C. E. Murphy - No Dominion - A Garrison Report

“Ain’t it?”

“In fact, it is. If you’ll give me your address, Gary, I’ll see if she’s available this evening.”

I gave her the address and phone number and went back to Annie, who said, “You knew a lady shaman?”

“That old lady up in the painted caves in France seemed like 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. I got some first-hand experience with that. How ‘bout reading auras? I guess I donno if that’s somethin’ most shamans do, either.”

“Sonny called me because I’m good at auras,” Hester said, which made me feel like a damned fool, ‘cause Sonny had said that. I guessed I might be more rattled than I was letting on, even to myself. “Let’s begin with what healing I may be able to do while she’s sleeping, though.”

“All right. All right, thanks.” I led her through the kitchen ‘cause I had a chicken to put away, then went out to the living room where Annie was still huddled under the blanket. She’d never been a big lady, but she was looking real tiny and fragile, small enough to make my heart hurt. Hester went over, all business-like, an’ knelt beside her.

She wasn’t there ten seconds before she flinched back, color rising fast in her thin face. “There’s something very dark inside her. Anything I tried outside of the safety of a sweat lodge and a power circle would risk my life as well as hers.”

“I got a sauna.”

For somebody with such a sour-apples face she had a pretty good smile. I figured I’d surprised it outta her, ‘cause it went away again fast, but it was there for a minute. “I’m not sure I would have thought of that. Thinking outside of the box.”

“The one shaman I know never even found the box. Lemme go light it up in there. Whaddya want to build a power circle with? Salt? Grass cuttings? I got all kinda stuff.”

“Your sauna’s separate from the rest of the house? A circle can be built around it?” Hester got up so we could talk without disturbing Annie. I led her through the house to the back yard. It was smaller an’ a lot more private than the front yard, and had the sauna and a hot tub that never did much more than catch falling leaves in it. The tub was on the back deck, but the sauna was tucked up against the trees, with a glass roof that letcha see leaves moving like ghosts through the steam. Annie had never liked being hot since the fever, and never used it, but I relaxed in it a couple times a month.

Hester looked like I was some kinda genius. “The roof is perfect. Contained but also open to the sky. Salt would work well to draw the circle. You’ve done this before.”

“A time or two. One other thing. I donno if it’s how it’s usually done, but I’m coming in there with you two. I ain’t letting Annie be alone through whatever happens.”

Hester’s mouth prissed up. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“I ain’t asking.”

If her face got any prissier she was gonna turn into a lemon. “What would your shaman friend have done?”

“She woulda said the more the merrier.” Thing was, I knew that was true. No way Jo would try keeping me, or anybody important to someone, out of a healing circle. ‘course, that wasn’t the answer Hester was looking for or expecting, so her face just about did turn into a lemon. But she nodded, an’ I went to heat up the the sauna, asking, “How much steam you want in there?” on my way.

“The steam is less important than the heat.” By the time I got back from lightin’ things up and getting the salt, Hester was losing her priss and startin’ to look more serene. She took the salt and circled the sauna, mumbling some kinda mumbo-jumbo that woulda made Jo laugh, but that I reckoned set her mind at ease. She stopped when she had about two feet left open, and nodded at me. “If you’d like to get your wife now, I’ll close the circle when you’re both inside. Try not to wake her if you can.”