Through all the hills and forests that surrounded Oberon spirits roamed the night. The long dead, the newly dead, those who merely craved death, either for themselves, or for others; the energy in the area seemed to draw them all.
It was the ‘tween of the year. The time when veils grow thin and worlds collide. It was a night made for dark deeds, for desperate measures and dire undertakings. There were rituals to enact, on nights like these, and sacrifices to be made.
It was a good night to pray. A good night to cast spells. And, in a small corner of the local cemetery, it was a good night to party until dawn.
The graves, and all the paths that led to them, had been strewn tonight with marigold petals; to help the spirits of the departed find their way back. Booths, set up along the narrow roads, sold food and toys and flowers. A Mariachi band was playing. People danced and sang. Families made picnics on the grass. Children ran among the markers, laughing and shouting, chasing after each other. And everywhere you looked, it was plain to see that, even in the face of death, life would always go on.
For all those who celebrated the Day of the Dead as a joyous occasion––a family reunion, of sorts––tonight was a social event. A chance to visit with those of their kin who’d moved on, as well as those who were still in body.
“I can’t believe your brother is missing this,” Camille complained. “I really expected to see him here tonight.”
I don’t know why, Chenoa thought; he hasn’t been in years. El Dia de los Muertos was not a holiday Chay had ever really enjoyed. She counted out change for a customer who’d just purchased a dozen churros for his family, and then turned to her aunt. “I told you, Camille, Chay’s off on a vision quest. He’s trying to sort things out.”
“Sort things out?” Camille scoffed. “What things does he have to sort out? He has responsibilities right here, doesn’t he? I would have thought that would be enough for him.”
Really? I would have thought it was too much for him, myself, Chenoa thought to herself. But, then again, what do I know? “I think maybe it had something to do with the pipe.”
Pipes were more than mere tools, even she knew that. They were not just sacred objects to be used during ceremonies. They did more than carry prayers to Creator. They were teachers. And, one of the main things they taught, was discernment. Insight. Understanding. The ability to see things as they really are.
That was something Chay could use a lesson in, all right. Maybe a few lessons, in fact.
Camille nodded thoughtfully. “That may have been a mistake.”
“What was? Giving him the pipe?” Chenoa looked at her aunt in surprise. “I thought that’s what Paco wanted? I thought that was why he gave it to you? To give to Chay.”
Camille shrugged. “Well, I thought so, too. But, it’s possible I was wrong.” She smiled at her niece. A surprisingly bland smile, Chenoa thought, considering the bombshell she’d just dropped. She’d gifted Chay with the pipe by accident? “Now, if you’ll excuse me dear,” Camille said, still smiling, “there are some people I have to see.”
Chenoa watched as her aunt disappeared into the crowd, struck dumb by a sudden revelation, something she’d never once stopped to consider. She’d underestimated her aunt all these years. Camille was every bit as Heyoka as her father had been.
VISIONS BEFORE MIDNIGHT
Chay Johnson is a traditional man; and the educator, flute maker, apprentice shaman has a lot of traditions to uphold, especially when it comes to choosing a life mate.
Erin Allridge is a modern woman, with modern ideas about relationships and a painful personal history she has no intention of repeating.
When terror and tragedy strike the small town of Oberon, the pair are forced to re-think their visions for the future.
In this world of form and spirit it can be hard to find balance and harmony, but sometimes, particularly when the veil between the worlds is at its thinnest, love can find a way to bridge the gap.
