The silence settles over all of us.
‘Why isn’t he saying anything?’ Isagani asks, voice becoming more desperate.
‘I don’t think he can,’ Ligaya says and then covers her mouth with her hand. ‘I’m sorry,’ she says, voice muffled.
‘Is that true?’ Isagani asks, their body deflating.
Narra sighs. ‘Something has changed,’ she says finally.
‘He can’t...’ Isagani says, turning to Sinigang. They put their hand out and the otter-cat butts his head against it, trilling happily. Their voice trembles and they clear their throat. ‘He can’t be ordinary. He’s magic; he’ll always be magic.’
We look at Narra, begging her to say something. How do we answer? She looks so tired but gives Isagani a strained smile. Then her face becomes pained, and she clutches the armchair, doubling over. Ligaya is doing the same, having fallen to her knees. They are writhing in pain on the floor. And then they start to levitate, as if lifted by invisible strings, hair flowing and arms outstretched unnaturally. I fall out of my chair to see it. This is witchery gone wild. They press against the ceiling, as though something is pinning them in place. Their faces are blanched, and they scratch at their throats, turning a ghastly shade of purple.
‘Fuck, what’s happening to them?’ I scramble up. ‘They’re dying!’
‘What can we do?’ Morna rushes up the stairs, desperately trying to grab at Ligaya’s dress and bring her down.
The women let out a scream and gasp for air. They begin to glow, the same golden light that emanated from Hanan in the cave.Actually glittering like the stars, glowing like the full moon. They shine from inside, gold and silver threads. I try to shield my eyes from it, when the wind is taken out of their sails and they drop like stones.
We all scream, rushing to break the fall. I roll onto my back, hoping I can cushion them with my bulk. They fall fast and then stop. Narra’s face is inches from mine, and even she looks surprised. She drops the short distance, flopping onto my soft belly. The others are at the bottom of the stairs now, picking up Ligaya from the floor.
‘Holy Aistra, what was that?’
Narra catches her breath, and then she makes haste into the kitchen. We all look at her quizzically. All apart from Ligaya.
When the hedge witch returns, she’s carrying a potted plant. I recognise it as a propagated cutting of emerald vine. Ligaya’s prized possession. It’s withered and dried out, curling in on itself. A decaying world.
‘Here,’ she says, holding the pot out to Ligaya. The women hold the pot together, fingertips touching.
Slowly, painfully slowly, the plant comes back to life. It unbends, standing tall and proud. It’s plump and green and verdant. The flowers bloom again, leaves no longer shrivelled, the fragrance filling the room.
‘What in Paranish?’ Morna whispers in awe. ‘Is that the awakening you talked about, Narra?’
‘It was a very rude awakening.’ Ligaya smiles.
Sinigang meows, and we all turn to him. He makes a strange sound, like someone clearing their throat. And then he retches until a hairball comes out. He looks at it, disgusted, and then at me. There’s something in his face, a knowing look, more like the old glint in his eye. He says nothing but pads away, seemingly unimpressed by the awakening that just took place before him.
chapter sixty-eight
ris
I have to stopmyself from crying as we all sit by the fire, Biba and Salvacion wrapped in blankets.
‘And he was so stubborn – as soon as he got an idea in his head, that was it.’ Salvacion laughs.
I smile, my heart hurting from the memory but also from the squeal of laughter that comes from Biba.
‘Bit of a family trait,’ Kopiro says, affectionately, looking at me.
‘I remember Larkin running frantically after Tricky,’ Kopiro recalls. ‘He’d accidentally let her out of the pen, and your father, Jon, was dying with laughter, watching him run around the farm.’
‘He told me that’s when he knew Larkin was family,’ I say, and Kopiro squeezes my hand. ‘My fathers were both already sick then. I think they wanted to know I’d have someone.’
‘Mama.’ Biba’s wails cut through our conversation.
She’s wheezing, choking sobs. They come on so suddenly I’m taken aback. I take her face in my hands and open her mouth, to see if there’s something lodged there. She trembles, and then she’s snatched out of my arms. We watch, stunned into silence, as she begins to float in mid-air. She looks confused and terrified, and I cannot reach her. We stand under her, watching her kick and suffocate.
‘Why is she breathing like that?’ I ask, desperately. We grasp each other, barely able to understand what we’re seeing. We’re all fixated on her. ‘Biba, please, Biba!’
