La Noche de la Chankla: Bajo la Lluvia
Chapter 16
Howling, as if it were a wounded animal, a freezing wind whipped the sand into the eyes of the brujas. Undeterred, they knelt and allowed the words to come to them, while shielding their mouths from the gritty intrusion. As they chanted words unknown to them, words that just arose, the wind receded … but the rain began, the blackened sky unleashing torrents upon them. They were not in an arroyo, in which flash floods could easily wash someone away, drown them, and deposit their corpse out in the desert to rot in the sun, but they were in a depression, which had become saturated and was beginning to fill with water, pools forming in the deeper recesses and making a pattern of black and purple spots. The moonstones started to glow white, faintly at first but with more ferocity as the brujas continued chanting, as they became soaked to the bone.
The force of the rain increased with every passing minute. Enrique, from his vantage point on the hill, had been watching a large arroyo not far off that was now an angry river, and, with fear, he began to see it change course … toward the depression, rivlets running afoul of the predetermined path followed by growing charges of runoff. He could not fathom how, but he knew that something was commanding the raging water from its natural dry bed … and at the brujas … almost alive and hunting for them.
Concentrating as hard as they could, the brujas continued to watch the shadows for the spirit, but it had not come. As Luna strained her eyes, peering into the blackness, she heard a voice from the hill calling her, heard Enrique warning her of water, but she could not break the spell. As she struggled to make out what he was saying and keep her direction, she saw something. Barely visible through the sheets of rain, in the center of the circle, it was there, just a dark echo, the paleness of the dead visage only a flicker in the blackness. As Luz and Xochitl kept chanting, the spirit of Sergio Harkness came toward Luna, slowly, fading and reappearing. As it grew nearer, she could see the torn flesh and dead eyes. It came so close to her that she could not bear to look at it and, finally, was forced to closed her eyes. The spirit passed through her and its story took control of her mind, causing the rain and glowing moonstones to fade into the background and then into nothing.
* * *
Awakening in the arms of Enrique, Luna could see that he had carried her out of the depression only moments before the torrent of the deviated river would have taken her and the other women into the desert. Luz and Xochitl were next to them, watching the ocotillos and yuccas be uprooted and carried away. But the sheeting had stopped and the rain had become a soft misting. The Church had failed to stop them, but Luna could tell that no one else had seen the spirit. She patted Enrique’s shoulder, signaling for him to let her stand, and, as her chanklas met the wet sand, which would drink the water deep into the bolsons beneath them.
As they watched the wat distinct sound of a deep growl pierced the night. The fight was not over.
Petrified, the townspeople and brujas stood on the hill and stared out into the dark, toward the origin of the unhallowed noise. The candles had been extinguished by the wind and rain, but the cloud-covered moon strove to come to their aid and lit the indigo landscape enough to allow them to make out forms on the edge of their peripheral vision, forms that were encircling them, shifting in the dark, and making a guttural commotion. The clouds parted, pushed away by the conquering moon, and the light revealed the horror of the situation to the watchers. Two legs! They were surrounded on the hill, caged in by the same manner of two-legged wolf that had assaulted Luna and Enrique, but in numbers the people on the hill, the useless high ground, could not discern in the night. The beasts were everywhere. The servants of the Silver Moon Church, the Hounds of Garmr, had revealed themselves … and come for the blood of the brujas and whoever else stood in their way.
“Nahuals,” Luna whispered under her breath.
Enrique had brought his rifle and, without light, was aiming in vain at the beasts, as they crisscrossed paths and hid in the shadows of the desert, but the beasts were closing in on the hill, little by little. The only chance the group had was to run back to the town, to somehow elude the enemy and slip through its ranks, or, if it came to it, try to kill any beasts that were in their path. But, as the group turned and plotted its course, the hearts of the townspeople sank. Out in the distance, only visible, as yet, by their eyes, another menace had emerged from the blackness … ferals, hundreds of them. The army of the Silver Moon had arrived. Even if the townsfolk could manage to evade the two legs, it would be impossible to avoid the dogs. They would be torn to shreds like Sergio Harkness.
Seeing their dire predicament, the brujas drew a circle around the group and began to pray, harder than they ever had in their lives, praying to God, to Nature, to the Moon, and to Luna’s mother. Luna searched her mind for the fire incantation, but it would not obey her call. The word dancing away from her tongue, as if it did not want to be caught. But, as they knelt and clasped their moonstones, something unpredictable happened, and they found that their entreaties to the spirits were for naught. As they watched and listened as best they could, they could not believe their eyes and ears, could not believe their senses. Growling fights were breaking out. Yelps could be heard. The two legs seemed to be in disarray, and, instead of closing in on the people on the hill, were backing away, trying to … flee. The truth became clear. The dogs had not come for the brujas. Free from control of the Church, the ferals had come to exact revenge upon their former masters. They now swarmed the two legs in packs, waylaying the beasts and driving them back to their lair, back to the Church. Wounded and harried, the two legs crept off into the dark from which they’d come, defeated badly, and the dogs, victorious, then turned their attention to the brujas.
Fear returned to the group on the hill. For the moment, the dogs kept their distance and circled, sniffing the air and yipping. Once more, Enrique took up his rifle, but Luna, watching the dogs closely, told him to put it down. He did so, bewildered, as a small pack of dogs approached the little circle and stopped outside it. Luna was not sure how she knew, but as she looked at the dogs, who looked back at her, she understood them in their silence, saw their intentions. She nodded to them, and then she motioned for the others to follow her, which they did without question, breaking the circle but unable to voice any opposition and trusting to her magic.
Unsure of what the dogs’ intentions were, the group followed Luna back into town, escorted on all sides by the wild perros. Luz and Xochitl came to understand quickly, but the others could not convince themselves that they were being protected by the scourge of ferals that had terrorized them in the past. The dogs were aware of the peoples’ fear, however, and made no sharp motions. They knew that the brujas had freed them, and they were intent upon repaying the favor. The Silver Moon was their enemy as well, and they ensured that the people were well within the town’s safe harbor before peeling off and returning to the desert, the last three turning to Luna and the brujas and whining and barking, almost playfully, before rejoining their pack.
Cold and wet, and at a loss for words, the brujas thanked their human friends and told them to go home, warm up, and lock their doors. Then the women turned to each other.
“I do not understand why it did not work. Why didn’t the spirit come? Because of the rain?” Xochitl asked, when the three were alone in the street.
“It did work,” Luna informed them.
“Qué!?” Luz, exclaimed. “I did not see anything!”
“It came to me, like una sombra … a shadow, and moved through me.”
“That’s why you passed out!” Luz said, the realization hitting her.
“Yes,” Luna answered.”
“But did it tell you what we need to know?” Xochitl asked.
“Yes … When it went through me it showed me … el vientre de la iglesia … el infierno … I believe I know what is in the Church but we must be sure.”
