by Trisha Telep
Only when the first rays of morning lightened the sky had she decided it hadn’t been her imagination. Old legends were true. Sean Swifthawk O’Brien was a shapeshifter. And she wanted him to confirm it.
But first she needed more information. Before she confronted him, she had to learn all she could about shapeshifting and Native American lore. She’d tried going online but she couldn’t find a connection from her crappy motel room. It was when she’d gone to the motel’s office to ask where the nearest Internet connection might be that she’d seen the kid. And overheard him and his grandfather discussing the accusations against Sean. The discussion ended the instant they’d seen her and the kid had hot-footed it out the back door, but not before she’d seen the marks on his face.
How they’d known about Sean so early in the morning was anyone’s guess. She had her suspicions. No proof, but plenty of suspicion. She longed to dig deeper and find the truth, but Sean’s remark about bleached bones gave her pause. Nope, the best she could hope for was an explanation from Sean about his peculiar abilities. After he gave her one, she’d cut her losses and get out of town.
The irony of it all? She’d be walking away from a story bigger than she could’ve imagined. Only no one would believe it and if she tried to convince them, her credibility would be ruined. She’d be laughed out of the newspaper business. She’d find herself working for some rag, writing about alien abductions and crop circles.
Sean was right. She should go back to her life in Michael’s Creek and forget everything. Well, maybe not everything. She doubted she could ever lose the memory of his kiss. Thinking about it now made her feel all soft and gooey inside. She shoved the feelings away. He wasn’t for her. Even if they hadn’t come from two different cultures, she’d seen his type before – a selfless do-gooder out to change the world.
Good luck with that one.
She’d go back to Michael’s Creek and focus her energy on landing a story that everyone would believe. Sooner or later one had to come along.
Sitting up, she stared out the window. My god, it was spooky out here tonight. Last night, moonlight had lit the landscape but now clouds chased across the moon, dimming its light. The Center sat like a hulking beast and even the air felt heavy. Her hand stole over to the passenger’s seat and the jack-handle lying there. She wasn’t a fool. She’d lost her mace last night, but she wasn’t going to go traipsing around in the middle of the night without some kind of weapon. Just in case. The jack-handle seemed like a good choice. Settling her head against the window again, she placed the handle on her lap as the lack of sleep overtook her.
What seemed like only moments later, a sharp rap on the window made her jump. Sean. Her eyes flew to the clock. My god, it was four o’clock in the morning.
She pushed the door open, still hanging on to her weapon. “I thought you said eleven? Where have you been?”
“Something came up.” He eyed the jack-handle. “Planning on using that?”
She snorted. “You were the one who said it wasn’t safe.”
Without commenting, he turned and headed towards the hill beyond the Center. R.J. ran after him. At the top of the rise, he suddenly whirled on her.
“What do you want to know?”
Caught off-guard, the words stumbled out, sounding silly even to her. “Are you a shapeshifter?”
“Yes.”
Shocked at his honesty, R.J.’s jaw dropped and she waited for him to continue. He didn’t.
“That’s it? ‘Yes’?”
A wry grin twisted the corners of his mouth. “I think that word covers it.”
Frustrated, she kicked a clod of dirt. “Not bloody likely, mister.”
“I suppose you want to know the ‘who, what, when, and where’?”
“Damn straight I do,” she exclaimed.
Sean sighed deeply. “My gift, talent, whatever the whites would call it, runs in my family.”
“Your grandfather, too?” R.J.’s eyes widened.
“No, not him, but his father.” He stopped and looked up at the sky as if trying to decide what to say. “This is hard,” he said finally. “Not even our people are aware. They know that my family has powerful medicine, but they’ve never questioned what it might be.”
“Have you always been able to shift?”
“No. It started shortly after I came to live with my grandfather. I was lucky in a way that I’d come here. Because of what he’d learned from his father, he recognized what was happening to me and was there to guide me through it.”
“Does it happen . . . um . . . well . . . you know . . . whenever the moon–” she broke off, feeling foolish.
“Are you trying to ask me if I only change during a full moon?” he inquired, not hiding the humour in his voice.
Irritated, her chin hiked. “According to movies and literature–”
“In case you haven’t noticed,” he cut in, his humour gone. “We’re not in a movie – this is my life we’re discussing. No, it’s not only during a full moon, I can change at will. At first, when I was a teenager, it’d happen whenever I experienced high emotion.”
“Must’ve happened a lot.”
“It did. After the first change, my grandfather took me out of school for about a year and taught me at home. During that time, he showed me how to manage the changes.”
“Are you like–” she paused, trying to think of the right word, “well, invulnerable?”
“We’re back to the movies, huh?” He shook his head. “No, I can be killed just like any other animal. It wouldn’t take a silver bullet.” Tugging on his bottom lip, he studied her. “I’ve never had to explain this to anyone and I don’t really know if I can. When I’m in animal form, there is still a part of me that’s human but I feel the freedom of being a wild thing.”
“Last night, when you were fighting those men, why didn’t you become something other than an owl? Something a little bigger with a few more teeth?” she asked, playing with the jack-handle still in her hand
He gave a rough bark of laughter. “You really don’t know anything about the legends, do you?”
She pulled herself up and glared at him. “Nope, sorry, never saw the need to do research on shapeshifters,” she replied sarcastically. “If I’m not asking the right questions, you’ll just have to forgive me.”
“I can only become an owl – it’s my totem. I told you that, as an owl, part of me is still human?”
She nodded.
“As a human, the owl is always with me, too.”
“I don’t get it.”
“I can move silently whenever I need to, I can see things in the dark that are invisible to others, and my hearing? Unbelievably sharp.” He came close, looming over her. “And I will do everything I can to defend and protect my family and my territory.”
She swallowed. “I’m not going to write about this,” she insisted.
“I believe you. It wouldn’t be in your best interests.”
“You think I’m selfish, don’t you?” she asked defensively.
He stepped back. “I think you’re so driven by ambition that you’d do anything to succeed.”
“What’s wrong with that?” she huffed.
“Nothing . . . in your world. In mine, we’re worried about surviving.”
“And you’re using, what did you call it? Medicine?”
“Trying to.” His eyes roamed the landscape. “There are those who’ve been seduced, lost interest in the good of the people. They see only their own desires.”
“Charlie Two Horses.”
“He’s one. There are others.”
“Why do they want to ruin the Center?”
“There are several reasons. People with little else have donated possessions that have been in their families for years. To see them destroyed would be destroying the heart of our people.” He focused on R.J. “People without heart, who’ve been beaten down, are easier to manipulate,” he said sadly. “Then there’s the money. The Center is heavily insur
ed, so if something happened to it, a large sum of money would be paid to the tribe. That money could be used for other things.”
“Like a casino?”
“Exactly. Some people lose enough of their money in town; they don’t need easy access to gambling here.”
“Have you made this argument to the Elders?”
“Of course but it’s not that simple. My grandfather has a lot of honour in the eyes of the tribe, but I’m still a half-breed.”
She saw lines of weariness tighten his face. “They don’t trust you?”
“Not completely.”
Moving close, she dropped the jack-handle and laid a hand on his arm. His muscles quivered at her touch. “Then why are you fighting for them? Why not leave this place and start a new life away from all of this?”
A look of regret crossed his face and he opened his mouth to speak. Abruptly, his features hardened. His lips closed and he shook his head. “I can’t. My place is here.”
The sadness in him reached out and swamped her. Putting her arms around him, she laid her head on his chest and felt him shudder. His hand stole up to her face and he tilted her chin, looking deeply into her eyes. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw the fire burning inside of him. Unblinking, he began to lower his face to hers. Suddenly in the depths of his eyes, a yellow spark flamed.
“Down!” he whispered harshly, pulling her off her feet.
“Wha—”
He clamped a hand over her mouth. “Quiet,” he hissed, crouching beside her. “You’ll give away our position to the men down there.”
Her eyes strained against the darkness, trying to see what he saw, but all she could make out was the dark shape of the Center.
He released her arm and began to steal away. “Stay here.”
“Oh no you don’t, Bird Man,” she said softly, picking up the jack-handle. “You’re not leaving me behind this time.”
“Bird Man?” he sputtered. “You make light of my medicine?”
“Hey, I’m just going with the flow,” she murmured, “and happy I’m not insane after all.”
She felt him tense and saw the conflicting emotions race across his face. She almost sensed what he was thinking: how many were there? Should he leave her here unprotected? What if he lost the fight?
Finally, he made his decision and motioned her to follow. “Quietly,” he cautioned as he crept ahead.
R.J. tried to mimic Sean’s stealth. He hadn’t been kidding when he said he could move silently – the tall grass barely stirred as he edged forward. He led her to the side of the building and moved her into the shadows. Laying a finger on his lips, he pointed to the ground with his other hand, indicating she should stay put. Then without a word, he disappeared around the side of the building.
Flattened against the side of the Center, her heart hammered in her chest and sweat beaded in her armpits. Visions of bones scattered across the prairie danced in her mind. Could she make it to the Jeep without giving Sean away? She could go for help – but where? And who could she trust? No, she thought with a shake of her head, for once she’d obey and pray that the owl wasn’t outmatched.
Suddenly she heard the sound of voices. Shrinking back into the shadows, she strained to listen.
“Shut up,” one voice rasped.
“I’m telling you – that’s her Jeep sitting there,” A second voice whispered. “What if she comes back and catches us?”
“Do what I tell you and she won’t.”
“What if she’s inside?”
“That’s her problem, not ours.”
“But—”
“Just do it.”
A shift in the breeze lifted a strand of R.J.’s hair and with the breeze came a strange odour. Her nose twitched and she felt a sneeze building. Grabbing the tip, she pinched until the feeling passed. Letting go of the breath she’d been holding, she inhaled deeply. Oh my god, she smelled gasoline – they were going to torch the place. Where in the hell was Sean?
She slunk around the corner of the building and saw three shapes huddled on the ground by the long windows of the Council room. Close enough to make out what they held in their hands, she saw a glass bottle with a rag trailing down its side. Great, a molotov cocktail. She smelled the sulphur as the match struck and watched in horror as the flame drew near the rag. She had to do something.
But then, the flame abruptly died and the man holding the spent match flew into the air as if yanked by an invisible rope. A foot shot out and knocked the bottle from the next man’s hand. A second hit to his jaw had him sprawling backwards. He didn’t move. The third man scrambled to his feet and took off at a run towards a stand of cottonwood. A screech rent the air, and a white owl soared above the running man’s head, outdistancing him.
At least now she knew where Sean was. Relieved, she fell back against the building, until a quick movement on her left had her standing at attention.
A fourth man. With a gun. As if in slow motion, he raised it, training it on the white shape headed for the cottonwoods.
“Hey!” She pushed away from the building and, raising the jack-handle high, rushed him.
Surprised, his gun wavered, giving R.J. time to bring the jack-handle down with full force on his wrists. Bones snapped and dirt flew when the shot went wide. Holding his arms tightly against his stomach, the man wheeled and ran.
R.J. thought about giving chase, but a noise from the stand of trees caught her attention. She turned just in time to see the man make it to the trees . . . but the owl had made it first. It waited on a low branch, and as the man ducked under the limb, the owl disappeared. Sean swung down and planted both feet on the man’s chest. He staggered back, trying to gain his balance, but Sean was on him in a flash. The thud of fists hitting flesh lasted only a few moments.
The man went down for the last time.
Sean watched Charlie Two Horses bundle three of the vandals in the back of the tribal police car.
“They’ll be set free,” his grandfather said softly from where he stood beside him.
“I know.” Sean’s mouth tightened in a grim line. “They’re white and they’re barely eighteen. I imagine if they’re tried at all, it will be as juveniles and the charge will be malicious mischief. Not much of a penalty for that.”
“Did you recognize them?”
“One is the grandson of the man who owns the motel. He was also involved in the vandalism last night, but we can’t prove it.”
“You came close to losing this time, Akecheta.”
He gave his grandfather a nudge. “But we didn’t.” His eyes travelled to R.J., leaning against the side of her Jeep. “She helped.”
His grandfather stiffened. “What if she tells her story?”
“She won’t. She gave me her word.”
“Ha! The word of a white woman.”
“She saved my life, grandfather,” he replied in a quiet voice.
The tension in his grandfather’s stance eased. “Hmm, we’ll see.”
“I’m going to go say goodbye.”
R.J. pushed away from the Jeep as he approached. A soft smile twitched at the corner of her mouth. One dimple showed.
“Got to say this for you, Swifthawk,” she said, shoving her hands in her pockets. “You sure know how to show a girl a good time.”
“And you, R.J. Baxter,” he answered with a smile and a tap to the end of her nose, “don’t know how to follow instructions.” He sobered. “And I’m glad you don’t. Thanks for saving my life.”
Her face tinged with pink. “No problem.” Shifting her attention to the patrol car slowly leaving the parking lot, she gave her head a shake. “What will happen now?”
“Nothing.”
“What do you mean ‘nothing’?” she asked, indignant. “They tried to burn down the Center.”
“They’re white. Charlie will turn them over to the sheriff and at most, they’ll get a slap on the wrist.”
“That’s not fair.”
He lifted his
shoulder in a shrug.
She watched the patrol with a speculative look. “I could do a story about the injustice of it all?”
“Don’t,” he replied, placing a hand on her shoulder to draw her attention away from the departing vandals. “It won’t do any good. We know them now – they’ll be watched.”
R.J. crossed her arms over her chest and arched an eyebrow at him. “I’ll agree you have some pretty unusual talents, Bird Man,” she said in a low voice, “but you and your grandfather can’t be everywhere.”
“There are others.”
Her eyes flew wide. “What?” she hissed, “Some secret society of shapeshifters?”
Sean allowed a smirk. “Let’s just say we have ‘friends’.”
“But—”
The hand on her shoulder squeezed lightly, cutting her off. “Let it go, R.J.”
She glanced towards the Center with a light glinting in her eye. “Okay, I won’t write about the plot to destroy the Center,” she said, slapping him on the arm, “but I’ll tell you what I am going to do – I’m going to write a story that’ll make this place sound better than Disneyland.” She chuckled and gave a quick nod. “And I can do it. You’re going to have so many tourists to fleece, the tribe won’t know what to do with all the money.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Yup,” she said with a broad smile, “this place is going to be so popular that whoever’s behind this attack won’t dare try and destroy it again.” Her smile fell away. “You really can’t leave, can you?”
He shook his head, almost with remorse.
“Well,” she said, and shot a glance towards his grandfather.
Then, before he could react, she grabbed the front of his shirt and, standing on tiptoes, planted a kiss that shook him to his core. With a satisfied smile, she turned and hopped in her Jeep. Starting the engine, she winked. “See you around, Bird Man.”
He watched as she slowly pulled away and turned on to the highway.
“Did she call you Bird Man?” his grandfather asked in shocked tones.
“Yes,” Sean answered with a low chuckle.
His grandfather scratched his head, his attention on the retreating Jeep. “Even for a white, she’s a strange woman. It’s good we’ve seen the last of her.”