August 26 | Day

"Rango Duchovny." Director Van der Woodsen dropped a blown up photograph onto my workstation. In the shed for our first official debriefing, Nixie, Legend, and I crowded around to see the visuals. "Edrielle Montclair, Rosie Renee Beverly, and Jasper 'The Curio' Banks," the director read off the names as he revealed their faces.

"These world-renowned antiquities smugglers," he spread his hands to encompass the images, "have all been spotted in New Orleans in the past week, along with numerous lesser players, which tells me that word has gotten out that OASIS has The Book of Tides."

The pressure was mounting. I glared at the pictures until my vision blurred, anger building within me. OASIS was supposed to cover our tracks. How had they dropped the ball so badly?

The Supernaturals in the photos looked like regular people, of various races, ages, and ethnicities, but nothing about them suggested that they were violent criminals. I knew their type. Snakes in the grass, easily missed, until they struck. They would be relentless in their pursuit of us. I peered at my companions and sadly realized they weren't prepared for what lay ahead.

"Last but not least, Darcy Cyprian, a billionaire vampire philanthropist," Van der Woodsen said as he carefully placed Darcy's photograph on top. "Of all the lowlifes lurking about with the intention of getting their hands on the book, he is the most concerning. He has the money, the resources to achieve his goal, and the political clout to get away with whatever he plans to do."

"Director, this wasn't part of our agreement. We were simply supposed to transport the book," I sighed. "Now, if they find us, we're looking at an all-out battle. I've had years of physical training, but Legend and Nixie are sitting ducks. Do I at least have time to get my team ready to defend themselves?"

"Time is in short supply," the director admitted. He had the decency to appear chastened.

"You've gotta give me back-up on this," I demanded curtly.

"Considering the possibility that someone inside OASIS leaked this information, I wouldn't recommend another agent. You're the best chance we have of getting that book to where it needs to go while keeping the princess alive," he said.

"And we have the amulet." Nixie fondled the necklace.

Van der Woodsen paced away, his eyes fixed on the cottage outside the window. "Yes, Amaya told me about it," he said, turning to face her. "I'm sorry, Ms. Fontenot, but your amulet will not be able to protect you in the long run."

I lowered my gaze, having already guessed as much. Legend grabbed Nixie's hand under the workstation table.

An hour later, Director Van der Woodsen left, but his words continued to echo in my head for the remainder of the week. I started Fitz practicing his aim in the backyard. Nixie absorbed what she could, watching her best friend. I knew she wanted to get him back to Arizona as much as I did, but he was adamant about staying, and I was ready to consider that we might need him.

After searching my contacts for agents in the field that I knew personally who might protect our flank, I came to the same conclusion as the director. I trusted no one else with our lives. The book was too alluring for the average person. Van der Woodsen had been blunt:

"By now, each of you realizes that what is being asked of you will push you to your limits. I won't lie to you. The Book of Tides will grant its wielder foreknowledge of every major natural disaster, every world-shaping geopolitical event, every change in the tides of time, and with information like that at one's disposal, anyone would be tempted to use it to manipulate the masses."

So, it was up to us–including Fitz–to protect ourselves. We knew the book's harm. We weren't seduced by its promises of world domination. I strode from the shed to the cottage the next morning, and I saw Legend alone on the foggy pond, his cellphone gripped in his hand as if he had a lot on his mind. The greatest threat was upon him, as the driver. Did he know?

As I entered the house, I found Abuelita praying at her makeshift altar. "It's almost time," she said to me. I intuited what she meant, and I didn't resist. She beckoned me to my knees. "Fasting and prayers for the rest of the week. Soon we make the journey."

Director Van der Woodsen had wrapped up his speech with a warning, "What's at stake is the survival of the free world. I've seen what a power object like this can do. I'm a jötun, one of the Norwegian jötnar, similar to the giants, with a lifespan that rivals most. I lived through the madman Hitler's search for the Spear of Destiny that ended in World War II. I come to you now with everything I have at my disposal to aid you."

By midweek, we received a shipment of top-of-the-line OASIS equipment, which I dispersed to my team, as well as Fitz. "This is a big step up from tasers." He whistled in amazement as he tapped a box of ammunition. "What are these?"

"Holy water hollow-points, silver bullets, glass pellet shotgun rounds," I replied.

We stood in the garage surrounded by weaponry. Legend tried on an assault rifle, and Nixie investigated a tranquilizer gun. Both stared at me with worried looks. I propped a rocket launcher against the Chariot still covered from the human's view and wondered how much longer we would be able to keep Fitz in the dark about what we were.

"What are we hunting?" He chuckled. I didn't answer him.

As the week wrapped up, I isolated myself more and more from the rest of the household in preparation for what I knew I had to do to find the other locations on our quest. I put an end to any hint of a sexual relationship, too. I couldn't be distracted by lust. With life moving at a breakneck pace, hurtling forward on my own felt like the only option. It was the shaman's way.

I gathered the supplies my grandmother and I needed for a night under the stars. Then, leaving Nixie, Fitz, and Legend behind with instructions to take care of each other, Abuela and I got into her car and drove to a secluded forest in a state park where no one would disturb my initiation.

We pitched a tent in the woods and built a small fire. A rifle lay next to me on the ground. Abuela started drumming, and I forced myself to sit still. The deep, rhythmic pounding settled into my bones as I focused on my breathing and tried to let my thoughts flow. Abuelita handed me the ceremonial tea. I took a long, slow sip from the earthen mug she had brought with us.

At last, the vision came and began to unfold.

***

I saw trees. Tall trees. The thin trunks climbed to the sky and seemed to disappear. I couldn't tell up from down. The colorful bark distorted as if the landscape breathed, in and out in tandem to my own steady inhales and exhales.

"What is this place?" I whispered to Abuela.

When I looked around, my grandmother was gone. I was at a crossroads in the middle of a dense forest. Pivoting, I tried to figure out which way to go, but there were no clues to the safe route. I held a lantern aloft. The gauzy yellow light couldn't penetrate the dark, misty landscape, but an old man was standing at the intersection with his hand on the shoulder of a young boy.

There was something peculiar about the pair. The older one had childlike eyes, bright and inquisitive, while the younger one's eyes were vacant and world-weary. I felt as if my secrets were being exposed and dissected under his gaze. Where had I gone wrong in life? What did I have to regret? Neither of them spoke as I turned around in a circle to see what else the fog hid. Was I looking into the future or the past?

"¿Dónde estoy, Abuelita?" I asked.

"Keep going," my grandmother's voice came to me as if from a distance.

I took a cautious step, and a large black wolf emerged from the mist, causing my own inner wolf to bristle and my teeth to bare. The other wolf simply blinked at me with wild amber orbs, and I stopped. Overwhelming foreboding welled up inside me, swirling from my feet to my chest, a tornado of emotion.

Suddenly, as if someone turned a large dial, the landscape shifted in a dizzying blur that synchronized with my rising panic. The woods became orange with forest fires burning menacingly all around me. I stared at the black underbelly of a bird as it flew from the trees, then passed over the man and the boy. I shielded my face from the smoke, coughing, while the pair seemed unaffected.

"Abuela!" I cried out for guidance.

"Keep going, Dextra."

"I can't!" I yelled.

Why I had embarked on this path? I stood frozen to the spot. My carefully considered reasons unraveled and seemed absurd. I knew, deep down, that something life-changing was about to happen to me if I kept going, something that I would be powerless to stop. Yet, I couldn't tell whether I had made the right decision or the wrong one to come here. Which should I have trusted—my head or my heart?

There were wraiths in the shadows. "Ancestors to walk with you," Abuela whispered.

I studied the gray silhouettes of faceless people as I moved forward. They gathered at my back and followed my lost steps. But the wolf also followed alongside me, an impartial witness to my journey. I felt the heat as tiny sparks and embers floated around me like fireflies, and I marveled at the realism of the vision. If it was a vision. Had I crossed over into someplace unknown? I let the rampant fear dissipate as the fires failed to reach me...

And all at once, the setting changed again.

Cellophane crinkled around the thick stems of purple amaryllis and delicate paperwhites as I cradled flowers to my chest and blinked back tears. I was standing over my father's grave. The sky was a terribly rude sunny blue, ignoring the poignancy of eternal goodbyes. Grand live oak trees stood sentinel across the manicured cemetery, replacing the tall trees at the crossroads.

The simple gravestone marking my father's final resting place gave away little about his brief, vibrant life and nothing of his overwhelming battles with depression. He had been a loud, boisterous jokester with an easy grin that had hid his long suffering. A big, brown-skinned Dominican who liked to dance. The family historian and an avid lover of learning.

Mateo Dielis Rodriguez stood beside his grave. "Mi hija," he greeted me. I covered my mouth as a sob broke free. "You're doing amazing."

"I don't know where I'm going," I replied tearfully.

My father wrapped his arms around me in a hug that blanketed me with love. "Yes, you do, sweetheart. You've always known. Find your way back."

"What if I don't make it?" I asked.

"Give me your hand."

I smiled through tears as my phone vibrated, and I laid down the flowers to answer it and take my father's hand. However, when I stood back up, he was gone. The black wolf sat on its hunches beside me, and a hawk feather was in my grasp.

I heard my father's voice whisper from far away, "No matter what, I'll always walk with you."

"Dr. Dex Rodriguez, speaking," I sniffled, answering the phone. It was a psychiatric nurse, calling to apprise me of my mother's condition at the long-term care facility where she resided. I swallowed the lump in my throat.

"We upped her dose of quetiapine for better sleep hygiene, but we immediately began to see extrapyramidal symptoms. As you know, Dr. Rodriguez, these involuntary movements can't be reversed after a certain point," said the nurse.

I squeezed the bridge of my nose as I tried to make sense of what she was talking about. "Why did you increase the dose? She's on enough medications as it is." The canine watched me. I tilted my head, realizing the phone call was meaningful. Was it a premonition?

"Unfortunately, the titration upward was necessary," said the nurse. "Last week Mrs. Rodriguez had another episode. Your mother violently attacked an orderly.

"Dr. Rodriguez," she finally got to the point, "I called you because Dr. Dhavapalani and the rest of the treatment team would like for you to consider whether a more intensive program at another care facility might be a better fit for your mother."

It was a familiar nightmare–that my mother would get worse. As I puzzled through what was happening and the purpose for this segment of my vision, the wolf scared me with his deep, gravelly voice: "You'll never be able to save her."

I stared at the mongrel, shaking my head. "You're not real. This isn't real."

"Isn't it? Haven't you always known that you couldn't fix what's wrong with your family. Your brother will die an addict, and she'll take her own life just like your father did," the dog growled.

I flinched. It was the thought that kept me up at night. I couldn't save my family. It fueled my manic need to keep researching, the constant feeling of falling short. It hampered me from forming relationships or finding happiness.

Clutching the feather, I squeezed my eyes shut as tears overflowed. My brother Torres had been in and out of rehab, but I had to keep the faith that one day he would recover. Valentina Garcia-Rodriguez had a severe mood disorder–it was true–and after my father's death, she had gradually deteriorated. However, she was improving on her latest treatment regimen.

The wolf was wrong.

I had let my anxiety rule much of my life, but I wasn't about to let it keep me stuck here. "My thoughts and feelings are valid," I whispered an affirmation, "but that doesn't make them real. I choose to see beyond fear." I opened my eyes, and as suddenly as the cemetery had appeared, I was back in the woods. I glanced around uncertainly, wondering if I had passed the test. The wolf was nowhere in sight.

Further down the path, there was a man in a wide-brimmed hat sitting on a tree stump on the side of the road. He wore black cowboy boots and a long dusty poncho, and he had a thick curly beard that hung to his broad chest. Seeing me, he lowered mirror-like sunglasses and smiled.

"Where you headed, traveler?" he asked.

I heard my grandmother whisper, "Speak his language. Lie."

"Uh, I'm looking for a friend," I called out to the man, relieved to hear from Abuela.

"I can take you far as the river," said the man.

"What's at the river?" I asked.

"Answers! You going or staying?"

I waited for Abuelita to give me the go-ahead. When she didn't respond, I had to trust my own instincts. I nodded and followed the stranger as he started walking in the same direction I was already headed. His walk was a fanciful dance, with hops, skips, and twirls. He was an oversized, but nimble man, and I struggled to keep up with him.

"Where you from?" he asked.

"Depends on where I'm at?" I chuckled.

He had a booming laugh. "You're here and now, traveler. Always here and now. Remember that, and you'll never be lost again. When you get to the river, you can ask the water three questions. It'll help you find that friend you're seeking." He winked.

"Is that the truth?" I asked, thinking of what Abuela had said.

"Of course, it is," he grinned, "but it'll cost you."