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When I woke, the light was late afternoon. I checked the clock – almost four. I guessed I’d been out almost twelve hours. As strung out as I’d been, I wasn’t surprised. I was pretty certain ScOsh had gone the last two days plus of his life without sleep, but I didn’t know the trick to doing that yet.
I had to do something almost as scary as fighting the basileus – tell Papi the truth, and convince him it was the truth. Did I mention he’s a high school math teacher with forty years of experience? He’s heard it all, many times before, and Occam’s Razor is something he was so used to applying I’d learned it by osmosis so early I couldn’t remember. Mama was pretty sharp, too, but she’d believe me if Papi did. I had to carefully consider what hard evidence I had.
Item: one Mindsword, no longer “alive”. I could maybe buy a live mouse at the pet store to demonstrate its killer cancellation effect, or use it to cut something. In fact, the brand new sweatshirt it was wrapped in was halfway shredded already, despite how careful I’d been. Not exactly impressive evidence, and dangerous to handle as well. It might be good supporting evidence, but Aurora by itself would never convince Papi. Not unless I was so irresponsible as to let someone touch it, which wasn’t going to happen. ScOsh, wherever his soul had gone, would never forgive me.
Item: one small hand blaster. I checked it and the charge level was back to orange. I remembered that ScOsh had told me to dial it up, so I dialed it back down, and the meter cycled through colors back to blue. According to what ScOsh had told me, it should have recharged itself completely in about eight hours, so I figured the power per shot was about comparable to the original setting. I considered turning it off for safety, then decided against. ScOsh had been pretty certain he’d gotten all the stons, but he hadn’t even tried for whatever minions they might have, and I had no way of knowing how many demons were wandering loose around Earth, and I had no way of knowing either group hadn’t been given information that would lead to my parents. I left it on, and put it back in my bag. Not only self-defense, but good hard evidence as well. Earth had nothing like it.
Item: about thirty thousand dollars in cash. ScOsh had destroyed the rest. Also, what appeared to be a numbered Swiss account with a balance of just shy of six million Swiss francs, as well as various other financial instruments that I might or might not be able to access somehow. Not evidence; too many less outlandish and more morally questionable ways of acquiring it. It would be useful to the extent I could tap into it, which would have to be done carefully, but it wouldn’t do anything to convince Papi.
Item: one “logbook” that ScOsh had handed me with Aurora. Problem was, it didn’t look like anything more than a small case of some indeterminate material. No display, no readouts I could access. Not impressive. It might be a miracle device for all I knew, but for all I could demonstrate to Papi, it might as well be a paperweight. Item: one “pocket”. I unfolded it. Jackpot! I could actually see into it, and there was not only ScOsh’s other sword, which could be handled a lot more safely than Aurora even if it was less unearthly, there were side pockets of a more mundane nature inside holding other stuff. Some if it was mundane Earth stuff (including more cash), other items were nothing I could identify. Nothing I was going to fool with, but what looked like the “gun” he’d used on the gangbangers and another similarly styled device, probably a different gun. I didn’t know how to handle them, but they weren’t Earth made, that was for certain. Half a dozen items like nothing I could identify. I didn’t know for certain they were Imperial, but it seemed likely. I wasn’t going to handle any of it more than was necessary, and I certainly wasn’t going to fool with trying to use them, but the pocket by itself was probably going to convince Papi. Imagine your kitchen trash can. Now imagine all that you could see was the mouth of the trash can, with no apparent “trash container” attached, but that still held whatever you had put into it. The “mouth” was a cloth-like material about the size of a scarf or bandanna on one side with a ‘lip’ around the edges, but you could reach into the other and pull stuff out, or put it into for storage, without apparent care for what the pocket was resting on. A three dimensional space, carried around like a two dimensional piece of cloth, and with only the apparent mass of the cloth. Kind of like the hole that the Roadrunner was able to pick up and move like a physical object, whenever doing so would frustrate Wile E. Coyote. I thought about putting Aurora inside the “pocket”, and decided ScOsh hadn’t done it despite obvious opportunity, so that might not be a good idea somehow. Still, while the hand blaster might conceivably be not be too far beyond Earth’s technology, and I knew even less about the other pieces of hardware I had been given custody of, this was demonstrably so far beyond anything Earth could do that Occam’s Razor would tell Papi that the least complex explanation was that I was telling the truth – at least as well as I knew it.
Finally, item: Graciela Juarez, newly operant but without much practice and only the most basic level of training. I decided against telling them anything I didn’t have to about the changes I’d been through. I’d last been home on Sunday, so it had been less than a week. They had to know that I’d been through a change of some sort because of the difference in my appearance, but I wasn’t going to tell them their baby girl was now a bruja. Papi was only one generation removed from Mexican farmworkers who might as well have been medieval peasants. Abuelo had been a wonderful warmhearted man who got his two sons through college through incredible hard work and saving, and educated his three daughters at least through high school, but some of the superstitions I remember him having when I was a little girl were more than enough to persuade me to keep my mouth shut. Abuela,who’d only died a couple years ago, had been sweet and cheerful and happy, tough as nails beneath, and even more superstitious. Mama’s family wasn’t that much different. No, Graciela Juarez was not going to say one word about the marvelous things she might be able to do someday.
Copyright 2013 Dan Melson. All Rights Reserved.
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