Mexican Ghost Tales of the Southwest by Alfred Ávila Page B

YOU?” the bat asked the
curandera
slowly, as if forcing the words out.
    â€œMy name is María Luisa,” answered the healer as she glared at the small beast, “I know that you are on an evil quest, but I, too, am on a quest to do battle with you for this child’s life!”
    The bat sized her up with its dark beady eyes. “You don’t have the power to match wits with me, peasant woman! You shall not stop me in my sacred quest! I have the blessing of Mictlantecuhtli, the King of the Abyss. You are a foolish woman for attempting to thwart my wishes, and you will pay dearly for this interference.” The animal’s eyes were filled with much hatred, as it flapped its membrane wings defiantly.
    â€œYou have the power of the night,” said the
curandera
, “but the day belongs to me, foolish creature! You must hide yourself from the sun, lest you become blind and burst into flames in the glow ofits rays. Then you will turn into the dust of the ancient ones and lose your chance for eternal life in the abode of our old gods.”
    The bat knew the power of the
curandera
and could sense her commitment to the boy’s soul. Said the bat, “I am the master of the dark, and you have interfered with my quest, María Luisa. I shall leave you tonight, but tomorrow I will return determined to overcome your defenses. The boy belongs to me! And his soul shall be mine! Beware, María Luisa!” The bat spread its wings and darted out the window.
    The
curandera
knew that the following night would be a difficult one and a challenge, too. She sat there thinking about how to fight the bat. The bat is a small creature, but as an adversary it is a giant. Its knowledge of evil is infinite.
    â€œThe bat will be difficult to deal with. It has the blessing of Mictlantecuhtli,” she said to herself. She chanted an incantation to the gods of her ancestors, the powerful Indian gods of the past. She lit incense. The sweet-smelling smoke rose with pulsating swirls and covered the small adobe room. The
curandera’s
voice rose to a high pitch, beseeching the gods to help her save the young boy’s body and soul from the evil powers. Slowly she sank to the floor from her standing position and watched the smoke rise from the incense-burning can on the dirt floor. Her eyes glowed strangely. She knew what she had to do.
    At twilight, she was once again in the boy’s room. She got a small pot and applied some sticky gum to the edges of the altar mantle. Then she waited for the dreaded little bat to arrive.
    Soon after darkness had settled, a flapping ofwings and a screech were heard as the bat flew in through the window and perched on the altar.
    It checked the young boy. The child lay with eyes closed, breathing laboriously. “A good sign. The boy is weakening and dying. He will soon be mine,” the beast said to himself. Next, it shifted its black bulbous eyes to María Luisa, the
curandera
. It looked hard at her and said, “Well, María Luisa, it looks like your precious ward will not last much longer!”
    María Luisa didn’t seem to be bothered by the bat’s remark.
    â€œMr. Bat, tell me about the wonders of your ancient Aztec empire. You have a vast knowledge of the past. I would enjoy learning from you.”
    The bat eyed her suspiciously, but since she seemed to be sincere, it began to tell her of the sacrificial rituals, the battles for captives, and the glory of the empire. Whenever it stopped talking, she would egg it on to tell her more. They both lost track of time. Suddenly, the small ugly bat stopped talking.
    â€œWhat are you up to, old hag?” the bat said. But the healer remained silent.
    The sick young boy shifted positions on the mat. In his delirium, he started to speak in a soft voice: “Bat … bat, why do you come here? What do you want? My soul? What do you want, little rat? What do you want from me? My soul is not yours. It