Selena tried to picture her aunt making friends with bird spirits. There was the green squash god in her garden, of course, but ... “But she’s dead!”
“People get jealous of the dead too,” said Father Aguirre.
“But—” Selena rubbed her forehead. “But these aren’tpeople!”
“Yes, they are,” said Grandma Billy. “Wipe that thought right out of your head. These are people. Dangerous people, some of ’em. Good people, most of ’em. But people, same as you and me. Just wild and not real prone to talking.”
Selena flinched at the reproach.
A normal person would have known better—
Bullshit,said a smaller, fiercer voice somewhere in the back of her head.A normal person would be just as lost as I am. Normal people are only good at normal life.
“You have to tell me who it is, if you know!” said Selena, riding on that fierceness. “So I can fix it!”
Father Aguirre sighed. “That’s fair,” he said. “I don’t know that you can fix this, but you have the right to know who might be angry with you. But don’t forget that we don’t have any proof.” He looked at Grandma Billy.
“Fine,” said Grandma. “I’m old. I ain’t afraid to say it. Snake-Eater took a shine to your aunt a while ago.”
“Snake-Eater?” said Selena. For a moment she couldn’t place it, then remembered the strange little statue in the alcove, and Grandma saying something about it. “You mean theroadrunner?”
“Another one of her strays. I didn’t much like him, and I let her know it,” said Grandma stiffly. “And I don’t have any proof it’s him, except that one tried to get into your house the other day.” She glared at a spot somewhere near the ceiling. “You hear that, Snake-Eater? I ain’t saying you’re responsible, if you’re listening. I am telling her that you and Amelia were friends. And that’s true, and you can’t hang a person for speaking truth.”
Father Aguirre snorted. “I doubt that’s going to appease him, if he isn’t responsible. Some spirits don’t like to have their names in other people’s mouths.”
“He’s prickly,” admitted Grandma. “But I’m prickly too, come to that. Anyhow, Selena, I suppose it’s possible he’s a little miffed at you moving into Amelia’s old place. Some people don’t deal well with change. Or—”
Apparently she thought better of what she had been about to say, because she trailed off and closed her lips firmly over her teeth.
Selena shook her head. “You’re saying my aunt was friends with a roadrunner—”
“Roadrunnerspirit.”
“—and now it’s mad at me for—something—just being there? But ... how—”
She stopped. She rubbed her forehead. This conversation was utterly ridiculous and clearly Grandma Billy was utterly mad and ...
... and you saw owl-faced monsters staring in your windows and they turned into rags of cloth when she shot them.
“Perhaps something a little stronger than the communion wine’s in order, Father,” said Grandma. “You know, for medicinal purposes.”
“Under the circumstances, I think I can do that,” said Father Aguirre. He went into the back room.
“Look,” said Grandma Billy in an undertone, “people do things, all right? And Amelia wanted to save everyone. She was my friend and I loved her, but she had some bad relationships with men before, and she came out here and maybe had a bit of a bad relationship with a spirit, all right?”
Selena stared at her in utter disbelief.
“Are you saying she wasdating a roadrunner?”
“Well, in a manner of speaking. I don’t know that there was much holding hands involved,” said Grandma. “Look, I’m not saying it wasthatkind of relationship. There might have been more to it, or less. But Amelia thought everybody deserved to be loved and maybe she was right about that, but she had a habit of trying to see to it personally, if you get my drift. Works when you’re taking in a kitten or a couple of orphaned chicks. Doesn’t work so well on spirits that ain’t used to human company. Snake-Eater took a liking to her and he didn’t know how to let go and Amelia was no good at telling him no, you understand?”
Father Aguirre came back before Selena could even begin to process that. He had a bottle of some clear liquid, without a label, and three mugs.
“Fill ’er up,” said Grandma.
“Not on your life,” said the priest. “I don’t have any shot glasses, or I’d use them.” He poured out a fingerful for himself and Grandma, a slightly smaller amount for Selena.
It was raw and potent and had no flavor beyond burning so far as Selena could tell. She gulped it much too fast and sputtered, and he had to bring her a glass of water as well.
