Chapter Twenty-Five

 

It was a perfect time of day for reminiscing. Lauren Martine reclined on the front porch of Elk’s Pass Sundries in one of Doc’s twin rockers, watching the sun go down. The bitter wind caressed her face with a cold hand. She imagined it was Doc’s hand reaching through from another realm reminding Lauren she was still vital somehow, still alive.

Lauren smiled, white teeth shining, a tear slid into the crook of her smile.

“Smiling and crying,” she muttered, blotting the tear with the blanket she had draped over her shoulders.

She watched the vultures circle in the distance, black specks beyond Elk’s Pass Bridge. She knew where Jameson was and what held her there.

She knew it not from Jameson’s own mouth but from the divine knowledge filtering into her mind. Lauren was a seer. A gift she had in common with Doc and Jameson.

Some things Lauren was sometimes too close to see, like the death of her friend. She knew what Jameson was doing and there was no stopping her. Lauren hadn’t been able to stop her from secretly cultivating the plant even after being sliced open for it, even after Berry was killed because of it. When Jameson had a mind to do something, she bent her head down and plowed right through.

Jameson was pure of heart and of intent as Doc Jo Jo had been. However, Doc had been more methodical and focused in her task. Jameson was reckless.

A sudden gust of wind brought the blanket up over her face. Lauren shivered and pulled the blanket down not at all surprised she was no longer alone. A barn owl perched on the rocker next to her.

Hello, old friend.

Lauren smiled. “Yes, and getting older by the year,” she said rubbing her knotted knuckles. “It’s painful to open my hands in this weather. The shortness of breath, chest pains, oh hell, I could go on and on.”

Ah, the burdens of mortality.

“Yes,” Lauren said and smiled, “harsh burdens they are. I don’t recognize my own reflection. I’m always astonished to see an old woman looking back at me.”

Only the body is old.

“It must be heaven to move around with those lovely wings, going from realm to realm without a care in the world, no pain, no regret.”

I do have a single regret.

“Let me guess, your work?”

The owl stared at her unblinking. Though the wind gusted the rocker on which the owl perched did not move at all.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Lauren huffed. “I can’t stop that child of yours when she gets her mind on something. You know that better than anyone does. I warned her about the trouble those damned plant of yours would cause and still she seeks the missing ingredient. If you are going to regret anything regret the day you hatched up that infernal weed in the first place. “

My Mercy Weed helped many, including myself. That is not my regret, my sister.

“What then?” Lauren asked, rubbing her left arm. “What could you possibly regret?”

I regret that I have come to bring you truth. I regret your end is near. I regret you must cross over alone. I regret the animals will find your flesh a hearty meal and my Jameson will be the one to discover what is left of you.

Lauren stared at the owl in shock, and just an owl it was because Doc Jo Jo would never be so blithe in delivering such news. She clutched her chest with a quivering hand finding it hard to breathe.

“And to think I was happy to see you,” Lauren gasped.

The owl stared with pitiless eyes.

“When, now?” Lauren rasped in a voice filled with dread as she gazed at the vultures in the distance wondering if they were the creatures that would seek her flesh. She began to sob. “I am scared, Doc, so scared.”

Do not fear, my sister, I will see you through to the other side.

The owl flew away.

Lauren clutched her wrap tighter, suffering a chill that went much deeper than her flesh. She watched the sun dip behind a high peak. It cast the front porch of Elk’s Pass Sundries in a blanket of reddish hues. Only the occasional car traveled over Elk’s Pass Bridge, the majority of tourists were recounting their trials of skiing over a whiskey by a fire. The local folks were sitting down to dinner, cussing and fussing over who gets the drumstick and who gets the breast, harmless cozy banter. Lauren Martine was far from cozy. She found nothing pleasant about being up close and personal with the inevitableness of death.

Though snakes were rare this time of year, Lauren was not surprised when a large rattlesnake slid onto the porch. It curled up by the front door as if standing sentry. Lauren knew enough of totem animals to understand its significance.

“Time to shed this old skin,” Lauren murmured in a voice that was unfamiliar to her own ears. “The time has come to trade this weary old body for the freedom of the astral world.”

She gnawed on her fingernail and remembered the last time she’d seen a rattler that size on this porch. Jameson had been a pre-teen. It was Jameson’s first experience using her ‘gift’. She would not let go of the dead rattler. She held it in her lap in the rocker Lauren now occupied and cried until she fell asleep.

Jameson never accepted why God appointed her in a role of both Azrael and Ariel concerning the animals. She was a human angel of mercy and a direct guide across the Rainbow Bridge. Jameson insisted a piece of her died every time an animal died. Lauren and Doc Jo Jo knew the truth. The experiences, sorrowful as they were, made Jameson stronger. It was true each time Jameson helped a creature cross over, she absorbed the animal’s medicine.

Lauren remembered after her experience crossing over the cougar, Jameson picked up her sure-footedness. After the fawn, she gained a deeper heart and more gentle spirit. The snake was different. Jameson hadn’t let the animal’s spirit cross with the freedom it deserved. She imposed her will upon the creature and the snake magic gave conflict to Jameson’s life. She still hadn’t learned to let go of the past to refresh herself.

“Are you here for me or for Jameson?” Lauren asked the snake.

It raised its head and flicked its tongue, leaving the truth untold.

* * * *

Jameson left the body of the raccoon in the woods. Her hands tingled from the bristles of its coat. “Goodbye, my brother, see you on the other side.” She hastened through the woods, casting disdaining glances at the vultures in the sky.

They are entitled to their dinner.

“I know that,” Jameson snapped at the raven, which perched on her head. “It doesn’t mean I have to watch them eat.”

The raven hopped onto Jameson’s shoulder. You will see her again.

“Whom?”

The one you call Shadow Wolf.

Jameson scowled as she entered the clearing and stared at the camp sight they shared. She started the fire every night since Devon left as a mark of respect. Now she kicked the scorched branches out of her way and sat at the edge of the stream.

She peered at her reflection, what stared back was the image of a snake, a Mojave rattler to be precise.

“Thank you,” she nodded at the snake. She touched the waters’ surface and watched the ripples dissipate the reflection. “I will try.”

From her backpack, she withdrew a leather pouch and proceeded to roll a pinch of the contents into a tobacco leaf. She lit up and pulled the hot smoke into her lungs. She held it there as long as possible before exhaling and falling out, coughing.

She’d kept enough of the cannabis and Asian Angel Weed to grow and cultivate as needed. The truth was she fibbed to Lauren Martine the night of her stabbing.

She invented the woman at the Sweat Lodge. She wasn’t guarding someone’s secret. Doc Jo Jo’s cancer was hereditary. The secret Jameson kept was her own.

She pulled the smoke into her lungs. The men who broke into the store that night had been hunting rabbit and smelled the marijuana wafting through the woods. She was extra careful where she smoked now and always had her wolf pack to protect her. Rubek was close by and Tije, his mate, on the other side of the stream. As she exhaled, Jameson closed her eyes. She had a sudden vision of Lauren on the porch at Elk’s Pass Sundries having a heart attack.

Jameson snuffed her smoke and leapt up feeling unsteady on her feet. The effects of the drug always left her feeling sluggish and fuzzy for a while. She had to concentrate on making her feet move. She shoved the leather pouch into her pack and rushed to Lauren hoping she would not be too late.

* * * *

Lauren massaged her left arm while humming an old Irish tune. It was a lively old ditty one of her Celtic sisters taught her many moons ago. The song intrigued the snake. It curled up near her rocker and bobbed his head from side to side, keeping rhythm for her rhyme.

Not a single customer pulled into Elk’s Pass Sundries that day. Lauren supposed the Gods were benevolent that way, to give an old girl the dignity of a private demise. She took a shallow breathe and thanked the gods for the favor. She leaned her head back and willed herself to be still as the pain gripped her heart. A small gasp escaped her and tears blinded her eyes.

“Look out Doc, here I come.”

Jameson appeared and placed her hands over Lauren’s heart.

“Not so fast old woman,” she whispered in her ear. “You aren’t getting out yet.”

Lauren turned to Jameson with a quivering grin. “I can feel the heat in those hands of yours,” she murmured. “Feels like pure love.”

“It is,” Jameson nodded.

“You helping me pass like you do the other creatures?”

“No.” Jameson kissed Lauren’s forehead. “You aren’t dying.”

The pain in her chest was gone. “I’m not?”

“Nope, just indigestion from that awful chili you made last night,” Jameson teased.

“Oh, is that so?” Lauren countered. “As I recall you had two helpings of that awful chili.”

“That’s how I know, I’ve been sick all day.”

Lauren shrugged the blanket from her shoulders, feeling impervious to the cold.

“I do feel a whole lot better now, but for a minute there I thought I was having a heart attack.” She didn’t tell Jameson about her visit from Doc Jo Jo. “I feel better than fine. I can open and close my hands. I can clap them, too.”

Lauren leapt to her feet and showed off her talent for clogging. “Look at me.”

Jameson danced with Lauren on the porch. They linked arms, went round, and round, laughing until they cried.

“Thank you for getting rid of my indigestion,” Lauren uttered between laughing fits.

“You’re welcome,” Jameson sang.

The rattler displayed its annoyance by shaking its tail. It had come to her from its warm nest for one reason. Now it wanted to give her its gift and get back to its winter sleep. It struck at the door to Elk’s Pass Sundries, the viciousness it of which made Lauren Martine scream.

Jameson laughed. “Okay, I see you.”

Lauren stepped off the porch as far away from the snake as possible. She gnawed her lower lip as Jameson approached the snake without fear.

“What are you doing?” she wailed, incredulous as Jameson snatched the snake by the back of its head.

“He’s quick,” she smiled, holding him for Lauren to see all four feet of him, “but I’m quicker.”

“Put that snake down. Have you lost your mind, child?”

Jameson shrugged. “Possibly.” She tramped inside the store.

Lauren followed her in a panic. “That snake’s poison will kill you before I could get you to the closest hospital. Do you understand that?”

“Of course, the venom from his bite delivered into my flesh will affect my blood and organs as well as my nervous system. The venom of the Mojave rattlesnake is both neurotoxic and hemotoxic, it’s lethal. But the poison is useful in other less invasive ways.”

“Why in the name of the gods are you carrying that thing around?”

“It’s not a thing,” Jameson frowned, “it’s a magical creature, a giver of hope.” She kicked aside a circular throw rug to expose a door in the floor. “Will you help me open this, please?”

Lauren frowned at the door in the floor. “What’s this?”

“Cellar,” Jameson informed her. “Otherwise known as my laboratory.” She laughed like a mad woman. “Now come on open it for me, can’t you see my hands are full?”

Lauren bent down and pulled the rusted ring in the center of the door, keeping a wide berth. It swung open with a thud.

“Easy,” Jameson teased. “You’ll damage the hardwoods.”

She ventured down the steps using her elbow to turn on the light switch.

“You coming?”

As Lauren closed the front door, she noticed the owl on the rocking chair.

“I guess today wasn’t my time after all.”

I never said it was today.

“Fair enough.” Lauren shuddered at she closed the door. She trembled as she followed Jameson down the cellar stairs.

“What is all this?” Lauren asked as she entered the makeshift lab.

The cellar had several different workstations. Jameson had one portion of the room dedicated to a small green house containing unusual plants. Along the far wall were aquarium tanks, some dark others lit up. In the center of the room was a long metal table on which sat beakers and pots and tins filled with leaves.

She was wide-eyed as Jameson milked the snake’s venom into a cup. Jameson swirled the venom around as one might admire the legs on an expensive glass of wine. The grin she wore was disturbing.

“Very nice,” she murmured to the snake. She kissed him on the top of his deadly head. “Be right back. I have to let him go.”

Jameson trotted up the steps leaving Lauren alone to survey her laboratory. Lauren knew what the plants were at a glance. She should never have believed Jameson would stop her mother’s work.

“Are these periwinkle plants?” she called to Jameson.

“Yep.”

Lauren shook her head as she approached the aquariums. The first tank contained colorful frogs, with bright blue legs.

“Blue dart frogs,” Jameson announced. “Indigenous to the rain forest, but now call Elk’s Pass Sundries home. They emit poison from the skin so don’t touch them.”

Lauren shivered. “I hadn’t planned on it.”

“The tank next to it is my green mamba,” Jameson announced like a tour guide. “Look at her, isn’t she gorgeous?”

Lauren grimaced and moved to the next tank. “You know how I feel about snakes and spiders.”

“Spiders are said to have woven the fabric of our world,” Jameson reminded her. “The spider creates something out of nothing, have you ever watched one construct its web? I’ve never seen such masterful artistry.”

“I know that. I revere them. They just give me the heebie jeebies.”

“These are brown recluse and they contain hemotoxic venom.”

“Why do you have all of these poisonous creatures down here? Is it even legal to have them?” Lauren felt her frown deepen.

“Well, the mamba was hard to get,” Jameson admitted with a sly smile.

“What are you doing down here, Jamie?”

Jameson transferred the snake venom from the milking cup into two vials and placed one of them in the refrigerator.

“Experiments.”

Lauren watched Jameson put on plastic gloves to retrieve one of the frogs from the tank. She brought the frog to her worktable and submerged it in a small bowl of water for a moment.

“Frog soup,” Jameson joked, as she put him back into the tank. She peeled off the gloves and tossed them into a trashcan.

From a shelf under her table, she brought out a cookie sheet. On it were dried tobacco leaves. Using an eyedropper, Jameson treated the leaves with the water from the bowl.

“You remind me of your mother,” Lauren said.

“Thank you,” Jameson beamed. She slid the cookie sheet back where it belonged. “They need to dry for a few hours.”

“Poison tobacco leaves?”

“The poison is diluted and when smoked, it exudes a numbing property that eases pain.”

“How do you know this?”

Jameson shrugged. “Trial and error.”

“And your guinea pig?”

“Me, myself, and I.”

Lauren grabbed Jameson’s arm. “You’re sick, aren’t you?” she whispered. “You got what your mother had.”

“I’m getting better.” Jameson pulled her arm from Lauren’s grip and continued with her tasks.

Lauren knew better than to question more. She was her mother’s daughter, secretive and bull headed. Instead, she observed Jameson as she blended herbs and dried leaves into a tea mixture in a large bowl. She watched with a deep frown as Jameson poured the vial of venom into a beaker and set it under a flame until it boiled. Jameson poured the boiling venom into the bowl and tossed the mixture with two wooden spoons.

“You didn’t know I could cook, huh?” Jameson grinned.

Lauren shook her head and watched as Jameson spread the venom soaked tea onto another cookie sheet to dry.

“Mom would be proud,” Jameson said.

“What do you call that horrifying concoction?” Lauren wanted to know.

“It’s my newest creation, Periwinkle Persimmon tea. It is an alternative cure for immune disorders including AIDS and Lupus.”

“Oh, Jameson, you are losing your mind.” Lauren shook her head.

“Insane or brilliant, you decide.”

“How do you know if these recipes work?” Lauren grimaced as she did a slow stroll through Jameson’s lab.

“This was my mother’s vision. Mercy Weed was the conception of all of these remedies. These were her ideas.”

“I never knew about this basement lab,” Lauren murmured. “Why didn’t Joann tell me?”

Jameson shrugged. “I don’t know. By the way, I have found this missing ingredient. It has been at hand all along. My Mojave brother provided the last component. I think Doc would be proud.”

“Your mom always used to say life is a death sentence,” Lauren said.

“Yes, but that didn’t stop her from savoring every moment on earth, and even prolonging it.”

“I saw her, you know,” Lauren said, grimacing at the green mamba.

“When?”

“Right before you found me on the porch. She came as an owl. I thought it was strange she’s an owl, being how you never did them.”

“It wasn’t the owl I didn’t like, it was its lessons. Every time I saw the owl I had to face yet another truth or task,” Jameson replied. “I saw my mother, too. I received a feather from her. With the potent owl magic at hand, I can see more clearly than ever before. Giving me the feather was a blessing from her. I have to continue her work. Lock up when you go I will be back in a few days.”

“Where are you going now?”

“To the wolves.” Jameson smiled as she trotted up the stairs.