No Dominion The Walker Papers - By CE Murphy Page 0,76
a shaman to me, doll.” Still true, even if it wasn’t who I really meant. Explaining Jo kept right on being too hard, especially when I was saying I knew a shaman, past tense, when I shoulda been using words that meant future memories.
Annie’s nose wrinkled, remembering more than just the cave paintings we’d gone to visit thirty years earlier. “She seemed in need of a bath, to me.”
“I reckon I would too if I’d been living up there with the cave paintings since they were made. Doesn’t matter, though, does it? As long as somebody comes along. Miz Smith said she’d send somebody.”
“I think I should rest before her friend arrives,” Annie said quietly. “I don’t suppose it really matters, Gary, if it’s a typical illness or someone attacking me somehow. I’m still sick, and it’s been a long day.”
“All right, sweetheart. You want to go lie down in the bedroom our out here on the couch?”
She smiled. “The couch is fine. The sunshine will keep me warm. You can go tidy up the kitchen for me.”
“There ain’t no universe in which you left it a mess.” I got a blanket an’ tucked it over her when she lay down, then trucked into the kitchen. The breakfast dishes were still in the sink, which was Annie’s idea of a mess. I cleaned up and dug through the freezer to find somethin’ to cook for dinner, muttering about slim pickings. By my reckoning it’d been too long since I’d cooked for my girl, and I wanted to do it right. I checked on Annie, who was sleeping, and slipped off down to the store to get a chicken for roasting. Nothin’ fancy, but comforting all the same.
When I got back there was somebody walking up the drive, a tall thin woman with iron-colored hair and a long nose. She looked maybe twenty years younger than me. I parked and got out sayin’, “If you’re selling religion, I ain’t buying.”
She stopped where she was, ‘bout thirty feet away. She was carrying a round leather bag with something light enough to bounce against her hip in it, and was wearing a grey hand-knit cardigan that came down to about her knees. “I’m not selling anything. My name is Hester Jones. Did you call Sonata Smith earlier this afternoon?”
“Oh, hell. I did, yeah. I’m Gary. Sorry for being rude. Thanks for comin’ over, Miz Jones.”
“Hester will do.” She had just about the sourest voice I’d ever heard, like nothing on this earth was gonna meet with her approval. She finished comin’ up the drive, gave me and my chicken a good hard look, then flicked a sharp eyebrow up. “I’d like to meet the patient.”
“She was sleeping when I left her—”
“That’s fine. If she can stay that way it may help. We’re trained to resist shamanic power, Mr…” Like Sonny, she realized I hadn’t given her a last name, and shrugged. “Shamanic magic requires belief on the part of the patient as well as the shaman. Sleeping minds are more malleable. If it’s a minor illness—”
“It ain’t.”
Something in my voice stopped her dead. After a couple seconds she started up again, following me, but her own voice got more sour-apples. From what she was saying, I thought she was trying to be gentle, but she had the bedside manner of a shark. Just as well Annie was gentle enough for two of most anybody. “I don’t want you to raise your hopes too high. Most people only call in shamanic practitioners in desperation—”
“I’m desperate but it ain’t because I don’t believe. It’s cause I do. A good friend of mine was a shaman, a powerful one. I know what kinda things she could do, and I’m hoping you can do somethin’ similar. My wife, she don’t just need healing. She needs shielding, and we gotta find out who did this to her, too.”
Hester Jones stopped again, this time just outside my front door, an’ touched my arm, which I didn’t figure was somethin’ she was comfortable with. “I may be able to help her find a spirit guide, which is as much ‘shielding’ as I can do. I don’t even understand what else you might mean by that.”
For a couple seconds things came tumbling down around me. Jo wasn’t your average shaman, an’ I knew that, but I didn’t have much else to compare her to. Took another couple seconds to shake all of those preconceptions loose and say, “Spirit animals are great.