Ash Return of the Beast

CHAPTER 54



Ravenwood and Tocho followed behind Tlacatecolotl as he led them across the village to his ceremonial hut.

As they walked along, Ravenwood leaned into Tocho and whispered. “You want to tell me how it is that he just happens to speak fluent English?”

“Spanish, too,” Tocho whispered back. “He travels a lot. He’s kind of a big deal at shaman conventions every year. New Age expos, that sort of thing. Been doing it for a number of years.”

Tlacatecolotl turned slightly and spoke over his shoulder. “Twenty-two, to be exact.”

Tocho grinned at Ravenwood. “He hears everything.”

“I heard that,” the shaman said.

The ceremonial hut seemed much larger inside than it appeared from the outside. Everything in it seemed to have been fashioned out of leaves, stones and sticks of wood. The floor was carpeted with thick woven blankets spread over a cushion of matted leaves. The heavy scent of incense ––a fragrance that Ravenwood thought smelled vaguely like sandalwood––permeated the air.

The shaman lifted the lid of a large rectangular basket and pulled out three woven mats. He placed them around a shallow pit in the center of the floor in which the coals of a small fire were smoldering. “Please, sit,” he said.

When they were seated around the fire, the shaman poked at the coals with a stick. His countenance had changed. The humor was gone. He looked at Ravenwood. “I knew you were coming,” he said. “Long ago the spirits told me this. They were strangely reluctant to tell me why, but there was a sense of darkness in their message. Now I sense the same coming from you. Tell me why you are here.”

Ravenwood explained the situation down to the last detail and the shaman listened with great interest and a mounting degree of apprehension.

“So I need your help,” she said, finally. “Will you help me do this?”

A look of intense concern was carved into the Owl Man’s face. He sat in silence for several moments before giving her an answer. He looked briefly at Tocho and then back to Ravenwood. “You understand the risk you would be taking. Journeying to the Underworld is something few have done. Some have not returned. That is, they returned but as an empty shell, their consciousness trapped in a void from which it can never escape.”

Ravenwood’s eyes locked onto his. “But you must understand. I have to know if Cowl has in fact summoned the offspring of the Old Ones. I have to know if they are gathered at the Gate, waiting for him to awaken Kutulu. Because if that’s true…”

The shaman nodded. His eyes grew distant as if he were seeing the misery and despair of a world consumed by demons. He could see the Gate opening, the Offspring of the Old Ones rushing forth like starving, slobbering beasts in wild pursuit of food with an insatiable desire for the sweet taste of human flesh. An overwhelming darkness would roll across the face of the earth like a plague, seeping into every corner, every crack, seeking its hapless victims. The wretched atrocities of all the bloody wars ever waged by all the peoples of the world since the dawn of time would pale compared to the torture, the carnage the world would suffer at the whim of these hellish creatures. He breathed deeply and rose to his feet.

Ravenwood and Tocho started to stand but the shaman stayed them with an outstretched hand. “I will have to prepare a special blend for your journey. You’ll wait here until I return.”

Ravenwood looked up. “How long?”

“Not long. Rest.” He reached into a small leather pouch that hung from a beaded band around his waist and pulled out what appeared to be a dried but supple leaf that was nearly the size of his hand. From another pouch he withdrew a pinch of what looked vaguely like finely shredded tobacco. Ravenwood surmised it probably wasn’t tobacco. He rolled it into the leaf, twisting it at both ends, and lit one end with a wooden match that he seemed to have manifested out of nowhere. He inhaled one long toke before handing it over to her. “Take this,” he said. “It will help you rest.”

Ravenwood gave a crooked grin. “I’m sure it will.”

“What about me?” Tocho said. “I’d like to rest, too, you know.”

The coolness of the late hour quickly settled in after Tlacatecolotl left the hut. Ravenwood and Tocho shared the magic smoke and talked of old times as time, itself, drifted away.

After a while, Tocho crawled over to a large basket and found two blankets. Ravenwood watched him with a detached fascination as he moved gracefully in slow motion across the floor. They draped the blankets around themselves and huddled closer to the small fire.

Ravenwood rocked slowly, rhythmically, back and forth, staring silently into the flickering flames. Finally, she spoke. “I can’t believe how long those two small logs have been burning.”

“I just put them on the fire a little while ago. I think.”

Ravenwood’s eyebrows arched. “Really?”

“Mm-hmm.”

She shook her head. “What time is it, anyway?”

Tocho pulled his arm out from under his blanket and checked his watch. “Quarter to twelve.”

“Midnight?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Did we fall asleep?”

Toch pulled the blanket snug around himself and shrugged. “Don’t think so. Maybe. I dunno. Ro?”

“Yeah?”

“You scared?”

Ravenwood continued her slow rocking motion and didn’t answer.

Tocho nodded. “Me, too. For you, I mean.” A few minutes later he added, “And I’m starving.”

“Here,” said a voice. It was Tlacatecolotl ducking in through the opening of the hut.

Without moving her head, Ravenwood followed him with her eyes.

Tlacatecolotl tossed Tocho a papaya. Then he turned to Ravenwood. “You, on the other hand, better not eat anything. He held out a clay cup. “Believe me,” he said, “after you drink this, you’ll be glad you don’t have any food in your stomach.” He squatted down and joined them on the floor. Extending a hand toward Ravenwood, he touched her face and gently lifted one of her eyelids. Staring into her eyes, he nodded and muttered something to himself like an optometrist examining a patient. “How do you feel?”

She forced a smile. “Rested. Ready.”

The Owl Man was still holding onto the cup. “You sure? Because once you take this…” he looked down at the cup and then squarely into her well-dilated eyes, “…there will be no turning back.”

Ravenwood glanced over at Tocho, then straightened her back and gave a nod to show she understood what she was about to do.

The Owl Man reached across the floor, grabbed the rim of a metal bucket and placed it next to her. “Just in case there’s still something left in your stomach and you need to… you know.”

Tocho took a second look at the papaya that had seemed so inviting just moments ago and set it aside.

“All right, then,” The Owl Man said. He reached into one of his pouches and pulled out a handful of small pellets. He tossed them into the glowing embers of the fire. They made a series of soft sputtering sounds followed by wispy puffs of creamy white smoke. He lifted the cup in both hands and passed it through the smoke in a series of circular motions as he droned some ancient words in his native tongue, paying homage to the ayahuasca spirits and beseeching them to protect and guide this traveler on her journey into the dark realms of the Underworld. He raised the cup high above his head a final time and then handed it to Ravenwood.

She wrapped her fingers around the cup but the slight trembling of her hands betrayed her mask of confidence. That mask evaporated as she stared at the thick brown sludge inside the cup. Moving the cup slowly back and forth, the viscous substance rolled lazily from one side to the other, leaving a gritty trail along the inside edges of the container. The movement caused an equally disgusting smell to waft up into her nostrils. Her head jerked back in response.

The shaman offered a sympathetic grin. “It’s best if you can take it all down at once.” He slid the bucket closer to her side. “Just remember why you are here.”