again, they were proud of me, and of living where the Medicine Wolf Accords had been negotiated, but as pack Warren was a part of that anyway, as of their feelings about Hanford and the Columbia Restoration. The bio on his website had been widely read, with a lot of sympathy as well as goggling interest, and Caroline got good soundbites from First People who knew about less familiar Amerindian names.
She also did a segment on security. Secret Service and SEALs had people on the reserved area, and Ramona with the Freed (and Penny's team) were adding scenting to pat-down searches on general entry. The visitor carpark was reserved for campaign staff, Pasco PD had barriers along the spur to Lake Wallula, and were managing parking on scrubland by the access road, so everyone had to enter on foot. Checks made for delays, but there were many channels and people were cool, sharply aware of those Wednesday shots, and pleased to meet Freed, however briefly.
Adam had wanted me to go by cloak, but when I drew the line — the cloak was not for local travel — he'd conceded Hummers, with rings of security. He would take wolves in the Cherokee, with Jill, Brent, and more wolves in another SUV, and the Secret Service could bracket us. The KPD were providing outriders, so it was quite the convoy that parted the media pack. Mostly all the hoopla was a pain, but as we swept up Chemical Drive and over Ed Hendler Bridge I decided I could get used to having road-clearing rights of way. We had to slow beyond East Ainsworth, but Pasco PD were keeping the westbound lane open for us, and when we dropped speed to pass walkers there were waves and smiles. Outriders led us onto the Wallula spur, circling to the service road for the Visitor Centre, along the Snake's northern bank and directly into the secured area. Connor, driving me, approved, and so did Lincoln and Travis.
"The Sarge does good work, Mercy."
I was amused Adam remained the Sarge when they'd agreed to use my name. Debarking was a lot easier without a crowd to hold back, we were greeted by Maretti, and I took a moment to offer him and the senior agent of the squad who'd accompanied us thanks before we ran through the pattern-shift now David had full trios on Jesse and me, as well as Jill and Brent. Maretti appreciated David's military efficiency and greatly respected his record, and if I was still weirded-out to have dozens of people taking me as their primary it felt good.
Kyle and Warren were already there with Andrea, talking to a bemused Washington, and their special guest. It was another pleasure to see him again, and his open glee at main parties' discomfiture was a kick. He was also happy when Irpa arrived with Jeremiah and Ros, as well as Frank and Rachel — she'd offered to chauffeur — and more so when Medicine Wolf came padding down the Snake, said hello, and went to sit on the slope above the stage. The crowd cheered, the jug band went into a decent 'Dire Wolf', and things were starting to cook nicely when Coyote turned up with, to my surprise, not only Gordon but Raven, Wolf, and a female Bear who grinned at Jill. I did introductions, and raised an eyebrow at Coyote.
"Any particular reason for the show of strength?"
"Nah. They're just jealous I'm having all the fun."
Gordon waved a hand. "Jealous is not the word. Try relieved. Raven's children and mine are adding wider surveillance, Mercy, but we're here for you and Warren Smith. Your coups this week were very fine, and for an Anglo he will be a good deputy for the work you've been doing with the tribes. Raven has a feather for him."
I was touched but suspicious, and so was Jill, eyeing her mother.
"Checking up on me?"
"Happy coincidence, daughter."
"Un huh. That's a dancing dress."
A light-bulb went on. "A follow-up to the unexpected bit of Thursday?"
Wolf gave me a smile. "You did that on very few clues, She Doesn't Only Fix Cars." His eyes flicked sideways. "There are limits to what we can say here, but what happened was very helpful and today offers a second bite of the cherry."
I nodded, head whirling as thoughts lined up. With so many human eyes and ears around a brisk distraction was in order, and working out what exactly everyone was doing did the job. The result, after some exclaiming and amusement, and a note to the band, was that when their next song ended the singer asked for everyone's attention, and got it.
"Thanks for listening, Tri-Cities. This is the biggest gig we've ever done, by a country mile, and we're proud to be here. But around Mercy Hauptman little miracles happen, so we now get to accompany a living legend, and he's got something for us all."
He stepped back from the mike, and backstage the Boss gave Warren his charming, crooked grin, hit the first, achingly familiar chords on his acoustic guitar, and walked onstage already singing. He'd rewritten the whole thing, via the snarling acoustic version of the Tom Joad tour, and it wasn't I was born in the USA but He was born with the USA, and you could have called it the Ballad of Warren Smith, from farming in what would become Missouri to losing family, drifting west, reluctantly fighting the red man before making peace, taking harm and keeping on, alienated by a life and desires others didn't understand, to find a home at last. The jug band were high on the thrill but keeping to the slower acoustic tempo the Boss set, and the crowd's deep silence held as Elder Spirits walked on in animal-headed forms. Their dance was Amerindian, shuffling and leaping, but they made it fit, adding a drone beneath the chorus each time it came round, with rising intensity. I could feel spirit magic swirling, much more powerfully than in SF, and my magic reached out through the cloak. Medicine Wolf was doing something too, power infusing sounds from earth that had absorbed the dead's bodies, air that housed their ghosts, but I couldn't see how it would work until the ballad reached its bleak nadir, the Boss's rough voice swelling with the passion the ghost of Tom Joad knew.
Under the shadow of every human's fears
Knowing how many dead pile up down the years
He's two centuries in, riding the endless road,
Nowhere to stay, with his ghosts and his load
How Elder Spirits had known about it was a good question that could wait, but this time the drone was a commanding summons, and the dead keened above it, making my nerves vibrate with sorrowing and vengeful anguish, a sheer weight of pain and rage. But it was cathartic, a cleansing release, and as the ballad bounced back into the resolution the original never had I felt something dissolve away, a long sigh on the very edge of my hearing.
But our world's done changed, and widened out
We found the Path of Mercy, and we saw the light
He's still fighting for our freedoms, and his own
Right here in the place we all call home
In the outro Warren was a long time and cool running werewolf in the USA, and when he went onstage, the rest of us save Jesse and her detail following, the last slow chord was overwhelmed by a cheer so loud it hurt.
A glance up showed me Medicine Wolf's satisfaction, eyes bright with power, and another around that while they still had business to do, and were sucking it up, letting Elder Spirits get on their way sooner than later was in order. I don't think that was what Warren had in mind, and hearing the song had left him flushed, but his natural courtesy and dignity as he gave the Boss, Elder Spirits, and band bows of acknowledgement and thanks quieted the crowd, and he stepped up to the mike.
"I don't rightly know what to say about that, except thank you, but I do know that for all the joy and sorrow there are some formalities we need to complete before we get down to business."
Adam had strong emotions I could feel, swirling but positive, and I gave his hand a squeeze. We didn't swear jointly not to command Warren's senatorial vote as co-Alphas — let wolves absorb the fact before tweaking their tails — but my pack authority was public domain, so I swore too. As soon as we were done Coyote reverted to human form and buckskins to say that Warren Smith would be speaking for me in local Yakama and other First People business and Elder Spirits recognised my delegation of their authority. Raven set a black feather in Warren's hair, above one ear, and as he stood back Coyote leaned in, speaking Salish.
Yeah, I know he's Anglo, but he is a werewolf in his third century, and really knows our history. You also need to talk to our children about what they just heard.
Deep nods of respect from First People in the crowd encompassed Warren as well as Coyote and the others, and with one more round of thanks and farewells Wolf and Bear returned backstage while Raven and Thunderbird went feathered and took off, spiralling up to vanish against the sun. Coyote stayed, grinning beside the Boss.
It wasn't the easiest act to follow, but Warren was good, opening up a little on the history in the ballad, but soon winding to finding a home and life in Kennewick, and current issues. Preternatural ones brought in Irpa, and Jeremiah offered a line about interstate co-operation that brought the Governor into play. You wouldn't think Washington and Kentucky had much in common but you'd be wrong, starting with horses, mountains, farming, and liquor — as much wine is bottled in Washington as bourbon in Kentucky — while ideas about regional school exchanges for Others 101 had Frank bouncing in. By the end it was as much colloquy as speech, a demonstration of co-operation, being tolerant and practical because it worked. When Warren wound up eulogising me and repeated Jeremiah's punchline from yesterday, in Salish, the double-take was minimal and cheering prolonged. I waited it out and went conversational.
"I seem to have given a lot of speeches this week, so I'll keep this one short." I jerked my thumb. "What they said." I waited out laughter. "I don't have much to add, because I'll be back here next Saturday on my own account, and however I'm taking point this really is about co-operation and plurality. Those on my slate — and more names will be out Monday — are very different beings, with different concerns, but all committed to the core policies, and sideways thinking. Warren's a cool running werewolf, not a coyote, but he knows about sideways from very long experience, just as he knows about the tolerance we want and the intolerance we too often get. So do Irpa and Jeremiah, and as people come on board we'll be doing lessons in Sideways 101. So will Coyote, and just wait until the billboard campaign gets going, because you have treats in store." I slipped into Salish. "Some of which you'll have to translate for Anglos. Be gentle, hey?"
There was laughter as well as Anglo curiosity.
"What else needs saying? Only two things. One is big thanks, first to the Boss, for bringing his own very potent magic along to honour Warren's life and offer of service, and endorse a better vision of what it might mean to be born in the USA than he could report in the 1980s." I turned. "Thank you, sir, for the hope."
The crowd agreed lengthily, and I let it run until the Boss used his own slider control, grinning as they hushed.
"And second to the Governor, because one thing we haven't seen much of outside the White House is political courage and integrity, but he's showing both, and how. A lot of main-party people are not happy with him, but you all should be, because the reason he and Oregon are onboard is they put the welfare of citizens first, hear what I've been saying and agree, and don't like what they hear from other candidates and National Committees. He's on the slate too, and come November he'll have my vote."
The applause wasn't as warm, but he was already well-up in state polls and it was genuine.
"Point two is simple, because so will Warren. Adam and I have been relying on him for a long time, because we know we can, and that he'll deal righteously and fairly with whatever he has to. Not many wolves have such long experience both of being loners and the joy of being pack, but he does, and more besides, so you know he's as rounded as they come. Quite a few of us know what it means to come out, and he's done it as wolf, as gay, and as bicentenarian, so you know he's as tough as they come, too. And those add up to being seriously flexible, able to cope with change, to live with and learn from it and make it good change, which is exactly what we need right now. He's got solid preternatural support, pink support, and green support, already a whack of a coalition, and with the blessing of Elder Spirits, solid support from First People in this state. Which means Warren Smith is going to be an outstanding state senator for all of us."
Listening to applause gets tiresome fast, despite the kick, but a second song, the Boss happily telling them Baby, he was born to run and the jug band playing out of their skins, allowed us to get offstage. There was no sign of Wolf, but Bear was talking to Jill, attracting Coyote's attention, and Andrea bouncing with excitement as she hugged Frank. Jeremiah and Ros needed to get back to Lexington, and Irpa had stuff scheduled too, so she took them, leaving Frank and Rachel who were again staying overnight. Washington caught my eye with a wry smile.
"Doing it differently is right, Ms Hauptman, but it is by God working. That singing made my hair stand up."
"I'm not surprised, sir. There was spirit magic involved."
He blinked. "Doing what?"
I shrugged, aware of Bear and Coyote listening. "Soothing First People's accumulated dead covers it, sir. A lot of tribal history might weigh against voting for any Anglo, and while Raven's feather is a potent token for the living they weren't the only ones involved."
He stared. "For real? Silly question with you, but … singing ghosts?"
"And dancing. But you don't see or hear them, so they won't bother you. Avatars don't get that option."
"Huh. And they're now … good with it?"
"Better with it, anyway. What happened will help avatars. Call it a bit more WD-40 somewhere else."
"You call everything WD-40, She Doesn't Only Fix Cars." Bear sounded amused. "But you're not wrong, and between Medicine Wolf and that cloak of yours the spirits got some real traction. It was a good day's work."
So it was, but I wasn't giving Washington more, however curious he was. He had things to do and people to see, and as soon as the Boss came offstage made farewells and departed with his security. Medicine Wolf came padding down from the mound to tell the Boss it liked the song, asking about the tensions between original and rewrite, and the good day's work got better when it, Bear, and the Boss, not flying back east until morning, accepted invitations to Kennewick for a proper conversation.
It was balmy enough to sit out, and with Medicine Wolf there Adam didn't mind me doing so. Earth fae joined us, pleasing everyone with gentle courtesy, and I stirred myself to steam vegetables while Benny's took care of human food. With hunger satisfied I relaxed beside Adam, who was holding Jesse, happy to be listening rather than speaking. With the Boss there was always the celebrity kick, and what he'd done was really interesting to more than Medicine Wolf, but if part of me was watching Jill's and Bear's obvious affection and wondering how Coyote and I seemed to others, what mattered was Adam and David. They'd done better than the nameless vet of the original Born in the USA, but knew all about that, down to the bone. They also understood better than most what Warren's experiences meant, and didn't begrudge the recasting of a song that had spoken to them in dark times. But somewhere between that and spirit magic that allowed the dead to release rage and depart, more cathecting had gone on. Neither was given to reminiscence, but softly spoke their senses of release into truth. As with Medicine Wolf's glass, their worst memories seemed more distant, opaque, not forgotten but emptied of jagged affect by rewriting despair as hope. Music was magical anyway, and there had been a lot of both to amplify one another, but I knew my cloak and Manannán's Bane had gone beyond. Presuming to drain that kind of trauma would have been appalling arrogance, and I hadn't, but I'd known I brought Adam healing and desired with all my heart to bring more. And Sarge and Corp went together.
It was mellow, and moving, for David's crew as well as Jesse and me, and the Boss, who knew he'd been part of something special. I had an arm round Adam and was feeling sentimental when Coyote sat beside us.
"Is any more spirit magic planned?"
"Not like that. You opened the door last time, and we all hit gold this time." He looked reflective. "I'm not sure how you did it, mind, and neither are the others."
"Join the club."