“Butnothing.Stand up for yourself, girl! Look, you had a job in a deli, right? Ran things, didn’t you? So pretend I come into your place and start messing things up.”
“Uh . . .”
Selena started to look to Father Aguirre for help, but Grandma Billy snapped her fingers. “Don’t you look away from me. I’m in your place, knocking shit over. What’re you gonna do about it?”
It was the most ridiculous scenario imaginable and yet suddenly there were scripts in Selena’s head that had been hammered in by years of work. “I ask you to leave,” she said.
“I tell you to go to hell. I throw one of them rotisserie chickens at your head.”
Someone had actually thrown a plastic container of macaroni salad at Selena’s head once, during the rush when a woman in a sweater that saidPeace on earthhad discovered that you could not order a full turkey dinner on the morning of Thanksgiving. And Selena had ducked and it had splattered on the wall and she’d turned around and faced the woman and yelled—
“Come on,” snarled Grandma Billy, right up in her face. “I’m throwing the fancy cheese around and wiping my ass with the ham.”
“Get out!” Selena roared, at a volume that shocked her and sent Copper to her feet with a worried bark.
Grandma Billy blinked, clearly taken slightly aback, then broke into a broad grin and sat back down. “That’swhat I’m talkin’ about,” she said. “You gonna let some stupid roadrunner mess upyourplace, where you live?”
Selena leaned down and hugged Copper until the old dog settled down. She cleared her throat, somewhat embarrassed, and looked over at Father Aguirre.
“Oh, don’t mind me,” the priest said. “I’m still tryingnotto picture somebody wiping their ass with a ham.”
“You’d want to slice it first,” Selena said, and that set all of them off laughing, while the dog looked at the three humans as if they were losing their minds.
Father Aguirre leaned back, wiping his eyes. “Mercy. I promise, we’d much rather have you around than Snake-Eater.”
“Hear, hear,” muttered Grandma Billy.
The Selena that Walter had known wanted to run away, run away and not let anyone get hurt on her behalf. But there was another Selena in there too, one who had handled customers and cleaned up messes and had very calmly wrapped the newest hire’s hand with a towel when he’d hit an artery after forgetting basic safety with the meat slicer.ThatSelena knew that running just meant somebody else had to clean up the mess later.
It was profoundly absurd that being the assistant manager at a deli would prepare you to fight a god. But it was profoundly absurd that there were gods in her garden and that a roadrunner would turn out to be a frightening little dinosaur of a bird and that your best friends would turn out to be an elderly chicken lady and a Catholic priest.
“Okay,” Selena said. “Okay.” She couldn’t believe she was saying this, but Grandma Billy was grinning so hard that it was the only thing she could say. “Let’s go kick Snake-Eater’s ass.”
“The only problem is that we don’t actually know where tofindSnake-Eater.”
“We don’t?” Selena asked.
The priest shook his head. “We don’t know where his home ground is. Ah ... some spirits are bound to a specific place and stay there. Others have a kind of home territory, but may be anywhere within it. But even with those, their home ground is the spot where they’re most ... them.”He smiled ruefully. “You could say that Our Lady of the Palo Verdes is my home ground. The place where you feel most like yourself.”
Selena tried to think if she had such a place. The deli had probably been the closest, back in the city. That was where she could be her own self, not her mother’s daughter or Walter’s partner. Now ...
“Mine’s wherever Copper is, I think.” Though the image of Jackrabbit Hole House lingered, the back porch where she sat and read books and sometimes saw the little green god.
Father Aguirre shook his head. “And it’s probably possible for someone or something to be someone else’s home ground too. It’s another one of those things I haven’t figured out yet. I suspect that Snake-Eater has a home ground of his own, but I don’t know for certain.”
“No, he’s got a place,” said Grandma Billy, unexpectedly. “Amelia said she met him when she wandered into it.”
“Did she say where it was?”
The old woman’s lips pressed together. “No. And it could have been anywhere. You know what she was like for wandering in the backcountry. Never saw a hole or a draw she didn’t want to explore.”
“A hole or a draw ...” Selena said slowly. Something in her brain was yelling for her attention. “What are they?”
Father Aguirre raised his eyebrows. “Parts of the landscape. Draws are like a little valley that runs into a ridge. Sort of like an arroyo, except that draws don’t necessarily carry water, although some of them do.” He waved his hand. “Confusing enough?”
Her brain was yelling louder. “And a hole?”
“It’s an old name for a valley. You still see places out here named that—Jackson Hole, Red Clay Hole—”
