Thunderbird Falls

CHAPTER 25

Morrison had me by the shoulders before I had time to think through the idea of hiding. His grip was hard enough to hurt, although I noticed the skin-tenderness of the sunburn was gone. He had the slight height advantage even though he was out of uniform, and for a few seconds he stared down at me as if making sure I was real. Then he shook me, let go of my shoulders, and started yelling.

I didn’t listen. I just looked up at him, trying not to smile. He would have gotten up at five in the morning for a report that any of his officers was missing. I knew that. What I hadn’t known was he’d get up if the officer in question was me. I wrapped my filthy arms around my ribs and watched him rant. Crowder hovered nervously on the next island over, trying to decide if he should interfere. I hoped he didn’t. I’d never felt so warm and fuzzy at receiving a dressing-down. When Morrison finally paused for breath I said, “Thanks, Captain.”

He didn’t start up again. Instead he pulled his mouth long, scowled, and gave me a curt nod. Then he turned away, jumping to Crowder’s asphalt island with more grace than I would’ve expected from him, and offered the geologist his hand. “Thanks for finding my officer. I’m Captain Michael Morrison, SPD, North Precinct.”

“Well, she was up on her feet already when I found her. She would’ve been just fine even without us.” Crowder shook Morrison’s hand. “David Crowder. Pleasure to meet you, sir. I’m glad to say it looks like Officer Walker was the only person caught in the park last night. Looks like we may have no casualties from the event itself. We’ve been very lucky.”

I closed my eyes and leaned on Petite’s upended nose. No one in the coven had mentioned earthquakes accompanying the body-to-earth ritual. I wondered if they hadn’t known, or if it had been an error. I was hoping for an error. Knowing you were going to set off a 6.2 quake and opting to stay in a populated area was criminal, not that there was the slightest chance they’d—we’d—ever be prosecuted for it.

And I wondered if it had worked. From what I understood, there ought to be all sorts of strange and mystical creatures wandering Seattle’s streets now, but Morrison hadn’t mentioned any while he was yelling at me. I’d have to find Faye or one of the others.

Or, I supposed, I’d have to go look for myself. I opened my eyes again and studied the parking lot without seeing it, trying to figure out how long it would take to get Petite out of there. I didn’t want to leave her, not with the lake pouring a new stream into the neighborhood. I was afraid the exposed earth would be cut away and she’d fall.

“What happened, Walker?”

I jostled myself out of studying the parking lot and looked back at Morrison, who’d rejoined me while I wasn’t watching. “Sir?”

“What happened out here last night? What were you doing here? And have you been tanning?” He was getting over his relief that I was alive and was becoming more interested in the bones of the matter, which probably meant in relatively short order he’d be yelling at me again.

I looked down at myself. My vision behaved itself for once and I realized the sunburn had done more than come to the surface. It’d already peeled, or the mystical equivalent thereof I was brown, tanner than I could ever remember seeing myself. I resisted the urge to peer down my shirt to see if I was tan all over. I hadn’t been naked in the desert of my mind, but I wasn’t at all sure a sunburn like the one I’d gotten there would care about clothes. I suspected there were no tan lines.

“I was meeting Faye. The girl from Cassandra’s funeral.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. I didn’t think Morrison cared all that much about whether I’d been tanning, so I skipped that part.

“Walker, I thought I told you to leave it alone.” He didn’t sound exasperated, much less surprised. More like resigned.

“Yeah.” I looked away. “Meeting her was set up before you told me that.”

“What were you seeing her for?”

“…she was working on a project with Cassandra before she died. She thought I might be able to help out with it.” Again, not exactly a lie. I was pretty sure Morrison would be happier if I didn’t tell him Cassie was part of a coven and I was taking her place. My vision swam to inverted again, giving me a sudden headache as the rising sun turned black. I winced and put my hand against my temple. Morrison reached out and caught my wrist, turning my palm up.

“What happened?”

I stared at Crowder’s bloody handkerchief wrapped around my hand and sagged. “I was gouged. It was kind of a rough night.”

“So I see. You need to get cleaned up and get this looked at. My car’s up at the head of the street. You’re not getting yours out of here without a helicopter.”

I clenched my jaw against dismay and patted Petite’s nose carefully. “It’s okay, baby. I’ll figure out how to get you out of here.” I didn’t think I’d spoken loudly enough for Morrison to hear, even though he was barely two feet away from me. The look he gave me said he had.

“What is it with you and cars, Walker?”

“They’re easier than people.” I tugged my hand out of Morrison’s grip, trying to be gentle enough about it that it wouldn’t seem rude. He let me go without a fuss. I felt him watching me as I hopped to another broken island. After a few seconds he followed me.

We walked in silence up to the head of the road, jumping over broken land where we needed to. I felt like I should say something just to fill up the quiet between us, but I had no idea how to make small talk with Morrison. He pulled ahead of me by a couple of steps and my mouth asked, “How old are you, Morrison?” without consulting my brain about it first.

Morrison threw a startled look over his shoulder. “What? Thirty-eight. Why?”

“Faye wanted to know.”

“I don’t need setting up with a girl half my age, Walker.” Morrison pulled ahead of me again, leaving me blinking at his shoulders. There wasn’t, as far as I knew, a Mrs. Morrison. He didn’t wear a wedding band, and he seemed the type. I reengaged my brain before it asked him any more questions, and scowled at my feet as I followed him. My hands wanted to go into my pockets, but my left hand kept screeching protest. In order to give myself something to do, I caught up with Morrison, matching my pace to his.

“How old are you?”

“What?” I missed a step, caught my toes on broken earth, and regained my balance before Morrison had time to help me, which I wasn’t sure he would.

“How old are you?” he repeated with a reasonable degree of patience.

“Isn’t that kind of thing on my official records?”

“Yeah, but so’s ‘Joanne Walker.’”

I pursed my lips. “A very palpable hit. Twenty-seven.” I hesitated. “Did you look?”

“At your records? Yes. They’re all under Walker. Why?” Morrison didn’t sound even slightly apologetic. I wouldn’t have either, in his position.

I shrugged. “Defining myself by my own rules, I guess.”

“There’s no paperwork filed for an official change of name.”

“You did your homework, didn’t you?” I shrugged again. Morrison’s car was at the head of a cross street, parked just before a dark crack in the road. “I didn’t feel like I needed to, I guess. I broke into my school computer to change my last name toWalker on the transcripts and never had a problem with the university systems, so why bother with the paperwork.” I was pretty sure the statute of limitations on hacking my own transcripts was long past. I hoped so. Morrison would probably arrest me if it weren’t. He lifted an eyebrow at me, then nodded at the car. I jumped the crevasse—it was deeper than I expected, probably six feet—and waited for him to unlock the doors. He was already on the radio, reporting me as alive and well, when I crawled in. There were actually cheers from the dispatch room. I felt my cheeks sting with color, and stared out the window. The sunlight, still inverted in my vision, bled silver and black over the horizon as it climbed. “Crap.”

Morrison glanced at me as he put the car in drive. “What?”

“I’m late for a meeting.”

“It’s six in the morning.”

“I know. Can you just drive me home?”

Morrison’s silence was profound before curiosity got the better of him. “You’ve got a 6:00 a.m. date at home?”

I slumped in my seat. “Yeah. You know. That boyfriend you didn’t believe in.”

Morrison snorted. I guessed he still didn’t believe. “You need to get that hand looked at.”

“I need a shower. If I can’t fix it I’ll go to the ER.”

“If you can’t fix it.” The skepticism in Morrison’s voice was thin. He’d watched me recover from impossible injuries enough times to know I could do it, even if he didn’t want to believe it. I felt an unexpected pang of sympathy for him.

I pushed myself up in the seat, toes pressed against the back of the footwell. “Forget I said anything.”

“Walker—”

“Really, Morrison, forget it. You’ll be happier that way.” I glared out the window, wishing I’d kept my mouth shut and just gone to the damned hospital with him. A ten point buck, its antlers glowing an unhealthy neon yellow, bounded out of the greenery at the side of the road and into the car. I yelled, flinging my arms up as if I could ward off the animal’s impact. Morrison yelled, too, slamming on the brakes.

“What the hell was that?”

“The deer! It almost hit the car!”

Morrison stared at me with furious concern that almost masked a complete lack of comprehension. “What deer?”

“The—” It dawned on me that there’d been no impact, nor any scrape of hooves over the car’s roof. I flinched forward, looking beyond Morrison at the street. There was no sign of the animal anywhere. My voice got very small. “You didn’t see it?”

“See what, Walker? Jesus Christ! What the hell’s the matter with you?”

I stared at the quiet street. “I thought I saw a deer. A buck. Come out of the woods and jump at the car.”

Morrison frowned and reached for my head, running a hand through my dirty hair. Mud flaked away, showering down the back of my tank top and leaving his fingers a muddy tan. I pulled away, frowning in return. “What?”

“Seeing if there are any lumps on your head. You sure you didn’t hit your head, Walker?”

“No.”

He kept frowning at me. “We’re going to the hospital.”

I sighed and slumped down in my seat again. “Yes, sir.”

I had enough sense—barely—to bite my tongue when I saw the grizzly roaming unconcerned down the middle of the street, and to close my eyes and count to ten and hope the eagle sitting on the stoplight would disappear when I opened my eyes. It didn’t, but that gave me enough time to be absolutely certain Morrison wasn’t seeing it. Bald eagles do not hang out in suburbanSeattle frequently enough to go uncommented on. But an utterly gorgeous thing with a bear’s head and a glittering body, scaled like a fish, made me gasp out loud and sit forward, which in turn made Morrison frown at me even more deeply. I couldn’t help it. It was beautiful, covered in iridescent reds and blues, with enormous teeth and tall deer horns. Beautiful and totally alien. It belonged in a picture book of mythology, not on a corner with its tail lashing, looking as if it were impatient to cross the street.

Whatever else had happened last night, we’d clearly succeeded in giving the spirits body. What I didn’t understand was why Morrison wasn’t seeing them. I clenched my eyes shut and my teeth together as we drove through a hippogryph, which I wouldn’t have betted on recognizing before I saw one. And that gave me some of my answer: there had to be a third step to the ritual that would make them solid. I could see them because…

God. Because I believed. The very thought made my head hurt. I put both hands against my temples and groaned. Morrison frowned at me again. “You okay?”

“I don’t know. Ask me again tomorrow.”

“I’ll ask you again after you’ve seen a doctor.” Morrison flicked a blinker on and I groaned again, watching Northwest Hospital come into view. I was spending way too much time there. A minute later he found a parking place, meaning I wasn’t going to get away with watching him drive off and then running home. “Out,” he said.

I got out, thinking that at least Judy and my spirit animals would be pleased. I was taking their advice to heart, and to active effect. I, on the other hand, wasn’t thrilled. I was happier with the world when I couldn’t see the magical things in it. Even if this was exactly the path I was supposed to be on. I made a gurgling sound of frustration in the back of my throat and Morrison shot me a concerned glare. “Walker?”

I was clearly too unused to having somebody else around. I needed to learn to stop vocalizing my internal annoyances. Either that or I needed to obtain a significant other so I could just tell people like Morrison to hand me over to him and stop worrying about me. At this point, the former seemed more likely. “Nothing. I’m fine. Honest. Can’t I just go home?”

“No.”

I slunk off to see a doctor. Morrison told them I was having hallucinations, and they tested my eyes after they’d stitched my hand up. The light shining into my pupils looked black to me, but my responses were all right and they told me I could go home. I very carefully didn’t mention the bright-eyed rabbit spirit sitting in the corner.

Morrison dropped me off at home, still scowling. “Get some rest, Walker. That’s an order.”

I got out of the car, smiling. “I’m not on duty, Captain.”

“You will be tomorrow, and if you don’t do what I tell you now, I’ll make your life a living hell,” he said pleasantly. I laughed, straightened, and saluted the roof of his car.

“Yessir, Cap’nsir.” I thumped the car and watched him drive off before heading into the building. About twenty-four hours of sleep sounded really appealing, truth be told. Of course, there were about eight reasons why I wasn’t going to get that, so dwelling on it would probably only make me miserable. I climbed into the shower, sat down on the tub floor, and went to see if Judy was still waiting for me while hot water beat the night’s grime off my skin.