Evil Awakened (The Kiche Chronicles Book 1)

by J. M. LeDuc

  “I don’t know. You really think it would look good?”

  “Amazing. And I would love to see the expression on the chief’s face when you walk in.”

  Pamoon’s eyes opened as wide as her smile. “Not to mention Powaw’s.”

  “So it’s a deal,” Tsomah beamed. “As soon as you wash up, we’ll get started.”

  As they talked about the cut and color, Pamoon heard the screen door open. Scout bounded towards them, tail wagging, with a big bone in his mouth. Tihk followed with a huge grin on his face.

  “I take it from your smirk that it didn’t take Scout long to find the bone,” Tsomah said.

  “That wolf is amazing. It took him less than a minute to sniff it out.”

  Scout brought the bone to Pamoon and laid it on her lap, slobber and all.

  “Eww, that’s gross,” she said.

  Scout sat by her side and looked longingly in her eyes.

  Pamoon scratched Scout’s nose and gave him the command to eat. “Michi.”

  Scout gently clutched the bone between his teeth and moved to a large Cyprus tree to feast on the fruits of his labor.

  “You have done an incredible job training him,” Tihk said. “And your Cree pronunciation is getting much better. We’ll make a squaw out of you yet.”

  Pamoon blushed at the compliment and tried to change the subject. “Are you ever going to show me what you’ve been hiding in your garage?”

  “I see Tsomah has been teaching you her ‘sleight of hand’ trick,” Tihk said as he glanced in the direction of his detached garage and then back at Pamoon.

  “That’s how I convinced you to propose to me,” Tsomah added.

  Pamoon just shook her head and rolled her eyes. This conversation was going nowhere. She shifted her attention to the home next door, Powaw’s home. He was usually sitting on his front porch when she came by, or would come out and sit when he saw her. “Is Powaw home?”

  Tihk eyed his uncle’s house and shook his head. “It doesn’t look like it.”

  Tsomah peered over at the house and raised a pierced eyebrow. “I’m surprised I didn’t notice that before.”

  “Notice what?” Pamoon said.

  Tihk pointed to his uncle’s front door. “He tied a red scarf to the door knob. His signal when he goes to the sweat lodge.”

  “Sweat lodge? Why?” Pamoon asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Tihk said looking over at Powaw’s door, “but you know my uncle. If he made the trek to the lodge, he must have had good reason.”

  Envisioning Scout’s reaction to the campsite, Pamoon thought: That’s two weird things today.

  “What about Bobby? Have either of you seen him this morning?”

  “No,” Tsomah said, “but I talked to his mom last night, and Astina said he was spending the night at Ralph’s. I doubt they’re even up yet.”

  “You’re probably right, judging by the big mess he and the guys left at the campsite in the woods.”

  Tihk turned his head towards Pamoon. “What kind of mess?”

  “You know what kind of mess.”

  Tsomah stood up, stretched her arms over her head, and groaned. “Well, at least they’re not drinking and driving. We should be thankful for that.”

  “I know my friends drink and smoke a little weed,” Pamoon said. “It’s no big deal. I just get mad when they leave a mess.”

  “How about you and I go back and clean up the site,” Tsomah said, “then we’ll get you ready for your birthday celebration.”

  “Sounds perfect.” Pamoon looked over at her Tihk. “Would you mind keeping Scout with you? Something spooked him in the woods.”

  “No problem. Now you two get out of here, so Scout and I can do a few last-minute things.”

  7

  Campsite

  March 2, 8:15 a.m.

  * * *

  Tsomah cleaned up the site while Pamoon stared off into space. “I could use a little help over here, Pam,” she said.

  “Sorry,” Pamoon replied, picking up a strange piece of paper that sat by the base of a tree. Absent-mindedly, she placed it in the pocket of her jeans. “I was just thinking about Scout.”

  “What about him?”

  “This is where he kinda’ freaked out.”

  Tsomah placed the last can in the trash bag and wiped her hands on her shorts. “Freaked out, what do you mean?”

  Pamoon shrugged. “I don’t know. It was kind of weird. We were running along the path like we always do when he stopped and started to growl. Something spooked him.”

  “Hmm. Maybe he saw a squirrel or some other animal.”

  Pamoon crossed her arms over her chest, and moved her hands up and down her biceps as if she was trying to rub away a chill while she looked around. “He’s seen all sorts of animals in these woods, but he’s never been spooked before. This was different. He started to paw the ground and became very protective.”

  Tsomah tied the end of the trash bag and threw it over her shoulder. “I know you see Scout as a pet, but you need to remember that he is a wild animal.”

  Pamoon laughed. “A wild animal that’s afraid of thunder and sleeps with a stuffed bear.”

  Tsomah hip bumped Pamoon as she walked past her. “His instincts are still those of a wolf. No matter how sweet he is, he is still a wolf at heart and—”

  “And in spirit.” Pamoon finished Tsomah’s thought. “I know. Tihk and Powaw remind me all the time, not to mention all the times Kamenna mentioned it,” she emphasized.

  Tsomah wrapped her free arm around Pamoon’s shoulder. “Kamenna was a wise woman. Always remember what she taught you.”

  Pamoon nodded, surprised she even mentioned Kamenna by name. It had been two months since her death, and this was the first time she spoke her name aloud.

  “We better head home. God knows what kind of trouble Tihk and Scout have gotten themselves into without supervision.

  As they walked, a swirling, pungent breeze blew through the trees.

  Pamoon’s nose wrinkled. “Do you smell that? That’s the same odor that spooked Scout.”

  Tsomah sniffed the air. “Someone is probably burning their trash.”

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  * * *

  If the girls had looked up, they might have seen two hollow, yet piercing eyes leering down at them. The eyes of a demon released from its long captivity.

  Eyes that portrayed hate and hunger.

  Eyes that longed to devour the souls of the two below.

  But then another breeze blew. Smothering the first.

  The demon spun its head around searching for the source of the current, but saw nothing. It raised its nose skyward, sniffing. The demon sensed something strong and ancient . . . and good.

  8

  White Eagle

  March 2, 9:00 a.m.

  * * *

  Chief White Eagle sat in his office in the Big Swamp Reservation administration building. His large frame dwarfed the desk he slouched behind; his long gray hair spilled forward almost completely covering his weathered face and the worn leather jacket, which lay spread open, covering most of his desk. As he spoke through the speaker phone, he examined the suede lining of the coat. Over the past sixteen years, he’d examined that lining so many times, he knew every crease in the hide and would be able to recognize the smell of that jacket in a tanning factory.

  “Are you sure there is nothing else you can tell me? You’re sure there’s no new information. You’re sort of my last chance.”

  “Chief, you read Cree better than I do. I’ve studied the words written on the lining of that jacket just like you have. The meaning behind them is clear.”

  “You still have no idea how to find the Spirit Cave it speaks of?”

  “Believe me, Chief; if I had any idea where to look, I’d have toppled governments to find it. I’m as puzzled as you are.” There was an audible clearing of the throat through the speaker. “I’m a historian and I deal in facts. You know I’m not a spiritual ma
n, so I won’t bother with could of’s or would of’s. If this cave is real, no amount of research is going to make any difference. If the words burnt into the lining of the jacket are to be believed, there is only one person who can find it . . . and I’m not her.”

  White Eagle exhaled audibly. “I know. I was just grasping for one final straw.”

  “So, I take it you haven’t talked to her yet?”

  “No. Not yet. I was hoping to avoid that conversation. I was praying the spirits would intercede.”

  “Yeah, well; I’m afraid you and I both know it’s a bit too late for prayer. You need to have that conversation, today.”

  “If you’re not spiritual, why do I hear fear in your voice?”

  “Not fear, exactly. Hell, I don’t know what I feel. It’s just . . . it’s just that this is the first time in my entire career I was not able to logically figure out the origin of an archeological finding.”

  “Archeological finding? We’re talking about a leather jacket mass produced in the 1970’s.”

  “You know what I mean, Chief. I’ve used every dating method known including carbon-dating and the words burnt into that lining were not put there in the 1970’s. Hell, I can’t even get an accurate date. All I know is that what’s there defies analysis. I hate to say it, but maybe there’s something to be said for what her mother wrote in the letter. And if that’s the case, we should probably do as the message on that jacket asks.”

  White Eagle sat in silence.

  “Do I have to remind you of what it asks?”

  “Great Spirit save us if all that toppled from your mouth is true,” White Eagle breathed, staring at the letter, “and, no, you don’t have to remind me. Whoever or whatever wrote that message was clear. Pamoon must be told of her fate on the date of her sixteenth birthday.”

  “What about Powaw, what does your spirit leader have to say?”

  “I doubt he has anything to add, but I haven’t been able to reach Powaw this morning. His nephew told me he left for the sweat lodge before dawn.”

  “If my memory serves me, the lodge is quite a jaunt from Powaw’s home. He must have had good reason to make the trip.”

  “Eha. But I won’t know the reason until he returns. Powaw is not a young brave. He wouldn’t trek from one end of the reservation to the other unless it was important.”

  “What could be so important that he would have walked that distance in the dead of night?”

  “As the tribe’s spirit leader, he would only make that walk if he had been in contact with the spirit world.”

  “But—”

  “I know. You don’t have to say it. If he doesn’t return before the day is through, I will tell her.”

  A heaviness filled the room.

  “I don’t envy you, White Eagle. How do you tell a sixteen-year old girl that her existence is one of legends?”

  White Eagle glanced at the letter lying next to the jacket. “I have always been direct with Pamoon. It’s time I tell her about the letter and what I know of her mother.”

  “A tough conversation.”

  “Eha.”

  “Give me a call when you get a chance and let me know how it goes. If I can be of any help, you know where to find me.”

  “Thanks, Jim. I have some final preparations to take care of, so I’ll talk to you later.”

  White Eagle prayed a final prayer to the Great Spirit. Finished, he sprinkled tobacco on top of the jacket, folded it, and placed it inside the backpack he had originally found it in; he then carefully laid the letter on top before closing it. He eyed the clock, grabbed the pack, and walked out of his office, hoping that Pamoon’s birthday celebration would be one of joy.

  9

  Celebration & Surprises

  March 2, 10:30 a.m.

  * * *

  Pamoon glanced down at Scout who seemed content to sit quietly and gnaw on the bone Tihk had given him earlier. She was not as patient. Although she said nothing, she huffed and moaned every time another piece of her hair floated past. Her anxiety grew as she eyed her shorn hair scattered on the floor around the chair. “How much longer?”

  “Almost done. I just have to wash your hair and give it a quick blow dry.”

  “Blow dry,” she groaned. “Why bother; you know I’ll never blow it dry again.”

  “Because it’s your birthday, that’s why. Now tilt your head back so I can wash the color out.”

  Twenty minutes later, Tsomah shut off the blow dryer and looked at her like her biology teacher looked at a dissected earth worm, examining every minor detail. Pamoon’s jitters lessened as a bright smile engulfed Tsomah’s face.

  “Can I see now?”

  “In just one minute,” Tsomah said, picking up her straight-edged razor. Pamoon, heard the slicing of hair and watched a few more pieces fall around her.

  “Don’t scalp me.”

  “Shush,” Tsomah said, removing the towel that had been draped around Pamoon. “Now, you can look.”

  About to swivel the chair toward the mirror, Pamoon stopped her. “Wait!”

  “What?”

  “I’m scared. What if I don’t like it?”

  With a gleam in her eye, Tsomah turned the chair. “Only one way to find out.”

  Pamoon squeezed her eyes shut, afraid to look at her reflection.

  “Open your eyes.” Excitement highlighted each word Tsomah said.

  Slowly unscrunching her face, Pamoon looked in the mirror and gasped. “Oh, my god,” she said slowly.

  “Well?”

  Pamoon was silent; in fact, she didn’t even breathe. She just stared at the mirror.

  “Do you like it? I mean, you love it, right?”

  Pamoon studied her reflection. Her once long brown hair now short and spiky, black with purple highlights. Some pieces long enough to fall, while others stood straight up. The cut accentuated her porcelain skin, high cheek bones, and her jade-green eyes. As she stared, Tsomah held up a mirror, so she could see the back. It was razor short, and the hair left glistened with highlights. “Everyone is going to freak. No one is going to be able to say I’m trying to look Indian, anymore. That’s for sure.”

  “Do you like it?” Tsomah’s eyes were as wide as her smile.

  The corners of Pamoon’s mouth rose into a broad smile. “I love it!” She jumped from the chair and hugged Tsomah. “It’s perfect. I mean it’s going to take some getting used to, but it’s really cool.” Hugging her tighter, she whispered, “Thank you.”

  Scout jumped on both, barking and wagging his tail.

  “You like it, boy?”

  Scout’s tail wagged so fast, his entire back end wiggled back and forth.

  “I think he agrees,” Tsomah laughed.

  “What’s all the commotion in there?” Pamoon heard Tihk’s voice coming from the next room. “Hurry up, you two, or Pamoon is going to be late for her own birthday celebration.”

  Pamoon watched as he came around the corner and stuck his head in Tsomah’s home salon. “Holy sh—”

  “Isn’t it great?” Tsomah interjected.

  Pamoon just stared at Tihk as his mouth dropped open. “Well, if you were going for shock value, you’ve succeeded.”

  “Men.” Tsomah rolled her eyes.

  * * *

  As they entered the main building, Pamoon could hear people talking and laughing inside the great hall. With butterflies fluttering in her stomach, she took a deep breath and opened the door. There was a heartbeat of dead silence before she heard her best friends, Celia and MaryLynn squeal.

  “Your hair!” Celia yelled.

  “You like it?”

  “Like it? I love it.”

  MaryLynn nodded, excitedly. “Turn around so we can see the back.”

  The girls talked about how much they loved the cut, momentarily forgetting that other people were in the room.

  Pamoon’s eyes cut to the head of the table. White Eagle was more subdued. While the girls made a huge fuss over Pamoon’s hair, he s
at with a dead pan expression on his face at the end of a long banquet table, and glanced at his watch.

  “I guess you can be excused for being late, since it’s your birthday,” he said when the girls quieted down. Pointing at an empty chair beside him, he said, “Come, sit.”

  Pamoon’s eyes were glued to the table as she practically floated to the far end of the room. The room was decorated in bright colors, the table full of her favorite foods. She’d never seen anything as beautiful. Her eyes danced as she gazed at the table and the people around it. “This is amazing.” About to sit, she smelled her favorite dish. “Did someone manage to pry Nuna’s recipe for squash casserole from her. I mean she’s never given it to anybody, not even Kamenna.”

  Chief White Eagle shook his head. “I’ve even tried begging, and all I ever accomplished was humiliating myself and getting my jeans dirty.”

  Laughter filled the room. The chief was not normally one to crack jokes.

  “Then who—”

  Pamoon stopped when she heard the door to the kitchen swing open. She turned to see a large woman fill the door frame. “Nimâmâsis Nuna!” Pamoon screamed. Jumping out of her chair, she ran across the room and threw her arms around her aunt. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

  “I wouldn’t miss this day for anything.”

  Pamoon hugged her aunt tighter.

  “Let me look at you.” Nuna held her at arms’ length and studied her niece. “It’s wonderful to see you smile,” she said, tracing her callused fingers over her face. Pamoon watched intently as Nuna studied her hair. “When did you do this?” Nuna said, pressing down on the spiked ends.

  “Today. Do you like it?”

  “It looks like the work of a Seminole,” she answered, cutting her eyes at Tsomah.

  Tsomah smiled wide and nodded.

  Pamoon’s stomach began to tighten as Nuna turned her attention back to her, eyes narrowed. Her aunt must have seen the expression on her face because she suddenly started to laugh and squeezed her again. “I love it!” she exclaimed. In a softer voice, so only Pamoon could hear, she whispered, “And, my sister would have loved it. You look stunning.”