Juan pulled his hand from hers, and in a movement that seemed very fast to her, he tore the oxygen mask from his face. Before going to find Bradford, she caressed his pale lips and the skin beneath his sunken eyes, which looked as strange as they always did after the Ceremonial: more transparent, criss-crossed by burst vessels—they looked blind. Tali knew they would improve as the hours passed. She leaned over to kiss Juan’s forehead, and he asked in a low voice how long he’d been out. A day, more or less, she told him. I’ll be right back, she said, and opened the door. Bradford was already on the other side, as if something had alerted him. Tali left them alone. She leaned against the window in the hallway. Outside, the sky threatened another storm: purple clouds split off over the black of night, and the air seemed made of honey. Tali caressed the talisman under the thin skin of her arm, so small it looked like an insect bite or a blemish. My lord, thank you, she said, and with words no one could learn, she promised a perfect gift when she was back home, back in her temple. She had asked the saint once who the Darkness was; she’d asked at night, years ago, amid wine and candles, and the saint had replied in the cards: again and again the answer appeared in the center of the spread. The Moon. It was the card Juan had drawn for her and the one Tali understood the least, one she always interpreted as meaning an important change, a voluntary one. But it was also about deception, confusion, reverie. Madness, even.
Bradford came out of the room and nodded to Tali to say she could go in. The doctor’s hair was dirty and she felt a wave of disgust, as though she’d accidentally touched the bottom of a pot that had rotten meat stuck to it.
Juan was sitting up in bed, buttoning a clean white short-sleeved shirt. On the sheets lay a tangle of cables from the intravenous drip, the electrodes, and the other equipment he’d been hooked up to. When he looked at her, she saw his eyes were already less bloodshot; little by little they were returning to their usual yellow-flecked green. Juan beckoned her closer: his hands were shaking and he couldn’t get the shirt fastened. Tali helped him. She asked if he could go out yet, and he replied that Bradford said no, but he wasn’t about to stay in bed. I want you to take me for a walk, he said. Tali finished buttoning his shirt and asked if he could stand, because she couldn’t hold his weight if he fell. Juan put his feet on the floor and his hands on Tali’s shoulders. When he stood up, he breathed deeply to keep his knees firm. I can, he said. Where’s Stephen? He’s resting, but I can call him.
The room where Juan recovered from the Ceremonial was on the ground floor; otherwise Tali wouldn’t have dared walk with him, since the stairs would be too much. She let him lean all the weight she could bear on her, his arm around her waist. They didn’t meet anyone in the short hallway leading to the yard, or outside, when they reached the fountain and the willow. Once they were a little farther from the house, Juan asked:
“Have they already tested Gaspar?”
“Earlier this afternoon,” said Tali. “They don’t tell me anything, but they do talk to Stephen. He says the kid didn’t pass any of the seven tests.”
Juan looked at her with a smile that made him appear very young, like a teenager. Nowhere in his face could Tali find the being who had terrified her the night before. They sat down on a sofa, one of several Mercedes had had brought out to the garden to replace the wood and metal benches, which were so uncomfortable. Tali sat at one end and Juan sat down beside her, keeping his torso upright so he could breathe better. The garden was very dark. Even with the generator running, they had to turn off as many lights as possible in order to use the air conditioner: the guesthouse was full and the visitors had to be kept comfortable. Still, guests were forbidden from coming to the main house where the medium stayed.
“You can’t imagine how strong the kid is,” said Tali. Juan didn’t reply, but just let her talk. “We had to work hard. Is it because he’s little?”
Juan sat up even straighter on the sofa to answer her. The whites of his eyes were almost normal now.
“No. It should have been easy because he’s little.”
“Well, it wasn’t exactly Herculean, but it was tough. He kept slipping away from me!”
Juan wiped his forehead. He wasn’t sweating, though the heat was damp and threatening.
“I have to ask you for a favor. I want you to keep him like that. Gaspar.”
“Of course. He’ll be blocked as long as you’re here.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Juan, shouldn’t we be using silence to talk?”
He shook his head. He was agitated.
“Today I can feel the plants growing, I can hear every whisper in the house, the footsteps of the guests, even the wailing of the ones Mercedes hides in the tunnel. No one is listening to us. Except Stephen, who’s on his way. We’re alone.”
And then he made his request: I want you to keep my son blocked forever. I need to know if you can do it. Tali told him she could try, but she also explained how painful it was to annul someone so young. When she was performing the work to block him, she had felt that she was physically hurting the boy. It was like he was shrieking, said Tali, and she remembered the shiver, the feeling she was slicing through muscle when she manipulated the doll made of blood, hair, rope, and bone. Like she was drowning a strong newborn kitten that was desperate to live. Stephen had had to draw the symbols many times because they’d faded, as if they lacked strength, as if a hand were erasing them. Maintaining that state for a long time was possible, but it would be laborious, and, Tali believed, it would be damaging to Gaspar. Not to mention lethal for her and Stephen if they were ever found out.
Juan’s eyes were cold.
“They won’t find out if you work in the temple. The protection sign I left there hides anything that happens inside.”
“You asshole, you didn’t tell me that’s why you did it.”
“Can you keep my son blocked?”
“I don’t know what might happen when he grows up.”
“When he grows up, we’ll see. No one is going to teach him anything. I need them to go on thinking he’s no good to them. If they even suspect he is, they’ll start using him.”
Stephen came into the garden along the path that led to the guesthouse. He knelt down in front of Juan and looked at him closely. He had slept, and he seemed relieved.
“My mother thought it was a magnificent Ceremonial, and she wants to see you as soon as you feel well. Your son is with Marcelina.”
“Tali told me Gaspar didn’t pass any of the tests.”
Juan remembered the seven tests clearly. They were simple and effective. He had passed them without much effort long before he’d manifested. Gaspar would have done too, if it hadn’t been for Stephen and Tali’s intervention.
“The kid could be astonishing if you trained him. If you’d let me train him. Rosario wanted that, and you know it.”
“And she did train him, a lot. Gaspar reads Tarot and he’s only six years old. I don’t want to go back over these discussions. You and I are not going to argue about this. It’s my decision. They’re not going to give up, right?”