psychopomps, she could. She met me at the front door of her little bungalow in East L.A., as she always did, and we shared a hug before going inside. I waited patiently at the kitchen table while she made coffee and set out fresh-baked empanadas.
“You’re here about los zombis,” she said as she took her seat across from me at the table. Like I said, Mom’s a psychic-you get used to it. It didn’t surprise me she knew why I’d come, or that she knew about the zombie problem. She wouldn’t have been much good at her job if she didn’t.
“I need to know what’s causing it. I got a tip it might have something to do with psychopomps.”
Mom nodded. “The Xolos are missing,” she said.
“Mexican Hairless Dogs?” I mumbled around a mouthful of empanada. It was delicious-light and fluffy with a golden-brown crust, filled with fresh strawberries and some kind of cream.
“Xoloitzcuintli. Not all of them are hairless. Just the psychopomps. Usually one in every litter is coated, and they’re just normal dogs.”
“Psychopomps are dogs?” I wondered who’d come up with the bit about skeletons in black robes wielding scythes.
Mom shrugged and sipped her coffee. “Here, and in Mexico, God has given the Xolos this duty. It has always been so. I don’t know how it is in other places.”
“Tell me about them, Mom.” I’d learned long ago to let my mother get to the point by her own path. Besides, I loved her stories.
“The Xolos are a gift from God,” she said. “They were created from a shard of Adam’s rib. God gave them to us and commanded us to love and protect them, and in turn, they would guide us to Heaven when we die.”
“That sounds like a Christian story. I thought the Xolos predated the Conquest.”
“Adam also predates the Conquest, child.” My skepticism toward dogmatic Catholicism was no secret, but Mom never missed an opportunity to chide me for it when it slipped out. “The Mexica had their own stories, of course, but I believe it is the same story with different names. They believed the god Xolotl created the Xolos from the Bone of Life that they might safely lead the dead into Mictlan, the underworld.”
“I see what you mean about it being the same story. Okay, so the Xolos are psychopomps. They’ve gone missing and the souls of the dead are trapped in their bodies. That’s what’s causing the zombie problem. How do the Xolos get the souls out of the dead bodies?”
“With their teeth, I suppose.” She said it like it was common sense.
“Any idea why they’d be missing? And isn’t it kind of strange they’re missing and no one has noticed? I mean, they’re not the most common breed but they’re not exactly rare, either. Not in this part of the country.”
“I don’t know why they’re missing or where they’ve gone, Dominica. But there aren’t as many of them as you think. Not all Xolos are psychopomps.”
“Yeah, you mentioned the coated ones are just dogs.”
“Not all of the hairless dogs are psychopomps, either. Only the purebred ones, and there aren’t very many of them left. At one time, they were almost extinct. Now they’re bred for shows, and as pets.”
“You think they might have died out? And even if they did, wouldn’t other psychopomps move in to pick up the slack?”
Mom pressed her lips together and shook her head. “We were charged with protecting the Xolos, Dominica. If we failed in that, it is not God’s responsibility to spare us the consequences.”
God lets humankind lie in the bed it made. News at eleven.
I watched my mother as she refilled our cups. Her hands seemed a little unsteady as she poured. I saw her often enough that the little physical changes sometimes escaped my notice. Mortality was a patient beast. It stalked its prey slowly and you never saw it coming until it was too late. I tried to look at her with fresh eyes and I didn’t like what I saw. Mom was only in her fifties but she looked older. She looked tired.
I knew very soon I’d have to make a hard decision. I used youth spells to slow my own aging. I tried not to overdo it but I used them. Fuck getting old if you don’t have to. I could probably stop aging altogether if I chose-my boss had been kicking around for six millennia and he didn’t look much older than forty. But in a year or two, maybe five at the outside, I’d have to decide whether to use that magic on my mother or to let her go. I’d never talked to Mom about it and I never would-she’d hate me if she ever learned I’d used magic on her. The chances were pretty good I was going to lose her either way.
“People die,” my mother said. “Like the Xolos, this is God’s gift to us. Perhaps He sent los zombis to remind us of that.”
“Speaking on behalf of humans everywhere who still prefer the taste of chicken, message received. How do I make it right?”
“The commandment hasn’t changed. Find the Xolos and protect them.”
“But what if they’re gone? What if there aren’t any more purebred Xolos to protect?”
Mom crossed herself. “Then perhaps it is a different message God is sending.”
“Game over.”
“‘But the day of the Lord will come like a thief. The heavens will disappear with a roar; the elements will be destroyed by fire, and the earth and everything in it will be laid bare.’”
“Yeah, and the eigen variables are asymptomatically stable,” I said.
“I don’t know what that means, Dominica.”
“It means we’re…uh…in trouble,” I said. “I have to find out what happened to the Xolos. The psychopomp ones, I mean-they can’t all be missing. If every Xolo in L.A. had suddenly died or vanished, we’d have heard about it. There must…” I stopped in midsentence and slapped my forehead.
“What is it, dear?”
“If anyone knows where the psychopomps have gone, it’ll be the Xolos who were left behind. The normal dogs.”
“It’s possible, I suppose.”
“You have to get out of town, Mom. Today. I don’t know how bad this will get, but it could get really bad. Go visit Aunt Teresa-you should be fine in Calexico, at least for now.”
“Los zombis will not frighten me from my home. I have nothing to fear from the dead. The Lord will protect me.”
“The Lord is sitting this one out, Mom. You said it yourself.” I reached across the table and grasped both of her thin hands in mine. I looked into her eyes and held her gaze. “I’m not asking, Mom. If you don’t leave on your own, I’m going to make you leave. You won’t even know what I’ve done. I don’t want to do it-I hate the idea of it. But I will if it’s the only way to get you out of here. Don’t make me. Please.”
My mother looked at me for a while without speaking. “I will do as you say, Dominica. May God have mercy on you, mi hija.”
I stood up and gave my mother a hug and a kiss on the forehead. “Thanks for the coffee and the empanadas, Mom-they’re wonderful. I’ve got to have a sit-down with a dog.”
When I got bumped up to wartime captain, I’d made Rafael Chavez my lieutenant. I’d known him since I was a kid. We came from the same neighborhood and grew up on the same streets. He was probably the only gangster in Rashan’s outfit I really trusted.
Chavez had a nice little Spanish Colonial on Amalia, not far from Atlantic Park. With its clean white stucco walls and red clay roof tiles, the house would have looked like nothing much in some L.A. neighborhoods, but it was a palace in this one. A low stone retaining wall and white wrought-iron fence fronted the small yard, and a vibrant palm tree gave the house a little shade. The grass was so green it almost glowed, and the ferns and flowering plants that hugged the walls of the house gave it the feel of an oasis in the barrio.
I rang the doorbell and winced at the bedlam that erupted inside. One of Chavez’s five kids opened the door, a dark-haired, dark-eyed boy maybe seven or eight years old. His face split in a jack-o’-lantern grin when he saw me, complete with missing front teeth.
“Carlos, right?” I said, and returned the smile.
“I’m Miguel,” the boy said. “Carlos is with his girlfriend.” He said it like he didn’t think much of his older brother’s judgment. Jesus, how long had it been since I’d stopped by? Miguel was the little one. The last time I’d seen him, he’d been a toddler. Or maybe that was Jorge.
“No way,” I said. “Miguel is a little kid. You’re obviously a young man. Where are you hiding the real Miguel?” I poked my head in and pretended to look around.
