‘Answer your phone,’ I told her. It gave me time to finish my conversation with Orlando.
‘You know Ryan, my new roommate?’ he asked.
‘I know who he is, but I don’t know him,’ pointed out.
‘His family lives in Boulder.’
‘And?’ Boulder was a hundred miles north of Bitterroot. Holly was talking in the background. Her conversation seemed important.
Orlando took a while to get to the point. ‘He plans to visit there soon for his sister’s twenty-first birthday. He’ll drive from Texas. So I was thinking maybe I’ll take a ride, drive up with him.’
‘When? I gasped.
‘Actually, a week from now,’ he told me. ‘Does that sound good?’
I closed my eyes, felt my whole body relax into a smile. ‘That sounds perfect!’
‘Friday,’ he confirmed. ‘I can’t wait to see you, Tania, but I’ll call you every day as well. I’ll Skype you at midday tomorrow, OK?’
‘Perfect,’ I said again. The call ended on a total high.
‘That was Aurelie Laurent,’ Holly told me as she too came off the phone. Something had put her off her energetic stride, she was looking puzzled.
‘Weird.’
‘What’s weird?’
‘This Conner Steben thing,’ Holly explained. ‘Aurelie says they have to write a detailed report.’
‘For the cops?’ This didn’t surprise me. You expect an autopsy, an investigation when a seventeen-year-old kid drowns during a triathlon.
‘Yeah, and for the Steben family.’
For the parents with their faces blasted by grief, for the angry, devastated sister. ‘So what does Aurelie’s report have to do with you?’ I wanted to know.
‘She saw I was close to where it happened so she wants me to write a witness statement.’
Again, no surprises, though I agreed it was a little weird that Aurelie had got to Holly before the cops. ‘OK,’ I said steadily, suspecting that there was more.
‘Aurelie is asking me to make it clear that Conner’s death was a pure accident,’ Holly told me with a frown.
‘Why? What exactly did she say?’
‘Word for word? “Write down what you saw, Holly. Say no one was anywhere near Conner when he drowned. He just went under for no reason that you could see.”’
‘But—’
‘I know, so don’t say it,’ she snapped back before I could form a sentence about Jarrold and the killer kick. She rushed on regardless. ‘Look, it’s cool. I’ll do it. I’ll make a statement.’
‘So Jarrold wasn’t involved?’
Holly shook her head. ‘No, I must have totally made that up. I guess I was too shocked to think straight.’
‘You’re sure about this?’
‘You know me – always shooting off my big mouth!’ She brushed off my question then she held up the yellow flashlight. ‘Batteries, Tania! Do you have any or not?’
Mom’s right. When love works, it’s not a trap – it’s freedom. I went to bed happy under my dreamcatcher, thinking about Orlando, feeling myself float into a vision of our future together.
He’ll be a costume designer for major Broadway productions, the best in the business. I’ll be involved in low-budget indie cinema, travelling the world to search for locations. In my head, there was a movie I already wanted to make about a girl who has visions and has to convince the world that she’s not crazy, just connected to a spiritual dimension that others can’t tune into. She has something important to communicate – a message from the world of spirits, a piece of information that will help save the world, if only the world will listen.
You can’t fail to spot the autobiographical element in the initial phase.
It’ll be a big technical challenge – her 3D visions will be of falling, flying, spinning through time. There will be monsters, perhaps a dark angel – but remember, I can’t identify him yet, I don’t know who he is. There’s a mystery at the heart of my storyboard.
I was up at dawn, before Dad was awake, ready to drive Holly down to New Dawn.
‘Don’t be late,’ she’d warned. ‘The Hawk Above Our Heads band leaves the community parking lot at seven thirty.’
‘You’re telling me don’t be late!’ I’d mocked. ‘Why didn’t you ask Aaron to drive you there?’
Holly had made a scornful popping sound with her lips.
‘You two had another fight?’ I’d guessed.
‘Aaron’s dad says no way should we be walking in the mountains. There’s a severe weather warning and the National Park are telling people to stay off Melrose and Carlsbad – all the high peaks.’
‘Aaron tried to stop you volunteering?’ After what Orlando had told me, I can’t say I was surprised, though I hadn’t spoken to Aaron myself.
Holly had nodded. ‘Sometimes he doesn’t know when to back off.’
Here we were again – the old question. How much do you compromise your freedom to please the guy you love? Because Holly did love Aaron, I was sure. She’d fight like a tigress for him if he was in danger, but she still held on to her right to do her own thing.
They say opposites attract. Well, Holly and Aaron fit that model like no other couple I know. Her – black and white, no compromise. Him – take a back seat, don’t speak two words where one will do. But always there for each other, no question.
Anyway, that was how come it was me waiting for Holly in the garden early next morning, and not Aaron. She was the one who was late, of course.
I looked around for Zenaida, hoping for a quiet chat. ‘The snow’s melted,’ I murmured as I strolled down to the aspens. ‘But you’d better stock up on seeds while you can. There’s more bad weather coming.’
Our mourning dove coo-wooed me from a high branch. She sat there with her chest feathers puffed out to keep her warm. There was blue sky above her, cold wet earth below.
‘Stick around,’ I told her. ‘Dad will see you through the winter.’
She spread her whistling wings and flew to a branch nearer to where I stood. Now I could make out the circle of blue around her eyes, the white wing patches, the pinkish chest.
‘What are you trying to tell me?’ I asked.
A flock of doves rises from the trees. They are white, pink, grey. Sunlight shines through their strong, beating wings as they soar into the blue sky.
‘You are trying to tell me something, aren’t you?’
The birds fly high. They are airborne, beautiful in the sunlight. My lone grey dove soars over my head.
‘Speak to me,’ I murmured.
‘I am here,’ a tender voice whispers.
A breeze rustles through the fallen leaves. The voice of the grey dove is familiar.
‘Don’t be afraid,’ she tells me. She is bathed in silver light.
The waiting is over and I’m not afraid. The angel of light who was Maia has risen and shape-shifted into a dove. She’s the one who will protect me and tell me all I need to know. I reach out my hand and rise from the dark ground. ‘I was waiting for you,’ I tell my mourning dove.
‘I have always been here,’ she replies.
‘I know. It took me a while.’
Here she is, my good angel, my spirit of light. Lone angel without her mate, who died in the fire on Becker Hill on the very day I was born. Welcome back! My body tingles. It’s as if my flesh melts to leave me weightless, as free to fly as my dove, my Zenaida.
‘You know you are in great danger,’ she tells me softly. ‘The fallen angels, the evil spirits are gathering.’
I nod, I am airborne beside her, wrapped in her glowing light.
‘Your dark angel leads them out of the realms of darkness. They have once more pierced the barrier we set up to keep them out. They are everywhere.’
I see devils rising from grey water, constantly changing shape and leaping skywards. They are two-headed snakes and writhing, slimy monsters with deformed limbs, mouth agape. Angels of light arm themselves with flashing swords. They stand fast, b
ut more devils rise – a terrible army that soon outnumbers the shining archangels.
They fight. Sparks fly and fade in dark outer space – falling stars, exploding meteors. The water below the clashing armies turns crimson, the colour of blood.
Still the wolf man stands to one side, watching everything.
‘So you must listen to me, Tania,’ Zenaida continues. ‘It is important. Arm yourself against the dark angel’s revenge, against his twisted, wicked heart. Remember he is cunning. He will gather recruits, he will trick and deceive you, use your innocence against you.’
‘It’s OK. I know not to trust anyone,’ I tell her.
‘Anyone!’ she repeats.
The doves above our heads wheel and fly off in every direction. Only Zenaida remains.
‘Gather your strength,’ she tells me. ‘Suspect everyone.’
She flaps her wings, rises higher, trailing her light. I feel myself sink to the ground.
‘Remember, you are not alone.’
These are her last words. She rises into the pure blue sky. She flies away. It’s OK, I feel happy. I know that I am blessed.
‘Thank you,’ I whispered.
I felt happy that my good angel had been transformed and reincarnated. She flew off with a light whistle of wings as the garden gate opened and Holly walked through.
She was wearing grey combat pants and a black T-shirt, boots and a bright-orange jacket. ‘Here,’ she told me. ‘I wrote my statement on Conner Steben. Would you give it to Aurelie when you next see her?’
‘Sure,’ I told her, shoving the white envelope in my pocket.
The Hawk Above Our Heads band were ready and waiting for Holly when we reached the parking lot. Richard Ziegler was with them, giving last-minute instructions.
‘There’s a frozen lake on the north side of Carlsbad, way above the tree line.’ Ziegler, still uber-cool in his trademark cowboy hat, had a map spread out on the hood of his Jeep. He pointed to the band’s destination. ‘You should reach this lake on day three.’
In the background Turner Lake was the colour of lead, its surface dead still.
‘Death, darkness, suffering,’ my good angel reminds me. For whom? Does she mean Conner? Does she mean Holly? Or me?
I turned my back on the lake, tried to pay attention to the nervous band of Explorers.
The four kids in Holly’s team tried hard to cover their anxiety about setting off up Carlsbad. The two guys, Channing and Regan, acted tough without convincing anyone. Regan, remember, was short, skinny and fair-haired – a nerdy type who looked like he’d arrived at New Dawn by mistake. Channing you already know about.
‘Holly, Tania – meet Blake,’ Ziegler said.
Now, Blake – she was the real deal. Take Kaylee and multiply her by a factor of five. Tougher than either of the guys, she oozed aggression from the top of her no-frills, magenta-dyed haircut to the toes of her heavy laced boots. When Ziegler said her name, she shot me a hostile look that said, ‘Don’t even think about saying hi.’
‘And finally, Marta.’ The New Dawn coach folded up his map as he introduced me to the last member of the Hawk Above Our Heads band.
Marta was the tallest in the group by far – six three maybe – with a long neck and high cheekbones, emphasized by the way she pulled back her long dark hair into a high, tight ponytail.
OK, if you asked me what each of the four had done to be sent to the community, this is what I would guess: geeky Regan – computer hacking, Channing – maybe auto theft, Blake – major graffiti damage to public property, Marta – stealing prescription drugs from a pharmacy. Who knows, I might even be right. And I’ll never find out – there’s an unspoken code here that you don’t get to ask.
So these were the kids who Holly was wilderness-walking with. I shot her a questioning glance – you’re sure about this?
She blanked me and went into hyper-Holly, super-surge overdrive. ‘So what are we waiting for?’ she asked, shouldering her rucksack ready for action. ‘Come on, let’s do this.’
‘Before you leave, you need a blessing,’ Ziegler told her. ‘Antony’s on his way.’
Sure enough, Amos soon joined us in the parking lot, striding down from Trail’s End along with Aurelie and Jean-Luc. All three were wearing padded jackets and jeans, and Amos was wearing the serious shaman expression that linked him in my mind to Red Cloud and the rest.
I had to admit I was disappointed that it was Aurelie, not Jean-Luc, who singled me out and paid me some attention. ‘Hey, Tania. It’s good of you to drive Holly. Now you have a chance to see the leaving ceremony. We do it each time a band sets out on a wild walk.’
‘Give me my statement!’ Holly hissed as Amos gathered the Explorers in a circle around him. ‘Aurelie’s here, so I can hand it to her myself.’
Relieved of the task, I handed over the envelope and let Holly explain what it was she was delivering to Aurelie in person. Aurelie thanked her. ‘This will help Conner’s family. In this type of tragedy they need to hear what happened from someone who was actually there.’
Then there was no time for any more Conner talk because Antony Amos launched into his leaving ceremony.
‘I’ll tell you a story,’ he said to Blake, Marta, Channing, Regan and Holly, as if they were small kids gathered at his knee. ‘It’s called “The Swan”. The boy, E-tsa-wis-no was growing into manhood. One day his father walked him to the edge of the tipi settlement and told him, “Soon you will be a man. You must walk into the mountains. The Great Spirit will take the shape of a bird or beast. He will speak to you of the moon and sun and stars.”’
Outside the circle with Jean-Luc and Aurelie, I watched and listened. Amos’s voice seemed more mellow than before, his manner warmer as he got deeper into the ancient story.
‘“Listen to the Great Spirit, follow your spirit ally, your Weyekin,” the boy’s father said. So E-tsa-wis-no walked into the mountains and sat beside a frozen lake. He waited for two days and then the Great Spirit appeared in the moonlight as a white swan. The swan said to him, “I am your Weyekin. I will lead you. Watch and listen, learn all there is to know about the swan and you too shall fly.
‘So E-tsa-wis-no studied the beautiful bird. He stayed by the lake for five times the cycle of a man’s life and his tribe did not see him. And after that time he was seen again, flying in a formation of swans. He had feathered wings but the body of a man. And every year after this he was seen flying south for the winter and north in the spring.’
Amos finished the story then laid a hand on the shoulder of each of the five kids. ‘Trust one another, use what Mother Nature offers you,’ he reminded them. ‘Turn your hearts to one another, begin anew.’
I was still puzzling over the message of the Native American tale, liking the idea of walking into the mountains to find a spirit ally, a Weyekin – someone similar to my own good angel – when Blake broke away from the group and started walking. She left the parking lot without looking back, just expecting the others to follow.
Marta and Holly were the next to leave.
‘Go carefully,’ I called after my buddy. ‘Come back safe.’
She walked away without acknowledging me, fixing her gaze on distant Carlsbad, taking big strides to catch up with Blake.
The boys left last and at a slower, almost lazy pace. They let the girls forge ahead along the lakeside track.
‘Shouldn’t they stay together as a band?’ I asked, already worried.
‘Don’t worry,’ Aurelie told me with a smile. ‘Channing and Regan will soon catch up. By the end of today they’ll have bonded.’
You hope, I thought. In spite of Aurelie’s confidence, in spite of Amos’s deeply held spiritual beliefs and the sincere blessing he’d given them, I had my doubts. After all, look at the no-relationship crap that happened last week with the Black Crow band. Examine what went on beneath the preachy surface.
‘Come back safe,’ I said again.
I meant all of them, not just Holly. And all fiv
e looked so small, the lake and mountains so huge as they walked into the wilderness.
8
‘My favourite place in all of Paris is the Rodin Museum on the rue de Varenne.’ Jean-Luc didn’t let me slip away once the Hawk Above Our Heads band had finally disappeared. Obviously wanting to chat about the city he loved, he took me to the cabin he shared with his sister and offered me a cold drink. Their home was in a great position – next to the social centre overlooking the lake. ‘You’ve been there?’ he asked.
I nodded. ‘Yes, it was awesome.’
‘My father’s apartment is close by, on the same street. You can look down from his balcony and see the statues in the garden.’ He told me that his favourite piece wasn’t the mega-famous ‘Kiss’ or ‘The Thinker’ but ‘The Gates of Hell’. ‘Inspired by Dante’s Divine Comedy,’ Jean-Luc explained. ‘In bronze bas relief. Magnificent.’
Then we went on to discuss the collection of contemporary art in the Pompidou Centre, and the groundbreaking seventies architecture, and the way tourists swarmed everywhere and there were queues for everything and how the small street cafes were vanishing under an onslaught by McDonald’s and Starbucks.
Jean-Luc laughed at himself. ‘I’m an elitist, I admit. Antony always tells me I’m not a team player.’ He smiled in a cool, unconcerned way. ‘So when do you return to Paris?’
‘I don’t know when I leave – I haven’t decided yet,’ I told him, swirling the ice cubes in the bottom of my glass of orange juice. ‘My mom is still in hospital. I guess I’ll wait until she gets out.’
‘Then we can hope to see you again here at New Dawn,’ he said happily. ‘Good. I like talking about my favourite city with you.’
‘Me too.’ I smiled at Aurelie, who had just walked in, and I was struck by how weird it must be to have a twin – not exactly identical, but close enough for it to draw comment from strangers, and both so good-looking and stylish, with their dark eyes and full mouths, so cool.
She kissed me on both cheeks, French style, then sat down beside me. ‘So did you persuade Tania to volunteer?’ she asked Jean-Luc, laughing as she spoke.