The day after our homecoming there was a doubleheader at Sportsman’s Park. Carolina still had box seats, so a few of us, including Ray, decided to go see the Cardinals play the Phillies. The box was located in a perfect spot, about ten rows up, just above the Cardinal dugout. It was a hot, humid day with overcast skies and little breeze. The Cardinals’ uniforms now had numbers on the back, something they’d never had before. Sunny Jim Bottomley wore number 5 and as soon as I got his attention, I waved to him. He motioned me down to the dugout and asked if I might want to be batboy for the day since their regular boy was sick. I said, “Are you kiddin’? Yeah, sure! Do I get to wear a uniform?”
“Well, sure, kid. We’ll fix you up,” Sunny Jim said.
A kid was exactly what I felt like. It had been a long time since I was glad to look twelve years old.
During the third inning of the first game, with the Cardinals at bat, I saw Ray and Opari talking face-to-face. Neither paid attention to the game. Opari talked and Ray listened. By the third strike of the third out, he had heard everything. His expression was blank and distant, as if he had suddenly returned from a place he had never been before. Without looking at anyone, Ray stood and turned to leave. In a few seconds he was only a blur in the crowd.
It had been a century since Ray lost touch with Zuriaa in New Orleans. She was his younger sister, barely into the Wait at the time. What Ray heard was this: Zuriaa, his sister, is a murderer. She has murdered many times in many places. She has murdered men, women, and children. She has murdered for money, revenge, and worst of all—pleasure. She was trained and taught the craft of killing by the Fleur-du-Mal until she betrayed him. She has tried to trap and kill Opari through intrigue and stealth on several occasions and failed. She is sick, lost, totally insane, and consumed with hate. The killing of Unai and Usoa means she is once again in the middle of her madness. She is psychotic and dangerous, particularly for those who wear the Stone.
Ray left St. Louis the next day. He said he wanted to visit the Ozarks, see the Buffalo River, and check out the gambling in Hot Springs a little farther south. I knew his real reason was to be alone. At first, I was surprised how hard Opari’s words hit him. Then I realized it was typical of Ray to keep those kinds of feelings deep within himself. Still, there seemed to be more to it. While he was gone, Opari told me everything she knew about Zuriaa and her obsessions. At one point, she asked if I knew of anything traumatic that had happened to Zuriaa as a child, a real child. I told her I knew next to nothing about Zuriaa and Ray’s early life. I did remember that Ray had said their mother was murdered, but he never shared all the details.
A week later, Ray returned from the Ozarks. He was in better spirits and wanted to talk about Zuriaa openly. The three of us took a long stroll through Carolina’s “Honeycircle” and Ray wasted no time in telling us how he felt. He wanted to know if Opari thought Zuriaa could change. The healer in Opari assured Ray there was always a chance Zuriaa could be helped, but it was a small chance. Then Opari asked Ray if he would mind telling her about the murder of their mother. If he would rather not, Opari said she understood and it would not be mentioned again. Ray didn’t mind and went through what the police had told him about it. He said it occurred the same year in which Zuriaa turned twelve. Opari asked where Zuriaa was when the murder took place. Ray said Zuriaa was there, in the hotel room. She was found hiding behind a curtain, but she had witnessed the whole thing. On her face there were drops of blood, blood that had spewed out from her mother as the man held her head back and slit her throat.
Opari made a trilling sound with her tongue and teeth, then said, “Iturri!”
“What does that mean?” Ray asked.
“‘Origin,’ ‘first,’ ‘beginning.’ This could be the origin of the break in her mind, a place of infinite pain the Fleur-du-Mal could easily exploit.” She paused and looked at me. “Remember, the Fleur-du-Mal also witnessed his mother being murdered.” Opari unconsciously pressed her hand against her chest where the Stone hung inside her tunic. “It is clear now. The murder of Unai and Usoa was a message from Zuriaa delivered to us, especially to me. She is in America. She knows where we live…and whom we love. And she may be under the illusion that she is now the Fleur-du-Mal.”
“Yeah,” Ray said, “that may be true, but what if we find her first?”
“That will be difficult,” Opari answered. “The Fleur-du-Mal taught her well, Ray. In China, she was known by several names. The ‘Pearl’ was most common, but another was the ‘Shadow and the Sword.’ She has never lived anywhere permanently. She is everywhere and nowhere.”
“Like you for a few millennia?” I asked.
Opari raised one eyebrow, then smiled. Her black eyes flashed between Ray and me. “Yes, like me,” she said.
For three days beginning on October 4, 1923, a spectacular air show was staged in St. Louis. It was a combination of trade show, swap meet, county fair, military parade, and the largest aeronautical demonstration that had ever been held anywhere in the world. There were 725,000 people watching all events on the last day. The events included an air race, the Pulitzer Trophy Race, a parachute spot landing contest, stunts of flying at Lambert Field and elsewhere, even under the Eads and Municipal bridges, and wing walking. The Great Geaxi, “Spider Boy of the Pyrenees,” was one of the featured wing walkers. We had not heard from her all summer because she had been on tour with a dozen different air shows across the United States and Canada. The show in St. Louis was being heavily promoted. On one poster there was a group portrait of six wing walkers, one of whom was Geaxi. The other five had her hoisted on their shoulders. Her left hand held her beret skyward. She wore her leather leggings and boots. The others were smiling but she was not. Her hair was cut shorter than most men or boys and she now wore a false pencil-thin mustache on her upper lip. A long white scarf was wrapped around her neck and goggles were pushed up on her forehead. Her chin jutted out in false pride and her right hand was tucked inside the front of her shirt. She stared straight at the camera. She resembled a very young and thin Spanish Napoleon. Even Carolina had to laugh when she saw the poster.
The show itself was a huge success. We attended every day’s events, with Ciela bringing along baskets of fruit, fried chicken, and ham sandwiches. Sunny Jim Bottomley came along with us. Caine rode on his shoulders, wearing Mama’s baseball glove, which he now carried everywhere. Sunny Jim was fascinated with the glove and said he had never seen one like it. I told him there never had been one like it.
Geaxi did not arrive in St. Louis until October 6, the last day of the show, and she stayed away from Carolina’s home before the events began. Perhaps she had to make preparations for her performance, but I think it was because she wanted us to see her perform before we spoke. I had no idea why she was wing walking at all; nevertheless, I couldn’t wait to watch her do it. Neither could everyone else, except Opari. She was more anxious to talk with Geaxi about Zuriaa.
In the early afternoon, a sudden rainsquall over Lambert Field delayed the air show for at least an hour. Once the sky cleared, there was an announcement that the wing walkers would be next, followed by the parachute spot landing contest. Owen Bramley had found an ideal place for us to watch the proceedings. It was away from the main crowd, near one of the hangars being used to service the airplanes in the show. We sat in folding chairs with our hands over our eyes for shade and watched the sky, waiting for the Great Geaxi, Spider Boy of the Pyrenees, to appear in her stunt plane. All the wing walkers used biplanes. The crisscrossing wires between the wings made it possible for the most daring walkers to “travel” on the wing from fuselage to wing tip and back. None of the first five wing walkers attempted that stunt. The sixth biplane to fly over was painted a brilliant scarlet red. Between the wings, with goggles down and white scarf flowing behind, stood Geaxi. Her legs were spread wide. She was grabbing a wire with one hand and saluting the crowd with the other. The biplane made two passes and in that short amount of time, Geaxi almost danced from fuselage to wing tip and back, then out again, where she could not resist lifting one leg high and holding a ballet pose for several seconds.
The crowd went wild. Jack and Biscuit thought it was the best stunt they had ever seen. Ciela had her hands over her eyes, scared to death and unable to watch. Owen Bramley cleaned his glasses with a handkerchief and kept repeating, “Remarkable, simply remarkable.” Ray whistled as loud as he could and waved his beret. Carolina whooped and shouted, and Caine, who sat high atop Sunny Jim’s shoulders, pointed toward the sky and laughed and laughed. I turned to Opari and said, “Let’s go find Geaxi as soon as she lands. I’ve got to tell her that was amazing, then you can talk to her.”
“Yes, I agree,” Opari said. “She is something, no?”
“Yes,” I said, grinning and shaking my head. “She is something.”
Owen arranged for Opari and me to enter the hangar where the biplane would be parked and serviced. The area was off-limits to anyone but pilots and performers connected with the show. Owen walked with us through the maze of airplanes, pilots, and mechanics clustered outside the hangar. We attracted a few passing glances, but
