Diana Tregarde - Burning Water Part 26

Mark nearly exploded then and there the details of the three drowned children had not been released to the press. There was no way the professor could have described their murders so accurately unless he was detailing some rite that really had existed.

The professor continued. "The next one, the Feast of Xipe-Totec, was one where the major sacrifice was flayed alive and the priest donned the skin and danced in it at every other sacrifice during the feast. Particularly grim, that one. Some sacrifices were half-burned before being killed, and the whole thing culminated in a kind of cannibal feast."

As the professor continued, Mark could hear Di muttering under her breath. "Aztecs!" she breathed angrily. "Why the h.e.l.l didn't I think of Aztecs?"

He was a little stunned.

The professor consulted his book further, oblivious to her mutterings. "The next would be the second most important rite in the year, next to the sacrifice of Tezcatlipoca himself. And it's another one where the man-G.o.d presides personally."

He looked up at Mark, obviously wanting to be coaxed into revealing his erudition. Mark obliged him by leaning forward with an eagerness he did not have to feign, until he was sitting on the very edge of his hard chair.

"Yes?" he breathed encouragingly.

"Well, it's the Corn G.o.ddess, and she bears several striking resemblances to John Barleycorn and the old Corn Kings," the professor said with unconcealed satisfaction. "She's a bit like Smoking Mirror in that she is supposed to die and be reborn. They would pick a woman who had borne at least one child the fertility a.s.sured, as it were. Then they'd set her to weaving, making her own garments for her ultimate sacrifice. They had to be pure white, absolutely, no colored patterns at all, which for the Aztecs was practically unheard of. On the appropriate day Tezcatlipoca would present her to the mult.i.tude. Then with his own hand he would slay her and he had to get as little blood as possible on the white of the garments. Then he would go into the temple and ceremonially flay the body a little like the Xipe-Totec rite, except that the flaying was done after death, rather than before then reappear clothed in her skin and her garments, denoting that the corn had gone into the earth and been reborn as the young corn plant. That it would be Tezcatlipoca that performed all this himself shows that it was considered almost as important a rite as Smoking Mirror's own."

Di shook her head. "All I ever knew about the Aztecs was the Feathered Serpent cult "

"In the time of the Aztecs," the professor said firmly, "That's all it was; a cult. A very degraded and debased form of the Toltec rites. The Toltecs practiced a kind of blood-sacrifice, but it was their own blood they shed, like the priests of Cybele that castrated themselves, or the medieval monks who went in for flagellation until their backs bled. Shedding one's own blood was an act of will, of willingness to sacrifice one's own earthly self to one's higher self, and a kind of self-purification. When the Aztecs first arrived, they were not the powerful conquering army they later claimed to be; rather they were a rather barbarous, seminomadic tribe. Warlike, yes, but hardly capable of conquering the Toltecs."

"But how could they take over?" Mark asked, now quite interested on his own.

"The simplest way of all; they insinuated themselves among the Toltec culture and conquered by subversion. You can trace that subversion by the gradual elimination of Quetzalcoatl as supreme deity and the subst.i.tution of Tezcatlipoca, and by the way in which self-sacrifice was replaced by the sacrificing of others."

He warmed to the subject; this was obviously his own pet theory. "That was why the arrival of Cortez and his identification with Quetzalcoatl so alarmed and demoralized the Aztecs in general and the rulers in particular. The legends of Quetzalcoatl had always included a promise that he would return and the Aztecs could not imagine him returning unless it was to conquer them as they had conquered the Toltecs. That might have been one reason why they never eradicated the Feathered Serpent cult instead, they tried to change it so that it reflected their heritage. The writings, the records of the liturgy, had us puzzled for a long time; here were liturgical writings speaking of self- sacrifice and mercy, of self-abas.e.m.e.nt and peace yet the actual rituals culminated in pain and agonizing death! Then, of course, we came upon the evidence that the Toltec had been absorbed into the Aztecs, that the Aztecs were not the first in the area, and everything became obvious."

"Professor," Di said when he paused for a breath, "Are there any extant sources here at the university for the original Toltec rites?"

He pondered her question for a moment. "Well my specialty is the Aztec culture, so I'm only peripherally interested in the Toltecs they replaced but I think we have a fair collection of codex reproductions and translations in the library stacks."

"I need to get at them," she said, urgently, locking her eyes with his.

He looked at her with mild surprise. "Is it that important?"

She nodded, slowly, grimly. "We can't tell you everything, professor, but it is very important. The two of us are a.s.signed to the 'Texas Ripper' case."

He was rather taken aback. "Well I never thought I'd see the day when the police needed the advice of an old pot-hunter. Here " he rummaged in his desk for two slips of pink paper, then scribbled his name on both. " here are pa.s.ses to the stacks for both of you. Am I right in a.s.suming that madman the papers have been calling the 'Texas Ripper' has been using Aztec rites?"

It was Mark's turn to nod. "So closely that you inadvertently described things we didn't let out when you were talking about Tlaloc and the one that sounded like 'Ziplock bag' "

"Xipe-Totec," the professor answered, looking a bit stunned.

"And so far as we can tell, whoever this is has the timing down to correspond exactly to the Aztec calendar and no other."

Professor Jermaine could only shake his head. "If that is indeed the case knowing what I know about the callousness and blood-thirst of the Aztecs themselves I can only say, may G.o.d help you.

Because you will need that help."

"Those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds had me blocked but good," Di said as they left the building that held the professor's office. Her expression was still fairly neutral but her eyes held a sullen, if suppressed, fury. "I never even thought of Aztecs, and it should have been obvious."

"Are you freed up now?" he asked anxiously.

She nodded. "Once I got shook loose, I shook everything off. I can see things now it's like getting the keypiece of the jigsaw puzzle. Another thing, Mark, Johnnie Mountainhawk is right. The bruja told me about an Indian sorcerer that's calling for an Indian rebellion. She told me that she's felt his power, and she's something of a clairvoyant, enough to have identified the prime signature aura from the murders last night as him. She didn't know his name or what he calls himself "

"Firm bet that it's Johnnie's Burning Water."

"That's a sucker bet if ever I heard one." She contemplated the stacks pa.s.s in her hand. "So what we have here looks like somebody setting himself up as the new priest of Tezcatlipoca; appropriate for a radical militant."

"Uh-huh, that's exactly what I thought," Mark agreed. "Probably originally a brujo, then began researching the origins of the rituals as he became more militant and radical."

"Then, once he tapped into the original rituals, discovered that he had the equivalent of a magical tactical nuke if he could build up enough power and believers." She chewed her lip a little. "From what we heard in there, and what the bruja told me Mark, she says the word on the street is that the sorcerer is going to make his move some time within the next two months."

"We don't have much time "

"No. And my guess is that he's probably planning on timing his uprising with an attempt to manifest Smoking Mirror. If he can actually pull it off he'll have more than a tactical nuke at his disposal, he'll have enough power to play with to enable him to affect the physical world in very profound ways."

"Like what?"

"Like think what could be done if the head of a guerilla force could call a storm and direct the lightning. Wherever, whenever he wanted."

"Like a direct hit on the main power station. Say, Friday night at about seven. The city would be paralyzed, helpless."

"And then you felt the Hunter -in-the-dark. You know how close it came to panicking you, and you were ready for it! Imagine all those helpless people trapped in the dark then exposed to that. At a powerful enough level, he could make the Hunter physical enough so that even normals could perceive it and feel its hunger."

"Good G.o.d!" he exclaimed, stunned by the thought. "That would be like yelling 'fire' at the circus!"

"Exactly so. Neither he nor the Hunter would have to do anything; people would kill each other in panic. By dawn the city would be depopulated." She shook her head. "Well, he's not there yet, and it's up to us to see he doesn't get there. I think we're going to have to split up again. To be brutally frank, love, you never were much of a scholar."

"No argument from me," he said agreeably, comfortably certain that she couldn't come to any harm in the university library especially in the stacks, where entry was restricted. "Tell you what, why don't I see if I can get hold of Johnnie while you do your thing?"

"It's a deal," she nodded. "Come fetch me around seven?"

"Seven it is."THIRTEEN This week Charlie had been switched to first s.h.i.+ft which meant he was home now. Mark pulled the Ghia up to the first working pay phone he spotted, a booth nestled in to the side of the bus shelter, figuring he'd better call before he descended on his friends. He squinted into the setting sun while the answering machine played its recording at him. It was kind of unnerving to hear his own voice snarling at him from the handset.

"Guys?" he said when the thing beeped at him. "It's Mark Valdez. Can I "

He heard the click of the receiver being lifted. "Mark?" It was Doreen, and she sounded quite definitely shaken up. "Mark, are you on your way over? Please tell me you're on your way over!"

"Yeah 'Reenie " he replied, straightening from his slump, alarmed at the frantic tone of her voice.

"What's wrong? Is Charlie "

"No, it's not Charlie, it's Johnnie, and I can't explain it, you'll have to see for yourself. Only, please, Mark, hurry!"

She hung up; he hardly looked to see if the handset connected with the cradle he just threw it in place, and sprinted back to the Ghia, heart in his throat.

It was almost dark when he got there; the Mountainhawk apartment was clear across town from the university, and he'd bent more than a few laws to get there as quickly as he had. Doreen answered the doorbell almost as soon as he pushed it; he rather suspected she must have been lurking at the front hall, waiting. A cop's wife learns to cover her negative expressions pretty quickly, but there was panic in Doreen's eyes, raw panic, and bewilderment.

Before he could say or do anything, she just grabbed his arm and pulled him down the dark hall into the back bedroom, in so much of a hurry that she didn't even bother to flip on the hall light as she pa.s.sed the switch.

The only light there was back here was coming from the overhead fixture, and only one of the three bulbs it held was working. They didn't use this room very often, and there wasn't much in the room; Mark had figured all along that they were going to save it for a nursery. About the only furniture was a ma.s.sive cast-iron bedstead, an antique that they used for guests. It weighed a ton; Mark knew that only too well, since he'd helped wrestle it up here when they moved in.

His back still hurt when he thought about it.

The light was dim, but there still wasn't much to look at the bed was still about the only piece of furniture. Charlie was sitting on the edge of it; shoulders hunched, head in hands, looking drawn and exhausted.

Johnnie Mountainhawk was on the floor beside the headboard, looking twice as exhausted. He leaned against the mattress, his head pillowed in the crook of one elbow, the other arm draped clumsily over his head. He was handcuffed to the bedframe, sagging against the pull of the cuffs on his wrists.

"What the h.e.l.l?" Mark exploded.

Somewhat to his surprise it was Johnnie who answered him, opening eyes that had purple circles beneath them. "I asked him to cuff me, Mark. It was the only way I could keep from following the thing that was calling me."

"Huh?"

"There's this thing in my head. It wants me to go to it. Every so often it drives me crazy and I start to answer "

Mark flashed then on some of what Di had told him about her second meeting with the bruja; about how the woman had told her that Burning Water was calling everyone of Indian or Mestizo blood.

Presumably what she had really meant was that he was "calling" using psychic coercion those who could "hear" him, those with psychic gifts of their own. Charlie was one of those, but Di had put him under s.h.i.+elding, so he was safe Gifts tended to run in families, though. It looked like Johnnie shared Medicine Power with his brother and grandfather. And Johnnie was not s.h.i.+elded.

So Johnnie was right up this b.a.s.t.a.r.d's alley.

Mark clenched his jaw. Like h.e.l.l! Not without a fight from me! But Was there anything he could do? Mark knew warding but that was meant for a place, not a person. And he didn't know if warding would work against something that was not an attack or an attempt to invade.

"How long have you been fighting this thing?" he asked.

"Since last night; it comes and goes," Johnnie replied wearily. "Just a d.a.m.n good thing for me I was here when it hit. When I went zombie Charlie tackled me and Doreen knocked me out. When I came to, I told 'em to cuff me. It's better now, but when Charlie went off to work I nearly dislocated my shoulder trying to get loose."

"Mark," Charlie spoke for the first time, "You've been hanging around that psychic chick for a long time. Can you get hold of her? Can you do anything?"

"I probably can't get to Di right now she's in the stacks at the university library, and she won't get any messages until she comes back to the desk. Which is going to be hours from now. The way you look Johnnie, I don't think we have that much time."

Johnnie nodded unhappily. "I feel like I'm standing at the edge of a mental cliff; one or two more sessions and I may go bats permanently. But what about you doing something?"

"I'm thinking, I'm thinking." He tried to dredge up every fact he had picked up in the past few weeks since Di had started giving him theory-and-practice at his own request. "This calling. I don't think it should be hitting you this hard. Di talked to a bruja this afternoon she said Burning Water was calling in Indian and Mestizo psychics, but he wasn't getting to her nearly so strongly. Unless unless they have a way of getting at you, specifically."

Okay, what laws could be applying here Knowledge? Don't think so, n.o.body would know Johnnie that well, except maybe his own kin. That lets out the Law of Names too. And Words of Power; Cherokee is different enough from Aztec that the power words would differ. Synthesis and Identification are out; those are for acquiring power, not what's going on here. Balance; hardly.

But a.s.sociation or Contagion we might have an answer here.

"What's the chance somebody in that lunatic fringe that's been talking about the Great Red Hope could have gotten hold of something of yours or something that's been around you?" he asked Johnnie.

"Pretty good," he replied soberly. "I'm the original 'lose your head if it wasn't fastened on'; right, Charlie?"

"Worse, little brother I see what Cisco's getting at. You had a cold last week. Remember?"

"s.h.i.+t, yes! Scattering Kleenex behind me like snow-flakes, and filling every wastebasket in town."

"I'd bet the Laws of Contagion and a.s.sociation are in effect, here," Mark said. "'What was part of you is always part of you.' And given how strong the pull is on you, I'd put money on the notion that while they are casting a general call-in spell, they've added a specific on top of it for anybody they could get artifacts for that they wanted to recruit."

"How come I don't feel it?" Charlie asked, "Given those phone calls and grand-dad's warnings, they want me pretty bad. It would have been pretty easy to get something of mine."

"You're s.h.i.+elded," Mark pointed out. "Johnnie's not. Besides, get him and they're bound to get you.

No?"

"Yeah," Charlie replied sourly. "And much as I hate to admit it, if they called me up saying they had him, I'd act like any moron on the tube and go charging in after him."

"Mark, can you do anything?" Doreen begged.

"I'm still thinking." He closed his eyes. Even if I could s.h.i.+eld, and I can't, it probably wouldn't do any good because s.h.i.+elds don't necessarily block what's already there and they've got a line to his mind air .

wait a minute; hold that thought They've got a line to his mind already. They've got a line to his mind. A line Di said those lines are psychically tangible; they can be seen and felt at both ends. I wonder; Aztec magic and Cherokee magic are both Indian magic. Maybe I could use Cherokee to force Aztec to release one of Cherokee magical lineage, 'cause Aztec wouldn't have a real claim. And to sever a line You cut it. You cut a line with an edged weapon, like Di cut the line between me and the thing in Quasi's living room. But it would have to be a magically charged weapon. I don't have one, and I'll bet Charlie doesn't know how to fire one up .

fire one up. Fire one up. Fire!"Charlie, do your folk have some way of starting a kind of sacred fire?" he asked, hoping that the answer would be in the affirmative.

Charlie gave him a strange glance. "Yeah," he said slowly.

Good; holy things always have identical arcane counterparts, Di said. The act of blessing creates the counterpart. "Okay; the sixty-four dollar question. Can you?"

"I " He hesitated.

Mark could sympathize with the hesitation; he was an outsider. But this wasn't the time for secrecy.

"Look, you want me to help, or don't you?"

Charlie sighed. "Yes. I can."

"All right then. I'm going to tell you what to do, but you're going to have to do it. I'd like to do this myself; I can't, my talent isn't going to do any good here. You said you've got 'spirit vision'; okay, use it.

I'm betting you're going to see a kind of line, or rope, or something like that, leading off in the direction Johnnie's being pulled "

Charlie sat a little straighter on the edge of the bed, and stared at the general area his brother occupied. His eyes went unfocused and blank; his brow creased and Mark held his breath, afraid to distract him even a little.

"I see it," he said slowly, in what was very close to a whisper.

"Good," Mark replied just as softly. "Now, this is what you're going to have to do. Charlie, you have to start one of your sacred fires and burn through that tie. Johnnie you have to totally disavow any connection with whatever's on the other end of that tie otherwise they'll just be able to reestablish it.

That sounds easy I can promise you that it won't be. It's going to take tremendous concentration and the tie is as much physical as it is mental."

"Which means?" Johnnie Mountainhawk asked, shaking sweat-damp hair out of his eyes.

"I can't predict what the effect of burning the tie will be I only know that there will be a physical side to it. We're going to try something I'm still a sorcerer's apprentice with, and I don't know what the side effects are."

"We all ready?"