The Walking (16 page)

The outline of his mother's form was perfect, down to the stray strand of hair that had always flipped up when she danced, and he remained rooted in place, unable to pull his gaze from this unnatural sight.

He muttered a quick spell, words of banishment and words of protection, but the twirling shadow did not disappear. He did not feel safe or protected at all. He felt vulnerable and afraid, weak and helpless.

A hand grabbed his sleeve, and then Jeb was pulling him away, chanting words of his own, words of power that William recognized but could not quite seem to place.

Whatever evil was here, he knew, was doing everything in its power to keep him from leaving. He forced himself to look away, brought to bear the full strength of his energies on repelling those influences that were focused so hard upon him.

There was a lessening of pressure, a definite easing in the strength of the malevolence being directed at them, and they quickly moved around the rock wall, steering clear of

the dcing shadow, heading in the direction they suddenly knew to be south.

Amazingly, they were back in open country, where the stars were in their proper places, the moon was sinking in the second half of the sky, and there was a lightening on the eastern horizon where, in a few hours, the sun would arise.

Before them, in the now unthreatening darkness, illuminated by pure and innocent moonlight, stood a lone horse. William's horse. They hurried toward the small copse of scrubby trees where the animal stood waiting, its pack tilted on its back but still secured.

William unfastened the pack, and for the first time he and Jeb both climbed atop the horse, holding the supplies themselves as the animal carried them swiftly away from this cursed country.

Not until some time later, wheia the horse had slowed from a gallop to a trot, did William hazard a look behind him. All he could see was inky blackness, and he felt cold as he once again faced forward. He had the sense that if they had not left, they would have been trapped in those dark lands forever, in canyons where night never ended and only the shadows were alive.

A little over a week later, they reached a much bigger canyon, a wide, rugged gorge through whose bottom ran a quiet river, where pine trees and actus coexisted along the sandy banks and birds twittered in hidden crevices among the rocks.

It was the land they had been deeded by the government, land at once remote and accessible, wild and peaceful, and William thought at that moment he had never seen anything quite so wonderful. In his mind sprang up a town of the future, their town, and he could see where homes would be. Shops. Taverns. Public buildings.

And now it was a reality. They had a settlement of their

own, their safety and sovereignty guaranteed by the United States of America, and more of them were on the way. It had almost been worth all the suffering and persecution, the trips through lands of nightmare, and he turned away from the kitchen sink and walked outside, looked up into the blue, blue sky, and smiled.

Winter passed. And spring. And summer. And fall. Winter roiled around once more, and before he knew it summer had arrived yet again.

Jeb had never been so happy in his life. The work was hard, the days were filled with the mundane chores of everyday living, but there was something exhilarating about being able to live so normally. He did not have to hide here. None of them did. They could be themselves, without constantly looking over their shoulder, without worrying that some small misstep would give them away.

And Wolf Canyon was growing by leaps and bounds. He did not know how word was spreading, but it was, and witches from back East were making their way west, coming like pilgrims seeking sanctuary. Many of them wept when they finally saw the town. Many others yelled for joy.

They had decided to name the town after its location. It was a common thing to do out here, and "Wolf Canyon" was anonymous enough that it woulnot atlxact undue attention.

Although there was something satisfyingly humorous about it, a sly hint in the "Wolf" reference that appealed to both him and William.

There were two streets now, a main street and a cross street, and within a year there would probably be one more. It looked like a real town, and it was that appearance more than anything else which always gave him a feeling of real

"

accomplishment. He remembered when Wolf Canyon had been nothing more than a piece of paper from the government and an idea in William's head, and to see it actually take shape, to be a part of its foundation and growth, was truly both inspiring and humbling.

Jeb looked up at the midday sun, then stood up from his chair, stretched, and walked across the dusty street to the bar, where he ordered brown-label whisky

"How goes it, Jeb?" the bartender asked, pouring his drink.

"Same as always, only more so." Jeb plopped a coin on the bar.

"You want change?"

"No, just keep 'em coming till it's gone."

One of last year's arrivals, an old dowser by the name of Herman, had canvassed the area with his stick and had announced that he had found significant silver deposits. So they'd dug a mine, found men to take turns working it, and for the first time money was coming into the community. They sold the ore to the government, and now, instead of bartering for goods and services, they had bills, they had coins, they were able to use currency like civilized folks.

Jeb smiled to himself. Pretty soon they'd have their own goddamn opera house.

Swinging hinges creaked behind him, and Simon walked up to the bar, sat down next to him. "I'll have what Jeb's having," he announced.

The bartender brought over a shot glass, filled it, and Jeb saluted his friend. The two of them downed their drinks in one quick swallow.

He'd made a lot of new friends here Simon. Martin d Olivia. Cletus.

George and Jimmy. Hazel, June, and Marie. Madsen. They'd been thrown together at first by their common nature, by the shared experiences of oppression and persecution, and that bond had seen them through the tentative early days, had enabled them to establish a sense of community..

But they knew each other now. And, more important, they liked each other.

William was still his best friend, and although there was no official hierarchy, the two of them were the de facto decision makers by virtue of the fact that they had been the first. William was in charge--it had been his idea and initiative, after all, that had gotten this thing off the ground-and Jeb was his second in command. They'd bandied about the idea of holding elections, but there was no real push for it. The outcome was a forgone conclusion, and they had the sense that things would be better left as is, at least for now.

He'd wondered at first how it would be, living with people like himself. Would there be feuds and fighting? Would people be reading each other's minds, jinxing the endeavors of their rivals, using their gifts for venal purposes, to fuel those petty jealousies that inevitably popped up whenever a group of people lived together in close proximity? Thankfully, no.

None of that had come to pass, and if someone just wandered into the canyon and stayed for a few days, like as not he would not even realize that they were witches. Their powers were not hidden, but neither were they exploited. He and the others lived the way they'd always wanted to live--just like everyone else. Magic was used when it was needed, but it was only one tool among many, and it was only employed when appropriate.

From outside the bar came the sound of voices and feminine laughter, followed by footsteps on wood as a group of women strode along the walkway toward the new park at the edge of town.

Today was Independence Day, July fourthd while the holiday had never meant much to Jeb back in the old days, here in Wolf Canyon it meant a lot. They finally had their

own independence; they were finally free to be who they were. It was he who had first suggested that they all stop work on this day and celebrate, pool their talents to create. the biggest celebration any of them had ever seen ...... Last year had been the first. There'd been conjured fire- i: works the likes of which had never been seen even in China, as well as spirit shows and a spectacular display of ground light created by all of them concentrating on a single effect and using their powers together.

This year things were supposed to be even better. Jeb didn't know what William had planned--his friend had been keeping it a secret from everyone--but mention of it always brought a smile to his face.

"Simon?" he asked, turning to the man next to him. "What's your favorite thing in the world?"

Simon thought for a moment. "The un bathed private parts of a mature woman."

The answer was so unexpected that Jeb simply stared at him for a moment. Then he burst out laughing. Soon they were both laughing, clapping each other on the back and ordering one more round.

Afterward, Jeb walked outside, went for a long slow walk around the town to clear his head. The park was filling up with people, the women bringing food, the men bringing appetites. From June's kitchen came the warm, fragrant smell of fresh bread. One of the advantages of witchcraft--the ability to cook without fuel or fire. He passed by Martha's house, waved at her through the window. She was just placing a pie on the sill, and he offered to carry it to the park for her, but she said it had to set awhile first.

He felt good. A couple walked past him, hand in hand, and he watched them for a moment. The only thing missing from his life was that he had not yet found a woman. A lot of the men had. A lot of witches of both sexes had

met here and gotten married, and while he was always happy for them, he could not help feeling a little sorry for himself.

Of course, no one he'd met really interested him.

Because he was still in love with Becky.

Even after all this time, he thought of her often. In his dreams, she came to Wolf Canyon. Sometimes she was a witch who had only just discovered her powers. Sometimes she was not but had trekked halfway across the continent because she missed him and wanted to be with him.

But al ways they ended up together, and while he knew that was just a foolish fantasy it prevented him from even thinking about anyone else.

"Jeb!"

He looked up at the sound of the familiar voice to see

William hurrying across the dusty street toward him, a big smile on his face.

"I've been looking for you."

Jeb stopped, waited. "What is it?"

"I need your help."

"With what?"

William's smile grew even broader. this is something I've been working on."

"For tonight?"

"I'd rather not discuss it here." William clapped an arm around his shoulder. "Come on. Let's go to the picnic first.

We'll talk about it later, back at the house."

Jeb grinned, nodded, and the two of them made their way down the street toward the park.

Now

He'd called his sister the night before, and told her about their father.

It could be put off no longer, and Miles didn't beat around the bush but told Bonnie exactly what had happened. She'd grown extremely quiet, for once in her life not interrupting him, and when he was finished she said simply, "Where is he now?"

"Still at the coroner's." He answered her next question before she even asked it. 'qlaey have him restrained, but he still seems to be... animated."

"Are you sure he's dead?"

"I'm sure. We're all sure. We just don't know, what it is."

There was silence after that.

"I think you should come down," Miles told her.

"For the funeral?

He was growing exasperated. "Obviously, we haven't scheduled a funeral yet, but Dad is dead and I thought you might care enough to right," she said. "I'm coming." But she sounded annoyed, put out, and after promising to call him once she'd booked a plane, she hung up.

She'd called back an hour later, saying that she'd be flying to L.A. In the afternoon. He asked for her flight number and the time, but she refused to give him either.

"How am I supposed to pick you up?" he asked.

"You're not. I'll take a cab from the airport. I need some time to think."

"You won't have enough thinking time on the plane? Come on, Bonnie, this doesn't make any sense. There's no reason to waste money on a cab when I can easily come and pick you up. The airport's fifteen minutes from my house, for God's sake."

"I want to be alone."

"Bonnie

Stop trying to boss me around all the time. I have some things to sort through. Can't you understand that?"

She was getting ready to hang up on him--he recognized the signs--so he backed off and they if not warmly, at least amicably. Now she'd called him from the back of the cab, telling him she was on her way, and he assumed that meant she had a cellular phone. She'd never mentioned it to him, but she and Gil were yuppie enough to invest in such an obvious status symbol, and he reminded himself not to pick on her, to leave her alone, that this was a tragic time for both of them.

Well, a tragic time for him.

An inconvenience for her.

At the sound of a car pulling into the driveway, he peeked through the front window and saw a yellow cab in back of his Buick. He swore to himself that he would not provoke her, that they would not quarrel, and he hurried out to meet his sister.

She looked tired. Her skin was pale, there were large bags under her eyes, and he found that he actually felt sorry for her. He gave her a hug, helped the cab driver remove her luggage from the trunk, then carried her suitcases inside as she followed him into the house.

He put her bags in the guest bedroom, then walked back out to the living room.

Bonnie took off her coat and sat down on the couch. "You want something to drink? Water? Tea? Coke?" "No, thanks."

He nodded, sat down in the recliner to the tight of the couch. "So how are you doing?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Fine."

He looked at his sister, suddenly aware of how much she resembled their mother. She was thinner, her movements were different, but her features and especially the expressions that passed over her face were their mother's exactly. It was ironic, because Bonnie and her mother had never really gotten along. They were too much alike, perhaps. Both highly strung and self-involved, touchy and defensive, neither of them had possessed the requisite sympathy or patience to ever understand one another. There'd been no reconciliation between them before their mother's death and, Miles suspected, no remorse on his sister's part afterward.