Widdershins

  He sat on the sand and shaped the outline of a dagger with his finger.

  “What do you think?” he asked the sand. “Would you care for a change in life? I need weapons, and my, but would you would make a fine blade. Sharp and sleek. So dangerous.”

  He moved his hands upon the sand as he spoke, cajoling the sand to take the new shape. When the first blade was done, he began anew, making another.

  Doonies had a knack for knife-throwing—something the bogans and their green-bree would have discovered if they hadn’t caught him unawares. If the opportunity arose, Jilly’s brother would not be so fortunate. This time Timony would be prepared and ready. Give him half a chance and the brother would find his chest decorated with the knives this beach was so kindly providing for him.

  “Thank you,” he murmured to the sand as he set a second blade aside and began working on another. “This will be an adventure for all of us.”

  Honey

  Under clear blue skies, with a hot sun no longer quite directly overhead, the two dogs trotted through the desert scrub. One was a honey-blonde pit bull, the other a narrow-hipped short chestnut-haired mongrel like you might find on any rez. They were bound for a nearby hilltop of red stone that reached up tall from the desert floor. It had a flat top with Ponderosa pines climbing up its red rock sides.

  It’s one of those places where medicine swirls in never-ending circles, the honey blonde explained to her companion as they wove a trail through the cacti and mesquite toward the small mesa.

  A vortex, the greyish red dog told her. That’s what they call it.

  Hmm.

  What?

  I thought the name would be more resonant, Honey replied. Vortex. It sounds like a puppy gagging.

  The dog that was Joe gave a sharp bark of laughter.

  Why are you laughing?

  I’m sorry, he said. It’s just that you’re so new to language, but already you have such a strong opinion about it.

  Is that a bad thing? Voicing strong opinions?

  I don’t know that it’s bad or good, but it’s very human.

  They’d left the pups behind in the arroyo to be watched over by one of Honey’s sons before setting off for the mesa. Honey tried not to worry about them as she led the way up through the red rocks to the top. There was nothing nearby to hurt them, but she carried a dread inside her from having reached out to Joe’s friend Jilly earlier. She hadn’t been able to make a strong enough connection, which was why they were on their way to the vortex, but it had been enough for her to want to be with her family at this moment, not chasing across the desert and into the worlds beyond.

  She loved her boys, and had confidence in them, but at a time like this, she would only be able to relax if she was keeping the young ones safe herself.

  To distract herself, she thought about what Joe had just said.

  Being human, she said. I don’t know if that’s a good or a bad thing, either.

  Welcome to the confusing world of the five-fingered beings who walk on two legs.

  Now it was Honey’s turn to bark a laugh, and she could feel some of her tension draining away.

  I think “human” is an easier way to say it, she said.

  Joe grinned at her. If not as accurate.

  But at least it’s shorter.

  But is shorter always best? That makes me think that—

  Here we are, Honey broke in as they crested the mesa and came out onto its flat top.

  There was a jumble of stones on the north side, watched over by a tall saguaro cactus and tangles of prickly pear. The rocks had petroglyphs scratched onto their surfaces—relics of long-gone hands carving old symbols, speaking ancient prayers to the spirits as they worked the stone. Honey gave the markings only a passing glance, her attention taken, as always, by the invisible churn of medicine that came spiraling up out of the stones and dirt under their paws.

  Joe came to a stop in the middle of it, and she could see all the hairs on his back stand upright and shiver in the invisible stream.

  It is strong here, he said, turning to her.

  Shhh. I still need to concentrate.

  The dread had returned.

  It had nothing to do with the hilltop on which they stood.

  She understood what the word sacred meant when she was in a place such as this, a place where the earth itself gave up medicine prayers to the sky. What she couldn’t understand was it being used when medicine was locked up between four walls and a roof, with no way to reach the sky except through intermediaries. But here, on this mesa, she could never feel anything but awe when she experienced the spiritual force of holy groves and hilltops, of secret canyons and sea-bound grottos.

  No, the dread came from what she would find when she reached out to Jilly. But she couldn’t turn back now. She’d told Joe she would try, and that was the same as giving her word.

  So she reached out, hard and far, the earth medicine filling her spirit and allowing her the strength to push, and push, and push again, further than she ever could have without its help. But it was still no use.

  It was hard to explain it to Joe.

  It’s like a nut, she told him, where the seed is also the shell which is also the seed. Jilly is the seed inside that world, but that seed is also the barrier that keeps us out.

  Joe had taken human shape again and sat cross-legged in the dirt, leaning back against the petroglyph stones. There was a furious look of concentration in his gaze as she tried to make him understand.

  “Tell me that again,” he said.

  He nodded when she repeated it.

  “So it’s like she’s trapped inside herself,” he said.

  I hadn’t considered that. Honey had to think about it. Is that even possible?

  “This is the otherworld. Anything’s possible, if someone can think of it. Can you show me what you’re seeing?”

  I don’t know how.

  You know how when you “talk” to me, you’re really just sending out short bursts of thought?

  Honey nodded.

  It’s not a lot different from that, Joe explained, only this time, don’t break the connection. Reach out to me and hold that thread of thought open between us. Then, when you look again, I’ll be able to see what you’re seeing.

  Does this work with anyone? Honey asked.

  Sure. So long as you can find a mind to connect to. Why do you ask?

  It would be a great way to communicate more clearly with the rest of my pack.

  Joe grinned. Not to mention keeping rambunctious puppies in line. That, too.

  Joe got serious then. Show me what you’re seeing.

  His instructions had seemed so simple, and they proved to be just that when she put them into practice. She reached out to him with a thought and held the connection. But as soon as his mind caught hold of her thought and began to follow it back into her own mind, she shied away.

  Shivering, she broke contact.

  I’m sorry, Joe said. I grabbed on too hard.

  No, it’s me, she told him. I wasn’t expecting it to feel so . . . intimate.

  You don’t need to worry. I won’t actually have access to your thoughts and memories.

  She nodded. I understand.

  What she couldn’t explain was how it was hard for her to open up to anyone, even someone she trusted as much as she did Joe. Companionship, helping each other as they had and what she was doing now, searching for his friend . . . that was one thing. But this . . . this felt too much like baring her very soul, and she wasn’t sure he’d like what he saw if he got a glimpse of it. She wasn’t nearly as brave as the face she put on to show the world, and lying deep inside her, as deep as Jilly’s hidden world must lie in her, was a raw red place of anger and hate that she could only keep in check, not erase.

  Who could like her once they’d caught a glimpse of that? Whenever she touched it, she didn’t even like herself.

  All this does is let me ride your senses to see what you’re seeing, Joe added.


  I believe you. I just didn’t expect it to feel the way it did.

  We don’t have to do this.

  Yes, we do, she told him. If we’re going to help your friend.

  I just don’t want to put you in a position where—

  I’m fine. I know what to expect now.

  Using the medicine gift that rose up from the vortex to reinforce her courage, she sent another thought to him, a strong cord, easy for him to follow back to her mind. She couldn’t help but shiver again as he began the journey along her thoughts, but this time she held the contact. Still fueled by the vortex’s medicine, she showed him the strange world that both held Jilly and was inside her.

  It was all the same as before. They could view the world—or rather the space that the world occupied—but entry was impossible.

  If anything, Joe said, his voice a quiet murmur in her mind, this is even stranger than I imagined. I can sense the space, but at the same time it’s like it’s not there.

  But it is there, isn’t it?

  It was such an odd phenomenon that Honey wasn’t entirely convinced of what her senses were telling her. How could something both exist and not exist at the same time?

  Well, something’s there, Joe told her. I just can’t figure out what—

  He broke off as they both became aware of a sudden change. They were no longer alone in the strange interior landscape in which they drifted. There was another presence, here with them on the outside of that world of Jilly’s. While Honey couldn’t tell who or what it was, through her connection to Joe, she knew he could almost recognize it.

  But there was no time for discussion. Whatever the presence was, it had found an entry into Jilly’s world. Honey darted after it, moving so quickly that she lost her connection to Joe. She reached back for him, but she was moving too quickly. A moment later, she was inside the hidden world and Joe was left behind.

  The presence she’d been following was gone, and she went sprawling to the ground. She smelled dirt and a forest around her, but the forest was as still as a mere photograph. She scrabbled to her feet, reaching about herself with her senses.

  The new world surrounded her with no possibility of escape back to the mesa from which she’d so recently come. There was no escape to anywhere else. There was only this world of Jilly’s, and at its heart, a dark malevolent presence that made her bare her teeth.

  And in the heart of that heart of darkness, she found Jilly.

  She lifted her head and searched the woods in which she’d found herself.

  There, she thought, facing the direction where the feeling was strongest. That was where the darkness and Jilly were.

  And that was where she had to go.

  Joseph Crazy Dog

  Joe tried to keep up with Honey. He moved as fast as thought and should have been able to enter along with her, but he banged up hard against an invisible wall.

  It didn’t make sense. He could see the crack that Honey had gone slipping through—was right there with her—but the damned thing slammed shut before he could get through. His impact with the barrier broke his contact with her and was enough to knock him out. Unconscious, he went spiraling through the dark reaches of his own mind, his body dumped back onto the top of the mesa.

  When he came to, his face pressed against the stones and dirt, he wasn’t sure how long he’d been out. He sat up, weak and disoriented, his head spinning. He spat out a mouthful of fine grit and brushed the dust from around his eyes. It took him a few moments to catch his bearings, and then it was only because of the medicine twisting up out of the ground he was lying on. Without it, he didn’t know how long he would have been out, and he certainly wouldn’t be recovering as fast as he was.

  He stood up finally, waited a moment for his sense of balance to settle, then looked around himself.

  He was definitely here by himself.

  This wasn’t how it was supposed to go down. He’d only wanted Honey to point him in the right direction, not take his place in whatever was to come. But he was here and she was gone, following that elusive, half-familiar presence that had cracked the protection surrounding the world Jilly was trapped in.

  That presence . . .

  His head snapped up when it came to him who it had been.

  Geordie.

  No wonder it had seemed familiar. But how was that even possible? Of all Jilly’s strange and curious circle of friends, the Riddell brothers were the most human. They had no animal blood. No trace of the old ghosts of fairy haunting their genes. The two of them were forever surrounded by the inhabitants of the otherworld and the world between, but they themselves had no medicine. No magic.

  He had to be mistaken. It had to have been someone else.

  He sent out his thoughts, searching, searching, but there was no trace of the fiddler left anywhere. Like Jilly, he was gone from all the worlds except—he assumed—for the one that Honey had discovered, the one she said was inside Jilly’s own head. And there was no way he could look into it.

  He didn’t need to. Contrary to what he knew about Geordie, that had definitely been the fiddler breaking through into that world, with Honey hard on his heels. The big question was how had he done it?

  The last time Joe had seen the fiddler, he’d been in Walker’s company, unable to even travel from one world to another on his own. So either he’d suddenly acquired abilities he’d never shown before, or Walker had—

  Walker.

  Again Joe sent out a questing thought. Unlike Jilly, and now Geordie, the cerva was easy to find. Joe almost wished he hadn’t.

  “Jilly . . . Honey,” he said to the silent air on top of the mesa. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to deal with this right now.”

  Then he stepped away from Honey’s desert world and the mesa was empty once more.

  Cassandra Washington

  Cassie was tired of the hotel room with its folk art paintings on the wall, the gingerbread moldings, the hooked rug on the floor, the quaint bedspreads, the decorative basin and pitcher on the dresser. It was all so Country Living, which was fine for those who liked it, she supposed, but too much of it put her teeth on edge. She didn’t care much for the view out the window either, all that forest running up into the Kickaha Mountains. Very picturesque, but she was a city girl. Too long away from the city’s urban sprawl and its familiar background noise of traffic and sirens, and she always started to get antsy.

  But what really wore on her was having to listen to the remaining members of the Knotted Cord as they worked through the thorny issues of having to see the world through this new view that had been forced upon them by Lizzie and Jilly’s disappearance. It wasn’t that she disliked the three musicians—they seemed nice enough and were actually taking all of this rather well. And she certainly couldn’t blame them for their endless conversations circling around what had happened, what might happen, how could any of this be real? It would have been stranger if they hadn’t been so caught up with all these questions.

  But it wore on her. It really did.

  And she was worried about Joe—more worried than she’d care to admit. She should be with him, not cooling her heels babysitting these musicians. She knew that wasn’t the real reason for her staying behind. It just felt that way. It made complete sense to have her here in case Lizzie or Jilly returned, or if some fairy or cousin showed up making ransom demands, but she didn’t think either was going to happen.

  It wasn’t that she believed their friends were dead—she shuddered to think of what Joe would do if that was the case. But she doubted they’d be coming back on their own. If they could have, they would have by now. Especially Jilly, because she’d know how much they’d all be worrying about her.

  After awhile, the musicians finally fell silent. Siobhan sat by the window, staring through the pane, her eyes bright with unshed tears. The two men were on the other bed—Con leaning against the headboard, Andy sitting on the end, leaning on his elbows, his gaze on the floor.

  Cas
sie considered pulling out her cards and taking another run at what they might tell her. She’d already done it once since Geordie and Joe had gone off with Walker, but the images on them hadn’t changed and there was no reason to think they would have by now. That was just how the cards worked. When you asked a certain question of them, they’d only give the one answer, it didn’t matter how many times you asked. She knew that. But that hadn’t stopped her from trying anyway.

  “This so sucks,” Siobhan said out of the blue. “Did I say that out loud?” she added when everybody turned to look at where she was sitting by the window.

  “Loud and clear,” Con told her.

  Siobhan sighed. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve.

  “Well, it does,” she said. “I feel so useless. And don’t anybody make any jokes about how’s this different from any other time.”

  “I wasn’t going to say a word,” Andy said.

  Con gave her a half smile. “Although you’re very good at the merch table.”

  “Oh, shut up.” Siobhan turned to Cassie and asked, “Is there any news?”

  Cassie blinked in surprise. “I’ve been here with you the whole time. How could I have any news that you don’t?”

  “I don’t know. I thought maybe there was some magic way of talking in your head or something.”

  “There is. But no one’s contacted me so far.”

  “Crap.”

  “I hate this waiting, too,” Cassie told her.

  “How about those cards of yours?” Con asked. “Can’t you check with them again?”

  Andy nodded. “So that we can at least know that everybody’s still okay.”

  “The cards don’t work that way,” Cassie said without bothering to go into why.

  “Figures. That’d be too easy.”

  “I don’t know that it’s a matter of easy or hard. It’s more the innate capricious nature of any and everything that comes out of the dreamlands. The otherworld,” she added at their questioning looks. “The place has a hundred names. I often think of them as dreamlands because it’s where we go in our dreams.”