Mystic Falls

by Vickie McKeehan

  She couldn’t help the swell of resentment building up over his unwillingness to believe in her. Zeb had. Why couldn’t he do the same? Was it so far-fetched to ask him to trust what she saw?

  She left the shop closed for the day. It was the least she could do out of respect for Marnie. But she was too antsy to settle. The faces of those two men haunted her. They’d been hard and unforgiving. And maybe professional killers. If they were locals, they had not been in her store before. She would have remembered their cold eyes and distant demeanor. If they were from somewhere else, what were they doing in Coyote Wells in the first place? And who had brought them here? For what purpose?

  Her brain wouldn’t stop asking questions. She had to get out of the house.

  “Come on, Rufus. What do you say we take another trip out to Mystic Falls again and get some exercise, maybe clear our heads?”

  The dog woofed in return.

  “I thought you’d see it my way. We’ll make it a picnic. Bacon for you, tuna sandwich for me.”

  By the time she packed up lunch and followed the usual route to the edge of the reservation, the clouds overhead had darkened like a veil. Thunder boomed loud and menacing.

  Despite threatening skies and the lateness of the afternoon, undeterred she and Rufus walked on toward the waterfall.

  Raindrops began to splat around her, plopping on top of her running shoes. “If we pick up our pace, we should be able to reach the overhang before it opens up and pours.”

  The two hustled the rest of the way to an outcropping of rocks that formed a natural shelter, a place where they could ride out the storm.

  As the weather worsened and the skies opened up, she tried to get comfortable on a flat boulder they could use for a picnic table. She dug into her pack and took out their lunch, doling out bits of bacon to the dog as he waited patiently for each bite.

  After devouring her sandwich, she glugged half a bottle of water before pouring the rest into a small plastic bowl she carried for Rufus. While he lapped up his portion, she stared out at the rain.

  She had a lot of questions for Kamena, the entity that could transform her shape from a delicate hummingbird to a radiant fish and then flow like magic into a curvy female who glistened silver and gold.

  From a book at the library, a footnote really, she’d discovered that Kamena was not the only deity around during ancient times. There had been the one true Great Spirit, worshipped and revered by the tribes, along with three other elemental shaman who acted as wise counsels in every day tribal life.

  The written history had been scant. But it had been enough to jump-start a quest to learn more. Once again, she had Elnora Kidman to thank for pointing her in the right direction. The efficient librarian had sent her to see a medicine woman named Callie Lightfeather who knew all about these tribal legends.

  At ninety, Callie was a lively, soft-spoken sprite who stood barely five feet tall if she got up on her tippy toes. Her white hair, braided down her back, almost touched her ankles.

  Over tea and cookies, Gemma had spent three hours drawing out as much information as she could.

  Deeply steeped in the oral histories of her Native American heritage, Callie was proud and eager to share in their retellings to anyone who would listen. The old woman took great pride in recounting the legend of Kamena, the first female shaman of her kind. Callie was especially proud of Kamena who had dished out the sagest of all advice, even though most men in the tribe had shunned her counsel.

  While Kamena guarded her domain around Mystic Falls and was described as the giver of visions, Aponivi loved his canyons, specifically Shadow Canyon in the eastern part of the county. Aponivi was the holder of the tribe’s truths. He often appeared as a wild wind roaring down the canyon walls that formed into a fierce dervish. The third shaman was the keeper of knowledge known as Salisaw, who inhabited the clear, deep blue waters of Spirit Lake. He was often seen taking the shape of a waterspout, forming in the middle of the lake and only coming close to shore on rare occasions to warn of danger.

  Callie Lightfeather claimed that at one time the legends of the shaman had been engrained in the everyday life of the villages. Every child could recite their stories by heart. But through the generations of war and disease, when they felt as if the shaman had abandoned them, the oral history had been lost, the myths forgotten, their powers mocked.

  Gemma went over all this in her head as she sat on the rock looking out over the green of approaching summer, the countryside rich with new plant life. The earthy smells made her long for her grandmother’s garden.

  As the downpour subsided into dribbles of mist, she gathered up their trash and repacked the satchel. “Let’s hit the trail, Rufus. Let’s go have us a conversation with a legend.”

  The trail was now familiar. The closer she got to the waterfall, the more excited she became. And when the jagged rock formations came into view, she stared at the bastion of golden stone walls that formed the cavern.

  Ducking inside the narrow split, she breathed in the cool temperature. As she approached the water, the pool rippled with whitecaps that soon turned to silver and blue crests. The water bubbled like a witches’ cauldron.

  Gemma cleared her throat, raising her voice an octave. “Kamena. I’m here to seek your wisdom, to bow to the only female shaman of her time. The wisest of the great three. Kamena, my counsel, my sage, wiser than Aponivi and Salisaw.”

  Hoping that would get Kamena’s attention, she waited. Soon she heard a huge whoosh coming from the water. A rushing tide whirled up to lap at her feet. Then suddenly the body of water seemed to move up and around her, swirling, engulfing the space almost as if she could reach out and touch it. As if checking out her thoughts, it furled and circled several times over her head before forming into the shape of a bird. Its wings fluttered and took off, floating in flight before landing back on the surface of the water. Once there, the bird dissolved into a bright blue angel fish that promptly dived back into the pool. The fish zigzagged, swimming as if taking laps before disappearing into the deep. When it popped up again its transformation was complete. A slender female, dressed in a silvery gown, stood before Gemma.

  “What is it you seek?” Kamena said softly in English.

  Gemma bowed at the waist. “I need help. I figured you were the best choice to interpret my visions. You know my grandmother had the sight. I know that now without doubt. But I think someone murdered her and two others. I’m trying to find out who did it. But so far the only thing I’ve seen that might be considered helpful is a car and two men I don’t recognize. The men were burying Collette, the same two men who buried Marnie. I’m sorry. I’m rambling.”

  Kamena smiled. “At least you want to help. Many others sit and do nothing, and never even try.”

  “Well, I figure if I have a gift I shouldn’t let it go to waste. I know what I’ve seen isn’t much. So, my question is this. If this gift is so special, why can’t I determine who did the killings and solve this thing? Get these guys off the street. Why can’t I find the car?”

  “My child, it doesn’t work like that. You speak of your gift as if it were one of your truffles, something you might hold in your hand. If you don’t respect it, you won’t be able to use it. Patience is required and a quiet mind. It’s more like a talent, something to be enriched and learned. Right now, you’re more like an intern, learning as you go. Novices should never try to force things. When your mind is calm the answers will come.”

  “Then maybe you should explain it better because I’m confused.”

  “Anger is the most powerful emotion. It’s blocking what you want to see. Attitude is everything. You must focus if you want to see the truth. Get rid of the rage.”

  “And while I’m dealing with a learning curve, the killers could strike again. I’m not willing to risk it. You shouldn’t either. I want these guys caught. Up to now, I’ve been unable to locate that blue sedan. Until I can track it down, that’s a problem. Then there’s Lando. When he di
scovers I’m doing all this behind his back…look out. Fireworks. Something’s gonna hit the fan and it won’t be pretty.”

  “Maybe your fear is your problem. Afraid of what this Lando might think of you? In order to be successful, you must not be afraid of what people think. You should go back to the beginning. Use something belonging to your grandmother to visualize the details of how she died. Pick up on other images. Use your eyes not your head or your heart. Keep your emotions out of it.”

  “Is that what my grandmother did?”

  “Your grandmother had been using her gift long before she came to see me. Marissa was special and so was her talent. You have a long way to go before you’re able to fill her shoes.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “You are a novice, but a quick learner. I’ve no doubt that one day you will get where you want to be, wherever that is.”

  While Gemma tried to get answers out of Kamena, Zeb was in a verbal battle of his own with Lando. The argument had gotten so loud that Louise stood outside the door eavesdropping until Payce sent her back to the front desk where she belonged. That left him standing outside Lando’s office door, hoping the argument didn’t escalate into a scuffle.

  On the other side of the door, Zeb paced back and forth. “You are as stubborn as Gemma said you were,” he accused. “Your spirit guide has to be a mule the size of California if you refuse to test that whiskey bottle. I’m telling you both killers drank from it. You could have your killer within days.”

  Lando stood his ground. “Because psychics are so very accurate? It’s bunk, all of it. You of all people should know that. Crimes are solved by solid police work. Not some hokey visions that pop into someone’s head. I thought you would’ve come into the twenty-first century by now. I see I’ve been wrong.”

  “Why have you so completely turned your back on Native customs? You know our forefathers had visions. If it wasn’t for one so bold, this town might not even exist.”

  “Yeah? And what happened before that? If these visions had been so accurate and so powerful, why didn’t they win the wars against the invading armies? Why did we get pushed onto reservations in the first place?”

  “You just answered your own question. Our forefathers were outnumbered, outgunned, and riddled with disease brought here by the soldiers. The armies were never going to stop until they’d run our kind into the ground. You have a short memory when it comes to your Native roots. You always have. They’re buried deep in this town. I wonder how the citizens who elected you would feel knowing you’re ignoring vital evidence that might solve three murders.”

  Lando’s eyes narrowed as he sucked in a deep breath, his anger rising. “Is that why you and Leia are choosing to hide your relationship from your family? Your Hokan family has always looked down on mine because we’re Yuki.”

  Zeb hooked his thumbs in the loops of his jeans. “Try to stay on point. This isn’t about Leia and me. It’s about solving multiple murders. For once, try to keep personal vendettas out of your head.”

  Lando looked like he might hit something. “Why did Gemma come to you anyway?”

  “Because you won’t listen. Look at yourself. All worked up about evidence brought on by Gemma’s psychic visions, visions you don’t believe in. Even if she did have something important to say, you refuse to hear her.”

  “I can’t just go around testing every little thing that’s brought into my office.”

  Zeb put both hands on Lando’s desk and leaned as far as he could into Lando’s space. “I brought evidence you missed at the scene. If that isn’t worthy of testing I don’t know what is.”

  For the first time since the argument began, he came around to stand in front of Lando’s face. “Fine. My office will pay for it. In fact, I’ll pay for it out of my own pocket right now, here today. I’ll write you a check. See how easy it is.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “Because that’s how much I believe in Gemma. And if it comes back to hired guns with criminal records, I want an apology.” He turned to leave and stopped, turned back. “No, make that two apologies. One for me, and one for Gemma.”

  24

  On the walk to work, Gemma tried to clear her head, but it was a jumble, a mess, just like her life.

  Days had passed since she’d last spoken to Lando. All week, she’d purposely avoided him since Zeb had told her about their argument. Mainly it was because she knew how difficult it would be for him to accept she’d gone behind his back, gone running to the very person he’d always seen as his rival. It was no secret that Lando and Zeb had always competed for everything in school---sports, grades, attention, honors, awards, you name it.

  There had been no love lost between the two. The fact that Gemma had sought out support from Zeb would be a blow to Lando’s ego.

  She’d already felt the sting from it. He hadn’t bothered to call or text in days. She’d expected as much.

  Somehow, she’d managed to stay busy and keep Lando off her mind. She’d read through most of the journal and would probably finish it by the end of the weekend. She’d even followed Kamena’s advice and stood in the garage in the same spot where her grandmother had lost her life, trying to pick up on what had happened there. But, she was either doing something wrong, or she was really bad at this whole thing because nothing had popped up on her radar.

  She had to admit the novice seemed to be wound too tight, serious self-doubts creeping in about everything. She began to realize her long list of failures went back years---marriage, lawyering, relationships, even making chocolate---no wonder she was no good at amateur sleuthing or anything remotely psychic related. Those things required a measure of self-confidence.

  That lack of faith was the reason she refused to blame Lando for everything that was wrong in their relationship. She had to take some responsibility for failing to convince him she knew what she was talking about.

  When she reached the corner at the end of the block and turned onto Water Street, she was stunned to see Lando waiting for her in front of the store.

  What was he doing here so early? It was barely eight o’clock. She had candy to make. But as she closed the distance, she noted the slumped shoulders, the tired look on his face, his exhausted demeanor. He looked as though he’d lost his best friend. His eyes were bloodshot, like he hadn’t slept much and his face showed lines that hadn’t been there before.

  Though her heart lurched in sympathy, she calmly unlocked the front door and flipped on the lights. As soon as he followed her inside, out of everyone’s earshot, she went into the spiel she’d practiced. “Look, if you’ve come to yell at me, go right ahead, but know this, I don’t care. I did what I had to do and I’d do it again. There’s a killer out there and one of his victims just might be my grandmother. Which means, I’m gonna get to the bottom of this with you or without you.”

  Lando sucked in a breath and ran a hand through his thick black hair. “I won’t lie. It pissed me off that you went to Zeb. I stewed about it for days.”

  “No kidding.”

  He shifted his feet. “Shut up for once and listen to what I came to say. It hit me sometime around three o’clock this morning when I was staring at the white board for the umpteenth time, staring at this case that doesn’t make any sense and hasn’t from the beginning. I’ve had tunnel vision about this whole thing. I may not believe in psychic stuff, but I know when it’s time to start looking outside the norm, outside the box. You and Zeb were right about that. I’ve turned up nothing that ties these three women together except for the book club. And the fact that they all drank wine from Ballard’s vineyard. It isn’t enough. The whole town drinks Wind River wine. There’s something else that I keep missing.”

  “Okay. And?”

  “And I can’t put my finger on what it is. But the next time you want to talk about the case, I promise to listen.”

  Gemma’s eyes glinted with distrust. “What’s the catch?”

  “No catch. I c
ame to apologize. And not because I got the results back from the lab on the whiskey bottle---because I didn’t. I’m here because I truly believe I’ve acted like an ass.”

  “Wow. Really?”

  “You tried to tell me several times about the blue Nissan.”

  “Did you even do anything with the information?”

  “I checked everything Louise came up with. Nothing that matches. You tried to tell me there were two killers involved and I didn’t believe that until Tuttle verified it. A couple of days went by before I realized you went to Zeb because you felt like he’d take you seriously when I wouldn’t. I should’ve at least given your theory some merit. I didn’t. Instead I spent a week ginning up a case against Ballard that I couldn’t get to stick.”

  “So what happens between the two of us now?”

  “We take it from the top.”

  “Again? How many times do we keep doing this, Lando?”

  “As many times as it takes to iron out the friction between us. Either that or we have to walk away from each other for good. I’m not ready to do that yet. Are you?”

  “I guess not.”

  “Then how about we start the weekend off doing whatever you want to do.”

  “I need to find Gram’s recipes.”

  “I thought you already had.”

  “No. It turns out I’ve been using stuff Gram had rejected a long time ago. I need to find the real deal if I want to stay in business. I did manage to find one of her journals---in the flower bed of all places.”

  “No way. Why the flower bed?”

  “I don’t have a clue. But I thought maybe I’d stumble on something in her journal that would tell me where she kept her recipes. But so far…nothing.”

  “All right. Why don’t we do this? I’ll bring food by tonight and we can just sit by the fire. You read.”

  “What will you do?”