In the blink of an eye Mother Marquez and all thirteen nuns had imposed themselves in a line between the officers and everyone else.
"State your business," said Mother Marquez.
"You’re under
arrest for a lot of things," said one of the officers. "Lighting
an unauthorized fire in a public park, directing the assault of
multiple police officers, obstructing justice, and impersonating a
member of the church, among other things."
"I was
ordained," said Mother Marquez. "I just never bothered to
take off the outfit when I got kicked out."
"They ordained
a woman as a priest?" said Maggie.
"They did not,"
said Mother Marquez.
"But –"
"Alejandra de
Surdeville is also under arrest for assaulting a police officer,"
said another officer. "As well as impersonating an officer,
along with Maggie Noyr and whoever that kid is. And Maggie is also
charged with the assault of Diego San Obispo, the destruction of a
police station, escaping from custody, and subverting the authority
of Los Ojos, by creating things out of thin air on an unauthorized
basis, coming back from being erased, trying to bring people back
from being erased, creating an entire forest, and –"
"Stuff it,"
growled Alejandra, cracking her knuckles. "I’ve already dealt
with creeps like you today. If you want to come after us then you can
try me, but you won’t take me easily."
"That was one
at a time," said Maggie.
"Allow me,"
said Benigno. "Gentle people, if you would?"
The shadows beyond
the green light grew even darker, and yet out of the darkness, there
were countless little gleams of light – metallic gleams. Sharp
gleams. "Hold up there," said Maggie, "I don’t want
anyone getting killed here. Nobody needs to get killed here, not when
I can just shift things about." The gleams of light grew closer, and
Maggie could now see that they were indeed knives. "And goodness
knows if any officer does get killed we’ll have less of an excuse
to resist."
"I have been
waiting for this moment," growled Benigno. "My army has
been waiting for this moment. The chance to finally strike back for
real."
The knives were
drawing closer now. "I’m assuming your actual goal is to go
after the Sons of the Sea," said Maggie. "And that you’re
picking the cops because they’re here when you have a chance to
call your guys up."
"Cops and
soldier boys are in the same bag together," said Benigno.
"Look, just get
the cops to the very edge of the clearing," said Maggie. "If
I try to magic them away the author will probably put them fifty feet
in the air or however my declarations can be creatively
misinterpreted."
Benigno snorted.
"Fine, Señorita Safety." He stepped into the shadows and
disappeared. In a moment, the metallic gleams disappeared as well –
but then pitch-black arms hooked around the bodies of the police
officers, and began to drag them backward out of the light.
As soon as the last
officer was just barely within her sight if she squinted, Maggie
said, "There’s a thick hedge in a vast circle surrounding this
clearing, with a single gap." All of a sudden there was the
sound of creaking and cracking and rustling. The single officer
Maggie could see jumped to the side, and then jumped to the other
side, as he was brushed by the dim shapes of branches. Maggie heard a
metallic clicking, and fancied she could see the officer leveling a
long black rifle in her direction. "And there’s a really big
trunk of a fallen tree blocking the gap."
A huge shape
appeared in the air and fell right into the gap in the hedge,
lengthwise, with a thud that shook the earth.
"Oh jeez,"
said Alejandra. "Did you flatten that guy?"
Maggie dashed
forward to the fallen trunk. There were a man’s legs sticking out
from under it. "Shit," whispered Maggie, "shit shit
shit. Uh...the trunk is now gone. No, I can’t do that. The trunk is
now in the sea." That did it, and the trunk vanished, to reveal
–
"Ooh,"
said Benigno, stepping out of the shadows. "Not a pretty sight."
"It’s fine,"
said Maggie. "He’s fine, his body is fine." In an instant
the body of the police officer lay whole and unblemished. He was even
breathing. Maggie knelt by the man and shook his shoulder. "Sir,
are you alright?"
But though the man’s
body breathed, his eyes lay open, and he said not a word, nor glanced
in any direction.
"This man’s
soul is back in his body," said Maggie. Still the man did not
stir. "I said, this man’s soul –"
"Maggie Noyr,"
said an officer, "You’re under arrest for the murder of
Alfonso Gutierez. Please come quietly."
"Birds!"
shouted Maggie, glaring at the man. "Alfonso Gutierez’s soul is
back in his body and every police officer is a bird!"
There was a sudden
rumbling of air as many pairs of wings took off, twittering and
chirping, up into the trees.
But still the man
lay silent.
Maggie felt a hand
on her shoulder. She jumped up and whirled around, ready to tell
someone they were a frog – but it was just Mother Marquez, looking
as impassive as ever. "Come on," she said, "I know a
place where you can deal with what happened."
…
Maggie sat slumped
over her drink in a booth in a pub on Division Road, just outside the
park entrance. She hadn’t taken a single sip, nor had she eaten any
of the plate of tacos that came with it.
At the very least,
the vast oppressive brightness of the day had faded, leaving the
stars – which still shone more brightly than usual. But at least
the heat was gone.
There was warmth,
though. The patrons of this place had a few things to say about how
odd the day had been, but mostly they had good cheer. Someone had got
up a song at the bar and most of the place had joined in. All of the
nuns were there, at table and in booths, laughing and toasting.
And there was
Alejandra’s arm draped over her shoulder, and Alejandra leaning
against her. There was that warmth. Maggie had not put her arm over
Alejandra’s shoulder. She hardly deserved to do so.
"I shouldn’t
ask if you’re okay," murmured Alejandra, "but do you
think you’re going to be okay someday?"
Maggie at last put
her arm around Alejandra’s waist. Still she did not speak a word.
"If you’re
not going to have your drink," said Mojito across the table,
"can I have it?"
Maggie gave Mojito a
Look.
"First of all,"
said Alejandra, "you have your own. Secondly, why on earth did
the bartender give you an alcoholic drink? You’re – how old are
you exactly?"
"That’s a
complicated question," said Mojito. He dragged Maggie’s plate
of tacos over to his side. "If I’d actually retained all my
memories from my old life, I’d say I was seventy and something. But
without them? I can’t say. Maybe I’m a single day old? Well,
whatever. Thanks for giving me a second chance in a form I like,
Mother."
Maggie smiled
faintly.
All at once the
patrons were giving loud cheers of welcome. Maggie turned her head to
see Mother Marquez in the doorway, striding calmly in, still wearing
her priest outfit. The woman was meeting the eyes of this patron and
that person, nodding to the bartender, shaking hands now and then –
stiffly as ever, not a smile on her face, but for once, her eyes
looked warm.
She made her way to
Maggie’s booth, and sat beside Mojito, frowning at the sight of his
drink. "I assume that’s non-alcoholic, young man?"
"Wouldn’t you
like to know," said Mojito. "And who are you to scold me
for drinking? When you’re walking into a friggin’ pub dressed
like a priest? Jesus Christ!"
"If I can
subvert the image of the church, then so much the better." The
bartender put a tall drink in front of the woman, along with a plate
of tacos. She immediately took a swig. "Never seen a bishop set
foot in Los Hijos, and all I ever saw from the priests who went in
was lectures about promiscuity. Why did I ever want to be ordained? Oy vey," She took another swig. "Right, Maggie, how are
you feeling?"
Maggie stared at
Mother Marquez, then put a hand over her mouth.
"I understand
your fear," said Mother Marquez. "You’ve tried to make
things right and whatever jackass is granting your wishes has been deliberately screwing them up. But declarative statements aren’t
the only way to converse. You could...ask me questions, I guess? You
deserve some actual answers. I was going to explain more at the
shrine but maybe we all got distracted by the mystical cult crap."
Maggie cleared her
throat. "What the hell is your actual name?"
"Maria,"
said the woman. "Maria de la Pietra."
"And...what was
the whole deal with being a maid here and and a priestess there? Why
would you want to scrub floors?"
"Nobody pays
attention to a maid," said Alejandra. "People talk openly
around them, because they see the servants as tools and machines and
decoration. Nobody thinks about what a servant could be doing as long
as they’re working."
"And yet Maggie
did," said Maria. "Quite out of the blue – unlike your
gradual warming to me, as you insinuated yourself into Los Hijos.
Maggie did not even need any prompting, just said ‘thanks love’
in total ignorance of custom. I decided then and there that she might
be worth working with."
Maggie stared into
her drink, not even daring to ask if she was worthy. She knew the
answer.
"And I would
say we can work on the wording of her declarations," said Maria.
"There are certainly ways to mitigate the danger of such
conjurations."
Maggie looked up and
stared into Maria’s eyes. The woman’s face was stone-still as
ever, and yet her eyes looked as warm as before. "I...Mother
Marquez, I –"
"Maria,"
said the priestess. "Please. You are a friend, Maggie."
"Can I be? How
can I be, when I killed someone?"
"It was in
self-defense," said Maria. "Possibly even in defense of
others, since the man could have shot many people. It was a
split-second decision."
"I could have
covered the man in pink glop," said Maggie. "But my mind
didn’t go there. It went straight to –"
"I want to be
covered in pink glop," said Mojito.
Maggie glared at the
boy. "Maybe I’ll cover you in pink glop if you don’t stop
interrupting."
Mojito squealed and
giggled.
"You could
cover the world in pink glop," said Maria. "And yet you do
not. Your mind does not go there, at least not yet. You seemingly
only use your terrifyingly vast power when you need to. Practically a
saint. Thus the Sisters of the Stone decided that you were safe to be
tested and judged, instead of opposed outright."
"Sisters of the Stone," said Mojito. "More like sisters of booze. Every
single one of those nuns is named after a cocktail. What the hell is
up with that?"
"Two reasons,"
said Maria. "First, whenever we drink together or drink alone,
we are reminded of each other. Secondly, we drink in grief for our
mistakes – especially my great mistake. For I was the one who
caused your family servants to vanish, Alejandra." She sat up
straighter, locking eyes with the fair lady. "I convinced them,
and all of the servants of Les Gens Biens, that it was better to
quit, to retreat to Los Hijos and work towards a greater goal. We
decided it was ultimately best to depart from a city that would never
pay the lowest worker a fair wage, and find better prospects,
wherever that might be. And then…"
"And then I
happened," murmured Mojito.
"And then
Abuela Manuela happened," said Maria. "You have a second
chance now, child, remember that. You can be someone else. As for
her, well, I think it was perfectly understandable to try to fight
against the Sons of the Sea, especially if they were going to oppose
our departure. I would only say that ordering a basic frontal assault without planning any other tactics or mission objectives was not the
best choice."
"Wait,"
said Maggie. "Frontal assault?"
"You think you
killed someone," said Mojito, looking like every bit of a
child’s wonder had left him. "I got people killed. Stupidly."
"Mostly
wounded," said Maria. "And then Benigno decided to convince
everyone to join his precious army, regardless of the severity of their injuries. Not everyone had to become a
shadow...but, here we are. The slum is near-empty now, and not in the
way anyone expected. Might as well gather the survivors and get lost,
if we can get past the Sons of the Sea."
Maggie was about to
ask more questions, but Mojito looked like he was about to cry.
"Child, you’re here in my lap." And suddenly Mojito was
in Maggie’s lap, and she was folding him in a warm embrace. "Maybe
we’ve both been hasty. Here. Before you cry, you should hydrate
yourself." She grabbed Mojito’s drink and drew it towards her.
"Have some of your virgin Michelada."
Little heeding this
specific wording, Mojito took a sip. "Hang on a moment," he
said, looking offended, "you turned my wine into water!"
"Cutest
anti-christ I ever met," said Alejandra.
Sister Piscola came
to the table and whispered a few words into Maria’s ear. Maria
nodded. "Right. Maggie, we might have need of your conjuring.
Our people are on the move to the forest. Let’s make sure they can
get there."