by Elias Raven
I could tell the burden of guilt was lifted and she was lighter once she got everything out. It was an ugly truth that where she had failed with my mother, where her own personal demons had consumed her completely, she had been given a second chance with me as a form of redemption.
She truly believed that in her heart; with everything that was sacred. She told me she didn't want me as a little girl to live with what had really happened to her parents, and in hindsight, I couldn't blame her. It would have been tough to tell a little kid the horrible truth.
Yes, my parents had gone to Oregon to see my dad's’ folks. Then they took a little detour down the coast to sightsee and party. That day the police had come by because they had found a license plate and fender from my parents’ car next to a broken section of guardrail over the Benicia Bridge in San Mateo, Calif.
It was a high-speed accident, and the car had careened off the center divider then catapulted over the escarpment and gone into the ocean. The accident had occurred at night, and the maintenance crews that serviced the bridge were the ones that had found the pieces and contacted the Highway Patrol.
They had blocked off the bridge and sent dive teams into look for the wreckage. They found the car, but no bodies. It was a mustang convertible, and the car was upside down on the bottom, torn all to hell. The police apologized and said the Coast Guard would keep looking for the bodies, but the way the currents were, and the fact the seat belts hadn't been engaged left little hope that anyone had survived the crash.
There was also evidence found in the trunk of the vehicle that indicated narcotics and alcohol might have been a factor. With no bodies, they could only list them as missing, but the cops that had stopped by that day said there was no chance that anyone survived.
My grandmother had to file a Death In Absentia motion with the court in San Mateo on her daughter and notify my dad's parents and do it all while keeping me in the dark.
The whole family had agreed it was the best thing to do at the time. My other grandparents never saw me again and passed away while I was still in middle school. When my grandma told me about filing the court documents for a Death In Absentia that stuck with me.
There wasn’t any way to really say goodbye to them, so my emotions were kind of also in absentia as well. I thought it was totally fitting to make it into a song and I did for the first Shadow & Flame album, and it became the title cut. It just seemed totally fitting for how I felt about it all and put an exclamation point on the whole thing.
Chapter 1
“We can make our minds so like clear water that beings gather around us, that they might see their own images, and so live for a moment with a clearer, perhaps even fiercer life because of our quiet.
~William Butler Yeats~
~Rhianna~ I woke up with a start. It wasn’t even really fucking waking up; it was more like I fell back into my own body. I could still feel the hands on my back pushing against me. The dream had been so real… Fuck me, but I couldn’t shake the images. My skin felt like it was crawling, I wanted to rip the flesh off my bones. I reached around and scratched furiously for a second trying to get them off of me…
Get a fucking grip girl, it was only a dream! I yelled to myself.
I started to shiver and got up from the bed. I had to force myself to breathe, slowly inhaling and exhaling trying to calm my frayed nerves. I could feel my nightshirt moving against my skin, my heart was beating furiously.
I kept waiting for something to come charging out of the darkness at me. I reached over to my nightstand and felt around until I found the pull string. I pulled down on the antique handle and heard the welcoming click as the Tiffany lamp by my bed came to life. The soft amber glow with the brilliant colors was a welcome sight as I looked around the room for a few minutes, trying to reassure myself that everything was ok.
I heard a rustling noise outside my bedroom window. I lived in a single story ranch outside of Sausalito, California that had belonged to my parents. After my folks had died, my grandmother had cleaned the place out of all the belongings and stored what was important down at her house in Laurel Canyon. She had kept the house in Sausalito for me until I was of an age to decide what I wanted to do with it, since it was my inheritance. It was very secluded where I lived. I reached into the drawer of the nightstand and pulled out my dad’s old Smith & Wesson .38 special and slid it out of its holster. I carefully walked over the blinds and peeked around the edges. The sun had barely come up. My friend, Mephisto, sat on his perch waiting for his meal.
I let out a sigh and opened the blinds a little more to double check things, but the coast was clear. I knew the owl wouldn’t let anyone near me without making a racket. I was owl sitting for John and Sharon. They ran the local wildlife sanctuary “The Animal Haven,” for the Department Of Fish and Game.
They ate, lived and breathed animal rescue and spent all of their time taking care of sick and wounded animals that were brought into their center. John and his wife were both licensed vets, but they also specialized in taking care of animals that a lot of veterinarians didn’t have training for.
My house was right down the road from their sanctuary. I loved animals and visited a lot, and we had become fast friends. When I had moved into the neighborhood, I started babysitting certain animals for them so they could escape and have some down time.
They had trained staff on hand to take care of many of the rescues, but a few needed one on one care and Mephisto was one of those cases. A poacher had shot him with an arrow in mid-flight. He should have died from his wounds and was now blind in his left eye. Somehow, the arrow hadn’t hit his brain, but it did cause severe damage.
The owl had managed to fly away far enough from his attacker that he luckily landed by a Fish & Game warden. The warden had sedated the owl and brought him to the only people he knew who might be able to help, and that was John and Sharon.
That was how Mephisto had wound up at the sanctuary. They had performed four surgeries to repair what they could, and he could fly, but because of the blindness, he was a sitting duck in the wild. John and Sharon had petitioned the department to let them keep Mephisto as a teaching owl, and the head of the department had granted permission when he saw the owl would be well cared for and a teaching tool for school children and visitors that came to the center. He was now part of the animal show at the sanctuary and had become one of the crowd favorites.
I walked over to the garage and the large side-by-side refrigerator. I had already started thawing some gopher and squirrel for Mephisto the night before. John and Sharon showed me how to take all the insides out and prepare the meat for the owl.
I know a lot of people would get squeamish preparing rodents for another animal to eat, but Mephisto couldn’t help that he was a carnivore and what had happened. I just pretended I was making chicken and I had his meal ready in no time. I slid a set of thick leather gloves on, the kind that falconers used, and walked outside to the covered patio and placed his meal on the feeding perch. Mephisto flapped his wings and started calling to me, hopping up and down.
I couldn’t help but smile at the owl’s antics. It was part of what attracted me to him and how we had become such fast friends. He leaped into the air and landed on the feeding perch. While he started to eat, I cleaned the mess off his other perch and the concrete.
I had laid plastic and paper down. There was nothing like when an owl had a bowel movement and especially when they let go of their intestines as a final coup de grace. There were pellets, feathers, and crap everywhere and owl leftovers just couldn’t be beat.
It took a bit to get it cleaned up and new plastic and paper down on the ground again. I gagged more than once. If it had been for anyone else, I would tell them to kiss my ass, but John and Sharon were two of the most giving people I knew, and Mephisto was pretty cool actually. If you ignored everything I said above, he was really quite badass. In fact, I had even given him the nickname of “The one-eyed snake.”
Apparently,
he didn’t know I had named him after a part of the male anatomy, but he fucking hated the nickname dickhead even more! LOL! Mephisto was very vocal every time I called him dickhead so ole’ one eye it was! I shoved the mess into the trash can and tossed the leftovers from dinner into the incinerator.
“Mmmmm fried squirrel & Gopher Mephisto,” I said to the owl.
He looked at me with his one good eye and started rustling his feathers and screeching on his perch.
I went back inside removing the large leather gloves. I walked into the kitchen and found my grandmother's red teapot. I walked over to the Wolf stove and started boiling the water. The scent of Copal and Sage still floated in the air from the ceremony the night before.
I felt like I was still coming out of Dreamtime. The visions kept playing out in my head like a freight train slamming into my conscious mind. It was relentless, and there was no blocking them; I was just going along for the ride. I never knew where or when the end of the dream was going to come, but when it did I buckled up and waited for the adrenaline to quit firing and my body to calm down. My nerves were really frayed from this last walk. This time it was different, it was much darker, and the paths were not as clear.
Three times I had heard the guides warning me of the danger and three times I had turned towards the voices and was blocked. Suddenly, I was standing at the head of a canyon. It was night, and the moon was full. The wind whipped up from the entrance, and I heard voices coming from in front of me this time. As I walked, I saw a metal sign on a chain link fence. There was spray-painted the image of a demon or devil on the sign. Underneath, I could make out the words “No Trespassing! Keep Out!”
I walked forward listening as the voices kept calling me onward. This wasn’t like any of the other dream walks that I had ever done before. It was really dark, like I was passing through a tunnel or something and then suddenly I was walking in a great depression in the earth. It was like a carved spoon in the middle of the canyon.
As my eyes adjusted to the moonlight, I could make out what looked like crosses sunk into the ground. I could also make out shapes on the crosses. I heard the voices again urging me forward. Against my better judgment, I walked toward the crosses, toward the shapes and that’s when I saw it. The ground erupted in flame around the crosses as a dark shape rose from the earth.
The air stunk of sulfur as I heard the screams. They were burning, and I was helpless to do anything to help them. I heard the bits and pieces of language floating on the wind echoing around and in front of the creature. I recognized it as Navajo, but what was this thing? I reached down and pulled a knife from my hip and waited to see what the creature would do. Since it was a dream, my real body still slumbered in the world above. I was bound by this creature’s rules in the Dreamtime.
I had never been in danger before, but this time felt different. I ignored the screams from the shapes on the crosses and squared off, my anticipation growing. The creature was neither man nor animal but a combination of both, yet neither. I suspected it was the creature my Uncle Tom (Two Feathers) had told me about when I was younger. It was a Yee Naaldloodhii in the native tongue, but the Navajo had another name for it, they also called it a Skinwalker.
I sat down on a stool and ran my fingers through my hair again. I started to dissect the rest of the dream in my head. It was like video editing, but mental. The creature didn’t even hesitate for a moment before it had attacked. The speed was otherworldly, just a blur. I had reacted on instinct, bringing the knife up and slashing across its claws as I fell backward out of its reach. The Skinwalker howled then held up its clawed hands so I could see it had only been a scratch.
The creature dropped onto its haunches and launched itself full speed at me. I ducked, falling backwards and slashed again. This time I was greeted with an even louder howl of rage as it landed turning to face me again. I could see a rivulet of blood running down its chest where my knife had found its mark. As I watched the cut, the blood started to be drawn back into The Skinwalker’s body.
Then I saw the wound closing, and at that moment, I knew I was in serious trouble. The Skinwalker flew at me again; I parried and swept underneath of its outstretched claws and brought the edge of the blade across the creature's face in one fluid motion. This time I was greeted with a savage howl. I had temporarily blinded my attacker.
I took off running back down the tunnel I had come in. I still had the bloody knife in my hand. It wasn’t long before I heard the howl again and then the sound of the creature giving chase down the tunnel behind me. Our footfalls echoed as I ran for everything I held dear. I knew I was in Dreamtime, but I was in mortal danger. Uncle had warned me about this creature.
“You cannot defeat The Skinwalker, Rhianna. You can only buy time before it figures out how to defeat you…” His warning echoed in my head.
The whistling teapot broke my reverie. I walked over to the stove and shut off the flame. I pulled a red mug down out of the cupboard and fixed a cup of chamomile tea. The first raindrops hit the copper roof. The storm came in quickly, but it wasn’t unusual for this time of year. I could hear the water start to gurgle down the downspouts. I looked at a large framed picture of my grandmother and ran my fingers over the framed image.
“Los Angeles is calling me again Grandma, I’ll be down to see you soon I promise.” I touched the glass image, then taking my tea, walked into the living room and grabbed a seat on the couch.
I reached back to adjust my hair and felt some pain on my back.
That’s weird… I rubbed my shoulders, and they were tender to the touch.
I rolled my shoulders and stretched my arms high. There was that pain again… I remembered I had raced headlong down the tunnel trying to stay in front of the Skinwalker. When I cleared the tunnel and raced toward the gate with something in hot pursuit. I felt something grab me or push me right as I crossed through the gate with the “Keep Out” sign. That was the last thing I remember from the dream before I woke up.
I got up from the couch and walked into the bathroom. I pulled my nightshirt up and looked at my back. A chill went through my body, and I thought I was seeing things. The skin was discolored like I had been sunburned, but only in two spots. There were two red handprints on my back at the shoulders, right where I had felt I had been shoved. Along with the prints were the indentations of what looked like claws on the top of each hand. My back was bleeding where they had broken the flesh. I started shaking at what I was seeing.
“What the fuck is this shit?” I kept repeating myself over and over again.
It was a dream, it wasn’t real…” I said.
As I looked at the marks, they started to fade and close up. I grabbed my phone and took a picture of my back before they disappeared completely. Especially the claw marks on top. I grabbed some antibiotic cream and put it on my back and pulled my shirt down to cover up. I was shaking uncontrollably.
Had I seen that place before? I was trying to piece the images together in my head.
It had been on the news, I remembered that much. I racked my brain on what to do, and there was only one immediate answer. I’d have to talk to Misty and Royston about what had happened. Misty was going to yell at me for going into Dreamtime without a spotter, but I needed some answers. I could only imagine what Uncle Tom (Two Feathers) would say to me.
I kept waking up every morning hearing the sound of a man whistling in my dreams. I had tucked my gun into a heavy jacket and walked the perimeter of our house, but nothing was there.
I had even talked to our neighbors to see if they had seen anyone suspicious in the neighborhood, but no one had seen anything. After awhile, I thought I was hallucinating the whole thing. To be sure I decided a trip into Dreamtime was warranted. I did get some answers all right, but I got a lot more questions as well.
The Skinwalker had found me last night in my dreams and would be back again, I was sure of it! I couldn’t recall Uncle Tom ever saying that the creature had ever physically marked anyone i
n the tribe before. The battles that occurred in the Dreamworld never passed through the veil from there to here. In the case of The Skinwalker, if you died at his hands, you didn’t wake up. There were no markings on the body or any signs of a struggle. It was as if you had died in your sleep.
I started to shake again.
I needed Misty! She was down in Hollywood at her studio “Ink & Iron” doing a tattoo gig. Shit, I couldn’t remember if Keith from The Stones needed a touch up to cover his track marks or stretch marks. I started laughing.
Maybe a Facetime call with Misty would settle my nerves. I had been blowing up the phone to the girls, Genevieve and Gia, trying to get them to get the boys into the shop. If they were there, I’m sure our friends wouldn’t mind if I watched and gave them shit while she was working. Abel and Elias were like the two brothers I never had. For a while, their band Metal Insanity had ruled the Sunset Strip and every club and small venue in Los Angeles and Southern California. Everybody wanted them to play! They were that big a draw! It was fucking ridiculous. I saw their name on every marquee in town! Famous clubs like Gazzarri's, The Ice House, The Whiskey, The Echo, The Viper Room, The Wiltern, The Roxy, name a place with a stage and they would be there to perform! That was on top of their residency at club Dominance! Don’t even get me started on what it was like to see the two of them onstage! It was un-fucking believable! Between the sheer ferocity of their playing and singing and how they worked the crowd, their presence was indescribable. I mean it was like King Kong and Godzilla walked out onto the stage and everywhere they played, they shook the mother fucking building like it was an earthquake! It was raw, and it was primal, and I was the lucky bitch thanks to my grandmother’s help that got to be taken under their wing along with my band Shadow & Flame to learn the ropes if I wanted to be a rock star.