C.E. Murphy - Coyote Dreams

“But you’re here.” It was a question, and Marcia heard it as one, spreading her hands again.

“My life has been dedicated to the Goddess, Joanne. We made…terrible mistakes, but I believe She can and will and does, forgive us. I can’t walk away from my faith out of fear, not now. Maybe especially not now.” She was silent a moment, then said, “You’re also here.”

“You noticed that, huh? Look at them.” I nodded at the gathered magic-users, knowing I was avoiding Marcia’s own implied question. “I don’t know what to make of them. A lot of power and arrogance, used blindly, made the falls and a mess of the land here, and they’ve found it and they’re just so damned happy. I don’t know what to make of it.”

Marcia cupped her hands together, wrapping her fingers in the opposite palms to make a kind of yin-yang. “Nature prefers balance, Joanne. If our arrogance created this place, then maybe it’s meant to be used as a place of healing and joy. It becomes the balance.”

“Our.” I looked up at her, absurdly grateful for that.

“We’re rarely alone, Joanne. Even in our worst moments, we’re rarely alone.” She touched my shoulder, gave me a sad smile and walked away to join the throng of people.

Leaving me alone.

I didn’t know how much time had passed when I got up again. The sun still colored the horizon, but sunset came late in Seattle in July. My second sight stayed on, astounding neons and shimmering enthusiasm of growing things helped me breathe a little easier. One of the things I didn’t like to admit was how much I loved the crazy, vivid world I saw through the second sight. It made me feel as though I’d been wearing blinders all my life, and when I lost control of the sight and the blinders came back on, it was like I’d lost something important. I was grateful for its cooperation right now, even if I hadn’t really intended to call it up. Driving with it on turned out to be a lot easier than driving with my vision inversed.

It was after eight by the time I got to the precinct building. The parking lot was worryingly empty, and the garage, when I skulked down in hopes of finding comfort there, was worse. I’d never seen it so quiet, its usual din replaced by the noise of fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. They were loud enough to give me a headache, and I wondered how I’d never noticed them before. I sat down on the bottom step leading into the garage and stared at the echoing room. Even its sense of purpose seemed faded without any of the mechanics there. I’d felt the garage’s force before, an animation of color that wasn’t exactly sentient, but knew it existed and why. Seeing it drained so badly made me feel even more alienated from myself than I already did.

“Depressing, isn’t it?”

I turned my head, only unsurprised because I didn’t seem to be able to feel any particular emotion. Thor came down the steps and sat down beside me, his shoulder brushing mine. “It’s not quite as bad upstairs. Not good, but not this empty. I’m the only one left down here.”

“You’re the only one who wasn’t in my dream.” My voice was dull. “What’re you still doing here?”

“You said that earlier, about the dream. What’re you talking about?” He shrugged a little. “I don’t know. There were a lot of cars to work on today, even with so many people out. I guess I just wanted to try to keep up. Stupid, huh?”

“No. It’s something to do. So you don’t feel so helpless.” I knew exactly what that felt like, but I hadn’t yet pulled the rabbit out of my hat. I was still useless. “Thank you.” The words came out abruptly and I shifted my shoulders, feeling my shirt brush against Thor’s again, cotton grabbing. “For helping me in March when my eardrums exploded. I never said thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I think you paid me back.” He leaned back to slide a hand into his pocket—he was wearing jeans and a T-shirt instead of the mechanic’s uniform the department issued—and came out with the piece of topaz. I glanced at it, glowing warm in his hand, then at him, getting an eyeful of aura that brought a faint smile to my lips.

“You really are a thunder god.” He was all stormy grays and deep blues, shot by streaks of bright silver, like lightning. Some of the turmoil that darkened his colors was from the absence of our coworkers. His coworkers, I had to remind myself. I didn’t belong down in the garage anymore. I didn’t have enough in me to find the thought as miserable as I once would’ve, and tried focusing on Thor’s colors again to take my mind off that and everything else. I imagined there’d normally be less stress discoloring the colors, but even so, they suited the nickname I’d given him to a wonderful degree.

“Do I want to know what that means?”

I shook my head and looked back at the garage. “Probably not.” I felt, more than saw, his frown, and was completely taken aback when he reached out and turned my face toward him again. His eyebrows were drawn down with curiosity.

“What color are your eyes?”

“Green. Hazel. Why?”

“Hazel,” he repeated after a moment. “Yeah, I guess.”

I sighed and moved my face out of his touch, closing my eyes. “They look gold right now, don’t they.”

“Yeah. I guess I can see the green in them from here—” I felt the warmth of his hand as he reached for my chin again, and looked back at him in bewilderment. People didn’t go around touching me that casually, unless it was to sock me on the shoulder in a one-of-the-guys routine. He’d sat up and his face was closer to mine than I was used to a man’s being. Nerves cramped my stomach, the closeness seeming uncomfortably intimate, but I didn’t know how to get away without being obvious to the point of rudeness. “—but if I were more than ten inches away I’d think your eyes were gold. Kinda cool. I’ve only met a couple of people with gold eyes before.” He sat back again, releasing me from the têtea-tête without seeming to notice it himself.

“I don’t think I’ve met anybody with gold eyes.” Except Coyote. Misery swept up unexpectedly and seized me by the throat, shattering the cold that had settled on me for a little while. I stood up fast enough to be rude after all, reaching for the railing. “I’m sorry. I’ve got to get going, go do some things.” Action, moving forward purposefully, was the only thing I thought would get me through the next few days without wanting to die myself. If it could keep emotion at bay long enough, I could find a way to deal with Coyote’s death and the butterfly thing that had killed him. I could break down after that, or better yet, just build up that wall of cold until I didn’t feel the need to cry anymore.

“Yeah, I guess you probably do.” Thor didn’t sound offended as he squinted up at me, and twisted to watch me walk stiffly up the stairs. “Hey, Joanne.”

I looked back, taken off guard. He’d never called me by name before, and I’d half expected him to have a nickname for me as obnoxious as the Thor I’d saddled him with.

“I said maybe we’d see each other at a club sometime….” I felt my back muscles tighten, like I was waiting to take a hit. “Yeah. Don’t worry about it. I don’t go out much.”

“Yeah, you said that, so I thought maybe I’d better make it a specific sometime. I’ve got tickets for an Alan Claussen gig at the end of the month. You want to go?” Silver shot through his aura, looking like hope.

I thought of Coyote’s last gambit, the burst of sheer orange and blue power that had broken me free, and wondered if I had any right to go ahead and go on with my life when everything I’d done with it so far had been to fuck up in one dramatic fashion or another. I opened my mouth to say no, and Thor saw it, disappointment dimming the silver streaks to gray.