Cold Spell

by E. A. Copen

  Nic put his arms around her, drawing her closer against him as if there weren’t several layers of clothing and a coat between them.

  A coat? Just one coat?

  Jackie broke off the kiss, despite Nic’s whine of protest. “Nic, you idiot. What are you doing in sub-zero temperatures without a coat?”

  He blinked and looked around as if he hadn’t realized he’d stepped outside in a sweater and socks. A big grin spread over his face. “Guess staying warm was the last thing on my mind. Give me two minutes to get my gear on and I’ll run you over to the hotel.”

  The wind picked up suddenly, throwing some of her hair in her face. Jackie threaded it behind her ear and shook her head. “No, I think I’ll take you up on the offer to borrow the smaller ATV. No offense, I just really need some time alone.”

  Nic wrapped his arms around himself and shivered, glancing out into the darkness. “Be careful on the roads, Jackie. It’s really starting to come down.”

  There it is. Jackie smiled and waved, promising to see him later.

  The drive across town was a little more difficult with the snow, but at least the snow provided some traction. She much preferred it to ice. It was the howling wind that was the problem. It pushed the little ATV all over the roads. Thankfully, Nic had promised to pick her up to take her to Osha’s later that night, so that was the only driving she’d have to do in Barrow, and it wasn’t over fast enough. Her fingers felt stiff when she pried them from the steering wheel after pulling into the hotel parking lot.

  Her feet dragged all the way back to her hotel room where she stripped out of all her winter gear and put on a pair of comfortable pajamas, perfect for reading.

  “Okay, paperback romance,” she said, seizing the book and falling onto the bed. “Let’s see what Tara found in your pages that made her want to become the Mahaha.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  N ic set out early for the hotel. Because of the snow and wind, it was slow going, taking almost a half hour to cross town. Jackie waited for him in the parking lot, waving when he pulled in.

  She jogged to the ATV and hopped in the front seat, rubbing her hands together. “Is it me or is it even colder than before?”

  “It’s the wind,” Nic noted, his tone solemn. “Forecast is calling for a doozy of a snowstorm. Folks are being advised to stay indoors.”

  “And yet here we are, venturing out to meet an old woman about a monster.” She pulled the seatbelt over her chest and secured it before the vehicle started moving again.

  Nic wasn’t sure if Jackie understood Osha’s importance. If not, she would soon. He didn’t know precisely what she had in mind that would help them find Tara and Justice, or what her cryptic warnings had meant, but something about the situation made him uneasy.

  When the pack went to Osha with a problem, it was normally something small in nature. Colds, flus, a homeopathic remedy for upset stomach or advice about the coming seasons. Everyone knew she was more than just an advisor to the people of Barrow. Everyone knew, and yet no one dared speak of it.

  It was the Inuit way, and had been since the Starving Times. Speaking about something made it real. As long as the truth about Osha was never spoken aloud, it would be nothing more than a nasty rumor. Even what the two of them saw at her hut that night couldn’t leave their lips. There would be no recounting this tale, not until long after Osha passed.

  “What’s the matter?”

  Jackie’s words brought him out of the trance-like focus he’d held on driving into the blowing snow. He shook his head, clearing the cobwebs. “Nothing. Did you find anything interesting in that romance novel?”

  Jackie sighed. “Not really. There’s no mention of the Mahaha in it. The whole book was a love triangle with a man-eating polar bear stalking a tiny village. The polar bear carries the girl off and the two guys race off to find her. The only connection I could see between our case with Tara and the novel was the scrimshaw.”

  “Scrimshaw?” He chanced a glance over at her to see her nod.

  “Yeah, the hero of the tale, the one who ultimately gets the girl, is just a normal guy. His rival, though, uses some magical scrimshaw to transform into animals, which almost gives him the advantage when it comes to finding and winning her.” She blew into her hands. “I scented magick on that scrimshaw hanging on Tara’s wall. Osha has it now.”

  Nic turned the ATV off the road, heading south into the barren wasteland of white. Osha’s hut would be hard to find in the weather, but he had a good sense of where it was in relation to the town.

  “Maybe that’s how she did it,” he said. “Used the scrimshaw to transform herself. You said she was desperate, looking for an out. Well, there must’ve been some appeal to becoming a frighteningly powerful monster that eats joy.”

  “Just one problem with that theory, Nic,” Jackie said, her shoulders drawing tense. “She’d need someone with magick to enchant the scrimshaw before she could use it. By all accounts, magick is dead in Barrow. All the witches purged generations ago.”

  Nic shook his head. “Magick may be dead in Barrow, but not in the North Slope Borough. I know exactly who enchanted that scrimshaw for her.”

  “Who?”

  A dim light appeared on the horizon and Nic pressed his foot harder on the gas, guiding them toward it. “It’ll be easier to show you.”

  ***

  The ATV pulled to a stop beside a structure built into the side of a dirt mound. Only a generous person would call it a hut. There wouldn’t even be room for the three of them to squat under the shelter, let alone sit comfortably.

  Osha stood outside the shelter in a thick parka that looked like it was made of some kind of hide. She held a modern lantern in one hand, the source of the eerie greenish light she’d seen as they drove.

  Jackie shot Nic a questioning look, but he was too busy securing the hood of his own parka and securing his gloves to notice. Jackie busied herself doing the same and opened the door only once she was absolutely sure most of her skin was covered.

  The wind howled like a wild man, blowing hard enough she could barely get the door open against the force of it. Nic came around the front of the ATV to take her hand. Together, they walked toward the entrance. The wind was too loud for her to hear anything.

  Osha nodded once they came close and scurried into the small shelter, dropping to her hands and knees first, and then her belly. With all the grace of a snake, she wriggled into a small opening dug into the ground that Jackie hadn’t even seen. Nic mimicked her movements, pausing to gesture for Jackie to do the same.

  She cringed at the idea of wallowing in the dirt. At least this was mostly snow. The possibility of putting her hand in something unsavory seemed rather low, so she did as they’d done.

  The passageway was low, narrow, and at a steep incline. Uncomfortable, but at least it was warm. The further she went, the warmer and brighter it got. The passage ended in a sort of pit with stairs built into the dirt to her right. Jackie stood, an action made possible only because the low ceiling was now gone, and dusted a few small pebbles off herself before trudging up the short stack of stairs into a small room with a circular pit in the center. White stones lined the pit where a small fire burned, smoke rising from a hole in the ceiling.

  Osha sat on the far side of the pit, her hands resting on her knees. “Come, child. I didn’t expect to see both of you, but I’m glad you both came. Tell me, Jackie, did you read the book?”

  Jackie looked to Nic, who sat with his back to the wall. He nodded, urging her to speak.

  “Yes,” she said. “Wasn’t very good.”

  Osha cackled. “Paperback romances often pale in comparison to the real thing, don’t they, dear?”

  Jackie took a seat across from Osha at the fire pit. “Interestingly, there was a character in it who had a magical bit of scrimshaw, not so unlike the magick-imbued scrimshaw we found near Tara’s bed.”

  “Oh, yes.” Osha turned and picked up the bit of scrimshaw from behi
nd her, cradling it in her hands. She looked down at it, the wrinkles in her aged forehead deepening. “I’m afraid that’s my fault. Not directly, you see. But Justice’s mother was my daughter, and this blood of mine she passed onto her son. A cursed blood. Witch’s blood.” She raised her eyes and met Jackie’s stare. Fire flashed in her eyes, but that might’ve just been the reflection.

  Jackie sucked in air through her teeth. “So Bo was right. You are a witch.”

  Osha nodded slowly. “And I have taken a vow not to use my powers, nor to speak of them under penalty of death. For in Barrow, if you are a child born of witch blood, you’re taken into the white wastelands and left there to die.” Her fingers closed tightly around the scrimshaw. “But I was dear to my parents. They kept me hidden. Kept me safe. Tutored me on how to hide. I did the same with my daughter, who was wise enough to leave this place. But Justice… The north is in his bones, just as it is in mine. We are stronger here in the Arctic. I tried to steer him down the right path, but some children refuse to learn.”

  “You taught Justice how to do that?” Jackie nodded to the scrimshaw.

  “Not this, no.” Osha released her hold on the scrimshaw and let it fall to the ground. “But he knew it could be done.”

  “He’s a witch-wolf,” Nic said, shaking his head. “Osha, why didn’t you tell me? How could I not have known?”

  “Because I hid it from you. I thought Justice deserved a chance at as normal a life as he could manage, and he vowed not to use his powers. I was fond of the boy.”

  Witch-wolves were rare, mostly because Lou rarely let them live. Werewolves with magick were a threat to everyone. Keeping the wolf in check was difficult enough without adding magick to the mix. Whenever one was born, Lou would get on a plane, fly to wherever it had happened and observe the witch-wolf for several weeks to make a determination. If he felt there was any chance the witch-wolf was a danger, he would take care of it. Then he would go up into the Yukon wilderness for a few weeks without another word. When she was younger, Jackie believed that Lou had simply taken the witch-wolf child’s magick away. She’d believed he could do anything. Now, she knew he killed the children and that it pained him to do it. Still, that pain wasn’t enough to keep him from doing it all over again every time he heard of one. No wonder Lou had sent them to Barrow.

  Jackie lowered her head. “Lou could’ve told us from the start we were dealing with a witch-wolf,” she grumbled.

  “He couldn’t have been certain.” Osha shook her head. “As I said, I hid the boy’s powers. Even from Lou.”

  “This doesn’t help us find them, though.” Nic put an emphatic finger in the dirt. “And we’re running out of time to help Bo.”

  “If we kill the Mahaha, will Bo be cured?” Jackie asked of Osha. She held her breath, waiting for an answer. If not, this would get much more complicated.

  The old woman nodded slowly. “If the Mahaha dies, then so too will any of its ties to this world. It feeds on Bo’s joy. The laughter is a side effect of that. But you’ll find it a difficult beast to slay. The beast’s touch is infectious to all those who aren’t protected against it. My grandson had a protection talisman, and I have made a similar one for each of you.”

  She held out her hand. Dangling from it on simple, leather strings were carved bones. Jackie noted the heavy, spicy scent of magick in the amulet as she slipped it over her head. Nic took the other one and put it on, tucking it into his parka.

  “This protection will not be enough,” Osha continued. “It will only work for a time. Less than twelve hours. I’m afraid that by not using my magick, my talents have faded.”

  “We’ll take all the protection we can get,” Nic said, nodding.

  “What about tracking them?” Jackie pushed. She had to keep the old woman on topic. “How will we find the Mahaha? And when we do, how do we kill it?”

  Osha sighed. “I have told you all I know about how to kill it. As for finding it, a beast knows the scent of another beast.”

  “Great.” Jackie stood and unzipped her parka, intending to Change. The sooner she got started, the sooner they could find the monster.

  “But,” said Osha, holding up a finger, “in this storm, you don’t stand a chance. The Mahaha and the witch-blood boy have called the storm to their aid. If you attempt to sniff them out, you’ll wander to your death. Nature itself hides them. You will need the power of Amarok.”

  Jackie looked to Nic, who sat still, his hands on his knees. She’d pronounced the name exactly as he had spoken his surname.

  As if he could sense her eyes on him, Nic answered her unasked question. “Amarok is a giant wolf in Inuit mythology. I was eight years old when Osha gave me that part of my name in a naming ceremony. I just changed the spelling a little. The old people believe that by adopting the name of a mythological being, or an ancestor, you take on characteristics of that person. I was a terrified little boy. Afraid of the dark, afraid of the water, of my shadow.”

  Osha grinned. “Dominic found courage with his new name and saw fit to adopt it officially.”

  Nic shrugged. “I like it better than Smith, anyway. Point is, this wolf in question is no small monster himself. He’s a solitary, powerful hunter who never fails to take down his prey.”

  The old woman nodded. “And one of you must wear his mantle for the night if you are to find the Mahaha in time.” She gestured to Nic. “I prepared the ritual for Dominic, but if you wish, I can alter it for Jackie without any trouble. Just beware. The mantle is a powerful one, and if your sense of self is not strong enough, Amarok will quickly overwhelm you. You will be unable to shrug off the mantle and become trapped in that form.”

  Nic placed his palm flat on the ground. “I will do it. Jackie needs to be herself. Even wearing the mantle of Amarok, I may not be able to sniff out magick. If I don’t come back, it’s of less consequence than if she were lost.”

  “I don’t need you to protect me,” Jackie snapped.

  Nic offered a slight smile. “I know, but indulge me a little. Besides, I’m counting on you to protect me in this instance. You came here to put down monsters. Should I become one…”

  He left the rest unsaid, though Jackie knew what he was asking of her. If he wasn’t able to come back from wherever Amarok took him and remove the mantle Osha placed on him, he wanted her to kill him. Her throat was suddenly tight, her muscles tense. Could she do it? Could she kill Nic if it came to it?

  This is why Bo is the way he is, she realized. Why he has no friends, and makes no effort to be close to anyone. It’s safer. But Bo is miserable. I can’t let that happen to me.

  She clenched her fists. “I came to kill monsters. You’re not a monster, nor will you become one. You’re coming back from this, Nic, if I have to drag you kicking and screaming.”

  Nic’s smile widened. He inclined his head.

  “You’re certain?” Osha asked. “Once we begin, there will be no going back.”

  He nodded. “Yes.”

  “Then let us begin. Nic, you will need to Change.” Osha pushed up from the ground and hobbled over to the wall where she picked up what Jackie assumed was a large drum. It must’ve been three feet in diameter, constructed of some animal skin stretched taught over a wooden hoop. Bits of smooth, white skin hung over the edges of the drum, painted in shades of deep blue and green. Jackie found no pattern as she studied the markings, but as she began to play, that changed. Osha struck the drum with a thick leather wrapped stick, waving the drum back and forth. The bits of skin that hung over the side fluttered as she waved and spun the drum, mimicking waves striking the shore. It was a simple one-two beat, deep and resonating in sound. The old woman’s feet, which had barely seemed able to shuffle over the floor before, moved back and forth deftly with all the grace of a professional dancer.

  Next to her, Nic stood and stripped off his coat, hat, and gloves, placing them in a neat pile near the sloped wall. He said nothing, but Jackie could see the concern in his face. His pack had been
right to worry about him coming to see Osha. She hadn’t thought much of it before, but now that she knew Osha was a witch, she understood.

  Cinders exploded from the fire in the pit as one log fell from the neat pyramid. Flames leapt up eagerly to devour the rest of the fallen wood, the fire growing in both heat and intensity. The new, brighter light cast strange shadows on the wall, shadows of men and women who were not there. The more Osha drummed, and the higher the fire climbed, the more shadows joined the chorus. The air grew thick with the piquant scent of magick, stinging the inside of Jackie’s nose and tickling the back of her throat the way a hot pepper might. The sensation made her eyes and nose water. She wiped away the tears.

  Osha began to sing in her native tongue, a harsh and yet somehow beautiful language all at once. Every word had sharp edges and a soft middle, creating a rhythm unlike any she’d heard before. With the words, the drumming sped up, and Nic began his Change. Soft whimpers of pain punctuated the silence between drum beats along with the crack of bone and tearing of skin.

  The humanoid shadows cast on the walls swayed back and forth to the beating of the drum for a time. Were they ghosts? No, that didn’t seem right. Jackie’d encountered her fair share of ghosts and never before had she seen them cast as shadows. Certainly, she’d never seen any witch conjure so many at once.

  She studied the little witch dancing with her drum, silver hair falling from its loose braid and waving in the air behind her. All these years, the woman had kept her power a secret, bottling it up and hiding it from the world. Imagine what good she might do with her power if she were allowed to reveal herself, Jackie thought and then remembered what Justice had done with the same power. And the evil.

  One of the first speeches Lou had even given to her came to mind. “Magick itself is benign. Really, everything is if you think about it. Good and evil, light and dark, right and wrong, these words are luxuries people like us can’t afford. That’s the price of being a leader. One must operate in the valleys and cracks between those words. Good men must kill. The strong must prey upon the weak. It’s not inherently wrong. It’s life. Let the scholars apply their rules of morality to what we do if they wish, but it will be done and that’s what matters.”