Nightmare (8 page)

The door was opened by a man wearing a spotless white shirt and trousers, a gold cross on a chain hanging halfway down his chest. “Good afternoon,” he said. “I am Alberto Salgado.”

“The
curandero
?” Haley asked.

“
Sí
. I am a
curandero
,” he said. “Are you Miss Haley Griffin?”

“
Sí
—uh—yes,” Haley said. “And this is Emily Wood, the one I told you about.”

“Please come into my shop,” Mr. Salgado said. He stepped aside, holding the door wide.

The dimly lit room smelled like fried onions and incense. Over the hum of a window air conditioner, a baby’s sleepy cries could be heard, and there were the clattering sounds of pans and dishes coming from what must be a kitchen.

Two sides of the room were occupied by low cabinets on which were arrayed statues of saints, candles, and bottles that contained strange dark liquids. On a small table lay an assortment of charms and pendants beside a card on which was hand-printed,
$15
APIECE
.

The walls were covered with crucifixes of all sizes and framed prints of religious paintings. Rosaries hung from pegs on each side of a doorway leading into a hall. Facing the windows, in the middle of the center wall, stood what looked like a makeshift altar with statues and candles in glass holders placed on a lace-trimmed white cloth.

In front of the altar sat an overstuffed chair, the top, back, and armrests covered with huge crocheted doilies. Opposite the chair was a matching sofa, its original hues faded into a colorless smear.

Mr. Salgado motioned to the sofa, and Haley immediately sat down, pulling Emily with her.

As Mr. Salgado seated himself opposite them, Haley said, “Em has received two warnings from Loki, which she has drawn from the runes. She must be in danger, but we don’t know what it is or where it’s coming from.”

Mr. Salgado pursed his lips and shook his head. “I am not familiar with Loki or the runes.”

“You don’t know about Loki?”

“I follow my own path,” he explained. “Or, should I say, my father’s path, for he was a
curandero
before me. I give consultations and advise people on how to cure their illnesses or solve their problems. Occasionally, when it is necessary, I will go beyond giving advice in order to perform a purification rite.”

Emily squirmed to the edge of her seat. “Maybe we should—”

Haley leaned forward, ignoring her. “We know that Em is in danger. Will your way tell us what we can do about it?”

Mr. Salgado nodded. “If it is in my power,” he said. Before Haley could answer, he added, “I am considered a very successful
curandero
. In the winter, when I reside down in the valley, I sometimes receive as many as fifty clients a day.”

Emily attempted to stand. “I think we ought to—”

Haley grabbed her wrist, pulling her down. “Tell us what we should do,” she said to Mr. Salgado.

As he walked to the windows, lowering the shades to
darken the room, Haley hissed at Emily, “Sit still, and keep quiet. This is for your own good.”

Mr. Salgado seated himself again, and Emily was surprised to see that he had wrapped a white robe over his clothing.

Although the light in the room was dim, Mr. Salgado reached out and took both of Emily’s hands in his. He bent his head over her open palms, studying them.

After a moment he raised his head, his face close to her own. “You are in good health,” he told her. “I can feel a vital energy passing through your body. The danger your friend spoke of does not come from any physical condition.”

Releasing her hands, he stood and lit the candles on the altar behind his chair. A spiral of smoke rose from the small incense bowl, and Emily wrinkled her nose at its oversweet aroma.

Mr. Salgado reached down to the floor next to his chair and picked up a lapboard. Next, he pulled an old, stained deck of ornate picture cards from a pocket in his robe and began to lay them out on the board.

“Tarot?” Haley asked as she leaned close to watch.

“No,” Mr. Salgado said. “I told you, I follow my own path.”

For a long moment Emily watched as Mr. Salgado swept up the cards, shuffled them, then laid them out again. During this time the room was silent except for low, murmuring whispers that occasionally escaped his lips.

When he finally drew the cards together and looked directly into Emily’s eyes, she leaned as far back against the sofa as she could and shivered. “What are you going to tell me?” she asked, dreading his answer.

“Your friend is right,” he said. “You are in danger.”

“How?” Emily asked. “Danger from what?”

“There is something locked inside you,” Mr. Salgado said. “As long as it is within you, you are in danger.”

“You said she was healthy,” Haley complained.

“The hidden thing is not something of the body. It is something of the mind.”

“What is it?” Emily asked, frightened in spite of her resolve not to believe.

“I do not know,” he said. “I see a death. Perhaps a second one.”

Emily shivered as cold gripped her neck and shoulders. She heard Haley gasp. “
My
death?” Emily whispered.

“I do not know,” Mr. Salgado answered. “All I can tell you is that the only way to counter this danger is to find what is locked inside you and rid yourself of it. No one can do this for you. You must do it yourself.”

“But if I don’t know what it is—”

“I think you know.”

“I don’t! Honestly!”

“Then you must search.”

“How?”

“I explained. I can’t tell you that. But I can give you a potion of special oils designed to ward off evil. Keep it on your person.” As if by magic, a small, clear plastic vial with a cork stopper appeared in Mr. Salgado’s right hand. Inside the three-inch tube Emily could see a dark sludge. As she took the vial from him, the substance swirled heavily and slowly like a thick oil.

“How will this help me?” she whispered.

“I cannot tell you that. I can only assure you that you’ll know when the time comes. In the meantime the potion will protect you.”

“Is that all you can say?” Emily demanded. “I need to know what to do.”

Haley rested a hand on Emily’s arm. “Keep the potion in your pocket,” she told her, again in charge. “We’ll meditate. Together we’ll search. We’ll find out what’s locked inside you.”

Emily stared from Mr. Salgado to Haley to the dark tube in her hands, suddenly astonished that for a few moments she had actually believed all this hocus-pocus about danger and protective potions … because of the nightmares, because of the runes … yet none of it made sense. Sitting here in this strange room was probably one of the craziest things she had ever done in her life.

Mr. Salgado held out a wide clay bowl. Inside it lay two crumpled twenty-dollar bills. “The potion costs ten dollars,” he said. “There is no charge for the reading. I ask only for a goodwill donation in addition.”

Emily held the potion out to him. “I really don’t need—” she began.

Haley snatched the vial and tucked it firmly into the pocket of Emily’s polo shirt. “You do need it!” she said.

Emily sighed. She pulled her wallet out of her small handbag, pulled out a twenty-dollar bill, and laid it on top of the others in the bowl.

“Thank you,” Mr. Salgado said. He laid the bowl on the altar and snuffed out the candles.

As he stood he frowned at Emily, who looked away, puzzled. Had he expected her to pay more? Well, she wouldn’t. She was sorry she’d been intimidated into parting with twenty dollars.

Haley bought a few things, but Emily wasn’t interested enough to pay attention to what they were. She shouldn’t have been here. She shouldn’t have allowed Haley to bring her.

“Miss Wood,” Mr. Salgado said as he opened the front door, “you are resentful that your friend brought you here and angry that I have not told you more about what you should do to ward off the evil that is set against you. Yet at the same time you do not believe that what I have told you is true.”

“I—I’m sorry,” Emily said. “I just think that if I really am in some kind of danger, you should tell me more about what to expect.” She shook her head, trying to get rid of the thoughts that were confusing her. “What I really mean is that I don’t believe in Loki and runes and evil and all that. I am not hiding anything—”

She stopped abruptly.
But maybe I am
, she thought.
If I were really truthful I’d admit that I couldn’t be sure
.

Emily went to the dock again, paying no attention to the sign I posted to absolve the camp of any blame
.

The peaceful water, the rocks, the silence of this solitary spot … they’ve tempted her. I was sure she would return. I’m equally positive she’ll return again
.

“Promise me!” Haley repeated as they arrived back at the town square with less than ten minutes to spare before pickup time. “You must keep the potion with you at all times!”

“Why do you keep insisting?” Emily asked.

“Because I feel responsible for you. If a car were speeding toward you, I’d push you out of the way, wouldn’t I? If I saw you going under out in the lake, I’d rescue you. Well, this is the same thing. I’ve discovered you are in danger, and even proved it to you through Mr. Salgado. So now I have to make sure you’re protected from the danger, whether I want to or not.”

Emily gave Haley a sharp look. “Okay, I’ll make a bargain with you.”

“What kind of a bargain?”

Emily held up her right hand. “I’ll keep the potion with me at all times if you agree not to make me draw one of the runes each morning.”

Haley grimaced but answered, “Well, okay, I guess.
We don’t know how much longer this period of danger will last, and I know I’d get absolutely sick to my stomach if you picked Loki again. I might die on the spot.”

“You wouldn’t die,” Emily retorted.

“That’s right. I wouldn’t. I’d just feel like it,” Haley said. “It’s bad enough having to feel responsible for you. Everyone in my family is always after me: ‘Be responsible about cleaning your room.’ ‘Be responsible about doing your homework.’ ‘Be responsible, be responsible.’ I hate being responsible.”

“Then let’s forget all about Mr. Salgado and what he told us.”

“No. We can’t. And you’ll thank me later, especially after we begin meditating.”

“Now what are you talking about?”

“Meditating. Mr. Salgado said the answer is hidden within you, so we have to reach inside your mind and find out what is causing the problem.”

“It’s not going to work.”

“We at least have to try.”

“If we try it once, will you stop bugging—?” Emily began. She broke off as Haley’s eyes suddenly widened and her mouth dropped open. “What’s the matter with you?”

Since Haley seemed unable to answer, Emily twisted around to see what she was staring at. She felt her own mouth open with surprise.

Leaving a beauty parlor across the street was a girl with white-blond, curly hair fanning out around her face.

Emily gasped. “Who is that?”

“Someone trying to be you.” Haley groaned and said, “It’s pink-and-gold Taylor. Only she’s not pink and gold anymore.”

Silently Emily and Haley watched Taylor approach. As Taylor came near she grinned happily. Her face was clean of all makeup.

“Surprise!” she said. “Don’t you love it?”

Still in shock, Emily murmured, “You—uh—look like—like—”

“You!” Taylor said. She was obviously so delighted that Emily was reminded of a little kid at a birthday party.

“Why?” Haley asked.

“I like the way Emily’s hair looks.”

“But what about your one-of-a-kind look?” Haley asked.

“This will be one-of-a-kind when I get home,” Taylor said. “Nobody in my hometown has ever seen Emily.” She happily fingered a curly twist of hair. “It’s cool,” she said. “I picked out a shade as close to your hair color as I could get, and they showed me how to make it look like this with a curling iron. Now I can let it fall in front of my face and hide behind it, just like you do.”

“Why try to look like Emily? Why not just be yourself?” Haley rolled her eyes again.

Taylor threw Haley an exasperated glance. “Come off it, Haley,” she said. “I’m not trying to look like Emily. Only the hair.” She touched her face with her fingertips and giggled. “I feel naked without any makeup. The stylist creamed it off. She said it didn’t go with the light hair. I’ll try to find something else that will work. Maybe rose or light green eye shadow?”

Haley didn’t answer, so Taylor turned to Emily. “Are you mad at me, too?” she asked.

Emily softened at the open hurt on Taylor’s face. “I’m not mad at you,” she answered. “I’m just surprised. The change you’ve made takes getting used to.” She kept her
gaze on Taylor as she said, “For the first time I can see what you really look like. You’re pretty, Taylor. Your cheekbones are high, like a model’s. I hadn’t noticed before.”

“Then you don’t care that I copied your hair?”

“I don’t care,” Emily said, although she wasn’t really sure how she felt. It was strange seeing a reflection of herself in another person. No one had ever seemed to think she was worth copying before.

She glanced up to see some of the other kids from their van arriving. A few stared from Emily to Taylor and back again. One of the girls gasped, turning around too late to hide the startled expression on her face.

Emily slumped, letting her hair fall forward, hiding behind it. She should have realized immediately that what Taylor had done would attract attention. She hated being stared at. She hated being noticed. She wished with all her power that Taylor hadn’t chosen to imitate her.

The van drove up and the driver jumped out, throwing the side doors open. Emily climbed into the van, choosing a seat in the back, as far from everyone else as she could get.

Wishing she were invisible, Emily didn’t speak during the drive back to Camp Excel. The others didn’t seem to care. They were all busy talking. Emily heard scraps of conversation about some of the shops in Lampley, about its funny little museum, and once she caught Taylor’s name and her own. As someone giggled, Emily cringed and slid even farther down in the seat.