The Miskatonic Manuscript (Case Files of Matthew Hunter and Chantal Stevens Book 2) by Vin Suprynowicz Page A
Authors: Vin Suprynowicz
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aside just to get up and walk to the bathroom or the refrigerator. Everything takes this huge effort.”
“And the voices?”
“They try to get through but they’re dulled. You just hear these faint echoes calling you, like from the other side of a wall.”
“So it was better when you weren’t doped up?”
“What are you, kidding? Everything used to be clear and sparkling. I could see and feel that things were alive, everything had its own, like, aura. Sometimes I could even see …”
“Yes?”
Gilbert sighed. He’d already learned to be careful what he told. “Sometimes I can see people’s ancestors. Their ancestors know if they’re moving in the right path, and so I can see it, too, when someone is going down the wrong path. The ancestors try to tell them, but either they can’t hear or they won’t listen.”
He looked at old Emilio, then, awaiting some judgment as to whether he was believed, or whether he’d just be laughed at or humored, once again. Old Emilio smiled, just a little, and nodded his head slowly. Young Gilbert’s sense of relief was palpable.
“But not on the drugs?” Matthew asked.
“No. On these drugs, the world is heavy and dull, like you’ve covered it up with a carpet.”
“So why do you take them?”
“They say otherwise they’d have to lock me up. And my parents are responsible to see I take them, so if I don’t they could be locked up, too, for child abuse or something.”
“Gilbert was bright, happy to be alive,” Marquita fumed. “Now he shuffles around like an old man. They say Gilbert is crazy, dangerous, but the Indian people don’t believe this is a disease, do they?” she said, turning her plea to Emilio. “People finding out when they’reteen-agers that they can have these visions? Gilbert never hurts no one. He just goes off into the other world for a while.”
“You’re right, Marquita.” Emilio wasn’t a large man, but he commanded respect with his calm and dignified bearing. “Among our people, as you know, this calling to see visions is considered a gift. Some young men seek the visions, they fast, and pray for them. That’s not to say the gift can be ignored. Anything that’s powerful can become dangerous if it’s ignored. If the visions come all the time, even when they’re not wanted, it can make life difficult. The young man can feel like an outcast. That’s where the healer has his work. Usually, by following the proper path, the apprentice can be taught how to summon the visions only when they’re needed. It’s not about losing the visions, but being able to call them at will.”
“You’d be willing to teach Gilbert?”
“Maybe. But there could be a better way. Am I right, that he’s the grandson of Dona Solana of the San Carlos?”
Marquita hung her head. “Yes. But my mother and me don’t talk so much, anymore.”
“Then maybe this is a message that it’s time to talk again.”
“I left the Res, Emilio. I wanted to get as far away as I could. Everyone there is so poor. What kind of chance would Gilbert have there?”
“What you say is true. The best and the brightest often leave. I myself left the People for a ver’ long time.”
“You did?”
“I lived in New York and did my pottery. I rode with the motorcycle people. We carried guns. Oh, we was mighty bad.” Emilio laughed, his eyes crinkling up. “I don’t condemn you for leaving, and taking your boy, Marquita. To live in both worlds, to walk among the White Men but not forget who you are and where you come from, it’s a hard thing. But now, once again, the whites want to turn this Indian boy into a white, or lock him up for being crazy. But he’s not crazy, is he? All of us here can see that. He’s a bright lad. All families have their troubles, Marquita, but Dona Solana is a respected curandera, ahealer. And her apprentice died not so long ago. As far as I know, she has no apprentice. And now this sign comes to her grandson. In the end the
“And the voices?”
“They try to get through but they’re dulled. You just hear these faint echoes calling you, like from the other side of a wall.”
“So it was better when you weren’t doped up?”
“What are you, kidding? Everything used to be clear and sparkling. I could see and feel that things were alive, everything had its own, like, aura. Sometimes I could even see …”
“Yes?”
Gilbert sighed. He’d already learned to be careful what he told. “Sometimes I can see people’s ancestors. Their ancestors know if they’re moving in the right path, and so I can see it, too, when someone is going down the wrong path. The ancestors try to tell them, but either they can’t hear or they won’t listen.”
He looked at old Emilio, then, awaiting some judgment as to whether he was believed, or whether he’d just be laughed at or humored, once again. Old Emilio smiled, just a little, and nodded his head slowly. Young Gilbert’s sense of relief was palpable.
“But not on the drugs?” Matthew asked.
“No. On these drugs, the world is heavy and dull, like you’ve covered it up with a carpet.”
“So why do you take them?”
“They say otherwise they’d have to lock me up. And my parents are responsible to see I take them, so if I don’t they could be locked up, too, for child abuse or something.”
“Gilbert was bright, happy to be alive,” Marquita fumed. “Now he shuffles around like an old man. They say Gilbert is crazy, dangerous, but the Indian people don’t believe this is a disease, do they?” she said, turning her plea to Emilio. “People finding out when they’reteen-agers that they can have these visions? Gilbert never hurts no one. He just goes off into the other world for a while.”
“You’re right, Marquita.” Emilio wasn’t a large man, but he commanded respect with his calm and dignified bearing. “Among our people, as you know, this calling to see visions is considered a gift. Some young men seek the visions, they fast, and pray for them. That’s not to say the gift can be ignored. Anything that’s powerful can become dangerous if it’s ignored. If the visions come all the time, even when they’re not wanted, it can make life difficult. The young man can feel like an outcast. That’s where the healer has his work. Usually, by following the proper path, the apprentice can be taught how to summon the visions only when they’re needed. It’s not about losing the visions, but being able to call them at will.”
“You’d be willing to teach Gilbert?”
“Maybe. But there could be a better way. Am I right, that he’s the grandson of Dona Solana of the San Carlos?”
Marquita hung her head. “Yes. But my mother and me don’t talk so much, anymore.”
“Then maybe this is a message that it’s time to talk again.”
“I left the Res, Emilio. I wanted to get as far away as I could. Everyone there is so poor. What kind of chance would Gilbert have there?”
“What you say is true. The best and the brightest often leave. I myself left the People for a ver’ long time.”
“You did?”
“I lived in New York and did my pottery. I rode with the motorcycle people. We carried guns. Oh, we was mighty bad.” Emilio laughed, his eyes crinkling up. “I don’t condemn you for leaving, and taking your boy, Marquita. To live in both worlds, to walk among the White Men but not forget who you are and where you come from, it’s a hard thing. But now, once again, the whites want to turn this Indian boy into a white, or lock him up for being crazy. But he’s not crazy, is he? All of us here can see that. He’s a bright lad. All families have their troubles, Marquita, but Dona Solana is a respected curandera, ahealer. And her apprentice died not so long ago. As far as I know, she has no apprentice. And now this sign comes to her grandson. In the end the
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