Spirits of Ash and Foam (6 page)

Of course, I'd lay odds
he
had no idea he could juggle either. Maq can be rather fuzzy on those sorts of details. His memory is as thin as his old straw hat, which was currently on the ground in front of us, collecting no small amount of change from passing tourists wowed by our antics. Unfortunately, said antics turned suddenly clownish as the balls came tumbling down, bouncing and rolling every which way, some right off the dock and into the water. I scooped one up, but Maq had already forgotten them. There was no thought of collecting the tools of his recent success to repeat the exercise later. Now he was focused only on the money in the hat and the meal it would provide for us within the hour. Maq, you see, is extremely distractible. Then again, tell me, who
could
focus on the present or the past when able to see into the future? Maq knows where our next meal will come from. He knows where the next
zemi
will be found. And that prescience of his makes up for a lot.

As for me, I can't see the future, and I'm not all that interested in the past. I'm canine. I focus on the now. But I am
very
good at the now. In fact, I'm virtually omniscient when it comes to the now. For example, I knew that right now Miranda—cheered by Maq's foolishness—had resolved to face Renée with a smile, an open mind and only the tiniest bit of caution. In that moment, I knew her mind better than I know my own tail. To be clear, I had no idea how it would all turn out. But at present, I knew Miranda was going to give Renée—and herself—the opportunity to be friends.

I also knew that at present, Rain was in the N.T.Z., standing before the sandstone entrance to the Cache.

CHAPTER SEVEN

STUDY HALL

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 8

The air was still and smelled too sweetly of vanilla orchids and banana plants, as if the N.T.Z. were a dessert left out to curdle in the thick humidity and afternoon sun. Worse, after the fast-paced journey uphill through the jungle, Rain's T-shirt was sticking uncomfortably to her back and chest and stomach. Dropping her backpack on the ground, she tried tugging the top away from her damp skin, flapping it to create a bit of breeze, but it helped little.

Shadows were just starting to lengthen but as yet provided no real shade.

She took a quick glance around to assure herself she was alone. Then she slipped the
zemi
off her arm and knelt beside the sandstone slab at the edge of the cliff. She pushed aside a couple of stray vines that partially covered the circular indentation in the stone. She placed the snake charm in the indentation, twisted it a half turn and pulled it out, exactly as she would the key to her room at the Inn.

Instantly, the sandstone began to glow with blue light, a blue to match the eyes of the Searcher snake on her
zemi
. The sight—
the Sight
—was one of Rain's gifts: her ability to
see
the magicks that greased the wheels of her quest. Rain jumped back as those mystic wheels caused the block to move. The night before, the first time—perhaps in centuries—that it had opened, this movement was accompanied by a \
grinnnndinnng
loud enough to wake the dead. Today, the slab was practically soundless as it glided aside along the frictionless blue glow to reveal the stone steps that led down into the Cache.

Rain descended a few steps and paused to breathe in the cool air washing over her skin. She reached out a hand to slide it across the smooth stone walls … and felt a curving groove. The light was dim, so she leaned in close. It was another circular keyhole for her snake charm key.
This is perfect!
She had been worried that while she was down in the Cache, a hundred other local kids could have shown up and found the sandstone slab open to the world. She reached up and yanked in her backpack. Then she placed the
zemi
in its interior slot and twisted. She ducked her head as the block glowed again and slid closed with an echoing
thunk,
leaving her in semidarkness and making her nervous about what would result if someone happened to be in the way of that slab when it thunked. It brought on her icky-face and a shiver and a conscious effort to push the thought away before descending farther.

In her head, Rain heard a bassoon with violin accents as she followed the indirect light down the circular stairway. She passed the extinguished torch on the wall and issued a command: “Light!” Nothing happened. “Torch!” Nothing. She tried to remember the exact words she had used to bring it to flaming life the night before, but she couldn't quite recall, and ultimately it didn't matter. There was enough illumination leaking up from below.
Maybe that's why the torch won't light. It isn't truly needed. Or maybe, like 'Bastian, it doesn't work before the sun goes down …

She emerged into the Cache, a wide terrace cut into the cliffside and open to the elements directly in front of her. Shadowed by its stone ceiling thirty feet above, which provided a floor to the N.T.Z., the air in the Cache was easily twenty degrees cooler. While there had been no breeze atop the cliff, down here a gentle zephyr of salt-scented sea air washed over Rain's skin, causing her to breathe a satisfied sigh of relief. She slid her backpack off her shoulder and gently lowered it to the floor.

To her right, along one side of the rectangular cave, were nine stone thrones, carved out of the wall itself. She ignored these and crossed to her left instead. Here was the long stone shelf, and behind it the wall that still bore the charred message that had
officially
launched her on her quest:

BIENVENIDO, BUSCADORA, A LA CACHÉ.

BIEN HECHO. HAS ENCONTRADO EL PRIMER ZEMI.

COMO TÚ, ES EL BUSCADOR Y EL CURADOR.

COMO TÚ, TAMBIÉN ES EL PRIMERO DE NUEVE.

TENEMOS POCO TIEMPO Y SÓLO UNA OPORTUNIDAD PARA CURAR LA HERIDA.

ENCUENTRA LOS NUEVE. PARA TI Y PARA ELLOS SON LAS LLAVES QUE ABRIRÁN EL VERDADERO ACERTIJO DE LAS FANTASMAS.

Once more, Rain made her best approximate mental translation from the Spanish. “Welcome, Searcher, to the Cache. Well done. You have found the first
zemi.
Like you, it is the Searcher and the Healer. Like you, it is also the first of nine. We have little time and only one chance to heal the wound. Find the nine. For you and they are the keys to unlocking the true mystery of the Ghosts.”

Rain found herself smiling.
I'm the Searcher. I'm the Healer. I'm the
key
to unlocking this mystery!
It was pretty great. She turned toward the nonexistent fourth wall and came very, very close to shouting that to the world.
After all, shouldn't they know?
Shouldn't the whole world know this quest was hers?

Still, a part of her was quite aware she'd never be believed, and what little she could prove could easily be taken away from her. The
zemi.
The Cache. These could be classified as archaeological finds and put in the hands of the very people who would laugh derisively at her ghost story—even with Charlie as a witness. And if they took the
zemi,
they'd be taking 'Bastian away from her too. She could not allow that. So except for an unintelligible grumble, she kept her mouth shut.

She ran her hand along the stone shelf, studying each of the nine indentations carved to house the nine
zemis
—or they would house them, once she'd found the other eight. The first indentation was yet another circular keyhole for her snake charm. The second was a small cylindrical hole. The third was a thick equilateral triangle. The fourth looked something like a cross. The fifth was a shallow cup; the sixth, a circular ring; the seventh, an oval ring. The eighth was a deep widening groove that called to mind a gigantic dagger or maybe the kind of stake one used to stab an oversized vampire. The last—the ninth—was carved into the distinctive shape of a skull.

She backtracked along the shelf in reverse, pausing to look once again at the second slot, the next slot to fill. She stuck her index finger into the hole and could just barely touch the bottom. She had no idea what the second
zemi
would look like, but it seemed to be more or less the shape of a roll of quarters. Not much to go on. She needed another clue.

Then she had an idea. She was still holding her armband. She placed it in the first slot, hoping for another message of flame to appear on the wall, as it had the night before. No dice. She twisted it like a key. Nothing.
Oh, well. Worth a try.
She sighed again, but she didn't really feel defeated. She felt … at home, strangely at home.

It was still a few hours until sunset. She had time to kill, and she didn't really feel like going back to the Nitaino just yet. She glanced down at her backpack and shrugged.
Might as well.
She opened it up, pulled out
To Kill a Mockingbird
and took a seat on the largest and most central of the stone thrones. It wasn't immediately comfortable, but she found that if she leaned against one of the arms and swung her legs over the other, it fit her just fine. She cracked the book and started to read.
“When he was nearly thirteen, my brother Jem got his arm badly broken at the elbow…”

CHAPTER EIGHT

GOOD TALK

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 8

Rain had lost track of the time. When she returned to the Inn—at a few minutes to seven and less than an hour before sundown—her parents already had dinner on the table. There were three place settings now. Iris and Alonso stared at the empty seat, which only four nights ago had been filled by the warm old man with the kind gray eyes that neither of them would ever see again. Rain saw her mother on the verge of tears again, and even her father was forced to shove his tongue into his cheek and draw a deep breath to keep from choking up. They were still grieving 'Bastian in a way Rain herself was not. She knew that at sunset he'd emerge from the
zemi
and be with her once more. She wanted to reassure them, to
tell
them.
He's not really gone!
Instead, she spontaneously reached out with both hands and touched theirs.

And it happened again! Just as with Charlie's foot, the eyeless snake on her charm flashed gold. The warm light—light only she could see—split in two, running down her left arm and also across her chest to her right, before leaping from Rain's outstretched hands to Alonso and Iris.

Rain's eyes went wide, and she froze.

But immediately, she could see the positive effect. Glancing from mother to father and back again, she saw them both smile. These were bittersweet smiles—brought on by fond memories of Sebastian Bohique—and hardly negated their grief. For a time, however, the sadness was chased away. Iris straightened in her chair, and Alonso said, “Dig in!”

Raising an eyebrow for her own benefit, Rain withdrew her hands and picked up her fork.
Chalk up another win for the Healer,
she smirked. She twirled some pasta and shoved it in her mouth.

It was simple fare, Alonso's bachelor recipe, made with sautéed onions and mushrooms and half a pound of Malas Almas ground beef, which, along with garlic salt, garlic powder, onion powder and a hefty amount of Parmesan cheese, was stirred into mainland tomato sauce (that is, from a can). This concoction was allowed to simmer on low for a
long
time before being poured over and tossed with al dente spaghettini and then doused with still more Parmesan. Plus there was garlic toast. The meal wasn't going to win any prizes, but it was a family favorite.

Alonso, mouth half full, asked about Rain's first day of school. Just to give him a hard time, Rain said, “I'm sorry, what was that? I know there are words coming out of your mouth, but all I see is bits of cheese and sauce.

Alonso shut his mouth, smiled wryly, and swallowed. “Sorry. How was school?”

“Okay, I guess. Mrs. Beachum still hates me.”

“She doesn't hate you, Rain,” Iris admonished. “She'd just like to see you put more effort into your work.”

“You say tomato; I say tomahto.”

Alonso squinted at her. “Do you? Do you really say tomahto?”

Rain shrugged. Her parental units spent the next fifteen minutes eking out the tiniest slivers of information about each of her classes.

Then, giving up, Alonso changed the subject. “The Kims have chartered the boat for all day Saturday. They're bringing all three kids, so I'll need you to work.”

Rain rolled her eyes, practically an involuntary response.

“We know how you feel about babysitting tourist kids…” her mother started.

“But we don't want any arguments,” her father finished.

Rain wasn't arguing. She was resigned to it.
For a day, the Searcher would be the Babysitter.
Her cross to bear. Still … “Three kids are a lot. I mean, safety-wise. Even if I grab hold of one with each hand, the third could still jump off the boat and tragically drown.”

Both Alonso and Iris knew what she was getting at. Iris, the family bookkeeper, was more inclined to hold the line, but Alonso relented quickly. “Fine. Tell Charlie I'll pay the usual.”

Rain grinned. “Great. He'll be here any minute. I'll ask him.”

Iris shook her head, astonished—though she knew she shouldn't be. “He's coming over tonight? Didn't you spend the whole afternoon with him? You only just got home. And don't you have any homework?”

“I wasn't with Charlie, and I did all my homework already.”

Rain's parents stared at her. Talk about astonished. Even Rain was a little surprised. “I know, I know. But I found a quiet place, um, near the N.T.Z. And I just started reading my English assignment. The book's not bad, and it was only the first three chapters, so I finished pretty quick. So then I moved on to my math worksheet and my Spanish worksheet, and then I did the history reading, and then I was done. I mean, it's the first day back; they didn't assign
that
much.”