The Obsidian Mirror, page 3
“This sounds familiar. There’s a sculpture in a park in downtown San Jose that’s supposed to be Quetzalcoatl. A giant snake, coiled up, but if you don’t look too closely, it looks just like, well, just like giant dog poop.”
She had no idea how to make that strange click at the end of “Quetzalcoatl.”
Chaco looked horrified. “You’re kidding? I hope he doesn’t know about that! He’d be…unhappy, I think. He’s awfully, um, dignified.”
“Wasn’t he supposed to be some kind of god?”
“Well, the Aztecs worshipped him, but he’s really an Avatar, like me. Very powerful, though. Kind of a super Avatar.”
Sierra restrained herself from asking if he had a red cape, and said, “I thought he was one of those gods they sacrificed people to, in the old days.”
“I’m not saying no one ever sacrificed people to the Big Q,” Chaco said carefully, “But he never approved. People got him mixed up with his twin brother. That one is always out for blood.”
“Quetzalcoatl’s evil twin,” Sierra said, feeling giggles begin to foam up inside, a precursor to hysteria. She could not be having this conversation. “So you’re telling me that Quetzalcoatl has an evil twin?”
Chaco looked at her in surprise. “Yes. Is there something funny about that?”
“It’s kind of a cliché, don‘t you think?”
“It’s true. Look it up. Where do you think clichés come from, anyway?”
“OK, point taken. I will look it up,” she said.
“Fine. You do that,” Chaco said. “You’ll find that Q is the creator; his brother is the destroyer. Q is the light; his brother is the dark. Q brings fertility and prosperity; his brother…”
Sierra no longer felt like giggling. “This twin,” she interrupted, “What is his name?”
“It’s not a good idea to speak his name,” said Chaco, shaking his dark head. “Speaking his name gives him power. He has too much power in the world already, because he goes by many names, and people call on him every day. Anyway, Quetzalcoatl has called you. You must answer.”
“Why? What does he want?
“He thinks you can help. There are dangerous forces at work, things called into being by his brother. He thinks you can help push back the darkness.”
“I think he has the wrong lady,” said Sierra, sipping at her mug of coffee. “I’m just a lowly, out-of-work public relations manager. I don’t have any special powers, I can’t use a sword, I can’t fly, and I’m afraid of violence. Not a good candidate at all. There must be hundreds of people who would be better at battling the forces of darkness than me.”
Chaco regarded her levelly. “He thinks you’re the right one. Why don’t you ask him about it? I’m just the messenger.”
“Even if I am the right one, I can’t do it,” Sierra replied. “I need to find another job. It’s been interesting meeting you, Chaco, but I can’t go.”
“But look on the bright side,” he urged. “Now there’s nothing to keep you from going with me to see the Big Q. You’re free.”
“Free?” retorted Sierra. “Free? There’s no such thing. How’m I gonna pay for this place? Buy gas? Pay for food?”
“Oh, don’t worry about me,” murmured Chaco, “I can find food just about anywhere.”
“I’m NOT worried about you, you moron,” snapped Sierra. “What about me? What am I going to eat? Stale bagels? Rats? What?”
Chaco drew himself up proudly. “No one has ever accused me of not providing well for my people. If it’s rats you want, rats you shall have.”
“Yuck,” said Sierra wearily. “No, Chaco, I don’t want rats. I have some savings. Actually, the company gave me a nice severance package. I can eat for a while. But now I have to explain to a bunch of bozos in other companies why I suddenly decided to leave a good job at BDSC without first finding another job.”
Sierra realized that she wasn’t feeling frightened anymore. Chaco seemed harmless enough. Then she recalled that she was having a conversation with someone who was a part-time coyote, and her anxiety that she was losing her mind returned in full force.
“Look,” she said, resisting the urge to put her face into her hands. “This is crazy. I think I’m going crazy. I think you’re just a hallucination, if you want the truth. And I am not going anywhere with a hallucination. I’m not that crazy!”
“I can wait until you’re ready,” he said, stirring his coffee calmly. He sipped it, watching her over the rim of his mug.
“You’re gonna wait a long time, then,” said Sierra. “Goodbye, Chaco.”
Chapter 3
Sierra discovered that Chaco was easier to acquire than to lose. She tried asking him nicely to leave. She tried ignoring him, settling herself down in front of her computer for several hours to scan the job sites. While she was busy, he helped himself liberally to the contents of her refrigerator and cupboards. While roaming restlessly around her apartment, he happened upon a photo album and came to her computer to show her a picture of Sierra and Kaylee at a Black Diamond Christmas party. Their arms were entwined, they were raising champagne flutes, and both were grinning broadly in those happier times. Kaylee looked resplendent in an African-print dress that draped over one shoulder, and she wore her red-orange heart and amber bead necklace.
“Who’s this?” he asked with interest.
“That’s Kaylee Shore,” replied Sierra. “I worked with her at Black Diamond, and we got to know each other. She’s turning out to be a real friend.”
Chaco said nothing more, but leafed through the rest of the album quietly.
By nightfall, Chaco’s poking into her private possessions, nosy questions, and relentless foraging for food had driven Sierra to the screaming stage.
“I’m going to call the police right now!” she threatened, reaching for the handset. “See how you like it in jail!”
But Chaco just glanced up from the book he had taken—without asking— from her shelves. He was sprawled comfortably on her couch, his athletic-shoe-clad feet resting on her sequined throw cushions.
“You’re not going to call the police,” he commented, returning to the pages of Hiking Trails of the South San Francisco Bay.
“That’s all you know,” Sierra hissed, punching three numbers into the phone.
“Please say the city and state,” said a digitized voice at the other end of the line.
“Yes, there’s an intruder in my home,” said Sierra.
“I didn’t hear you,” the voice said patiently. “Please say the city and state.”
“I’m at 111 East Belinda Street in Sunnyvale,” Sierra stated, frowning at Chaco. “Yes, that’s right. Please hurry—I think he’s dangerous!”
Chaco yawned and turned the page as the voice insisted, “I didn’t hear you. Please say…”
Sierra put the phone back in its cradle. “You’d better get going. The police are on their way right now, and the police station isn’t that far from here.”
Chaco looked up at her as she loomed over him. “You didn’t call the police,” he said, putting the book down. He swung his long legs around, sitting upright.
“Yes, I did.”
“There’s no point in lying to me,” Chaco replied calmly. “You can’t lie to a born liar, you know.”
“If you’re a liar, why should I believe anything you say?”
Chaco considered this seriously.
“Well, you’ve got a point,” he conceded. “You’ll just have to trust me, I guess.”
Sierra stared at him, speechless. The situation reminded her of the riddle about the two doors, each with a guard. Behind one door lay untold riches and behind the other was certain death. One guard always lied and the other always told the truth. You had to figure out how to choose the right door by questioning the guards. Sierra had always become terminally confused, inevitably choosing certain death. This reflection did not comfort her. She fumed silently, frowning at Chaco. He looked at her mildly for a little while, then stood and faced her. He spoke in a formal and serious tone he hadn’t used before.
“Sierra. I swear upon the Ancestors. I swear upon all that is sacred. This is important. It’s more important than me. It’s more important than you. Please come with me. Quetzalcoatl does not call upon mankind lightly, and he has called you.”
“But why?” she burst out. “Why me? I’m not…”
But whatever she intended to say remained unsaid, for at that moment, the lights flickered, dimmed, and died, leaving them in darkness.
“Damn!” exclaimed Sierra, annoyed. “The circuit breakers are in the garage. I have a flashlight somewhere…”
But the rest of her sentence was cut off by Chaco’s hand over her mouth. His arms wrapped roughly around her shoulders, but before she could react with a fierce instinctive kick, he whispered urgently in her ear.
“Quiet! Don’t make a sound. It’s not the circuit breaker. We’re in trouble.”
Sierra stopped resisting and his palm dropped from her mouth. She stood quietly, straining to hear, but the house was quiet. She could hear the traffic noises from the street. Light from the streetlamps created a dim illumination through the curtained windows. Gradually, her eyes adjusted, but she could see nothing but the dark outlines of her familiar furnishings.
Something suddenly moved past one of the living room windows, briefly blocking the light. Sierra saw that the light outside the kitchen windows was flickering, as though several objects were moving rapidly outside the house and obscuring the streetlights for a second as they passed. She felt an atavistic tension grip her throat, and the hair on her head prickled. She reached out a shaking hand to Chaco.
“What is it?” she whispered. More things flickered past the windows.
“Later,” he breathed. “Stay here, and don’t move.”
He grasped her hand, squeezed it as though to comfort her. By the faint light from the windows, she saw him shift. The coyote laid its belly close to the floor and began to crawl toward the kitchen. As fear ran cold fingers down her spine, Sierra realized she had left a kitchen window open, letting in the warm spring air. She could hear noises now, like people muttering softly. From the tones, Sierra didn’t want to know what they were saying.
Slowly, she sank to the floor, hoping to hide in the shadows. She pressed her back against a bookshelf. Now they can’t come at me from behind, she thought. She watched the living room windows fearfully. There were shapes flitting about outside, moving in a way that made no sense to her. They were the size and shape of the large red rubber balls that elementary schoolchildren play with at recess—and they were flying in the dark air like obese bats, but with no visible wings. None of this made any sense to her, adding to her fright.
A sudden crash came from the kitchen, accompanied by snarls and shrieks. Sierra jerked back hard against the bookcase and if it hadn’t been bolted to the wall because of the earthquakes so common in the Bay Area, she might have sent it toppling. As it was, volumes from the top shelves fell, one striking her shoulder painfully.
There was a flurry of activity outside. The shapes knocked against the windows in their haste, and then they were gone. The house lights flared abruptly, blinding her for a moment. When she regained her sight—still with a large purple spot swimming in her field of vision—she ran to the kitchen to see if Chaco was hurt. The din had been enough to bring her neighbors running, she thought.
Chaco, now a young man again, stood in the middle of the kitchen, broken glass strewn about him like glittering confetti. He had smears of blood on his face and hands. “You’re hurt!” she cried, but he shook his head.
“Not my blood,” he replied gruffly, and pointed at the floor.
Sierra saw that there was more than glass on the floor. A large round object, also covered in blood, lay at his feet. Sierra stared down at something birthed by a nightmare. It was a head, a head larger and rounder than a man’s. It had bulging, staring black eyes with no whites, and a mouth like a jack o’ lantern with the snaggled sharp teeth of a mako shark. Even nastier, instead of hair it had long, gnarled fingers, each tipped with a cruel claw. The face had been slashed and gashed as though by razors—from Chaco’s fangs, Sierra knew. Her stomach heaved and she rushed out of the kitchen to the downstairs bathroom.
She emerged a while later, wiping her mouth and still trembling, to find the kitchen restored to normal—except for the plywood nailed across the broken window. The glass and blood were gone, and Chaco was rinsing a rag at the sink. The ghastly head had vanished.
“You okay?” he asked, wringing the rag out and turning to face her. Sierra nodded, but her eyes were darting around the room, searching for the hideous visitor.
“It’s gone,” said Chaco, firmly. “The others are gone, too. But I’m afraid they’ll be back. Or he’ll send something else. He knows where you are, now.”
Sierra gazed at him numbly, “Who knows where I am?” she asked, wondering when she would wake from this horrible dream. “And what was that…thing?”
“Big Head,” Chaco answered, tossing the rag into the trash. “You don’t see them much anymore. He must’ve called them up especially for you. Very dangerous, as you saw.”
“Who called them up?” Sierra asked again, a small spark of indignation igniting amidst her fear and confusion.
“Is this your Mr. Q, your Kets-all-whatever? Because if he thinks he’s going to push me around like that, he’s…”
But Chaco was shaking his head. “No. Not Quetzalcoatl. He doesn’t operate that way. His brother. You can call him—let’s see, he has a lot of names. You don’t want to speak his real name; it’s too toxic. But in English, it means ‘The Obsidian Mirror.’”
“The Obsidian Mirror? What kind of name is that?”
“I’ll explain later. Right now, we have to leave. Before something else comes along. Trust me, you don’t want to wait around for whatever it is,” Chaco said.
Sierra thought about the Big Head lying in its blood on her kitchen floor and shuddered. “Yes, all right, I’ll go. Where are we going?”
Chaco sighed. He stopped short of rolling his eyes, but nonetheless effectively communicated exasperation “I told you,” he said, with exaggerated patience. “We’re going to see Quetzalcoatl.”
Well, Sierra thought, someone needs me. It doesn’t sound like paid work, but someone needs me. “Okay,” she said. “But do you promise me he won’t sacrifice me? Or eat me?” She peered anxiously at Chaco.
“I don’t usually promise anybody anything,” said Chaco. As Sierra’s face went even whiter, he said hastily, “But I do promise he won’t hurt you.”
Sierra relaxed slightly.
Chaco continued, “But I can’t promise you that what he asks you to do will be safe. Or easy.”
“What is he going to ask me to do?” Sierra asked suspiciously. “Why me?”
But Chaco wouldn’t say. He shook his head.
“Just come with me. It’s important. And we need to get out of here now.”
It didn’t take long to load up her car, as Sierra kept her camping equipment ready to go at all times. She packed some food and located her road maps. She sent an email to her father in Los Angeles to let him know she was taking a brief vacation. She didn’t mention that she’d been fired, because he’d probably offer to send her money. She told him she was taking a Magical Mystery Tour. Magical Mystery Tour had been her mother’s expression for a spontaneous outing. She’d bundle everyone in the car and they’d take off, not knowing where they’d end up.
She looked up Kaylee’s work number, scribbling it down on the notepad she kept by the side of the phone. She didn’t call Kaylee’s house, even though it was a Saturday and Kaylee was probably home, because she didn’t want to get into a conversation about what she was doing or why she was doing it—Sierra herself had no idea. She wrote Kaylee’s name next to the number, shading it in and doodling looping swirls around it as she left a voicemail.
“Hey, Kaylee, I’m going camping for a little while to think things over. I’ll call you when I get back. Don’t worry about me, OK? I’m doing fine here.”
Well, maybe not fine, she reflected as she returned the phone to its cradle. But I can’t tell her I’ve been attacked by big, flying, flesh-eating heads. That might create a little anxiety.
Then she watered the plants and suspended her mail and newspaper deliveries.
“I’m ready now, Chaco,” she said, hefting a backpack. “I only have one sleeping bag. Maybe we should go get another one for you.”
“No need,” said Chaco. “I’ve got a fur coat.”
Sierra stared at him and then remembered. “Right. Well, let’s go. Um, where are we going?”
“East.”
“East? I thought we’d be going to Mexico. Isn’t that where Quetzalcoatl hangs out?”
“He’s an Avatar. He can be anywhere. Do you know how to get to Sacramento?”
“Of course I do.”
Sierra considered asking Chaco what the Plumed Serpent God of the Aztecs was doing in Sacramento, but decided against it. She consulted her maps and planned a route.
“OK, Chaco. Let’s get going.”
As they walked out her front door and she locked it behind her, a thought flitted through her mind that she might never see her home again. She had a hollow, light feeling at her core. It was a free feeling, but it was the freedom of no attachments, of not belonging. Somewhere under the free feeling, panic was beginning to bubble up like black tar. She shook herself, trying to bring back a sense of normalcy. As though anything would ever be normal again; she was, after all, setting out to meet a god or Avatar, accompanied by a shape-changing coyote, with monsters apparently hard on their heels. She got into the driver’s seat, and Chaco sat beside her.
“Seat belt,” said Sierra, noticing that Chaco had neglected to fasten this item.
“I don’t need one. It’s impossible to kill an Avatar.”
“Good for you,” she replied, “But if we get stopped by a cop, I still get a ticket.”
Chaco fumbled with the strap, and Sierra had to show him how it worked. At last, she backed out of her driveway and headed for the freeway.
