Work Text:
Amparo Vega--not La Dama, not here, not now--bent over the grave marked "Consuelo Del Vecchio" and placed a wreath of marigolds on it. Next to the golden flowers, bright against the gray stone, she put a few pieces of candy. "I miss you, Chelo," she murmured. "And I've made a real mess of things with your daughter. If you were here you'd laugh at me, I'm sure." Turning to the stone next to her sister's, she pulled two shot glasses out of her handbag and splashed whisky into them. "Bushmills sixteen year single malt, Robbie. Nothing like that rotgut you always drank. Only the best for my dear departed brother-in-law." She put one glass on the headstone and clinked hers against it. "Here's hoping you're enjoying the scenery down there."
The whisky burned her throat like unshed tears.
A rustle in the grass caught her ear and she whirled, her hand on her holster without thinking.
Brenda was there, her eyes wide. They narrowed as she looked at her aunt, and Amparo braced herself: She knows. She's figured it out, what I had done to her father. It was only a matter of time. Brenda took a deep, harsh breath and opened her mouth to speak--
And then her eyes widened again, this time staring at something behind her aunt's shoulder. Amparo turned to see a twisting cloud of purple smoke, subtly wrong in ways that made her wince and avert her eyes slightly. From within the cloud a wooden staff emerged, parting space like a curtain to reveal a beautiful young woman in jeans and a t-shirt--Amparo recognized her, it was Jaime Reyes's sorceress girlfriend, Traci 13--holding out her hand, her eyes urgent.
"Brenda!" she called past Amparo, "Jaime's been captured and I need your help to save him!"
Without hesitation, Brenda ran past her aunt to seize Traci's hand. But as she did, Amparo grabbed her other hand. "You are not going anywhere weird or dangerous without me again," she snarled, and leapt through the magic portal after her sister's child.
***
"Look, Amparito. Isn't she perfect?" Consuelo's dark hair was fanned out across the crisp white hospital pillow, and her liquid dark eyes were huge with delight.
Amparo (no one but her sister ever called her Amparito, and many were starting to call her La Dama now) looked down at the little bundle in her sister's arms, with its shock of red hair peeking from the white cloth. So much pain to produce such a little wrinkled thing. "Of course she is. She's yours."
Consuelo's eyes brimmed with happy tears, her face alight. "She's yours, too. Aren't we twins? The part of her that is mine is yours too."
Amparo looked at her sister's heart-shaped face, identical to hers and yet so totally different: the gentle eyes, the sweet smile. "That's true, Chelito."
The door swung open and Robbie Del Vecchio burst into the hospital room. Late as always, his breath reeking of alcohol. "Sorry I'm late, honey," he stammered. "You did fine without me though, didn't you?"
"I'm glad you're here now, Robbie," Consuelo murmured. "Look. Isn't she beautiful?"
Robbie gingerly took the bundle from his wife, his hands clumsy; the baby woke up and started to cry. "Well," he said over the rising squalls, looking down at her. "Isn't she a pretty one." He smiled at his wife. "Don't feel bad, honey, we'll try again."
Consuelo closed her eyes for a moment, looking tired, and Amparo's fingers itched.
Her niece chose that moment to connect one flailing fist squarely with her father's nose.
Wincing, Robbie handed the baby to Amparo and backed out of the room. "Better go tell the guys...gotta buy everyone drinks to celebrate," he muttered. The door swung shut behind him.
Amparo looked down at the red-faced baby in her arms. Her niece's cries were dying down to hiccups, her gaze misty but curious. "You're just angry, aren't you?" Amparo crooned to her niece. "Stuck out here in the big cold scary world, who wouldn't be mad? You're a fighter, yes you are." She smiled and held out a finger for a tiny hand to curl around. "Pleased to meet you, Brenda. I think we're going to get along just fine."
***
The memory--so vivid, so real--faded away into a totally new world. Amparo looked around at the landscape: a clearing surrounded by gnarled, thick-trunked trees, bright flowers of no kind she knew, a rutted road. In the distance a couple of squat houses with bright blue roofs.
"I don't need you to protect me," Brenda's voice snapped from behind her. Amparo turned to see her glaring, her arms crossed, standing in front of Bianca and Alberto Reyes and their other kid, the little girl--Milagro, that was her name. Milagro was gazing around the field in mixed wonder and fear. Bianca and Alberto were glaring at Amparo.
Amparo drew herself up as straight as possible. "I won't let you go into danger alone."
Brenda gestured around her. "I'm not alone. I've got Traci and the Reyes--and Paco, too."
Amparo shot a glance to where Jaime's best friend was staring at the scenery, apparently lost in thought. "Paco. That's very reassuring."
Brenda flushed. "I trust Paco. He doesn't lie to me."
Amparo ignored the shot and looked at Traci, who was gripping her staff tightly, her eyes closed. Light ran along the wood like reflections off water. "Where are we?"
"And where's my son?" demanded Bianca.
Traci opened her eyes. "This is the Dreaming, the realm of dreams. Jaime is being...held here, somehow. Somewhere. But there's more to it than that. There is a great disturbance in the Dreaming. It's under attack by some force. I can sense it."
"What...what is it?" asked Brenda.
Traci rolled her eyes, looking for a moment very much like any exasperated teenager. "It's the latest stupid company-wide crossover event to try and boost sales. Honestly, I have no idea what the Architects were thinking, dragging the Endless into this one--" she broke off at everyone's confused looks and smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. Traveling with my father has given me an...unconventional perspective on some things." With a nod, she continued. "Jaime's subconscious thoughts have been used to give the Dreaming form for now--as if its guardian were unable to at the moment." She looked around at the bright scenery. "So this landscape is woven from Jaime's most archetypal, most primal thoughts and dreams." A frown creased her forehead. "It's not exactly what I would have expected..."
Paco whooped out loud and jumped in the air. "Azeroth!" He grinned hugely at everyone. "This is World of Warcraft!"
Traci's look of perplexity increased. "That computer game you and Jaime play? This is what his subconscious comes up with?"
"Hel--Heck, yeah! We practically lived here before Jaime got so busy with the superhero stuff." Paco was gazing around him in delight. He cupped his hands and yelled at the sky, "Jaime, wherever you are--you rock!" He put his hands on his hips. "Okay, this looks like the Elwynn Forest near the Eastvale logging camp, so we have to go west to get to Stormwind. That's the Alliance capital. I told Jaime it would be cooler to play the Horde side, but noooooo, he has to be a human paladin..." He shook his head. "Man, I haven't been here since I was really low level. It's a newbie zone, not much higher than level ten around here."
"Well, that's a relief," Alberto said dryly. "We shouldn't run into much trouble then."
"I wouldn't count on that," Traci said, still frowning. "This is the Dreaming, after all. You can probably expect trials, obstacles, your deepest fears given form." She smiled, sunny again. "You know--the usual."
"The usual," muttered Bianca to her husband as Traci, Paco, and Brenda started down the road. "I hope she realizes 'the usual' for me is trying to get dinner together after overtime at the hospital." Then her eyes widened as they started off after Traci. "'Berto!" she breathed.
"What?"
"Your leg!"
"What's wrong with it--oh!" Alberto glanced down at his uninjured body, at his hand without a cane. With a sharp gasp of surprise, he broke into a run, passing Paco and Traci, who gaped at him. He galloped back and scooped up Milagro, who squealed with shock and joy. "I like this place," he said, beaming.
Traci rested her hand on his arm for a moment, her eyes gentle. "It can be a very good place," she said. Her gaze moved to Amparo, still standing by the side of the road, hand on her holster. "It can be a bad place too. We'll need all the protection we can get."
Amparo felt her lips thin at the transparent attempt at reassurance. It would take more than a little sorcery to throw La Dama off. "Then let's get moving and find the kid," she snapped, starting off down the road.
The weather was mild, the road level and easy as they walked along. Paco and Brenda led the way, insulting each other and trying to guess where Jaime would be. The Reyes followed them, Alberto still carrying Milagro as though he would never grow tired. That left Amparo and Traci to take up the rear, watching the others.
"Did you and your father spend a lot of time in places like this?" Amparo asked idly as she scanned the woods for threats.
Traci laughed. "We've been in some weird places, yes. My father is a parapsychologist. He exposes people pretending to use magic, which he claims doesn't exist."
Amparo eyed the staff in Traci's hands. "That must be interesting."
"Life is never dull with my father around," Traci agreed gravely, with a twinkle in her eye. She held a finger in the air and her voice took on a pedantic tone. "Everything can be explained by rational means. Magic is merely a shortcut for coincidence, or delusion, or wishful thinking on the part of lazy minds. My father," she went on in her own voice with great affection, "is a man of science."
"Paco?" Brenda's voice was a little nervous. "Is it supposed to be getting foggy here?"
"No, it's--that's not part of the game," Paco said. There were tendrils of mist crawling around them, thickening until they could no longer see the trees.
Traci gripped her staff until it sparked. "This is it, folks," she said, all levity gone. "Be ready to be tested, to face your nightmares given flesh."
Amparo hurried forward through the solidifying mist to Brenda's side, seizing her wrist. Brenda tried to shake her off, but she held on doggedly. She could hear voices around them: "What's going on?" "I can't see you!" "Mama, I'm scared!" They sounded increasingly distant, as if the fog were carrying them all away. "Don't be afraid!" Traci's voice drifted back, and then the rest of the world was gone.
Amparo clung to her niece's wrist like a lifeline as the white void enveloped them.
***
When the mist cleared, Paco found himself alone on the road. "Hey, guys? Guys? Brenda? Come out, come out, wherever you are?" But he could tell he was totally alone. The sun was setting, blood-red behind the black outline of the trees. Suddenly reminding himself this was just a newbie zone didn't hold as much reassurance as it did when he was in a group.
He rubbed his arms briskly--he wasn't shivering, it was just to give himself some more energy. Far off, through the trees, he could see the gray stone turrets of Stormwind; lacking any other goal, he set off walking.
Soon it was totally dark, and strange noises were coming from the woods. Paco tried to ignore them and started whistling loudly, cheerfully. Then he realized it was the theme from The X-Files and he stopped. The X-Files never got anything right anyway, he reminded himself. Like that stupid episode with the chupacabra. He and Jaime had laughed their asses off when they'd seen that one. Everyone knew el chupacabras didn't look anything like that. It was big, like a bear, with spines all down its back and razor-sharp teeth to drain the blood out of you...
There was a rattling noise under the trees and Paco froze. Were those baleful yellow eyes glaring out at him? He started walking again, faster this time. His uncle had told him stories of the chupacabra when he was a kid and he had to admit it had scared the hell out of him. He hadn't been able to sleep with the light off for months, even though his father called him a sissy for it. He was running now, his steps stumbling on the rutted road, his heart starting to pound. It isn't real, it isn't real, he told himself fiercely. But it could be, here. Traci said so, another voice reminded him.
There was a scuffling noice behind him and he whirled and it was almost on him.
Rheumy yellow eyes glared madly and a snout full of sharp teeth opened up in front of him as he yelled and dropped to the ground, dodging. He scrambled to his feet and started pelting away from it, panic overriding every thought. But there was nowhere to run to, nowhere to go, he'd feel those claws between his shoulderblades at any moment now...
On an intuition he cut sharply to the left and the creature's mass carried it past him with a snarl. What would Jaime do? he asked madly as he zigzagged across the field.
Well, Jaime would have a suit of lethally overpowered alien tech and would fry the stupid chupacabra like a pig.
No, you idiot. Not Blue Beetle. Jaime. What would Jaime do?
His breath was hitching, his side burning. Jaime would come up with something brilliant and brave and defeat it. He'd use his experience in the game to consider the terrain--like the fact that there was a big cliff to the south, Paco remembered that. He'd come up with something like that and use it.
Paco took off to the south, briars tearing at his jeans, stumbling over gopher holes in the dark, hearing the monster snarling behind him. He tore off his red jacket as he ran, then pivoted at the edge of the cliff.
The chupacabra was snuffing the air, its bared fangs dripping. Paco waved the jacket like a matador's cape. "Hey, bastard!" he yelled. "Over here! I give up, come and get your Paco-snacks!"
With a gurgling roar, the chupacabra charged at him.
Paco's knees went weak and he felt sick; the urge to step backwards was almost overpowering. But he held steady, holding out the jacket until he could smell the reek of the thing bearing down on him, a stench like carrion.
At the last second, he dodged sideways.
With a furious clashing of teeth, the chupacabra plunged off the cliff and into the churning waters below.
Paco fell to his knees for a moment, stomach roiling with aftershock. He took a deep, long breath and put his jacket back on, noting distantly that there was a ragged tear up the back.
Then he walked back to the road to where Traci was waiting for him, Milagro held tightly in her arms.
***
When the mist cleared, Bianca Reyes found herself somewhere oddly familiar. She took a few steps, taking in the umber walls, the winding streets--yes, this was Guanajuato, her grandmother's home city. Bianca had only been here once or twice, but her grandmother had told them all so many stories of it, ghost stories and tales of colonial days, of saints and miracles and beautiful ladies...
Once there was a girl in Guanajuato so pure and so good and so very beautiful, all men who saw her fell passionately in love.
Bianca stopped dead in the street, a shiver running down her spine. It was as if she could hear her grandmother's voice again.
Her suitors took up blades to fight for the hand of the beautiful lady, fighting duels every night for love of her. And every morning there would be a strong, brave man dead in the street outside her house.
Bianca shook her head, trying to make the voice stop. Any story but this one! She didn't want to hear this one...
The beautiful girl, so kind, so good, she was in despair that so many men had died for the sake of her lovely face. And so one night she lit a brazier, and she said many prayers to the Virgin for strength...
Bianca started walking briskly, trying to get away from the thin, lilting voice. But it hung in the darkening air all around her:
...and she put her face over the flame and held it there, until her eyes were nothing but burned sockets, and her lips scorched from her teeth in a grimace forever, all her flesh scarred and bleeding. And from that day forth she always wore a veil to cover her ruined face, the sacrifice she made of her beauty...
Bianca rounded a corner and she was there.
The woman stood at the end of the cul-de-sac, dressed all in white, glowing in the dusk like a ghost. Her face was covered with a veil; as Bianca stared, her veins icing in horror, she could see blood slowly staining the white lace, lymph and soot soaking through the spotless cloth.
The woman stepped forward, her feet making no sound on the cobblestones, and Bianca wanted to run, but she couldn't move, could only stand rooted to the spot as the woman moved closer. She held out one hand as if beckoning to Bianca, and with the other--Bianca knew what she was going to do but she couldn't bear it, couldn't watch, couldn't look away--she lifted the veil from her face.
For a moment Bianca stared in horror, and then she took a deep breath and swallowed hard. "You poor thing," she murmured, stepping forward. "You must be in such pain. I'm a nurse," she said, holding on to that, making it real, pushing the frightened child she had been away, "And we have burn treatments where I work. Let me take you there. You need fluids, painkillers. We'll get you skin grafts. You don't need to suffer," she said to the ghostly woman, to the spectre of gruesome sacrifice. "This is unnecessary."
She went to take the woman's arm, but the lace faded under her touch like mist. "Gracias," the girl whispered, gratitude sweet in her voice. And then she was gone.
Bianca looked up through a blur of sudden tears to find herself back on the road where she began, with Milagro running to hug her tightly.
***
When the mist cleared, Alberto Reyes found himself on a beautiful beach. The sea was turquoise, dotted with pure white foam, and the sand was a gold so pale it was almost silver, smooth and wave-kissed.
The surroundings were so intoxicatingly gorgeous, and the strength in his legs so alluring, that he broke into a joyous run along the beach, savoring the shift of sand under his feet, the solidity of his footsteps. It was only when he felt the rhythmic clink of something on a chain around his neck, hitting his chest with each step, that he slowed. What was--
Dog tags, he realized. He was wearing his Marine dog tags. Then that would mean this was--
A whirring buzz alerted him just before the sand in front of him exploded with the whipcrack of a detonating shell. Flying sand abraded his face, grit on his lips and tongue, his ears ringing in the aftershock. He staggered back away from the explosion, only to have another behind him jolt him forward.
The Khunds. The invasion.
He shook his head to clear it and for the first time noticed, far down the beach, a sandbagged bunker. A hand lifted briefly from it, waving feebly. "Medic! I need help here!" a faint voice cried into the space between shells. It sounded like Dunn, or maybe Guerrero--Alberto was already running again, heading for the wounded soldier, zig-zagging on the shifting sand, trying to avoid--
Blazing concussion in his thigh and he felt the bone shatter in a sickening wrench of deja vu. He went down in a heap on the sand, feeling the leg twisted and useless under him. He struggled to stand and went down again, sprawling awkwardly, his fists clenched in sand. He couldn't move, he was helpless, useless, useless...
No. Alberto took a deep breath and pictured his family's faces, the love and trust and strength in their eyes. Then he pulled himself to his feet, keeping as much of his weight as possible on his good leg, and staggered forward, step by step, geysers of sand exploding around him. He didn't stop. He wouldn't stop. Because he was not going to let anything stop him from doing what he had to. Ever.
Each step a torment, he lurched forward, fearing he would have to crawl, knowing he would if that was what it took. Through a haze of pain, he was hardly even aware of when he finally reached the bunker, tripped over the line of sandbags...
And fell on his face on the road in that computer game of Jaime's.
His leg hurt, the old familiar pain that kept him awake at nights. But when he looked up, he saw Bianca and Milagro running toward him, and he managed to stand to meet them.
Supported by his wife and daughter, he made his way back to where Traci and Paco were waiting for them.
***
Again Amparo stood by a hospital bed. Consuelo's beautiful dark hair was all gone, her skin dull, stretched over her face until you felt you could see the skeleton beneath. Her eyes were the only thing that had life remaining, and they blazed with a feverish urgency.
"Amparito," she whispered, her voice cracked, "Promise me you'll take care of Brenda."
A clawlike hand seized Amparo's wrist; Amparo kissed it. "You know I will, Chelo."
"Robbie will need your help." There was a wistfulness to the thin voice. "I know you two haven't always gotten along, but he's doing so much better now. I think he'll be okay if you help out."
"I'll do anything to help Brenda. Anything."
A look of relief crossed Consuelo's wasted face. "I'm so tired, Amparito. I just...worry about her so."
"I know you do. I promise I won't let anything bad happen to her. Get some rest now."
Consuelo smiled at her, a wan shadow of her former radiant smile. "Brenda is so lucky to have such an aunt. And I'm...so lucky to have such a sister..." Her voice trailed off and the hand on her wrist relaxed in sleep.
Amparo leaned forward and kissed her sister on the brow before she left.
***
Amparo clung to Brenda's wrist, refusing to let go. She couldn't see Brenda, but she knew that wrist, knew by heart the scar that started just above it and twisted upward to the elbow. A sign of her broken promise, engraved on her niece's skin forever.
They lurched out of the mist and found themselves in a graveyard, rows of gray stones and marble angels all around them. Brenda pulled away, staring wildly around the cemetery. "Paco? Mrs. Reyes? Milagro?" She looked at her aunt, eyes wide. "What do we do now?"
Amparo rested her hand on butt of her gun for a second, reassuring herself. Brenda needed her to be strong. "Well, I think we should--"
Her confident assessment of their situation faded away as a creaking, rustling noise echoed between the stones. The ground heaved and rippled unpleasantly, like worms were moving just under its surface. "Tia?" Brenda's voice was spiraling upward into panic. "Tia, what's going--"
The ground between them erupted, sending them both flying backwards. And Robert Del Vecchio stepped from the grave to face his daughter.
Grave dirt clung to his gray skin; bloodless gashes gaped in his torso and neck. "You," he rumbled at Brenda, "You uppity little bitch. Think you're better than your pa just because you've read some books, do you?" He reached out for her.
Amparo had her gun out of the holster and was aiming, pulling the trigger...the shot hit the ground between them as something clamped onto her wrist, something cold and hard.
She looked down to see the ground writhing, hands emerging from the earth to seize her. Some were skeletal, like the bony fingers dragging down her wrist. Some still had flesh clinging to them as they grasped at her. "Let me go," she snarled, trying to wrench the gun up. Brenda! Her niece was behind a gravestone, Robbie's white-glazed eyes looking for her. He raised his head and snuffed the air. Amparo fired wildly into the mass of hands dragging at her; bits of bone and skin burst into the air, but they didn't release her. "Come get me, you bastard!" she yelled at Robbie. "I'm the one you want!"
He ignored her cries. "There you are," he growled, his voice deep and dead, and began to lumber toward where Brenda was hiding. Amparo was screaming something, she didn't know what. Brenda would be torn to pieces in front of her while she watched, helpless, unable to do anything. Brenda would--she would--
Brenda's stronger than you think. You need to trust her. Later, Amparo wouldn't be sure whether the voice had come from inside her or from outside. If pressed, she would have reluctantly admitted it sounded slightly like Jaime Reyes. At the time she was simply so desperate she had no idea what else to do.
So she trusted Brenda.
She went limp and stopped fighting the grasping hands, watching through tear-filled eyes as Robbie reached out to seize Brenda's neck. Through the mist of pain and tears, she saw Brenda step forward, drop into a martial arts stance, and leverage her father into an aikido throw that sent him slamming into a headstone.
In the sudden silence, Amparo could hear his arm break.
For a moment, seeing her niece standing there unharmed and strong, Amparo thought that she would burst into sobs. She buried her head in her arms and was only distantly surprised to realize the hands holding her had vanished without a trace. She heard footsteps and looked up to see Brenda looking down at her, her stern face streaked with tears.
"When he died--" she started, faltered. "When he died, I told myself I didn't need to feel guilty. At how...how relieved I was. Because it was an accident, it wasn't my fault. I didn't need to feel guilty." She bit her lip, hard. "But now I know it was my fault. He died because of me. It's all my--"
"--Don't." Amparo put out her hand to stop the flow of words. She staggered to her feet. "Don't ever blame yourself. Blame him. Blame me. But never, never yourself, Brenda. You mustn't. None of it was your fault at all. Please. Believe me."
Brenda stared at her and for a moment Amparo thought she might step forward and let herself be hugged. Amparo's arms ached to hold her. But instead she wiped her face on her sleeve, roughly. She looked...more whole, Amparo thought. Stronger. Resolute. She nodded. "Let's get back to the others."
The graveyard melted away around them as they walked and reformed into the road and their companions.
Amparo watched Brenda run forward into Paco's embrace. She followed slowly after, her hands and legs still chilled from the touch of the dead.
Traci waited until Amparo rejoined them to trace a circle in the dirt with the Staff of Arion, sealing them inside it. The line glowed briefly, then faded away again. "You have been tested and found worthy," said Traci. "Whoever is attempting to unmake the Dreaming will have to attack us directly now."
"That's delightful," muttered Paco, and Brenda elbowed him in the ribs.
"Something's happening," said Bianca. "I can feel it."
"Where?" Traci looked around. Her face went slack with shock. "Oh."
The bright colors of the landscape were dimming, the scarlets and blues fading to gray, going two-dimensional. As they stared, the buildings and trees slowly began to dissolve into gray dust, sifting to the ground. The temperature was dropping, the air growing still and icy.
"What is it?" Paco asked. "What's happening."
"My father used to tell me stories..." Traci was staring at their surroundings, her expression bleak. "It's entropy. The ultimate conqueror, the final devourer. The heat death of the universe."
All the fantasy world beyond was gone, reduced to a plain of uniform gray. It didn't sparkle or heave, it simply lay there, utterly inert, lifeless, all potential leached from it. The road was crumbling toward their charmed circle, falling into silence and entropy. The air itself, the sky and moon, condensed into ash and cinders, until nothing at all was left but the vast and endless stretch of nothingness, devoid of all life and hope.
"I can't..." Traci's voice was a bare whisper as she looked dully out over the encroaching gray. "We can't fight this. Nothing can defeat entropy." Her arms dangled at her sides, stripped of the will to move, and the Staff of Arion slipped from her nerveless fingers.
It was Brenda who leapt forward to catch it before it hit the ground.
"No," she said fiercely, pressing the staff back into Traci's hands. "We can fight anything. We're ready, Traci. You can fight this. We'll help you."
Traci looked at Brenda's face and her jaw set. She nodded, once. Then she held the Staff of Arion above her head.
Amparo was expecting it to burst into light or flame, but it remained just a stick of gnarled wood. Traci looked out over the plain of frozen void and said, "We are here to stop you, here to stop the death of the Dreaming. Today we bring with us our hearts and our gifts, to turn back the tide of loss, to reverse entropy--" Her hand shook for a moment, then firmed again, "--and reshape the world." Over her shoulder, she addressed the people behind her: "What gifts do you bring to the Dreaming? Offer them freely now in this place!"
It was Paco who stepped forward first. "I bring--" He stammered, stopped, and started again. "I bring--friendship, and loyalty, and humor."
Traci nodded. "So be it." Was it Amparo's imagination, or did the staff in her hand glimmer slightly?
Bianca, standing with her arms around her husband, said, "I give compassion, and empathy, and healing."
The staff was definitely glowing now, with a steady inner light. The ravening entropy was still chewing at their refuge, but there was an edge of desperation to it now.
Alberto took a deep, shaking breath. "And I give bravery, and determination, and sacrifice."
"Milagro! What do you give?" Traci's voice was a clarion.
Milagro's voice shook. "I don't know what to say!"
"When you're afraid at night, what do you think of that makes you feel better?" Traci called over her shoulder.
Milagro wiped a sleeve across her face. When she spoke again, her voice was steady and strong. "Dora the Explorer! The Green Lanterns!" The air was humming with energy that seemed to translate her words: Adventurousness. Fearlessness. "My family!" That didn't seem to need translation. The Staff of Arion was like a star now, glowing with a warm, golden light that lit everyone's faces as if from within.
There was a brief silence. Amparo realized with a shock that Traci was looking at her expectantly. There had to be some kind of mistake, she was here by accident, she hadn't even been tested, she had merely watched Brenda's test. She had nothing to give. But everyone was waiting, so she braced her feet, straightened her spine, and said, "I offer resolve, and willpower, and protection."
Beside her, Brenda said, "And I bring intelligence, resilience, and--" She paused. "--and forgiveness."
Traci nodded slowly, then turned to face the hungry void once more. With the staff, she traced esoteric symbols in the air, mandalas of perfect symmetry, flawless structure. The entropic grayness beyond seemed to shiver and draw back at the sight. "These things we bring against you, to hold back the darkness, to succor the light. To them I add at the last my gifts: reason, and order, and creation!"
At the last word the staff burst into dazzling light, a sun lifted high above Traci's head, warmth and brilliance streaming from it to shatter the ice-cold silence. The monotone plain was drenched in golden light, and within that light it leaped into life, the gray dust lifting into columns and whirlpools, forming shapes that dissolved and remade themselves: castles and mountains and cities, geysers of glittering sparks that wavered and wove in the air.
They stood, entranced by beauty, watching the visions. Slowly the shining dust came together in front of them, coalescing into a form: dark eyes like stars, a dazzling smile...
Amparo heard Alberto murmur, his voice full of awe: "La Virgencita!" She wondered what he was seeing, because she could only see Consuelo, her Chelo, shaped from dreams and shining dust, with stars caught in the translucent glory of her dark hair. Her sister smiled at her, her face full of peace and love, and for a moment Amparo knew nothing else.
Then the glimmering dust shifted again as a wind sprang up, a warm wind that dried Amparo's cheeks as the landscape in front of them reformed, falling into familiar patterns, the skyline of El Paso rising up before them, solidifying. They walked forward into it, into their world again, into the streets they knew, until they were standing before the Reyes house, the broken screen door swinging slightly in the breeze.
Milagro tore herself away from her mother's arms and ran into the house; the others followed after, more slowly. They found her in the living room, victoriously hugging a sleepy-eyed Jaime lying on the couch. "Man, I had the weirdest dream," he muttered as Milagro wrapped her arms around him tightly.
"--and I was so scared, so scared I'd lost you, but everyone helped find you, even the scary lady!" Milagro was announcing.
"The scary lady?" Jaime's eyes fell on Amparo, standing awkwardly in the doorway of the living room. "Oh."
Suddenly she didn't know why she was here. This wasn't her place. It wasn't her world. "I didn't do it for you," she said shortly. "I'll just be going now."
She made it to the curb before she realized she was miles from her home with no means of transportation. She set off briskly down the sidewalk; when she got out of sight of the Reyes house she'd call a driver to come get her. She had her cell phone out and was dialing when she heard the voice behind her: "Tia?"
She turned to find Brenda there, out of breath as if she'd been running. "I'm glad you're safe," Amparo said before she could open her mouth. "And I'm...proud of you. You can take care of yourself. I know that, but sometimes I forget it."
Brenda didn't seem to hear her. "Would you like to come for dinner this Sunday?" she blurted. "I asked Mrs. Reyes. She says you're welcome to come."
"I...would you like me to?"
"Yes." There was a long pause, and then Brenda was in her arms, hugging her, her grip fierce and tight. "I miss you, Tia."
"I miss you too," Amparo whispered into her niece's hair, her brave niece, her strong girl. "And I would love to come for dinner."
Chelo, she whispered to that vision of light and joy still lingering her heart, Your daughter will be fine.
And I think your sister will be too.
***
[Solicitation Copy: When the most powerful beings in the universe are shaken by forces beyond mortal comprehension, will DC's heroes pay the ultimate price? Death and Donna Troy meet--again--and have to join forces to get to the bottom of the mystery! Roy Harper and Ollie Queen must discover what Destiny wants from Roy's precious daughter Lian! Dream takes a desperate risk and invades Blue Beetle's mind to assemble a team that can defend the Dreaming! A reluctant Destruction and an annoyed Hal Jordan have a long-delayed discussion! Delirium and Ambush Bug go on a road trip! Mon-El finds himself a prisoner of Despair! And Dick Grayson becomes an unwitting pawn in Desire's cruel games! Some shall die, some shall be reborn, but no lives will remain untouched by the...Endless Crisis!
Endless Crisis, coming this summer to a comic store near you! Don't miss it!]