The Skinwalker Totem

by Amanda Clover

  She pushed the totem onto the stone and slid out into the abandoned mine’s upper level. She dusted herself off and swept the beam back and forth.

  “Tex?” She called.

  “Sara,” he said from behind her. Her name was punctuated with the click of a hammer locking back on a pistol. She knew at once his injury had been a ruse. The bastard had never given up on the totem, he just hadn’t been able to reach it. He’d let her do all the hard and very, very dirty work and had waited for her return. He said, “Hand it over. Don’t turn me into a killer.”

  She thought about the pistol in her pocket. What about Red Wolf? Could she summon him to help her? Those thoughts left her as Tex pressed the barrel of his pistol to the back of her head.

  “I thought we were friends, Tex,” she said.

  “Oh, I do like you, Miss Chambers,” said Tex. “But that ain’t nothin’ compared to what I got waitin’ for me. A treasure hunter like you should be able to understand.”

  “Money, is it? Or are you just trying to put a shine on your father’s failure?” She stole a glance over her shoulder at him and caught a grimace.

  “My father was one of them true believers,” said Tex, reaching around her to grab the bundle containing the totem. “Me? I live in the moment. And right at this moment, there’s so much money on the table I can’t refuse it.”

  She resisted him, but he was very strong and tore the bundle from her grasp. He kept the barrel of his gun pressed to the back of her head.

  “Now, let’s go for a walk,” he said, urging her to retrace their steps out of the Delgado Mine. She pondered ways to act and catch him off guard, but for a cowboy, Tex was awfully cautious. He stayed behind her and never let his aim waiver.

  “You need to be careful, Tex,” said Sara as she caught sight of the Jeep and the debris from the barricade they had smashed. “Your father was right about the power in that thing, but it is an evil power. I know you feel it. Calling to you to use it.”

  “It’s just another gewgaw,” said Tex. “One that somebody thinks is worth a lot of money.”

  “If you use its power, it will consume you,” said Sara. “You have to give it back to me. I will pay whatever your buyer offered.”

  “I know you’re rich,” chuckled Tex. “But you ain’t rich like this fella. You don’t have two hundred million dollars to throw around.”

  Tex was right, but he had also made a mistake. That amount of money seriously narrowed the number of potential buyers. They reached the Jeep and Tex tossed the totem into the back. He took out a gallon jug and handed it to Sara. He kept his gun pointed at her the entire time.

  “What is this?” She asked.

  “Water,” said Tex, climbing into his Jeep and starting the engine. “It’s two days walk north to Pesco Station. Should be just enough water there to keep you from dyin’. You’re a tough lady. You’ll make it.”

  He began to back out of the cave. Sara followed him and called out, “You’re a fool not to shoot me, Tex Love.”

  “I am indeed,” he grinned. “You’re too beautiful to shoot, darlin’.”

  His smile was the most infuriating part as he pulled away. The Jeep turned, its headlamps slashing the dark road up the mountain, and Tex disappeared. The tattoo on the back of Sara’s hand throbbed and pulsed with red light.

  Red Wolf was angry.

  Honeysuckle Inn

  Pesco Station, New Mexico

  The floral wallpaper of the honeymoon suite had started to peel from the wall up near the ceiling. Sara stared at it as she stretched out with her feet up on one chair and her butt in the chair next to it. She leaned back so the struggling air conditioner could blow across her body, naked save for a pair of panties. Despite her best efforts, ten hours of daylight in the New Mexico desert had left Sara’s skin burned a deep red color. The neckline of her western shirt was a clearly-defined meridian between the red flesh of her cleavage and neck and the pale white flesh of her breasts.

  Baxter Honeycutt sat beside her at the room’s small table, dividing his attention between his laptop computer and Sara’s rather revealing pose. She caught him staring again and his eyeglasses flashed with the reflection from his laptop as he looked away. She was still angry with him.

  “Remind me again how it took you fifteen hours to find me when you were supposedly watching my every move on your drones,” said Sara, holding an unopened can of Coke against her burned forehead.

  “I’m bloody well sorry, Sara,” said Baxter, exasperated by his own failure. “It was a shell game. I picked the wrong shell and went off looking in the wrong direction. I thought you would try to walk back to Santa Fe.”

  “Megan had better find that formula,” groaned Sara, looking down at her reddened upper chest and arms. “I’m afraid I will die if I have to carry on with this sunburn.” The tattoo on her hand throbbed angrily again. She waved her hand so that Baxter could see the glowing symbol, “And this is only making it worse.”

  “Explain to me again how you convinced an immortal spirit to become a tattoo on your hand,” said Baxter.

  “Oh, you would like that, wouldn’t you?” Sara narrowed her gaze at him. “A blow by filthy blow? You know what I did. I enjoyed it too. Is that what you want to hear?”

  He shook his head. “No, sorry. I-I was worried about you, that’s all.”

  Her expression softened. She sighed and rested her head on the back of her chair. Tex Love had the totem and most of a day as a head start. She could blame Baxter, make him feel even guiltier, but the truth was she should have known better than to trust a mercenary cowboy like Tex.

  “Give us something good then, Baxter,” said Sara. “Cheer me up. Tell me you are getting closer to finding the buyer.”

  “I am,” he said. “Getting closer at least. I’ve narrowed it down to nineteen possibilities. Twenty-two if I consider buyers willing to spend more than half of their liquid assets on buying the artifact.”

  “No, rule those out for now,” said Sara. “Mr. Love seemed to think the buyer is a billionaire. How many billionaires would be willing to spend $200 million on an ancient Native American totem? Let me see the list.”

  Baxter tapped a few more times on his computer’s keyboard and then turned it to face Sara.

  “I cross-referenced people with the right amount of money with people who might have had some contact with Tex Love. He is former military, a US Army Ranger, and he was part of a Veteran’s group that was sponsored by several billionaires.” Baxter pointed to the top row of six wealthy faces. “These six are the prime candidates and then—“

  “That one,” said Sara, pointing to a portly man in his sixties with a big smile and a bad toupee.

  “Jonathan Carlsbad,” said Baxter. “Founder of Carlsmart, one of the biggest supermarket chains in the United States. He has a net worth of about four billion dollars, so he could—“

  “No, it’s him,” said Sara. “I’ve seen him before. There was a charity auction in London to raise money for a clean water NGO I was involved with. Carlsbad was there. He didn’t give a damn about the charity, but he bid like a madman on three artifacts I had recovered. The linkage for all three was that they were suspected of having supernatural powers. Particularly powers related to longevity.”

  “But the Skinwalker Totem doesn’t have that sort of power,” said Baxter.

  “Doesn’t it?” Sara raised an eyebrow in surprise at Baxter’s lack of creative thinking. “It allows the possessor to change into anyone or any animal. Presumably, youth is part of that. You could live forever with the totem as long as you kept changing into the bodies of the young.”

  “Right,” said Baxter.

  “The man is a sex maniac,” said Sara. “I have heard tales. He tried to lure me back to his chateau in the south of France for one of his infamous orgies, but I had better things to do. Cleaning my pistols, I believe.”

  She caught Baxter staring at her bare breasts again and shifted in the chair, covering her creamy mounds w
ith her arm so he was less tempted by distraction. She winced as her hand made contact with the sunburned upper curves of her mounds.

  “Ah, well,” Baxter flushed with embarrassment, “he is currently in… Las Vegas. He owns a penthouse in the Grand Mirage Casino and Hotel. Ah, and he is having one of his parties tonight. There is an invitation for escorts on the dark web.”

  “Looks like I will be attending in disguise,” said Sara.

  Boots thumped up the stairs and a key turned in the lock to the hotel room. Megan Nakamura stepped through the door carrying a silver container with a screw-off top. Sara’s lithe friend wore motorcycle leathers and had taken to shaving one side of her silky black hair. Her silver eye shadow and bright blue lipstick lent her a decidedly cyberpunk look. Sara thought the style suited Megan and her affinity for mechanical dangers on the obstacle course.

  “Tell me you found everything,” said Sara.

  “Had to go to three shops and bribe a botanist at a university,” said Megan. She hefted the silver container. “But I’ve made it exactly as the recipe in Baxter’s book—“

  “The Shinto Book of Healing,” said Baxter. “Hardly my book, but I did digitize a copy from the seventh century that contained the formula for the Cream of Restoration. There is an earlier Buddhist version that might be better suited, but I had every indication this version was the more potent of…“

  He pattered on and Sara ignored him. She unscrewed the top of the container and sniffed the large glob of white cream inside. It smelled minty, herbaceous, with a hint of a citrus smell. Not at all unpleasant.

  “Megan,” said Sara. “Do you think you could apply this for me? Not sure I can reach every spot.”

  “I thought you’d never ask,” said Megan. She tossed aside her leather jacket. Beneath it she wore only a light, clinging blouse that revealed her stiff nipples and the pert shape of her breasts. “Stretch out on the bed and I’ll get to work.”

  Sara uncovered her breasts and got up from the chairs with a wince of pain. She crossed the small room to the four-poster bed and lay down on her stomach, stretched out so her feet hung over the edge of the bed and her arms were reached up to touch the pillows. Her shapely bottom swallowed up her panties and Sara knew Baxter was getting a stimulating eyeful of her luscious bum.

  Megan climbed onto the bed beside Sara, kneeling next to the sunburned treasure hunter. Megan hissed with sympathy as she got a better look at Sara’s burned arms, shoulders, neck, and face.

  “Ooh, it’s a good thing Baxter didn’t take much longer to find you,” said Megan. “You would have blistered up by now.”

  “The blisters are bound to show up if that cream doesn’t do the job,” said Sara. “Quickly now, if you please, Megan. This hurts like the devil.”

  Sara shifted her hips and inadvertently wiggled her bum as she settled on the bed. Megan scooped a generous portion of the healing cream into her hand and smothered her hands. She rested one hand on each of Sara’s shoulders, eliciting a soft hiss of pain from the sunburned treasure hunter. The throbbing, burning sensation of the sunburn was cooled by the cream as Megan began to spread it over Sara’s shoulders. Megan’s massage was very delicate at first, but as Sara began to moan and coo with relief, Megan intensified the massage.

  “Ohhhhh that’s so good,” moaned Sara. She squirmed her hips again as the pain faded and was replaced by a cool, relaxing pleasure. “Don’t be afraid to work the muscles, my dear.”

  Megan had given Sara countless massages after workouts, before workouts, and whenever Sara was feeling a bit sore. Her hands knew the familiar, almost perfect terrain of Sara’s musculature. Sara appreciated the way Megan’s fingers traced her and kneaded the fiber of her muscles. She let out another groan of pleasure, but winced a moment later when the sunburn on her front rubbed against the bed.

  “I believe I need you to do the front now,” said Sara.

  “Legs first,” said Megan. She moved down to Sara’s legs, which were not as badly sunburned as her neck and shoulders, but still looked crimson compared to the pale outline of her denim shorts on her bum. Megan worked the cream into Sara’s calves and knees, lifted Sara’s legs to get both sides, and moved up to Sara’s thighs.

  Megan’s fingers spread the cream to Sara’s buttocks, which were only barely burned at the edges of the shorts. Sara squirmed again and spread her legs a little more. Megan’s fingers traced the soft mound of Sara’s quim through her panties. She repeated the stroke twice more and Sara moaned softly, encouraging Megan to touch her there more.

  “Turn over for me then,” said Megan, giving Sara room to maneuver on the bed.

  Sara turned over, her soft breasts swaying and spreading with her shifting position, her thick pink nipples jutting upward from her pale mounds. Sara looked up at Megan and Megan smiled down at her.

  “You’ll need to close your eyes,” said Megan. “I’ll do the face first.”

  “Gently, please. That’s the worst of it.” Sara closed her eyes and hissed with pain at the first touch of Megan’s fingers. The burn was so bad on Sara’s face that pain was unavoidable. Megan gingerly spread the cream over Sara’s deeply-reddened forehead, cheeks, nose, lips, and chin. The smell of the cream was strong to the point of being a bit nauseating. But it was all worth it as the pain began to recede. Sara moaned, “It’s working.”

  “Yes, it is,” agreed Megan, leaning her pretty face closer to Sara’s for a better look. She spread a bit more of the cream along Sara’s left jaw line. “Your burns are already fading.”

  Megan’s hands moved lower and massaged Sara’s shoulders until the throbbing burn had dissipated. She gazed down into Sara’s eyes as her hands reached Sara’s chest and the tops of Sara’s breasts. The pain was intense in Sara’s reddened cleavage and Megan gingerly parted Sara’s mounds and spread the cream between them. Megan’s fingertips brushed Sara’s stiff nipples.

  “Oooohh,” moaned Sara, shuddering slightly.

  “Did that hurt?” Megan asked.

  “Quite the opposite,” said Sarah.

  “So if I touched you here again,” said Megan, teasing her fingertips over Sara’s nipples, “you might like that?”

  Sara gasped again and nodded her head. Megan repeated the gesture a third time and a fourth. Sara moaned and jerked her hips on the bed.

  “The cream,” she gasped. “It’s making them more sensitive.”

  “Only a trace on my fingers,” said Megan, circling Sara’s pale areolas with her fingertips. “Let me put a dollop on each.”

  “Oh, I’m not sure that’s a wise—aaaahhhHH!” Sara’s words were cut off by the icy, tingling sensation of the cream smothering her tender nipples. She lifted her head from the pillow to watch as her smirking friend squeezed and massaged the cream into Sara’s areolas and thick pink nipples. Whatever the cream was doing, whatever magic it was working, the result was that Sara felt like her nipples had become as sensitive as her clit. The lightest brush of Megan’s fingers sent another jolt of pleasure crackling through the Sara’s body. She arched on the bed and cried out.

  “You’re a bloody sadist, Megan,” whined Sara, though she was laughing as she said it.

  “You love it,” replied Megan and gave Sara’s nipples a pair of pinches that shot burning arrows of pleasure deep into Sara’s core. The treasure hunter bucked like the mechanical bull, her tender buds caught between Megan’s fingers and her breasts bouncing with the motion.

  Sara knew Baxter was watching Megan torment her nipples. She wanted to tell her boffin to go and tech a cup of tea, but she was finding it very difficult to form words. Megan was to blame for that as she slipped a hand into Sara’s panties and began to massage Sara’s clit. When Sara tried to speak, she found Megan’s lips press down softly.

  Megan’s familiar, sweet kiss smothered any objections. The lithe beauty stretched out against Sara, her curves more modest, her body lean and exquisitely fit. She worked her fingers on Sara’s clit as she kissed the fading burns on Sara’s
neck.

  “I’ve missed you,” whispered Megan. “All this gallivanting around and the construction at the new house has kept us apart.”

  Sara wanted to tell Megan that now was not the best time, particularly with Baxter watching, but she succumbed to her desire. She embraced Megan and kissed her. She lifted Megan’s thin blouse and began to kiss the tan buds of Megan’s nipples. Megan kicked off her boots and wriggled out of her leathers, leaving only her red thong and her socks. Their legs intertwined, Sara’s slippery and sore, Megan’s long, golden, and powerful.

  “You fucked a spirit again, haven’t you?” Megan teased the question between kisses.

  “Not a god,” promised Sara. “A guardian spirit.”

  “The wolf tattoo,” said Megan, twining her fingers with Sara’s and looking at the faintly luminous tattoo. “A gift from him?”

  “Red Wolf,” said Sara. “He’s helping me to protect the totem.”

  “Hasn’t done a very good job,” said Megan. The tattoo flashed with anger as if it had heard her words. Megan giggled and said, “Oh, he’s a bit cross. Let’s put him to better use.”

  Megan took Sara’s tattooed hand and pressed it between her golden thighs. Sara leaned up and kissed Megan hungrily as she pulled aside Megan’s thong and began to stroke the slick folds of Megan’s cunt. Sara heard Baxter shifting beside the bed and she broke her kiss to say, “Go on then, Baxter. Have a wank.”

  Sara rolled atop Megan and pinned her to the bed. Their kisses grew more heated by the moment, their fingers moving more urgently to give pleasure. Sara pumped her fingers in and out of Megan’s slick channel just how she knew Megan liked it; Megan strummed rapidly at Sara’s clit to drive Sara towards her buzzing crescendo of pleasure. The small room filled with their smothered sighs and the faint, wet sounds of Sara’s fingers plundering Megan’s pussy.

  Sara pushed up, her weight balanced on one arm, her dangling breasts shaking with the urgent thrusting of her hand between Megan’s thighs. Megan could not pass up the opportunity to capture one of Sara’s stiff nipples in her mouth. Sara’s eyes went wide the moment the warmth of Megan’s lips engulfed her nipple. Megan sucked and lashed Sara’s nipple with her tongue and pleasure detonated inside Sara.