On Sunday, they reached a sacred site along the shore. Cave rock was a tall formation reaching the shore, full of caves and gutted by two tunnels to allow the highway to cross underneath. The trail was closed because it snowed heavily during the week but the Shaman approached the park ranger anyway.

“Oswald, good to see you,” she waved. “How are you holding up in this cold?”

Oswald was a caucasian man of few words with a thick lumberjack beard. “Shaman, greetings. I assume you wish to take this young lady to the rock, right?”

“That’s right. She seeks wisdom and I decided to let her meet the spirits.”

Oswald measured Cat from head to toe and found the skinny girl wanting. However, he didn’t challenge the Shaman as he opened the gate and issued a single warning, “The trail is frozen and slippery. Take care.”

Indeed the rocks were white with snow and a few patches of ice. The two women took their time as they hiked the trail to the top of the rock, and Cat was presented with one of the most beautiful views of any of her lives. Were it not for the mountains on the California side, she’d think the lake was a calm ocean. Behind her, the snow-covered pine trees covered the mountainside, revealing a bit of green as they came closer to the edge of the lake. Lake Tahoe was too deep to freeze. The thermal energy stored in sixteen hundred feet of water was so great Winter ended before the lake ran out of it.

“This way, girl. I’ll show you one of the secret paths of my people,” the shaman called her to climb down some rocks on the north side of the rock.

They reached a stone face without any obvious way to move forward or descend further. The Shaman put her hand against the rock and closed her eyes. A minute passed and nothing happened. Hidden in her coat, Mr. Mouser complained about something. It became five minutes and the Shaman faltered. Cat held her elbow to help her keep her footing.

“Are you okay?”

“I am,” she smiled. “Thanks, child, but now it is time for you to go in.”

“Where?” She turned around to see a cave opening in the rock. “This wasn’t here before,” Cat complained.

“This cave has been here for centuries, thousands of years even. It’s just hidden from mortal eyes. I need to rest. You go inside.”

The Shaman deadpanned and groused. “Only what you take with you,” before breaking into her staccato laughter. “What? Can’t an old woman watch movies?”

“She got you there, ghost-girl.”

“Drop your pack. It’ll only weigh you down in there,” the woman suggested.

“What should I do now?” Cat asked after she stashed her pack against a rock.

“In you go, girl, ghost, and kitten. The spirits are curious about you. And yes, the cave isn’t empty, but they won’t hurt you,” the Shaman gently nudged them inside.

----------------------------------------

She entered the cave and only after it got too dark she worried about things such as hitting her head, losing her footing, or seeing something in front of her nose. Mr. Mouser growled and climbed out of her coat, standing on her shoulders with his body arched behind her head. Cat decided to take her phone out and turn on the LED torch. She found a cave-like any other, with irregular walls, a lot of shadows, and a path going forward. The atmosphere was moist and stale.

As she walked into the cave for about ten minutes, the temperature started to rise dramatically. She took off her heavy coat and hung it on a protrusion, intending on getting it back on her way out.

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“No idea, mate,” Cat said as she swatted Mr. Mouser’s tail away from her face. “Do you see anything, Mr. Mouser?”

“Meow?”

“Keep up the good work, buddy. I think we’re supposed to meet the spirits.”

She made sure her footing was stable and turned off the torch, carefully slipping the phone in her pants pocket and tapping it to make sure it was there. Losing her only source of light would be downright stupid. She saw black-and-white swirls and afterimages as her eyes adapted to the lack of light. After several minutes, she thought she was seeing something, which was absurd. They were too deep in the cave, sunlight wouldn’t reach this far.

Mr. Mouser growled. Fearing her companion would jump off and get lost in the cave, she grabbed him from her shoulder and hugged him tightly. “Stay with me. Even if you see something, ‘stay’,” she gave him the command, hoping he would obey.

“At least we have each other.”

Cat chuckled. More time passed and she couldn’t see shit. “What should we do? Oh,” she slapped her forehead. She squeezed both hands over her chest and said, “Hunga mi' heshi!” Which meant “hello” in the Washoe language.

She heard a giggle. It sounded childish but was deep like a baritone. “The lost human child found her manners!” A voice that was at the same time sharp and a deep rumble echoed in the cave. Cat felt Mr. Mouser stir and she tightened her grip on him. At least the spirit spoke English.

“Greetings, spirit. I harbor no ill intent.”

“I know of you, O blessed one. I’ve seen you as you walked along the sacred lake with the people’s Shaman. You ate the sacred nut, you slept on the ground like the people of old did. You admired the beauty of the land and grieved for the damage your kind caused. You even pledged to help fix it. For that, we declare you friend.”

She felt her eyes sting. “My pledge was true. We’ll help restore the sacred sites of the people. Stop humans from dumping their sewage on the lake. Teach the children how to respect nature.”

She saw a vaguely humanoid shape move in front of her, even without light. She couldn’t discern contours or colors, just the general spots for eyes and a rough mouth along with the silhouette. If she had to guess, the spirit seemed to be made of rock. “You seek help. Your heart stirs in fear of an ancient enemy. One that would devour this world and enslave its souls for profit. Yet you share the same motivations.”

“Profit can be achieved in a mutually beneficial way,” She replied. “Even the Washoe people of old traded with other tribes. But most trades were good for both tribes, weren’t they? Only when the search for profit is tainted by the carelessness of the other is that it becomes evil.”

“Is that your truth?”

“Yes. My truth is that I won’t invest my money where it might cause people to suffer.”

The spirit moved around, examining her and rummaging on her answer. “What if your profit indeed causes suffering? Without your knowledge.”

“If and when I’m aware of it, I’ll do my utmost to rectify it. Economics is like music. You can play a harmonious melody or a dissonant cacophony.”

The spirit smiled. She saw quartz gemstones, maybe diamonds, that served as its teeth. “Your answer pleases me!” It gushed. “I’ll tell you why the Shaman sent you here.”

“I’m listening, spirit.”

“For every villain, there’s a hero. The Universe makes it happens as it answers to a threat. Every hero has their fairy, that’s an absolute truth. Us fairies have the role to guide and help the hero achieve balance for the Universe.”

Cat felt a spark of hope. Would she enter a covenant or a pact with the earth fairy and gain the power to fight the demon? She had to admit she felt some envy toward what Shinji and Alice could do. Compared to them, she was helpless. She wanted to ask “Will you help me?” but a small part of her felt unworthy of such aid. So she remained silent.

The spirit’s next words broke her heart.

“However, you are not a hero. This situation was caused by your own actions and can be ended at any time if you will it so. You can avoid all this suffering and death. Yet you selfishly refuse to end it.”

She felt hurt. Each word was like a dagger piercing her heart. She remembered Shinji and the trolley dilemma. The soldiers, the cops, the people caught in the crossfire, the land around Doswell would all be spared if she’d surrendered Catherine. The demon would have to go back to hell. However, how could she be considered responsible for actions others took by themselves? The demon worshippers became corrupted because they desire power and wealth. The “Florida Walker” was created because a man had a heart so dark he would give up his very humanity for a chance at vengeance.

By himself and without people willingly allowing corruption in their hearts, the demon would be utterly powerless. The checks and balances around the Earth dimension assured that. A Utilitarian would say, “surrender the soul,” it serves the greater good.

But you know what else was utilitarian by design? Nazism. Slavery. The good of the few could be trampled on if it would benefit the many. She didn’t believe she was the trolley conductor. The people who died were jumping on the rails and dragging others with them.

“I will never yield or surrender Catherine’s soul!”

Even if it meant losing the spirit’s aid.