One Day in a Small-Town Desert, chapter 12, page 8

(start of book) (start of chapter) (previous page)



Vata Kılímí stepped back from Fírí’s flailing arms. She had to get past this petulant girl and help Pí‘oro.

Névazhíno’s powerful energy still swirled around the chapel and through her spirit, but if Vata concentrated hard enough, she could focus her thoughts on the task at hand.

“If you don’t trust me to open the door, why don’t you do it yourself, dear? Surely your ears are better than mine, so you’d be able to hear if anyone was in the hallway or not. Please. I must help my husband. He may be dying.”

Fírí shook her head, her face cinching up with distress. “He’s already dead, lady.”

“No.” It couldn’t be, and yet an empty corner of Vata’s mind revealed where Pí‘oro’s link should have been. No! She couldn’t sense him anymore, which could only mean one thing.

“Even if he is dead,” Vata argued, “I can bring him back. I’ll sacrifice the horse and Névazhíno will bring him back. I can do this.” And yet she never had even tried.

It must be possible, though. Pí‘oro’s spirit can’t be forever gone, can it? Vata’s mother had mentioned this during at least one lesson, so very many years ago. How much time did she say we have? Ten, fifteen minutes?

Her voice quiet, yet strong, Vata declared, “There’s still time to save him.”

The blonde narrowed her eyes, glaring at Vata. After a few seconds, she shoved her index finger in front of Vata’s face and hissed, “Very well. But if the police find out I’m here, you’re going to jail right along with me. You have a lot more to lose than I do.”

That’s certainly true. Vata nodded, taking a relaxing breath.

Fírí stood and cautiously cracked ajar the shelf-covered door.

(next page)