Texas Charm, chapter 2 (Patreon)

The night was so dark that the blacktop reflected the moon so it resembled a silent river creeping southwest toward downtown El Paso. The city suffered its share of power outages; however, some light always persisted.  Downtown, while not visible, would appear as a faint dome of light on the horizon.  Chase Tower was so garish that people half way to Mexico City could probably see a faint glow.  But now darkness and silence dominated.

“This is not what I expected.” Above Zach, the sky looked like a splatter painting. A vertical band of stars was clustered so it looked like a cloud painted in dots of yellow and watery blues. The sky had an alien starkness that made a shiver run up Zack’s back.

Art turned slowly, his form more shadow than real. “You have issues.”

“Excuse me?”

“Shamans don’t normally talk about their spirit plane, but this… I’m pretty sure this is not normal.” Art headed toward the precinct, his boots crunching across the gravel. Art passed a skeletal tree, the bare limbs reaching up for the stars, and his shadow merged with the tree’s, creating a grotesque chimera until he stepped off the curb and the two forms separated.

“Meaning?” Zach hurried after him. Pochi blinked into existence, hovering beside Zach as he walked. “This is your fault.” Zach accused his spirit guide. Salma might have provided the magic lessons, but reaching this plane of existence was a power that Pochi granted him.

Art turned. “Nope. Shamans define how their version of the spirit plane looks, so this clusterfuck is all you. God knows my spirit plane doesn’t look like this.”

“What does yours look like?” Unlike Zach, Art had followed a much more traditional path to shamanism. He had gone on a spirit walk, foregoing food and water until he’d found is spirit guide, a black and white housecat. Since starting his training, Zach had seen Art’s spirit guide sleeping on every surface in their house. Apparently Pochi didn’t mind sharing power as long as Zach didn’t use any active powers. No mind reading or projecting emotions. No levitating papers or peering through time.  Zach just got to see Art’s lazy spirit guide sleeping on the back of the couch.

“Mountains, desert, fissures in the ground where the deep magics lie. You know, normal stuff. My spirit plane isn’t disturbingly dead.” Art used a foot to poke a dry bush at the edge of the road. Not an insect stirred.  “This feels like the set for an apocalypse movie, and I am starting to seriously question your mental health. What did you see back when I pulled you into my version of the spirit plane?” Art asked.

“Basically, nothing,” Zach said. That’s one reason why he enthusiastically avoided it. Luckily, Art didn’t rely heavily on his shamanic skills to solve cases. Typically he only brought Zach to the spirit plane when they needed to review some memory Zach held. The spirit plane was a gray nothingness filled with wisps of light and dark floating through it like a feathery fog. The dull roar of the place was like an invisible waterfall that made Zach’s head feel stuffed with noise. 

Salma had assured him that his discomfort came from a mundane’s inability to perceive its true nature. However, if the true nature of the place was a police station in north El Paso, Zach questioned the sanity of the universe in general.

“So, what do we do now?” Zach asked. 

Art was a shadow standing between abandoned cars. Add in a few zombies, and this would be a perfect horror set. Even now, Zach itched to check under the cars for monsters. “You assume I have a clue.”

“You’re the shaman.”

“So are you, and your guide has a lot more power than mine.”

Zach couldn’t argue with that. He looked at the hummingbird hovering near his head.  “Pochi?”

Art poured on the sarcasm, saying, “Like that’s going to work.”

Pochi shot up into the darkness and vanished. Zach sighed.  He had to admit that his hummingbird was less than helpful.  “Should we check in the precinct, see if we can find Salma?” 

“Do you think she’s in there?”

“Not really,” Zach admitted. He also disliked the idea of wandering through a dark and lifeless version of the station. It felt too much like being in a horror movie and walking into the basement.

Art sat on the hood of a light colored Subaru. “So, do you want to head back?”

Zach’s stomach tightened.  Part of him did.  He could break the meditation and wake up back in the spare bedroom, and then he could tell Salma about his grand failure. She would frown and then nod politely. She was an exceptionally polite woman, especially considering how much power she had. As Zach had learned, her signature could redirect millions of dollars for a new Djedi center and bring in dozens of teaching shamans. It could also lock council members out of community funds. And she had made it perfectly clear that as the human partner of one of the ancient ifrit guides she revered, she would put all her power at Zach’s disposal.

Yeah.  No pressure there.  Sometimes Zach hated the woman.

“Hey,” Art said softly.  He closed the distance between them, wrapping an arm around Zach’s waist.  “You don’t have to do anything. We can go home and have dinner.”

Zach nodded, even though he couldn’t walk away from this. “Pochi! I need to find Salma.” Nothing.

Art sighed. “Other shamans say they force their guides to cooperate by focusing.”

“You don’t?” 

“Hell no,” Art said with a shrug. “The harder I push my cat, the more he turns his ass my way and raises his tail.  I take whatever magic he delivers and keep my complaints to myself.”

That might explain why Art rarely used much magic on scene. As a newly minted detective, Zach had thought getting partnered with the shaman cop meant he would be standing two steps to the side and guarding Art’s ass while he solved everything by communing with the spirits. Instead they solved crime the same way most cops did. And that still didn’t make sense to Zach.

“I’ve seen you throw your shamanic weight around.  On the Hayes case, you blasted the suspect into the side of building.  If it weren’t for me being a mundane, you would be the strongest shaman in the area, even if you won’t challenge for a seat on the council.”

Art braced the heel of his boot on a Subaru’s fender. “I would trade my Talent away to keep our relationship, but even now, I don’t have the control you assume I do. Your guide has more power, so make him turn this place into something less apocalypse-themed.”

“I can’t.” Zach felt the sharp edge of that failure.

“And I can’t tell my cat what to do. I had power on the Hayes case because my guide was furious about the horrors that man inflicted on his own children.  That doesn’t mean my cat is going to go out and gather magic to make my life easier on a home invasion case or even a rape case.  Cats don’t have a lot of moral lines in the sand.”

Zach grimaced as he remembered what Hayes had done.  He had eleven children, and he considered each his personal property.  Hell, his youngest two were the children of his incestuous rape of the oldest ones.  Bastard. However, they had a more pressing problem.  “This whole plan revolves around me getting Pochi to back the others.  What if he won’t?”

“Now you see the problem,” Art said, the sarcasm thick.  “I said all along that challenging the whole council is dangerous, both for us and for other members of this community.  If Gambaro or Dubach send their guides against the group, a lot of smaller guides could be injured or killed.”

“Pochi wouldn’t let that happen.” Zach didn’t understand much about shamanism, but he knew in his soul that Pochi would never stand back and let the assholes running the council hurt innocent people.

Art sighed.  “I hope you’re right.  But if you can’t convince Pochi to work with you, this is going to be the shortest rebellion in history.”

Zach closed his eyes and concentrated on the image of Salma’s face.  She had dark eyes and a long, thin nose that gave her a distinctive look too sharp for traditional beauty, and yet she was stunning.  Today she had on a black head scarf with a piece along the edge that looked like a wild black and white fern print.  Somewhere near her would be a school of huge silver fish with yellow stomachs.

The air popped, like the pressure change when someone fired a large weapon in a small space, and then Zach sensed life around him.  The night song of insects filled the air, and a bird cried in the distance.

Salma greeted Art first.  “Shaman Lammas.” She turned to Zach and her smile was warmer.  They had both vetoed Salma publicly identifying Zach as a shaman, so now she seemed to avoid saying his name at all.  “The privacy magic was quite complete.”  An eavesdropper would have assumed she meant the compliment for Art, but she gave Zach a half bow.

Zach felt guilty at allowing her to believe he had intentionally created some sort of spell.  However, other shamans and adepts should be arriving, and they couldn’t afford to have someone overhear. After all, even the insects on the spirit plane were guides, and any one could belong to a local shaman or adept.

Salma turned.  “I believe the first shaman has arrived.” An older man walked parallel to the curb.  Zach wondered why he didn’t step over it, but then the curb began bulging until it created a barrier that the shaman was walking along.  When the curb narrowed, the shaman stepped across.

“Shaman Lammas.” The new shaman had badly dyed black hair, thinning on top.

“Vinson.” Art’s voice was flat.  Zach didn’t recognize the name.  “You know al-Ghamdi.”

Salma smiled. “Shaman Vinson, I am honored.”

Vinson’s voice was much warmer as he addressed Salma.  “The honor is ours. I can’t believe the Egyptian authority has taken an interest in our problems. Just by coming here, you have given the shamanic community great hope.”

“I hope shamans and adepts will take advantage of my offer to help you reorganize, if that is your choice.”  

Vinson preened under her gaze.  Moron.  Zach was starting to understand why Art didn’t spend much time socializing with local shamans. “The suggestion Shaman Lammas put forward is audacious, I’ll say that.”

“It is,” Salma agreed.  “However, I would not offer the support of the Egyptian authority if I were not convinced of the wisdom. Power should not be used to abuse others.”

“No, it shouldn’t.” Vinson’s words generated a distortion, like a faint burnt orange color stained with lime green. 

“You have concerns,” Salma said.

“No offense, but shouldn’t the authority have sent out a shaman?  Someone strong enough to deal with Gambaro?”

Zach was offended for Salma.  She was an adept with innate gifts, even if she couldn’t match a shaman for sheer power.  However, she simply bowed her head.

“I had thought that’s why community was banding together, to ensure you had the strength to enforce the will of the group.”

“Yes, but a strong shaman would give us someone to rally around.”  Vinson looked around.  A few other shamans had appeared, most of them coming from the same spot across the street, near the sign that in the real world stood outside a church that had setup in an abandoned storefront.

Art said firmly, “Don’t look at me.”

“You have made your preferences very clear.” Vinson looked at Zach and his disgust hung in the air like a heavy fog, only more snot like. “I am at a complete loss as to why a mundane is here or how you even managed to reach the spirit plane.”

“Shamans can bring mundanes to the spirit plane.” Salma said, neatly sidestepping the issue of Zach’s newly acquired guide.

“They can?” one of the shamans in the audience asked.  The second Zach mentally assigned her the title of shaman, her hands glowed, and he could see the adept marks.  So not a shaman.

“I have heard that mundanes find it uncomfortable, but I would never ask for another’s impression of the spirit plane,” Salma said easily.  The woman did know how to obfuscate.  

Thomas Hernandez appeared, and either Zach’s eyes were adjusting to the dark or the moon was shining brighter because he could see the man step over the broken and swollen curb.  Of all the council members, he was the quietest. Zach wasn’t sure if that made him more or less of a threat. Already, the battle lines were being drawn, and the gathered shamans all moved aside, eager to get distance between them and the first council member to respond to the invitations Salma had sent out.

Vinson straight up asked, “Lammas, why did you bring your partner?”

Zach answered before Art could. “I’m a cop. And since some of the council members are under investigation, don’t you think it’s a good idea to have an impartial witness?” Since Art and Salma had both warned that lies were obvious on the spirit plane, Zach carefully spoke only the truth.  He was here as a witness and he was as impartial as he could be considering that he didn’t personally know any of the people. 

“Will you be impartial if Lammas takes a side?” Another shaman from the crowd asked.

Art spoke up. “I don’t plan to get involved.  I’m here to make it clear that if Gambaro and Dubach try to coordinate an attack, I will testify to the Egyptian authority that their guides are corrupt.”

The new shaman stepped up to Vinson’s side.  “I’m Diego Corredor,” he said, introducing himself to Zach, which won him serious points. Some of these shamans were rude as hell. Corredor was a younger shaman, late twenties or early thirties, and he had the heavy build of someone who did manual labor. “What would the Egyptians do?” Corredor asked.

Salma pursed her lips.  “We would likely turn to Shamans Boucher and Oberton for advice.”

“Isn’t Boucher the one that tore the spirit plane apart when that other shaman tried to enslave him?” Vinson’s voice was tight with stress.

Salma’s smile was so unctuously sweet that Zach loved her a little for it.  “The spirit plane was quite damaged and Shamans Boucher and Oberton spend a week helping trapped shamans and adepts find the exits. I find Boucher and Oberton reassuring in their dedication to the community.”

Pochi blinked into existence and hovered between Art and Hernandez, but neither reacted, so Zach wasn’t sure they could see him.  Apparently the old ifrit had the ability to remain invisible on the spirit plane, unlike all the younger guides.  Being born in one of the deeper wells of magic had given them powers none of these guides could match, which would mean nothing if Zach couldn’t get Pochi to help. Cool air washed over Zach, and he turned to see the head of the El Paso shamanic council walking across the road.  

Shamans had stepped back for Hernandez, but they scattered like fleeing birds in front Ken Gambaro. Gambaro epitomized the soul of averageness.  He was an inch or two shorter than Zach with a paunchy belly hidden under a suit jacket that pulled tight where he had buttoned it. His only distinctive feature was a turquoise bolero tie. Without it, he might have faded into the background without leaving a ripple. A tall woman walked behind him. Zach didn’t recognize her, but he would bet money she was either Elaine Sandoval or Karen Greenley, one of the two female council members. They were both famously camera shy, so Zach hadn’ been able to dig up any pictures.

The council members would be unremarkable in front of the grocery store, but here they had a presence. Zach found himself staring. However, none of them projected the sort of power Art did.  When Art dropped the lazy, laid-back shtick he had perfected, his intensity filled a room.  Hell, it filled the spirt plane. Even now several shamans and adepts turned to him. None moved. No one whispered.

“This is quite the gathering.” Gambaro’s words leaked amusement and condescension. No wonder Art hated shamanic politics; Zach was getting hives standing near this moron. Gambaro looked at Hernandez. “So, the Egyptian council wishes to speak to us.” 

This was the point where either Zach plan would made everything better or they would all be so fucked that people might die. And Zach had so little experience working with Pochi that he wasn’t sure which was more likely.

Chapter 1: https://www.patreon.com/posts/texas-charm-6-19034447 

Chapter 2: https://www.patreon.com/posts/texas-charm-2-19050307 

Chapter 3: https://www.patreon.com/posts/texas-charm-3-19066252 

Chapter 4: https://www.patreon.com/posts/texas-charm-4-19087127 

Chapter 5: https://www.patreon.com/posts/texas-charm-5-19132901 

Chapter 6: https://www.patreon.com/posts/texas-charm-six-19159661 

Chapter 7: https://www.patreon.com/posts/texas-charm-7-19179823 

Chapter 8: https://www.patreon.com/posts/texas-charm-8-19190078 

Chapter 9: https://www.patreon.com/posts/texas-charm-9-19201497 

Chapter 10: https://www.patreon.com/posts/texas-charm-10-19220764 

Chapter 11, 12: https://www.patreon.com/posts/texas-charm-11-19228890 

Chapter 13, 14: https://www.patreon.com/posts/texas-charm-13-19244456 

Chapter 15: https://www.patreon.com/posts/texas-charm-15-19264338 

Chapter 16, 17: https://www.patreon.com/posts/texas-charm-16-19276375 

Chapter 18, 19: https://www.patreon.com/posts/texas-charm-18-19290091 

Chapter 20: https://www.patreon.com/posts/texas-charm-20-19301548