by Jeanne Rose
Finally, she picked up, her voice husky, sleepy. “Hello?”
He let his breath out slowly in relief. Thank God, she was alive, hopefully safe.
“Hello? Who is this?” she said more insistently. “Damn it, I’m not in the mood for heavy breathing.”
He wasn’t afraid of her anger. It wasn’t tainted by shadow or made of fire. “This is Luke. Go back to sleep.”
“Luke . . . “
But he was already replacing the receiver.
Though he needed to talk.
Though he needed to confide in someone.
And whether he liked it or not, he knew it was going to have to be her.
CHAPTER SIX
WHEN HER ALARM went off the next morning, Mara awoke bleary-eyed. She reached for the clock radio she’d brought from the bedroom and turned it off. Then she rose carefully, her head still pounding. Adding to that, her neck felt as if it had been twisted, then frozen into position. She must have slept wrong on the unfamiliar couch, probably pinched a nerve.
However long she’d slept. Mara glanced at the clock – seven a.m. The last time she’d looked, the dial had announced four-thirty. That had been after she’d managed to settle down and gotten herself over the embarrassment of phoning Luke right back, only to reach Onida. Mara had hung up without identifying herself, a trick she’d never pulled before in her life.
Once again wondering where the man had been calling from and why, she struggled into the robe she’d tossed into a chair and made her way to the kitchen. More aspirins. Then she dampened a tea-towel with cold water and placed it on her forehead before returning to face the brilliance of the morning sun.
A shaft of bright light blazed through the sliding
doors . . . and illuminated some rusty-colored smears on the glass. The doors hadn’t been dirty yesterday. Frowning, Mara approached, undid the latch, then dropped the tea-towel when she spotted the gruesome mess on the balcony.
Blood. Blood splattered the concrete floor and splashed the outer adobe wall. A trail of thick blood mixed with entrails led in a disgusting lump lying near the wrought-iron bars.
Mara swallowed, fighting the desire to scream, the instinctive urge to vomit. Her pulse surged. Her flesh crawled.
But she had to get a closer look. Trembling, she pushed the door open farther and emerged into full sunlight.
Pulling up the hem of her robe, she stared down at what appeared to be a small figure made of rough hide. Its middle was slit and spewing more entrails. Cactus spines stuck out here and there . . . but what drew her eye was some fuzz skewered by the spine piercing the doll’s head. Brown and blue yarn. A tuft from her own sweater.
My God, was it some sort of voodoo doll?
She backed away, shivering.
Someone must have thrown it from the yard below. It had bounced off the glass doors with a thud . . . which was no doubt what had awakened her the night before.
But who would do something like this?
Luke?
Was that why he’d called in the wee hours, to see if she’d discovered his grisly surprise?
He must have been furious when she’d refused to go to bed with him.
More than furious. If this was his work, Luke Naha was far more than an angry man bothered by nightmares. He was seriously, possibly dangerously troubled.
EVEN AMMONIA AND SCRUBBING hadn’t removed all the blood stains on the balcony. Mara was late for work.
Her eyes puffy, her hair messily French-braided when she hadn’t had time to set it, the pants outfit she’d thrown on a little wrinkled, she knew she must look a sight.
But Felice made no comment as they worked together in the storeroom, deciding how to frame and display Luke’s newest paintings.
Felice admired one of the pieces he’d dropped off at the gallery the day before. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a cliff-dwelling in Naha’s work before.”
Hardly enthusiastic, Mara merely nodded. She’d already noted the imagery in his murals.
“The effect is so ephemeral,” Felice went on. “Like the pueblo’s there but it’s not, as if it could disappear in smoke.” Though a dabble of vivid red could be seen within the primitive building. The color reflected the land from which it had sprung – rugged, wild, as deep and red as ancient blood. Overhead, a cobalt sky seemed ready for an outburst of stars. The usual tiny figure stood at the bottom of the cliff, seeming to gaze upward. The whole effect was darker and even more eerie than the normal Naha painting, as if night were coming on.
Night. Mara shivered, then took the painting and turned its face toward the storeroom’s wall. She wished she could as easily forget the night before, the bizarre phone call, the token Luke had left for her.
When a customer came in, Felice hurried out to the gallery’s sales area. Which gave Mara the chance to take a break and rub her sore neck. At least the aspirins had reduced her headache to a dull throb.
Felice returned to the storeroom when the customer left. She helped Mara carry Sun Dog into the storeroom and place it with the other four paintings. Represented by such a limited amount of pieces, Luke would barely take up the main room. But that would have to do. And, at the moment, Mara hardly cared.
“What happened to the other paintings you were going to see at the reservation yesterday?”
Mara had forgotten she’d given that excuse. Now she had to lie a second time, “They’re in progress. Naha just wanted me to see the direction he’s taking. Hopefully, we’ll still be able to get hold of a couple of them before the show.”
“He must like you.”
“As much as he likes anyone,” Mara hedged. Felice had seen Luke embracing her in the office but she had no intention of talking about their strange attraction. And she couldn’t mention dreamwalking. “I got some insight into his work methods.”
“Hmm, now you know this guy better than anyone else in Santa Fe.” Felice added, “And was I surprised when I saw him. I never thought he’d be so good-looking.” Then she waited expectantly, no doubt hoping her boss would mention something more personal.
Mara couldn’t quite accommodate her. “Too bad his personality doesn’t match his face.”
“Meaning he’s a jerk?”
“Unfortunately.”
Or worse. Mara rubbed her aching neck again.
“You feeling okay?”
“I had some trouble sleeping.”
“More nightmares?”
“Too much caffeine, I guess. I was restless.”
Another fib.
Several minutes passed before Mara realized Felice might be able to add some insight to the situation. She tried to be indirect. “Do you know whether Indians in this area ever make little figures out of hide?”
“And stick cactus spines through them? Uh, huh. It’s a superstitious thing. Sort of an Indian curse doll.”
“Like voodoo?”
“Similar.” Felice’s glance was curious. “Did you see one at the Kisi reservation?”
An Indian curse doll. Unnerved, Mara managed to maintain a blank expression. “I heard about them, that they’re sometimes filled with bloody entrails.”
Felice made a face. “Yuk. Maybe entrails are for an especially powerful spell. I know that strands of the victim’s hair or nail shavings are sometimes attached.”
“Or pieces of clothing?” Like the tufts of yarn Luke could have found in his truck.
“That’d probably work, too.”
“Surely a curse doesn’t have any power over a person unless he believes in it.” Though the headache that had come on last night, that still tormented her, made Mara wonder how much she believed about the Kisi.
Felice’s stared, obviously picking up on the tension. “Are you worried about some Indian getting mad and putting a curse on you? Like Lucas Naha? I thought you said he kind of likes you.”
“True.”
But enough. Mara changed the subject as they continued to work. She made notations while Felice measured the paint
ings. All the while she was sick inside, not only that any human being could have sent her such an angry message, but that it had undoubtedly been a man to whom she was so deeply attracted. A man with whom she’d shared a highly erotic dream.
Closing time approached quickly. Announcing she had a Friday night date, Felice made haste to lock up. Mara went into her office and took out some long overdue paperwork.
Slinging on her jacket, Felice stopped by, lounging in the doorway. “You know, I heard you can protect yourself and your home from evil magic by burying a little bag of powdered turquoise with some grains of corn near your doorstep.”
Mara knew the other woman was only trying to be helpful but the discussion had gone as far as she wanted. “That would be a little difficult, since my condo’s on the second floor.”
“How about hanging a bag over every entranceway then?”
Mara managed a wry smile. “Thanks for the suggestion. If I start fearing evil magic, I’ll think about it.”
Evil magic.
Sorcery? Isabel Joshevama also had reason to try to frighten her, Mara knew. The elderly woman had ordered her to stay out of her dreams. Maybe Isabel thought a hide doll would scare her into leaving Santa Fe.
Well, Mara wasn’t budging, neither because Luke sought to get even with her, nor because his grandmother wanted her out of the way. And she wasn’t hanging little bags of powdered turquoise around either, even if she knew where to obtain the materials.
She tried to put everything out of her mind as she attacked the paperwork for the next half hour. Unfortunately, her headache and fatigue soon made the figures blur. Realizing overtime would be impossible, she reluctantly got ready to leave. She’d simply have to spare some hours tomorrow.
Outside, the sun prepared to set in red brilliance. But there was plenty of clear light left to see by. The summer air smelled fresh and sharp with the scent of pinon pine. Mara felt the headache recede, her muddled brain clear a bit. Not that she intended to do anything more than head home, lock all the doors and crawl into bed. She’d surely feel better tomorrow, could work a few hours and be able to take Sunday off entirely.
She looked forward to that. She needed time to mull over what had happened, try to figure out what she was going to do and if there was anywhere she could find less direct sources for information on Kisi magic and dreamwalking.
She ambled down the street on which St. Francis Cathedral stood, a landmark of Santa Fe. With its magnificent round stained glass window and squared off bell tower, the church was a beautiful sight. As were the many other historical buildings she passed on her way to and from the gallery every day. Though traditional residents preferred to drive, Mara liked to walk, enjoying a healthy six or seven block stroll.
Tonight the historical part of the city was busier than usual, with tourists seeking parking spots and Friday night crowds chattering as they waited in front of popular restaurants. Guitar music wafted out from one establishment as Mara went by.
The music was lovely but her head demanded silence.
Which was why she decided to take her alternate route home. Several arroyos ran through the town, waterways for run-offs when too much snow melted off the surrounding mountains. One of the larger, deeper ditches passed by her condo complex, a shorter path as the crow flew.
Already appreciating the quieter atmosphere, she eased herself down the steep bank. Below, the earth rose high enough on either side to allow her to believe she was alone with nature. Long desert grass crunched beneath her booted feet, a bit brown from lack of moisture. The snow run-off was over and Santa Fe could use a shower.
A few yards along, thinking of the wet northern California climate she didn’t miss somehow, she heard soft skittering sounds that reminded her of raindrops.
But it wasn’t raining.
Mara suddenly became alert. Something was moving along behind her. A stray cat or some small wild creature? She glanced over her shoulder to see a lithe form glide into a brushy copse of chamisa. The animal seemed larger than a rabbit or a cat.
A bit spooked, she ordered herself to relax, kept on walking. She was some ways farther when she became aware of more sounds.
A scrabbling like claws on rocks.
Soft panting.
She stopped in her tracks and whipped around to get a better look. Several forms skulked off into the brush, definitely canine in shape. Coyotes? The animals did come into town once in awhile but people rarely saw them.
Perplexed, Mara nevertheless refused to worry. She’d heard tales about coyotes following hikers or horseback riders out of curiosity. The animals weren’t dangerous.
Though being trailed felt very eerie.
She forged onward, walking a little faster. Her pant leg caught on some thorny branches, forcing her to stop and extricate herself. She heard more scrabbling sounds, then a soft yap.
Enough. Again, Mara swiveled around to face her pursuers.
This time she counted at least six or seven coyotes, more animals than the surrounding brush could hide. They froze, their grayish yellow pelts nearly blending with the growing dusk and shadows.
Chilled, she felt her heartbeat accelerate. Were the animals multiplying? And why were they following her?
She was damn well climbing out of the arroyo.
Thank goodness she’d sighted the concrete viaduct up ahead which meant she was near her destination.
She glanced about, looking for the easiest way to climb. She found it some yards away, a barren spot with less of an incline. Striding forward, she stopped with a gasp when a very large coyote burst out from the shadows, cutting off her path.
The red sunset put a glitter into the animal’s eyes and made its pale coat glow yellow.
Her heart was in her throat as she stepped forward and shook her fist. “Go away.”
The animal bared its teeth and growled.
Mara grew a bit panicky. This wasn’t typical coyote behavior at all.
“Shoo!” she shouted. “Get out of here!”
Then she heard soft footpads and glanced about to see that the rest of the animals seemed intent on surrounding her. They gazed at her expectantly, tongues lolling, jaws open.
Sorcery.
She remembered Isabel saying that sorcerers could control animals.
The big yellow coyote advanced toward her.
“Damn it, I said get out of here!”
At the same time, she looked for weapons, stooping to grab some rocks. They were small but they could hurt and she proved that by throwing one at the yellow beast. Yelping as the rock bounced off its side, it retreated, several companions following.
Mara relaxed slightly.
But then the big coyote wheeled and headed straight back toward her.
Hairs standing up on the back of her neck, she yelled at the top of her lungs and threw a rock as hard as she could. The missile thunked on the animal’s head and she thought she saw him fall. Then she was running, scrambling up the bank for all she was worth, slipping and sliding in her panic. Near the top, she pitched forward but managed to regain her feet.
She didn’t see the man above on the walkway until she ran smack into him. Strong hands grasped her shoulders as she fought for her breath. Heart thudding against her chest, she stared up into a familiar hard face.
“Luke!”
“Was that you doing all the yelling?”
Her adrenaline started zinging all over again, partly because of his nearness and partly because of renewed fear. If the coyotes had been conjured by sorcery, he was the only Kisi in the vicinity.
She punched at him. “Damn it, let go! You have a lot of nerve, you bastard!”
He released her with a scowl. “What the hell’s the matter with you?”
“Coyotes!”
“You saw one?”
“What are you doing here, Luke?” Had he followed her from work? “Trying to exercise some more of your stupid witchcraft? Well, you can take your spells and go back to the reservation.” He coul
d be faking his look of surprise. She gestured to the arroyo. “Don’t pretend that you don’t know what I’m talking about. There were at least half a dozen coyotes down there and they weren’t acting normal.”
Peering over the edge of the viaduct, he barely paused before moving toward the barren slope she’d just climbed. The streetlights popped on the very moment he disappeared into the dusk, the pale gray of the arroyo deepening to opaque charcoal. Mara heard soft footfalls below.
Despite being in the midst of a small city, she seemed to stand alone in the shadow-filled twilight. The interval between day and night, a setting that made everything appear real and unreal at the same time.
But did she really believe in sorcery? Mara wondered. Could Luke . . . or anyone control animals?
Niggling doubts couldn’t stop her heart from starting to race all over again when she heard someone or something moving back up the slope. Instinctively, she backed away.
Luke suddenly appeared.
Though he looked like a man, not a spell-wielding sorcerer. At least his eyes didn’t glitter.
She halted, tried to get herself to settle down. She was safe . . . wasn’t she?
He scowled. “You still freaked out? There’s some prints down there but nothing else.”
Prints. That meant the animals had actually existed. “The coyotes are gone?”
“Of course they’re gone. You can find them anywhere in this state but they never hurt anyone.”
Upset, she cut in, “They were stalking me, Luke. There was a big yellow one that bared his teeth. I don’t need a lecture.”
“A yellow coyote?”
“He tried to corner me and I hit him in the head with a rock.” She tried to justify the accusations she’d hurled at him. “I couldn’t help but think of sorcery. Isabel said some people could control animals.”
“And you’re assuming that someone is me?” He stepped closer.
But she refused to back up any more. She couldn’t hide her anger, not after the last twelve hours. “Look, some creep left a bloody, disgusting hide doll on my balcony last night. It was full of entrails and stuck through with cactus spines and yarn from my sweater. Then I got the weird call from you at 4 a.m. Were you checking up on your handiwork? Is that why you’re here?”