Long Snows Moon (24 page)

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?”