Spiritwalk by Charles De Lint

“Can I see these?” he asked.
    “The top one came in the mail just a week or so ago,” Emma said as she passed them over. “I hadn’t heard from her in, oh, a long long time.”
    Blue read the card that Button had dreamed of, then held it up to the window. “Can you see this, Jamie?” he asked.
    Emma gave him a strange look, but then Jamie’s words began to cross the screen again: IT SEEMS TO BE A WARNING. SHE KNEW THAT DANGER WAS APPROACHING YOU, EMMA, AND TRIED TO WARN YOU.
    Emma looked at the card again. “I remember feeling weird when I first read it, but we—well, I just took it as a sort of poetic way of saying, why don’t we get in touch.”
    NO, Jamie replied. FROM THIS IT WOULD SEEM THAT YOUR ENEMY—THE WOMAN IN YOUR DREAM, I SUPPOSE—HAS ONLY RECENTLY ARRIVED ON OUR SHORES. FROM YOUR DREAM IT’S OBVIOUS THAT YOU HAVE SOMETHING SHE WANTS. I WONDER WHAT THIS TALISMAN IS.
    “Let’s get Button back first,” Blue said. Emma started at the name and Blue gave her an apologetic glance. “I guess it sounds strange to you, but that’s just what I called her. We’ve got to call her something, right?”
    Emma nodded slowly. Then she pulled a sheaf of paper from the pile in Blue’s hand. “Look at this one,” she said. “The last stanza. I’ve read these all through again since that dream and this one seems to... I don’t know... talk about some kind of power. Maybe I’m just making something out of nothing, but...”
    Blue wasn’t much for poetry, but he dutifully gave it a look, holding it up to the window so that Jamie could read it, too.
    That gift was yours, my heart
to call to sleep the trees
and dream their dreams
the berry red and the laden bough
     their poetry, your poetry
     their music, your music
     their strengths, your strength
through Winter’s long
and bitter night
oh, guard that gift, my heart
and guard it well
    THAT’S IT, Jamie said.
    “What is?” Blue asked.
    THE TALISMAN—IT’S A PART OF HER. IT IS HER—OR AT LEAST THE HER SHE WAS. WHO KNOWS WHICH ONE OF THEM HAS IT NOW.
    The phone rang suddenly, making both Blue and Emma start.
    “Got a pen and paper?” Tucker asked without any preliminaries when Blue answered.
    “Yeah. Shoot.”
    “Okay. I doubt the car’s stolen. It’s a ’78 Mustang registered to an Edward Chance.”
    Blue hesitated in his writing, then added the address that Tucker gave him under the name. “Eddie Chance?” he asked. “You’re sure?”
    “I thought you’d recognize the name,” Tucker said. “One of your old pals from your biking days. Well, he’s still riding with the Dragon, at least he is according to a source I’ve got with the Ottawa cops. I had him run Chance’s name through Ceepik. No outstanding warrants but he’s got a record as long as his arm, Blue. He’s one of the new biker breed, now. You know—sports jackets and suits, pushing dope and women, running scams. Nice guy.”
    “This is one I owe you,” Blue said.
    “I see in his file where you’ve had a run-in with him before, haven’t you? Put him in the hospital just before you dropped your colors?”
    “Yeah, we’ve had our differences.”
    “The guy’s scum,” Tucker said, “but I meant what I said before. You fuck him over and I’ll have to come for you.”
    “It’s not that kind of problem,” Blue said.
    “I’m offering to help, Blue.”
    “And I appreciate it. But it’s just something I’ve got to handle myself. Thanks, John.”
    There was a moment’s pause and Blue knew that he wasn’t kidding the inspector. The only reason Blue didn’t want Tucker’s help was because he didn’t want his hands tied by legalities, and they both knew it. But they did owe each other. Blue just hoped Tucker would remember that.
    “Okay,” Tucker said finally. “Just remember—don’t get caught. I don’t want to hear about it after.”
    The line went dead before Blue could add anything. Cradling the phone, he looked at Emma. “Well,