She thought of the nightmares that still came to her, remembering her irrational fear of dogs, then nodded. “I was assured countless times that no monsters existed.”
“Who told you that?”
“My father. My Sunday school teachers.”
He shrugged. “Did you believe them?”
“I tried, but it was hard for me, since I knew my mother had been taken by a monster.”
Doc watched her in silence for a moment. “A monster didn’t get your mother.”
“Then tell me what it was.”
His motions slowed, and he caught Sheila’s gaze. “Maybe you don’t need to talk about all this right now. There’s plenty of time to discuss the details of your mother’s death.” He picked up his fry bread and glanced at Sheila’s plate. “Aren’t you going to eat Betsy’s bread? She made it because she knew you were coming. She remembered how much you loved it.”
“I’m sorry.” Sheila glanced at her plate of uneaten food. “I’m trying to come to terms with some things.”
“Tanya’s trying, too,” Doc said. “That’s all the exorcism is about. Canaan’s helping her.”
Sheila raised her spoon and dipped it in the stew. So this wasn’t a dream. She’d never seen anyone go to such lengths to reassure children that there were no monsters beneath the beds, but she’d never seen a twelve-year-old as afraid as Tanya appeared when she walked into the cafeteria.
Doc glanced thoughtfully toward the door, then back at Sheila. “Sometimes, though,” he said softly, “there are monsters.”
The words chilled Sheila. She watched Doc eating his stew with obvious enjoyment, as if he hadn’t just said what he had. She wanted to ask him to elaborate, but then he would.
She thought about Tanya’s reaction to the dog today, and wondered how much of the girl’s hostility had been the simple response to her fear.
The dog. “Doc, I’m so sorry about what happened today. I would never intentionally harm—”
“Of course you wouldn’t.” Doc picked up his knife and fork and cut his meat. “Tanya overreacted this afternoon, but as I told you, she’s emotional right now. She’s over it. Now let it rest, Sheila.”
His voice was gentle, firm and kind. Sheila tried to do as he said. “Thank you.” She took a sip of milk and forced down another bite of stew.
What was it about Tanya that puzzled her? Why was it she seemed to feel a thread of connection, some sense of empathy, with a stranger? Perhaps fear was more of a bonding agent than she’d realized.
Canaan felt Tanya’s accusing look as they walked through the darkness.
“You forgot,” Tanya accused.
“I did not forget.”
“But it’s nighttime! You know what happens then.”
They stepped onto the sidewalk that led to Tanya’s dorm, three buildings away. Silence hovered over the school as if that silence, itself, had a spirit. It seemed everyone on campus was in the cafeteria. The place felt eerily deserted.
Tanya scampered closer to Canaan’s side.
“Relax,” Canaan said. “The Navajo werewolf waits until dark to begin preparations for his work, preparations that take time. You’ll be safe for another hour yet.”
“How do you know so much about the Navajo werewolf?”
“My Navajo grandfather told me.”
“What kind of preparations?” she asked, her voice breathless.
Canaan didn’t want to terrorize her, but neither did he want her to relax her guard when he also felt there was a threat. “Oh, things like putting on his costume, constructing his dry paintings on the hogan floor and invoking his spirits. That can take a long time.” He didn’t dare tell her that someone with a lot of practice—years of practice—might be doing these dry paintings in much less time.
Tanya’s breath caught audibly. He knew she was straining her ears for mockery in his voice, but she wouldn’t detect any.
“Where does he prepare?” she asked.
“Come on, Tanya, everyone knows he lives in a haunted hogan somewhere in Piñon Valley.”
Tanya clutched his arm. “Why are you talking like this? Are you making fun of me?”
“Have I ever made fun of you?”
Her clutch tightened. “No.”
“Have I ever made fun of anyone at this school?”
No answer, but he felt the brush of her hair against his arm as she shook her head.
“You’re wondering why I take this as seriously as you do?”
“Uh-huh. The dorm parents don’t. They won’t even let me talk about the wolf. Jane gives me demerits when I do.”
“That’s because of a long-held belief by our ancestors that to talk about something or someone is to call attention to ourselves. You talk about the wolf, you call its attention to you, and that just places you in danger. Same as talking about the dead.”
“Then why are you talking about it?”
“Because I believe differently.”
“Why?”
“I believe in the power of Christ to protect me. You need to know that you aren’t alone. You also need to realize that this is no game.”
Tanya walked beside him a few more steps, holding tightly to his arm with both hands. “April says the new nurse could be a Navajo werewolf.”
“She’s not even Navajo. That doesn’t make sense. And Nurse Metcalf just got here today.”
“But she killed Moonlight. Isn’t that a sign?”
“You accused her of killing Moonlight, but you have no proof that she did. You know how the dog liked to hang around the highway. I’m surprised she didn’t get hit before now.”
“Some dogs have special powers, you know.”
“They do not. Who’s been filling your head full of these myths?”
Tanya shrugged. “Maybe Moonlight was protected until a wolf got to her.” Tanya hesitated for a moment. “The white woman.”
Canaan stopped walking. “If you keep up this kind of talk, I’ll turn right around and go back to the cafeteria. That’s how rumors get started.” He pulled from her grasp and turned.
“No, Canaan! Please!” Tanya grabbed his arm again. “I’m just telling you what April told me.”
“April couldn’t have been the one to tell you Nurse Metcalf killed Moonlight, because you never saw April from the time we found the dog to the time you so rudely made that accusation.”
“No, but April hates whites, and she’d been talking about a white wolf coming to the school, and this afternoon it seemed like she was right. Ever since her parents died, she’s talked like that.”
Canaan started walking again. “She didn’t hear that kind of talk from her parents.”
“No.”
“I sure hope it wasn’t from any of the teachers.”
Tanya was silent.
“You’re one of her friends,” Canaan prodded. “You know where she’s getting these silly ideas.”
“Are you sure they’re silly?”
“Tanya.” He stopped again.
“Okay! I’ll tell you. Her brother Steve.” She tried to tug him forward.
Canaan took a deep breath, rubbing his neck as he willed away the tension. He was tempted to accuse Tanya of lying, or march her right over to the cafeteria, where Steve was one of the workers, and let Tanya accuse the seventeen-year-old to his face.
After the death of his parents, the boy had pretty much taken over the parenting of his younger brother and sister, Jamey and April. Steve was hardworking, dependable and a loving brother. Though obviously devastated by the tragedy, he was otherwise logical and well-adjusted.
Canaan decided he could leave this battle to another day. Besides, if Tanya was right about the intolerance of the Hunt children, they wouldn’t listen to someone who was half-white.
“Don’t talk to them about this,” Tanya begged. “They know I’m here with you. They’ll blame me for telling you.”
“Any other instructions before we get on with this?”
Tanya shook her head.
; “Good. I want you to stop listening to Steve and April. Every time you trash the white people with your words, you not only sound ignorant, you insult half of my ancestors. I don’t like it. Whites have nothing to do with the activities of our tribal monsters—we have enough imagination to do that all by ourselves.”
Tanya stepped close to him, her fear evident on her face, which was illuminated by a security light on the dorm building. “Okay, I’m sorry. Please, Canaan, come on. It’s dark.”
He didn’t move. He wanted more information. “Where did April and Steve get the idea that a white person could be a Navajo werewolf?”
“I don’t know…they didn’t say. They were afraid to say.”
“Betsy wouldn’t have told them that, would she?” Canaan didn’t relish trying to reprimand someone as old and authoritative as Betsy Two Horses. She was Granddad’s age.
“I don’t know. Please, Canaan.”
“Why have you become so frightened of the wolf all of a sudden these past few weeks? Steve and April don’t have such a strong influence on you, do they?”
Tanya squirmed, glancing toward the door. “Please, I’m scared.” He could feel her hands shaking as she held his arm. “The more I try to think about it, the more it scares me.”
Canaan finally relented. He would get no more information out of her by terrifying her. “Okay, let’s go.”
She nearly pulled him forward as she peered toward the shadows of the buildings and bushes.
“Tanya, have you seen one?”
Her breath caught audibly. “I can’t tell you.”
“Why not?”
“I…I just can’t. It’s dangerous to speak about it.”
“Or maybe you don’t want to talk about it because there’s nothing you can tell me for sure. You’re just afraid there might be something out there, and you don’t want to be alone, in case there is.”
“He’s out there.” Her voice was a trembling whisper, and she sounded very certain about what she said.
Those whispered words chilled him.
They reached the double front doors of the dorm, and he pulled the right door open.
Tanya hesitated, peering into the gloom.
“Go ahead, it’s safe,” he assured her.
“You first.”
He went in.
She followed cautiously, reaching for the light switch inside the doorway. “How will your prayers fight this wolf?”
“You can battle the spirit of evil only with good. All good in my life comes from the Holy Spirit of God, not from myself, or magic words or ancient rituals and symbols. From God alone.”
“B-but I’m not a Christian. I don’t know if I believe—”
“What do you believe? Do you believe in the old ways, like Betsy?”
“She says that the old words protect her.”
“We’ve talked about this. You’ve learned about Jesus in Sunday school. Nothing we do will protect us from a force more powerful than we are. We are dependent on the power of God.”
Tanya glanced out the window, and Canaan could almost read her mind. It was too long after dark. The wolf had had time to prepare his sand painting and complete his rituals. He could be coming.
“What can we do now?” She glanced from window to door.
“We use weapons of the light. Human souls need to be filled with light, or darkness will fill them.” He reached his hand to her and waited until she took it. “Repeat after me.”
“What are you going to say?”
“I’m going to quote some verses from Ephesians and pray for God’s goodness to fill our souls and bless these rooms.”
“Will it work if I’m not a Christian?”
Canaan didn’t want to terrify her into a faith in Christ. He didn’t believe that would be faith at all. “I am protected. I’ll pray for your protection and for the protection of this school. But you have learned that God has His own will, and we don’t always know what that is.”
“So you’re saying this might not work?”
“I’m saying that if we ask God for His protection against the evil in this place and if we put ourselves under His protection, the evil cannot harm us.”
“But…my father says Christ will steal my spirit, that it will never be mine again. If that’s what you—”
“Your father can’t be too afraid of that, or he wouldn’t be sending you to this school. He knows what we teach and believe.”
“He doesn’t like the Navajo schools in town, and we live too far away. Please don’t force me to be a Christian.”
“No one can ever force you,” Canaan said. “I’ll pray for your protection. But will you please promise me that the next time the wolf visits you, you’ll tell me?”
She stared hard at the darkness pressing in through the window. “But he’ll hurt me if I tell.”
“The wolf?”
Tanya nodded, closing her eyes. “He’ll bury me alive in the sand on the desert.” Her voice rose and fell in a breaking whisper. “He’ll kill my family, the way he killed the parents of my friends. He has power.”
Canaan took her hands in his and held them tightly, and he felt her trembling. “Did Steve or April tell you this?”
“No.”
“Who told you?”
“I just know.”
“How do you know?”
Tanya squeezed Canaan’s hands. “The wolf is coming. He’ll be here soon. It’s starting again. Hurry, Canaan, chase him away!”
Chapter Twelve
P reston slid his cell phone earpiece over his ear and spoke Sheila’s name. It automatically dialed her cell phone, which began to ring as he opened his dresser drawer and pulled out socks and briefs. He expected to reach her voice mail. He intended to leave a simple message of encouragement and love.
To his surprise, he heard children talking and laughing in the background just before she spoke.
“Preston? Sorry, I meant to turn this thing off when I came to dinner. What’s up?”
“Nothing much.” Except he was pulling his duffel from the cedar-lined closet of his roomy master bedroom, which he had built a few months ago, thinking about a future with Sheila. “I was just worried about how you sounded when we spoke earlier. If you can’t talk right now, that’s okay. I just wanted to know how you were doing.”
There was a hesitation. “Too early to tell.” It sounded as if she’d cupped her hand over her mouth to muffle her reply from other ears. “But if you’re asking if I want you to ride out here on your silver stallion and save me, the answer is—”
“Okay, fine, I don’t need my nose rubbed in it.” And he didn’t need to hear her tell him to stay in Missouri, because then he might have to lie, and he was a horrible liar. “And my stallion is gunmetal, not silver.”
“Whatever.” There was the hint of a smile in her voice.
“How’s Canaan?” he asked, unable to resist. “Things better?”
“Um, I’ll have to get back with you on that, too.”
“You do that.”
Sorry he’d asked—sorry he’d even thought about it—he found himself wishing he was the lying type. He could have attended church with Sheila, said all the right things, quoted all the right passages of scripture. That was what a lot of the business people in the area did, attending church on Sunday and placing a cross or a fish symbol on their signs and business cards so that during the rest of the week they could gather green little sheaves from their clueless customers and clients.
He pulled some jeans from hangers, grabbed some summer shirts and stuffed the duffel.
“Are you going to tell me why you really called?” Sheila asked.
“Blaze wants to know if there are any more openings for cheap labor in the clinic out there.”
“I haven’t even seen the clinic yet. I had hoped Canaan would show it to me tonight, but he’s busy with another project right now.”
Preston frowned. Was that a thread of perplexity in her voice? She was seldom perplexed. “We
ll, anyway, I know you’re probably hungry.” There. That was a lie, because he knew she wouldn’t be hungry. She always lost her appetite when stressed. “Keep in touch with me, please? I want to make sure you’re doing okay.”
There was a pause, and he braced himself. There’d been times in the past when he could have sworn she was a mind reader, and he didn’t want to argue with her tonight about whether or not he and Blaze should join her.
“I’ll call,” was all she said. “Thanks, Preston. I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Yes,” he said. “We’ll talk soon.” Very soon.
After they disconnected, he tossed his shave kit on top of the clothes, added a few other items, then realized the contents were spilling out of the duffel. Time to stop dancing around the idea of this road trip and make the decision. Should he pull his suitcase from the walk-in closet?
The note of dejection he’d heard in her voice just before the disconnect was enough to make his decision for him.
Always, when growing up, Preston had been independent. He’d had to be, especially when his mother had a bad episode, with a younger sister needing someone to provide solid guidance and a father too preoccupied with his wife’s needs to be there for anyone else. When Preston went away to college for the first time, he’d called home barely three weeks later to discover that, once again, his sister, Willow, was alone, their mother back in the hospital.
Against all advice, he became a college dropout. He postponed returning for a year, then graduated summa cum laude in an accelerated program, and never regretted giving up that year for his sister.
He had a feeling he might regret tonight’s decision, but he couldn’t let Sheila stay out in that distant place alone, feeling she had no friends. As soon as Willow and Graham returned home, Preston was leaving for Arizona. Today was Blaze’s last day of school commitments for the summer. If, for some reason, Blaze couldn’t go, Preston would go by himself.
Sheila watched grumpy Kai Begay pick up his tray and walk toward the trash cans, his long black ponytail trailing down his back. He glanced over his shoulder at her one last time before putting away his utensils. He would not meet her gaze, but she got the message well enough.
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