Play Dead (26 page)
“Campbell said a couple of ounces.”
“Wait here,” she said.
It took a while and I wandered around the store, finding something that hadn’t been there the last time, or that I’d missed. A glass display case with perfectly bleached little skulls, ranging in size from what I assumed was a mouse up to that of a fox. At least, I hoped it was a fox. It was just about the size that Lou’s skull would have been.
Mama Yara came back in carrying a large plastic baggie filled with dried, broad leaves. She glanced toward the front door as if to make sure no one was coming in. Again, the dope dealer vibe.
“Madras Thorn,” she said, handing it to me. “Tell Campbell Live Oak can also be useful.”
“Thanks,” I said, taking the baggie. “How much do I owe you?”
“Five hundred dollars,” she said, without blinking.
This was looking more like a dope deal every second. I got the feeling I was being ripped off, but then again, I don’t know the going rate for Madras Thorn.
“I don’t have that much on me,” I said, trying to act unsurprised at the price. “Do you take credit cards?”
“No,” she said. Impasse.
I thought about just walking out with the baggie, and if Lou had been in immediate danger, that’s just what I would have done. But I didn’t want to ruin Campbell’s relation-ship with this woman.
“I can go to the bank and get the money,” I offered. I thought I had enough in my account.
Unexpectedly she smiled again, and this one was genuine.
“I’m just messin’ with you, dearie. That’ll be twenty dollars, and say hello to Campbell for me.”
CAMPBELL LIVES IN A SMALL CABIN UP IN SODA Springs, close to Donner Summit off of I-80, about three hours from San Francisco in a good car. Closer to four hours in my van. She’s the best healer around—not a practitioner, but she has definite talents. She has personal power, and in addition knows more about the healing properties of plants and herbs than anyone.
We’d been together for a while, but it hadn’t worked out. Bad timing. We were both different people back then, and if we’d met now, I think it would have worked. But it’s hard to recapture that sort of thing. It feels like you’re going backward instead of forward. Still ...
When I finally pulled up in front of her cabin I barely recognized it. I hadn’t been up here for a while. It was the same familiar place, but plants of all varieties had grown up around it, right to the very door. A definite fire hazard, should a forest fire sweep through the area.
There were plenty of plants I recognized, but a lot I’d never seen before, too. It had become a virtual arboretum. Campbell heard my van, stepped out on the front porch, and waved a cheery greeting.
Instead of bounding up to her as usual, Lou climbed slowly out of the van and walked slowly over to greet her. A look of concern crossed her face as she bent down next to him.
“Not feeling so good, eh?” she said. “Not to worry—we’ll get you back to normal in no time, good as new.”
Lou looked at her hopefully, like when you have a terrible case of the flu and the doctor tells you you’re going to be fine. You believe it, but you can’t really comprehend such a thing actually happening. I handed her the Madras Thorn.
“Perfect,” she said, examining the leaves. “Did Mama Yara give you any trouble about it?”
“No, not at all.”
“Hmm. She must like you. She’s not usually the welcoming sort unless she knows someone well.”
“I’d hate to see what she’d be like if she didn’t like me.”
Campbell ducked inside and came out lugging a small hibachi grill and a squirt bottle. She placed the leaves where the charcoal usually goes.
“No potions?” I asked. Usually she steeps her herbs and comes up with vile concoctions that need to be swallowed.
“Not with this. Remember the first time we met? I need to burn the leaves, and Lou needs to inhale the smoke, as much of it as he can. Can you get him to do that?”
“The way he’s feeling, I think he’ll go for anything.”
Campbell stirred the dried leaves around until they were loose, with plenty of air in between, then lit them in several places. They caught immediately, turning red, then white around the edges, and curling up as the flames consumed them. She waited until they were burning strongly and misted water from the squirt bottle over the grill. A cloud of smoke plumed up, astringent but not unlike the smell of autumn bonfires.
“Lou!” I said sharply. “Breathe the smoke.”
He looked at me doubtfully and turned to Campbell for confirmation. It’s not that he trusts her more, exactly; he just has a good idea about who is the expert in these procedures.
“Do it,” she said.
He bent over the grill, took a whiff, and not surprisingly immediately started choking. He backed rapidly away, but Campbell spoke in a sharp tone, totally unlike her usual voice.
“Again,” she said. “Now!”
He dutifully stuck his muzzle back in, this time taking a considerably larger whiff. He backed off again, coughing and retching until Campbell swept him up in her arms, holding him tight. A surge of energy flowed from her into him. She believed strongly that the specific plants she used were responsible for the healings she performed, but I still thought it was more about her and her abilities than about any vegetable matter. The truth probably lies somewhere in between.
She put him down and he staggered away, sneezing uncontrollably. I went over to him but he dodged away, apparently blaming me for the ordeal. But I noticed he dodged, and rather quickly at that. Campbell noticed it, too.
“I think it worked,” she said. “Come inside. He could use some water, I’m sure.”
After drinking almost half a bowl of water, Lou wandered back outside. He might not be back to normal quite yet, but he was well on his way. Campbell made some tea, and handed me a cup.
“How’s your mom doing?” I asked.
“Okay, I guess. I got her through a rough patch, but she’s losing the battle. Cancer is a nasty, nasty thing.”
“That it is.”
“I feel so helpless. It’s ironic, isn’t it? I’ve dedicated myself to becoming the best healer possible, and now she’s dying and there’s nothing I can do for her.”
“I find that hard to believe. I’m sure you help a lot.”
“I do, some. But here’s the thing—my abilities are based on enabling the body to heal itself, like any holistic discipline.”
“Only your abilities are stronger and quicker—you have a gift, and it goes beyond the purely natural.”
“Maybe, although our definitions of what’s natural differ, if I remember. But anyway, here’s the ironic part—I need a basically healthy body in order to heal someone effectively. The stronger and healthier someone is, the easier it is to work with. Like Lou and the poison—I’ve just returned him to his natural state.
“But with cancer, the whole system is compromised. There is no natural state to return to, unless you could go back in time. I can help, I can extend her life and her good days, but the absurd truth is that the vile chemo she’s getting does her as much good as anything I can do.”
She shook her head sadly and stared out the window for a moment.
“It’s a mess,” I said, using one of the meaningless phrases we all speak when there’s nothing really to say. She stared out the window awhile longer, contemplating, then took a deep breath and came back to the here and now.
“Enough of that,” she said. “Want to tell me how Lou ended up getting bitten by a cobra? I mean, even for you two that is just out there.”
“You’d think,” I said. “But that’s actually the most normal thing that’s happened lately.”
“That can’t be good.”
“It’s not.”
I went through the whole saga of the last couple of weeks, starting with the day Jessie called me into her offices and offered me a job. Campbell settled into her familiar listening position, elbows on table, head resting in the vee her hands made. She’d finally cut her hair, not short, but shorter than I usually like on a woman. It looked good on her, though, accentuating her features and emphasizing their strength. She’d put an almost white streak in her blond hair, a fashion statement that softened her usual outdoors persona. She was in better shape than I was, and always had been.
“Wow,” she said when I was finished. “You’ve been a busy lad.”
“But as usual, not getting very far.”
“Hmm. First of all, I think you underestimate Jackie.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“I don’t mean it quite that way. She’s young, attractive, and female. So I think you assumed that she’s basically a decent sort—that’s one of your blind spots, you know.”
“I do know. So how can it be a blind spot?”
“You forget. Over and over. But here’s the thing: I’ve known people like her. The Wiccan community is very focused on the health of Gaia, Mother Earth. No surprise there. But as things have gotten worse, ecologically speaking, there’s been some real anger developing. And a desire to do something about it, whatever the cost.”
“I thought Wiccans were all about peace and compassion and balance.”
“Yeah, just like Christians. People are people, no matter what their beliefs. And when those beliefs are strong enough, concern and compassion can morph into something very different. Look at the jihadists—they’re capable of doing the most vile of acts, totally convinced that their actions are not only justified, but blessed. Same goes for any religious zealots. And there are people in the eco movement—mostly not Wiccans, thank God—who are just as fanatical.”
“You mean ‘thank goddess,’ don’t you?” I said, resurrecting an old private joke. It got me the same look of exasperation that it always had.
“So you get the tree spikers, and the ones who set fire to housing developments, and the ones who trash animal research labs. I’m not so sure I disagree with that last one, but you get the point.”
“Sure. But eco warriors aren’t blowing up thousands of people.”
“No, but some of them would if they thought it would help their cause. What are a few thousand people compared to saving the entire planet?”
“Well, that’s all academic. She’s not going to be doing anything like that.”
“You think not? That’s because when you see a jihadist, you view them as dangerous, even if it’s unconscious. Bearded men, speaking a strange language, with strange motivations.”
“Sounds kind of like Eli.” She ignored me.
“But Jackie, now, is one of us. She’s part of our own tribe, so to speak. She’s us, not them. She could be just as dangerous as any terrorist, but emotionally, you don’t see her in that way.”
“Maybe, but what’s your point?”
“My point is that you need to take her seriously, and be very careful. She’s already killed someone, remember? I’d say she’s capable of almost anything.”
Lou interrupted, sticking his head back inside the cabin door, looking much like his old self.
“We should go,” I said. “Thanks for your help—I don’t know what we’d do without you.”
“Well, it was good to see you, anyway. Try stopping by sometime just for a visit.”
“I will. And I do see what you’re saying about Jackie. I’ll keep it in mind.”
IT WAS GETTING DARK BY THE TIME WE GOT back, but I randomly drove around with Lou anyway, trying to get a whiff of Jackie. I didn’t have much hope; she knew Lou was a tracker, and she knew I’d be looking for her. But maybe she thought I’d met my sad demise back among the giant snakes, and was no longer worried or shielding. But no such luck.
Until we were headed home. I took the Third Street route from downtown, trying to cover as much territory as possible, just in case. I was about to turn onto Cesar Chavez, heading back to the Mission, when Lou snapped to attention and barked, staring straight ahead. I continued on, throwing glances at him, and when I passed Cargo Way his head swiveled around, all the while keeping his gaze on an invisible point somewhere down that street.
I flipped a U-turn and turned into Cargo Way, following it until it dead-ended at a parking lot at the edge of the bay. A long and broad jetty, maybe a half mile in length stretches out from the parking lot. The jetty itself is a mini park of sorts for the adventurous. A dirt path nestles between the rocks piled up on either side.
Nobody went there after dark, of course; it was secluded and dangerous in the nonmagical sense. Magical creatures are not the only predators in San Francisco by any means, or even the most common. In any large city you have a lot more to fear from someone who wants your wallet than from something that wants to drink your blood.
I got out of the van and walked over to where the jetty stretched out into the darkness of the water. The parking lot had no lights, but the streetlights from Cargo Way behind us provided some illumination. And the moon was up, not full, but it helped. Lou sat down next to me, facing the jetty.
Other books
Yes, My Accent Is Real by Kunal Nayyar
Making His List (Naughty or Nice) by Devon Rhodes
The Side Effects of You by Anna Black
Love at First Sight by Sandra Lee
Beneath the Wheel by Hermann Hesse
Heather Graham by Down in New Orleans
Out of the Blue by Isabel Wolff
A Moment To Dance by Jennifer Faye
Beautifully Twisted by Domenico, Jennifer