Gabe's Aunt Rita and old Looks At Nothing, Davy had forgotten more about being a Tohono O'othham than Delia Cachora could ever hope to know.
When Gabe didn't answer, Wanda knew she was right. 'You'd better tell her pretty soon,' she warned. 'Davy's supposed to be here next week, isn't he? She may be real mad when she finds out.'
Looking in the mirror, Gabe slipped a turquoise-laden bola tie on over his head. He sighed as he pulled it tight under his double chin. 'You're right,' he said. 'She'll be mad as hell. Maybe I'll tell her tonight, if I have a chance. If she's there. That way she'll have time to get used to the idea before Monday when I have to see her at work.'
The shrug Wanda sent in her husband's direction as well as the derisive look said as clearly as if she had spoken that Wanda Ortiz didn't think Delia Cachora would be over the issue of Davy Ladd anytime soon.
'She'll be at the dance, all right,' Wanda told her husband. 'If her Aunt Julia has anything to say about it, Delia will be working in the feast house.'
The painful shock of scraping along the rough wooden floor shattered Lani's druggy haze and brought her back to agonizing awareness. But it's better to hurt, she thought. At least that way I know what's going on.
The blindfold had caught on a splinter of wood and had been pulled loose as she slid across the floor. When she realized the scarf was gone and opened her eyes, she knew it was daylight from the light leaking in through the ventilation holes. The interior of the box felt like a heated oven. Moments later, a car engine started and she could feel a tiny breath of cool air blowing across her damp clothing. The car started, but for some time it didn't move.
There in the dark and alone, without the man watching her and gloating, there was no need to hold back the tears. Lying flat on her back, she gave in to both the pain and to her growing despair, letting the tears flow. She couldn't understand why this calamity had befallen her, or what she could do about it.
Somehow, in her aching grief, Lani raised one hand to her throat. There, beneath her fingers, she felt the smooth, woven surface of the basket, the o'othham wopo hashda she had made from her own hair and from Jessie's.
What if her hair charm, her kushpo ho'oma, fell into the hands of this new evil Ohb? Lani had woven the maze, the ancient sacred symbol of her people, into the face of the medallion. It was bad enough that Mr. Vega had copied the basket onto that awful picture of his, the one he had drawn of her while she slept, but Lani was suddenly determined that, no matter what, he would not have the basket itself.
Struggling in the dark, she worked desperately to unfasten the safety pin that kept the woven brooch on the slender gold chain. Even as her fingers struggled with the pin, Lani could feel the drug cloud begin to wrap itself around her, dulling her senses at the same time it soothed the terrible throbbing of her wounded breast.
She fought the drug with all the resources she could muster. And even though she couldn't hold it off forever, she did manage to keep it at bay long enough to slip the precious woven disk into the safety of her jeans pocket.
Only then did she give in and let the enveloping sleep overtake her. Whatever the drug was, Lani hated it because it had made her helpless and turned her into a victim. At the same time, she loved it, too, because while she slept, the searing band of pain that was now her right breast no longer hurt her. The drug put her mind to sleep and the pain as well.
Her last waking thought was that Mr. Vega was right. The drug was awful, but it did help.
David Ladd fought his way up out of the nightmare with the awful scream still ringing in his ears. Throwing off the covers, he sat up in bed, shaking all over and gasping for breath.
'David!' Startled out of a sound sleep, Candace sat up in bed beside him. 'For God's sake, what's the matter?'
'It was a dream,' he managed, through chattering teeth, but already the punishing heartbeat was pounding in his head and chest. Another attack was coming. Helplessly, he fell back on the pillows.
Scrambling out of bed, Candace reached for the phone. 'I'll call a doctor.'
'No, please. Don't do that,' Davy begged.
'But David…'
'Please. Just wait! It'll go away in a few minutes. Please.'
He held out one trembling hand. Reluctantly, Candace put down the phone and grasped his hand. With a worried frown on her face, she settled back down on the bed beside him. For the next several minutes she leaned over him, murmuring words he could barely hear or understand but ones that somehow comforted him nonetheless. Eventually the terrified beating of his heart began to slow. When his breathing finally steadied, he was able to speak.
'I'm sorry, Candace. I didn't mean for you to…'
Realizing that the immediate crisis was past, her solicitous concern turned to a sudden blast of anger. 'So what are you on, David Garrison Ladd?' she demanded. 'Crack? Speed? LSD? All this time you've had me fooled. I never would have guessed that you did drugs.'
'But I don't,' David protested. 'I swear to God!'
'Don't give me that,' she snapped back at him. 'I've been around enough druggies in my life to know one when I see one.'
'Candace, please. It's nothing like that. You've got to believe me. This has been happening to me for weeks now, every time I go to sleep. First there's an awful dream and then-' He broke off, ashamed.
'And then what?' she demanded.
'You saw what happens. My heart beats like it's going to jump out of my body. I can't breathe. I come out of it soaked with sweat. The first time it happened I thought I was having a heart attack. I thought I was going to die.'
'You should see a doctor,' Candace said.
'I did. He told me I was having panic attacks. He said they were brought on by stress and that eventually I'd get over them.'
'I've heard about panic attacks before,' Candace said. 'One of the girls in the dorm used to have them. Isn't there something you can take?'
'Nothing that wouldn't be dangerous on a cross-country drive,' David told her. 'All of the recommended medications turn out to be tranquilizers of some kind.'
'Oh,' Candace said. 'And how long has this been going on?'
'For a couple of weeks now, I guess,' David admitted sheepishly.
'And why didn't you tell me before this?'
David shrugged his shoulders. 'I was embarrassed. I didn't know what you'd think about me if I told you.'
'And it's always the same thing? First the dream and then the panic attack?'
'Yes,' David said, 'pretty much, but…' The rest of the sentence disappeared as he gazed off into space.
'But what?'
David swallowed. His voice dropped. Candace had to strain to hear him. 'I used to dream about the day Andrew Carlisle came to the house and attacked Mother. But now the dreams are different.'
'Different how?'
'Different because Lani is in them. At the time all that happened, Lani wasn't even born. This one was different, and it was the worst one yet.'
Getting up off the bed, David walked over to the window and stared outside at Chicago's nighttime skyline. He stood there in isolation, his shoulders hunched, looking defeated.
'You said this dream was worse than the others,' Candace said. 'Tell me about it.'
David shook his head and didn't speak.
'Please tell me,' Candace urged, her voice gentler than it had been. 'Please.'
David shuddered before he answered. 'I was certain the first attack was over,' he said at last. 'Mother was in the kitchen because I could already smell the bacon cooking. Burning, really. Then the door to the cellar fell open, just the way it always does in the dream, except this time, the room was empty except for Bone, my dog. He was there in the kitchen, licking up the bacon grease, but the house itself was quiet and empty, as though everybody had left.'
'Where did they go?'
Davy swallowed. 'I'm coming to that. I called Bone to come, and the two of us went from room to room,
