Out of the Darkness

192

I looked back and met his gaze. "I'm tired, Sam. There's only so many times that I can hear the words, 'I can't help you,' before we accept it as it is." "I know. I know it's hard. Just give me this last one. If she can't help then we'll quit for the day. You promised," he reminded me. I rolled my eyes. "Okay. Last one for today," I agreed. A giant smile crossed his face, as he sat back in his seat. We waited, killing the hour by drinking our coffees and talking. When we arrived at the address the woman gave him, I was surprised. It was just a normal house. A nice, suburban home, with a white picket fence. There was a hanging sign out by the sidewalk that said, 'Shaman and Healer' with a phone number below it. It was simple. I don't know what I expected, maybe some shrunken heads or something, but it wasn't this normal place. We got out and walked to the white door. There was a sign on it that said, 'Please come in. Be respectful and quiet.' I turned the knob and walked inside, feeling a vibe of peace and tranquility hit me. Somehow, it felt like home. "Welcome," a young dark haired girl said, smiling at her desk. "Do you have an appointment?" Sam nodded. "Uh, I think so. I spoke with Tiffany about an hour ago." The girl continued to smile. "I'm Tiffany. Are you Sam?" Sam nodded. "Okay! Beth is ready for you. You can go right through that door at the end of the hall." She leaned over her desk and pointed down the long stretch of hallway, to the dark green door at the end. "Okay, thanks," Sam replied. I followed him, dreading talking to yet another person who says they can't help. Dreading seeing his face fall in defeat yet again. He knocked, and we heard a throaty voice from the other side. "You may enter," it replied. Okay, Blair Witch much? "Here we go," Sam whispered, and turned the knob. When we entered, I saw a red haired lady, dressed in a yellow sundress and strappy brown sandals. She sat at a stylish, glossy black desk, with a laptop in front of her. The room was yellow, matching her dress, but the trim was black. There was a black bookshelf sitting across the room, piled high with different books. A plump yellow chair was in the corner, enticing the room's occupants to have a seat. Packed into the other corner, was a medium sized dresser with candles, glass bottles, and other odds and ends on top of it. The room reminded me of sunshine, with a storm cloud on the horizon. Not what I expected at all. I guess it showed on my face. "I know, I'm not what most people expect when they come see a Shaman. I'm Beth. You must be Sam," she said, standing and shaking Sam's hand. "Yea, and this is Colby. The one with the injury," he replied, motioning to me. "Hello Colby. May I see your wound?" I nodded at her, and held up my arm. She peeled back the bandage, and hissed in between her teeth. "It's progressed pretty far along. The infection is reaching the bloodstream. You no longer feel pain with it, do you?" I furrowed my brow and shook my head. How did she know that? "Sometimes, if I hit it on something or move the wrong way. But no, not really," I answered. "Hmm," she said, running her fingers along the outside of the open wound. I tried not to look at it. It was disgusting and only reminded me that I didn't have much time left. It smelled of infection, and was turning a green black color. Rotten ground beef came to my mind. "Well, there are a number of things we can try. I have a salve that you can-" I cut her off. "I'm already using a salve that someone else gave me. It's not stopping it. Maybe slowing the spread a little, but that's it." She stared at me, like she was trying to see inside my soul, then tapped her chin. "Okay. I'll just skip all of the little maybe's and get straight to the stronger stuff." She walked across the bright room, and stopped at the bookshelf. She mumbled to herself while she went through the closest stack, sitting on the corner. "Possession, darkened souls, healing trauma...no, no, ah! Here it is," she said, before turning to walk to the other corner of the room. She opened the top drawer of the dresser and pulled out a granite mortar and pestle set. You know, the thing that the all natural people use to grind herbs and spices, or whatever. She set it on top of the dresser, then pulled open the next drawer. She pulled out some different sized objects, most that I had no clue what they were. Garlic was the only thing that I recognized. The next drawer was full of tiny bottles of liquid, each a different color. She pulled out a black, an orange, a red, and a blue colored bottles. I realized that it wasn't the bottles that were different colors, but the liquid inside of them. Some of them looked like test tubes, while others looked like what you would expect a potion bottle to look like. All were stopped up with corks. I shifted, uncomfortably, waiting for whatever was supposed to happen next. She was still muttering to herself, but I couldn't make out what she was saying. I watched her break pieces off of the garlic and other items, and put them all into the grinder thing. Then she took the pestle, the bat shaped thing, and started to grind the ingredients all together. "You can sit, you know?" she finally spoke to us after a few minutes. "Oh, uh, thanks," Sam replied, then looked at me and shrugged. We had both kind of been transfixed by what she was doing. We sat next to each other, in the hardback wooden chairs that lined the back wall. I continued watching her, and saw her open the black liquid. She let it drip a few times into the mortar bowl, then corked it again. She followed the same motion with the rest of the liquids, until smoke started to flit up from the mortar bowl. "That should do it," she replied, turning to us, while holding the smoking bowl in her hands.