American Bruja: The Los Angeles Cauldron

Chapter 38. Amber McBride

Journal entry from Tuesday, August 9, 2011

11:30 p.m. at Stoner's Jump in the Simi Hills

The smell of sulphur burns my nose, and my eyes sting from the sooty air. Between the gunfire and the explosion atop Stoner's Jump, my stomach churns with worry about George and his brothers.

At the mouth of the cave, the Manson follower with the broken leg howls in pain. With each swear word, I wince as he threatens us. "You'll pay for this! We'll pull your fingernails out and hang you by your hair."

Ignoring him, I turn my attention to the unconscious Mr. Baccharis. His black top hat is missing, and a dusting of sand covers his long white hair.

Mom sits cross-legged near the old magician's head, her mouth scrunched into a frown. His fingers twitch, then his legs stiffen. With a groan, Mr. Baccharis blinks. In the reflected moonlight, his eyes are glowing orbs.

Nearby, Dr. Betty Morton rises onto her hands and knees, then crawls to Mr. Baccharis. As she reaches him, Mom rises to stand.

Dr. Morton sits and cups the old man's cheeks with her hands. "Are you hurt?"

His nostrils flare at the stink of burning gas, and he turns his head sideways to look at Dr. Morton.

Mr. Baccharis's lips spread into a smile, but his grin vanishes when Mom leans over his head. Her forehead wrinkles and her eyes narrow as shakes a fist in his face. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

The old man raises his head, and Dr. Morton removes her hands from his face as he rises onto his elbows. As he cranes his head to look at Mom, his eyes widen. Mr. Baccharis rolls to his side, then presses upward into a seated position facing Mom. Light blue eyes lock onto hers, and he sighs. "Aislinn, this isn't the time to litigate the past."

His words cause a sinking feeling in my stomach. His eye contact with Mom makes me squirm, but I force myself not to look away.

Their staring contest seems to drag on forever. In response, Dr. Morton rises to stand, and she touches Mom's elbow. With a growl, Mom swats her hand away.

As I'm trying to sort out how Mr. Baccharis knows my Mom, dirt, and leaves rain down on my head. Two thick rope ladders drop from the top of the cave and onto the stone tongue jutting over the San Fernando Valley. Atop the cave, a man shouts, "This is the Los Angeles Police Department. Send out the hostages, and no one gets hurt."

Nearby, Seth and Luis exchange a quick glance.

In response to the policeman's orders, Dr. Morton turns away from Mom and shouts, "The boys are safe! They're coming out now."

Dr. Morton presses her lips together, causing deep wrinkles to crease under her nose. But she nods at Seth and Luis, and they walk through the mouth of the cave and onto the stone ledge. Seth waves at someone atop the cave, then he and Luis scramble up the rope ladder.

At the interruption, Mom's face screws up with rage. She raises her right foot like she's going to stomp on Mr. Baccharis's head. But she stops as someone atop the jump lowers two orange sleds onto the stone tongue.

As the sleds rest on the rock, two firefighters wearing heavy mustard-colored uniforms climb down the rope ladders, landing inches from the Manson follower with the broken leg. At the bottom of their coats and at the wrists are bands of yellow reflective tape. Helmets cover their faces, but I assume they're men because of their broad shoulders and big, gloved hands.

A strangled cry escapes Mom's throat at the firefighters' appearance, and she rushes to my side. Heat radiates from her hand when she grabs my arm to pull me away from the rescue. As we flatten against the rock wall, Mom whispers, "Don't say anything to the police. Let me do the talking."