Urban Shaman

remembering the idea of breathing while hanging on to the deep sense of the world around me, and then, tentatively, opened my eyes.

The world shifted, 3-D afterimages playing with my vision as I refocused with my physical eyes without losing the peculiar vision that let me see the colors and shapes of the spiritual world. Gray settled over the amber- lit parking lot as the two worlds resolved into one. I was going to have to learn to turn this second sight thing on and off with fewer dramatics. Right now I had all the grace of a bull in a china shop.

Right now, that didn’t really matter. I straightened up, no longer afraid that the slightest movement would jostle myself out of alignment again. “Sorry. They’re in there. He’s in there, at least.” I could see a center to the grayness now. Either I was getting better, or Herne was distracted enough that his shield was failing. I could even follow the slender line of truth that had tied me to him in the first place.

I opened the back of the cab and took out Cernunnos’s sword. It shivered a vibrant blue, stronger than the gray of Herne’s obscurity. It had a purpose, too. It was meant to end things.

I spun the hilt in my hand, watching the blue glitter, then grinned faintly at Gary as I headed for the door. “Coming?”

“Lady, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

CHAPTER 29

The Space Needle is only the most famous structure in the Seattle Center. The whole Center covers something like seventy acres and has everything you can think of except a way to prevent people from wandering the grounds at any hour, day or night.

It was entirely empty. No bums, no skateboarding teens, no businessmen coming down from the monorail to catch a bus or to go to their cars. Coming out of the parking garage was like walking into a barbed wire fence: every step forward bit and nipped at me, trying to push me back. Gary, a step or two behind me, grunted. “It’s all in your mind,” I muttered.

Streetlamps discolored patches of snow into unhealthy yellows and lilacs. Bits of paper debris scattered across stretches of concrete, their rattling surprisingly loud without the sounds of people to muffle them. The desolation was uncomfortable, and that was just on the obvious side of things. With the brilliant colors of my other Sight distorted with gray, the Center looked a carnie’s particular view of Hell.

“Where we going, Jo?” Gary asked very quietly. He was spooked, his big shoulders hunched and his colors muted in a way that had nothing to do with Herne’s obscurement.

“It’s all right,” I said. “You don’t have to be here, you know.”

Gary straightened, offended. “You think I’m backin’ out now? After being along for the whole ride?”

I shifted my shoulders uncomfortably, but didn’t slow my pace. The thread between Herne and myself was contracting, drawing us closer together and getting stronger. I couldn’t see him yet, but I felt him. I wondered if he felt me. “You could get killed,” I said. “So far everybody else has.”

“Nah,” the cabby said. “I’m your good-luck charm.”

I laughed, the sound unexpectedly bright in the gray light and the frozen walls. “You’re a little big to put in my pocket.”

“Guess I better just tag along, then.” He straightened his shoulders again. I smiled.

“Gary?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

“Sure. Now, what’s the plan?”

“The plan? I’m supposed to have a plan?” The cord contracted again, a physical pull, and I stumbled. Gary put a hand out to steady me. “The plan is to rescue the princess, slay the dragon, kick some booty and be home in time for dinner. What time is it, anyway?”

“Couple minutes to six. You need a watch.”

“I have one.” I put out my wrist and discovered I was still wearing the bracelet, my watch abandoned at home where it presumably continued to tell the time in Moscow. “Nevermind.”

The cord contracted a third time. For a moment, the careful realignment I’d done of body to soul was pulled askew and I flashed forward through the park to the carousel.

It spun, its music turned down, not needing to compete with the sounds of other rides or people calling back and forth. On the outer ring, a slender blond girl rode a beautifully carved wooden horse, painted golden as sunlight. She stood up in the stirrups as I watched, leaning to make a laughing snatch at a brass ring.

“Almost,” Herne said, full of amusement. I looked past Suzanne to the inner ring of the carousel. The god’s son leaned against an intricate red dragon, watching the child of his blood settle back down into her saddle.

Kevin Sadler leaned against the red dragon, watching his daughter pout with laughter and get ready for another try.

I snapped back into my body, stumbling from shock. “Oh, my God, I am so stupid.” I spat bile and began to run. Gary startled, then fell into a run behind me.

We skidded over the threshold of the carousel together, just in time to see Suzy make another grab for the ring, and, with a triumphant shout, come away with it clenched in her fist.

With it came down the walls that separated one world from another. Cernunnos’s stallion screamed, the deep primal sound that kept making me want to scream in return. Suzanne did scream in response, clutching at the wooden horse’s spiral pole as the Wild Hunt burst from the sky to ride down at her, twelve riders strong and one lonely mare. Even as she screamed, Suzanne’s eyes went to the mare, longing. Cernunnos shifted in his saddle, leaning toward her like a hero in an old western, about to scoop up his beloved.

Herne stepped in front of her, the vestiges of his assumed human form shedding away.

I should have seen it before. Everything was there, the green eyes, the long jaw and high cheekbones. The man was slight where the demigod was broad, but the hair was the same ash-brown, albeit in different quantities. And I had known almost from the start that Herne wasn’t trapped in just one shape.

“Stop,” the god’s son said, really very softly. The host parted and swept around them like waves, galloping ethereally through the carousel. Only Cernunnos reined up with easy strength, no sign of the injury I’d done him a few days earlier. The stallion reared back to kick at Herne before prancing nervously to the ground again. In moments, the riders swung back around and gathered behind Cernunnos, stilling their horses. The red-eared hounds slunk under the horses and leaned against their forelegs, glaring toward Herne with angry red eyes.

Suzanne hung onto the wooden horse, crouched small, too frightened to make a sound. Now that I was closer, looking at her was difficult. The slender body seemed overfull, and my eyes slid off her like I was trying to follow the shape of a second person occupying her space.

“You’re much too late, Father,” Herne whispered. His voice carried across the silent grounds with the clarity of a sound studio, words clipped and edged. “I’ve worked for this. Can’t you feel it? The Rider’s almost lost to you. Only a few more minutes.”

Cernunnos looked beyond Herne to Suzanne. “Take her,” he murmured. “I have one to replace her.” He smiled, curved teeth bright in the ugly light, and looked from Suzanne to me. Herne turned, surprise filtering through his eyes. Greener eyes than they were as Kevin Sadler, but still unmistakably the same. How could I have missed it?

“You didn’t check your messages, Jo,” he said affably. Herne’s faint English accent was gone, replaced by Kevin’s Anywhere America accent. “You’d be halfway to Portland by now. I’m disappointed.”

“I didn’t have time,” I admitted. There didn’t seem much point in lying. “Lucky for me, I guess.” I wondered if they made dunce caps big enough to hide under. Forever. I shifted my gaze from Herne to Cernunnos, and added, “I beat you once already, my lord master of the Hunt. I don’t owe you anything.”

“I lost one challenge,” Cernunnos agreed, “and my word keeps me from Babylon forever. There was no caveat against a second reckoning, little shaman.”

Oops. Oh well. I’d deal with that later. Assuming there was a later. “What have you done to her, Herne?”