Chapter Twelve

SEVEN OF CUPS

 

According to Star, my usual dark T-shirts will cook me, so before the Arizona sun starts blasting heat lasers I rifle through my drawers looking for something lightweight and light-colored.

Nothing. I don’t know why I bother looking. Jennie was the one with all the soft, floaty stuff.

Wait.

I pull the tub of her things out of the closet and dig into the Boho collection. There it is, the T-shirt from where she worked. It’s sea green, with the blue One Spirit logo on it.

Slipping my mom’s shirt over my head comforts me like a gentle hug. Her silver hoops, a blue scrunchie for my hair, and I look like Sedona instead of Seattle. Brushing my teeth, I wish for, like, the hundredth time I’d found her necklace.

In the kitchen, Joanna’s packing sandwiches into an insulated bag while Star fills a half-gallon thermos with ice. She’s wearing a light blue Pretenders T-shirt and a white Flagstaff High School baseball cap with sunglasses perched on the brim.

She’s tamed her wild hair into a ponytail like mine, and she hands me a bottle of coconut-smelling sunscreen. “Better put some on. The sun’s brutal, even in the morning. Ready to hit the dirt?”

“Not literally, I hope,” I reply, squeezing some of the thick goo into my hand and slathering it on my arms.

Joanna sets a small glass of orange juice and a banana in front of me.

“Don’t worry,” Star says. “We’ll be fine. Besides, we have 911 here now.”

“Ooh, just like a real town.” I sigh with mock relief. “That makes me feel so much better.”

“That’s not funny,” Joanna cautions. “And you smell like pina coladas. The bees will follow you everywhere.”

She’s ditched her usual inventory uniform for art gallery mode—a long, flowing top and heavy turquoise earrings. Perfume and eyeliner complete the gallery-walk picture. All she needs now is a glass of champagne.

“We’ll outrun them,” Star declares, putting the sunscreen in her backpack and pulling out an identical baseball cap. “Here, you’ll need this. I figured you didn’t have one, since the sun never shines in Seattle.”

“Ha ha. The sun shines there at least ten minutes a week. But thanks, I do need a hat.”

I down the juice in one gulp and bitterness floods my mouth. Yuck, toothpaste and orange juice—the worst possible breakfast combo. I take a bite of banana and set the Flagstaff Eagles cap on my head. “Let’s go.”

“Pull your ponytail through the back so it stays on,” Star advises.

“There’s sandwiches, chips and pickles.” Joanna gestures toward the insulated bag. “I’ll pick up dinner while I’m in town. Chinese food? Okay, you girls be careful out there.”

“You, too!” I echo Joanna’s cheerful warning as we head for the front door loaded with food, the thermos, and Star’s backpack.

The red Honda ATV is in the garage, its cover folded neatly on a shelf, with two helmets resting on the seat. It’s big and shiny, and I shouldn’t be intimidated. After all, I’ve been driving since I was twelve.

Still, a quiver of uneasiness darts through me. Cam wouldn’t have suggested this if he had any doubts about it, would he?

“Are you sure you know how to drive this thing?”

Star rolls her eyes. “What are you, a wimp? You just drove across the country by yourself.” She jerks her head toward the house. “You battle that mess daily. What are you scared of?”

Good question. The only times I’ve ever been scared were when I was kneeling beside Jennie, waiting for the EMTs to show up again and praying that the worst wouldn’t happen. Then it did. So what’s left to be afraid of now?

“Nothing,” I decide. “How do I strap these bags down?”

Backpacks secured to the rack with bungee cords, I sit behind Star and put my feet where she shows me. She starts the motor, and with a jolt we edge out of the garage, down the path behind it and out into the lilac dawn.

The milky ghost of last night’s full moon hangs low in the west. Sage-scented air brushes my skin, soft and fresh, with no hint of the heat to come. This is going to be fun.

I shift my weight to keep the rack from digging into my legs and clutch the seat with both hands, bouncing as Star follows the winding trail.

“Hold onto me!” she shouts.

I grab one of her belt loops and rest my chin on her shoulder.

She plucks my fingers out of the loop and pulls my arm snug across her waist. “I said me, not my jeans. Hang on, here we go!”

We make one more turn and the trail opens up, flattening out for more than a hundred yards. Star opens the throttle, and as the sun’s first rays burnish the tops of the cottonwoods ahead, the bushes fly by like a river of leaves on both sides.

The air lifts my ponytail and pushes my face into a smile. I hang on tight, taking in my second happy moment in less than twenty-four hours.

I could get used to this.

We slow down when we reach the tree line. A flock of small birds explodes out of a bush like feathered fireworks, each wing followed by a vibration, a trail of energy. Is this a trick of the light?

The purple dawn has given way to a soft cornflower blue streaked with gold. Dark evergreen shadows cut deep into the terracotta cliffs that tower over the valley. Wherever the sun’s rays touch the tips of the highest branches, a faint shimmering outline glows then recedes as the breeze brushes them out of the sun’s touch.

Star maneuvers between the cottonwoods to a steep drop-off leading to a dry creek bed. Gasoline fumes gather as we stop at the edge.

“You better get off for a second so I can get down there. We can go north all the way to the fence line.” She points to mountains that seem days away. I swing my leg behind me and stand in the dirt.

“How far is that?” I dig into my pocket for a roll of mints. I must have breathed too many fumes or something because my mouth tastes like copper and my whole body’s vibrating like I’m still on the purring ATV.

“Dunno, maybe three, four miles? I haven’t been farther than that, but there’s some really nice spots there for, um, your mom.” Star’s cheeks flush and she looks away.

“It’s okay, it’s why we’re out here.” It’s weird how talking about scattering her ashes—her actual remains—doesn’t bother me, but last night’s random smell of brownies almost knocked me flat.

Star zig-zags down the eight-foot drop with care, while I pick my way through the rocks and mesquite roots onto the hard-packed dirt below.

The vibration from the ATV hasn’t gone away at all. Now it’s rolling through me from every direction, like the dull roar of a nearby train.

“Do you hear that?” I settle in behind Star.

The rumbling from the four wheeler takes over as soon as I sit down, and the other vibration shifts, as if it’s coming from beyond the twittering birds and the whispering trees.

“What? Where?” She cocks her head.

“Like a train or something. A river? It sounded really close, but now…”

“Nope, don’t hear it. But when you’re in an arroyo, sounds from far away can seem close, and something right up there you might not hear ‘cause of the embankment.”

“Oh.” That makes sense, I guess. Seattle’s fog is like that, too. Sounds that are right next to you can be muffled, while something a mile away is crystal clear.

We pick up speed along the smooth creek bed. On both sides the walls are like a long hallway with ropey walls of brown, red and gold running and twisting with us as we ride. Gray roots poke out like skinny, gnarled fingers while the bushes wave above, cloaked in a shimmer of energy.

My breath catches in my throat. Jennie talked about all living things having auras but I’ve never seen one around anyone, much less a plant.

Star shifts gears. As we surge down the level area in the center, I close my eyes and stick my hand out to feel the air rush between my fingers. When I open them again, I gasp.

Waves of light stream from my fingertips, like the wake your hand leaves when you trail it in the water. I’m so busy staring at my hand, I almost miss what’s happening on the banks of the arroyo.

The gray root fingers blur and shiver out of the walls, reaching down for the new bushlings deep in the shadows on the ground below. The rusty tan walls wobble into little rectangles, as if the arroyo was lined with bricks.

The roots double back on themselves, like shuffling cards. Then they rustle and turn toward the ATV, turn toward us, groping and following in a slow motion nightmare. I clutch at Star as I lose my sense of balance and the world tilts sideways.

“Star.” My voice cracks in fear. “Stop, you have to stop.”

She brakes and the ATV slows to a halt. She turns and looks at me and she’s surrounded by the same vibrating halo as the bushes. Oh shit, what’s going on?

“I think the fumes are getting to me or something.”

She turns off the ATV, but the rumbling continues, louder than before, as if a low-flying jet is following us just out of sight. The metallic taste is back in my mouth, twisting my stomach into a knot.

The one thing I want to do, have to do is get off this thing, but if I try to walk or even stand, I’m going to end up in a face-plant on the dirt. I clutch the rack behind me, breathing carefully as Star climbs off.

“Dude, you don’t look too good. Are you okay? We can go back if you want.”

Not a chance. I can’t ride another foot. “No, I’m a little dizzy is all. My stomach’s not right. All I had was a banana and—did you have any of that orange juice?” Maybe that bitterness wasn’t just from the toothpaste.

“No, I had cranberry. Are you thinking maybe it was spoiled?”

“Something was. Jesus. I need to go sit down.”

I peek at the root fingers. They’re not moving, but they’re… waiting. Clutching the rack in a death grip, I look around for a spot to sit, a bare spot with no roots. There, where the dawn shadows have receded.

A few deep breaths in the sun and away from the fumes should do the trick. I trade the helmet for my hat. But as I step off the ATV, I can’t feel my feet. I mean, it’s definitely my Nikes I’m looking at but walking those dozen steps my feet don’t touch the ground.

What.

The.

F—

“Morning!”

We both turn and look up. The silhouette of a man appears at the top of the embankment. A cap shades his face so I can’t see his features, but he’s got a pack on his back and a walking stick. He waves at us, sending a ripple of energy bubbling down to the creek bed.

“Hello. Who are you?” The word “you” whisper-echoes around me. The root fingers twitch, alert.

“Yeah, this is private property,” Star chimes in. She doesn’t hear the echo or see the roots wiggling.

“I know. The Winters Ranch, right?”

“Yes. Can I help you?” When I focus on him, the dizziness falls away.

I still can’t see much of his face, just a friendly smile. I keep my eyes on that smile and breathe deeply. Focus, Rory, try not to puke in front of the stranger.

As he looks at me his energy blooms pale aqua, like when a drop of paint hits water, and a streak rolls toward me. For a split second I forget about the dizziness and the stranger. This is what Jennie was talking about. This is an aura.

“I’m not trying to trespass or anything. There’s a broken fence post up by the path, and when I heard your four wheeler I thought I’d better tell you, in case you have any cattle at this end.” His low voice sends out violet and white spirals when he speaks.

I still can’t feel my feet but the desert has stopped spinning and that rumbling sound has muted enough that I can hear the birds singing. Maybe I don’t need to sit down after all. Maybe just a drink of water would help.

“Well there aren’t any cows, but thanks for telling us,” I say, stepping toward the ATV, when the feet I can’t feel trip over a rock the size of a softball. Oof. Next thing I know I’m face down in the dirt.

Fantastic. Just what I was trying to avoid. My cheek stings as I roll over on my back and stare at the cobalt sky—and suddenly realize that I’m only held on this planet by 132 pounds of gravity.

What if it’s not enough? I could fall out into the universe! I flatten myself against the dirt as footsteps close in, echo-clopping like horse’s hooves.

“Rory, are you okay?” Star’s face looms over me for the second time in a week. Thin, faint coils of violet surround her—she has an aura, too. “You cut your cheek!”

“I’m fine. Just clumsy. Remember what isn’t my middle name?”

It seems gravity is going to hold me on the planet for now, so I prop myself gingerly on one elbow, just in time to see the hiker climbing down the embankment.

“No, no, I’m fine. Really!” The last thing I need is help from this stranger, even if he does have a nice aura.

If that’s what I’m seeing. I scoot myself up to a sitting position and bang my elbow on the same rock that tripped me. Giving it a venomous glare, I fling it away. My temple throbs.

“You hit your head pretty hard, and you’re bleeding. I’m an EMT. Is it okay if I take a look?”

He squats beside me and his aura settles around him, following his movements like a web of glitter. His bronze face and dark eyes are kind. “My name’s Ian. Ian Night Hawk.”