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 odor. 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 sulfur 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 of 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 toward a stand of cottonwood. A screech rent the air, and a white owl soared above the running man's head, out distancing him.
At least now she knew where Sean was. Relieved, she fell back against the building, until an 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 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 traveled 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 shape shifters?"
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 toward 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 right."
"Yup," she said with a broad smile, "this place is going to be so popular who's ever behind this 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 toward his grandfather.
Then, before he could react, she grabbed the front of his shirt, and standing on tip toes, 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 onto 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."
"I wouldn't be so sure," Sean replied, more to himself than his grandfather. With a jerk of his head, he motioned toward the rise. "Come on, let's go home."
Together, they walked across the prairie as the sun brightened the horizon. At the top of the rise, they looked down at the highway winding its way out of the reservation and the Jeep speeding away.
Above it, in a golden sky, a white owl circled.
The Gift
I felt silly. Incredibly silly. I was lying in the slightly damp
grass, staring up at the stars. With my luck, I would catch a chill and get pneumonia. My seventy-year-old grandmother lay in a similar position next to me. It was Spring. Even though it was warm, the air still carried a bite. Yes, I was definitely going to catch pneumonia.
“Abby,
I feel stupid.”
“Be quiet, Ophelia, and quit fighting it.”
Abby was right, I was fighting it. Had been fighting for it so long, I didn’t know if I could stop. All my life, I’d been running from this. The events of the past year had made me realize I couldn’t run any longer. Now at age thirty-three, I had to accept who and what I was. Be it blessing or curse.
“Ophelia, close your eyes and empty your mind,” Abby said gently. “Feel the air around you. Feel how soft and welcoming it is? Do you hear the sounds of the night? The rhythm?”
As Abby spoke, the air whispered over my skin. The hair on my arm stood up. I didn’t know if it was from the chill or from something else. Alarmed, I opened my eyes to see the stars shimmering above me.
“Abby, I don’t think I’m ready for this,” I said, turning my head to look at her. In the darkness, I could barely make out her features, but I felt the sense of peace emanating from her.
“Of course you are, dear, past ready. We should have done this long ago.”
She was right. In the arrogance of my youth, I had resisted her efforts to help me. As a result, it led to disaster. I had spent the last four years of my life shut inside myself. Rather than walk through my life unprotected, I’d built an impenetrable wall around myself. Abby was the only one I had let inside. I’d avoided all other human companionship. I kept everyone at arm’s length. I still functioned and went through my normal daily routine, but I was empty. Abby was the only one who knew of this emptiness.
“Just relax. There’s nothing to harm you. Let your heart guide you to what you seek,” Abby said with certainty.
I closed my eyes again, willing my mind to do as she said. My body was so tense, I felt stiff. I concentrated on relaxing each muscle. First in my toes, then my legs, my hands, my arms as the tension leached out of my body. When I reached my shoulders and neck, I felt the lethargy steal over me. I heard the insects humming. My mind drifted and the humming became quicker, more intense. The sound changed in depth, it was deeper, more of a thrumming now. It seeped into my brain.
“Now open your eyes, Ophelia, and really look at what you see,” Abby instructed.
At first, I saw nothing in the dark, then slowly the world around me began to change. The world seemed to take on a surrealistic glow. I could see each star as an individual light instead of a part of a whole. The tree limbs above me had a light, an aura, defining each separate branch. Every leaf glimmered with a pulsing energy. The fireflies made a dizzy pattern above my head. At first the pattern was random, then tighter, spiraling upward. My own private light show. Dazzled, I felt no fear, only a deep sense of contentment. Abby reached out and took my hand and the energy arced between us. We were at one with the world around us.
“Now, Ophelia, take the energy and extend it around you, a bubble, not a wall. Still see the world, feel the power, but don’t let it touch you,” Abby whispered.
I imagined a thin iridescent bubble. It totally encompassed me. It was comforting and warm. Inside it I was completely safe. Nothing broke the surface unless I wished it. I was a part of all around me but not overwhelmed by it. I could marvel at its’ beauty without my senses going on overload. I was secure in my cocoon. For the first time in a long while, I felt free. The darkness that had haunted me was gone.
I don’t know how long it lasted. I had lost all sense of time. But slowly, softly, the energy decreased until finally it was only a sigh in the night. I sat up, astounded by what I had just witnessed.
“That was amazing,” I whispered, my face filled with joy.
Abby nodded wisely. “It won’t always be as spectacular as this was tonight, Ophelia. With practice, you can use what you have just learned to guard your mind. You can shut out the vibrations and the feelings of others, letting them in only when you wish it...” She hesitated. “I’ll warn you, the visions won’t always come to you in the way you want and some will be very unsettling. But with this, you will have some control. You won’t always be battered by the thoughts of others.”
It was unbelievable, to be able to be with people, touch them, and not have their emotions invade my mind. Abby had given me the greatest gift I’d ever received.
“I don’t know how I can ever thank you, Abby,” I said helping her to her feet and giving her a quick hug.
“There’s no need to thank me, dear. Just use your gift wisely to help, not harm.” She smiled in the darkness. “Long ago, my mother guided me as I have guided you tonight. Someday, you also will be called on to do the same,” she said, pouring the flask of wine on the ground in thanksgiving.
I knew she was right. You see, Abby and I come from a long line of women sometimes blessed, sometimes cursed, with the sight. Some call us wise women, some call us witch.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Shirley is the author of the popular Ophelia and Abby Mystery Series from Avon Books. Consisting of seven books, the first of the series, WITCH WAY TO MURDER earned a “best first” Agatha Award nomination. Now an alter ego has been added—Jess McConkey. Her debut novel under this pen name, LOVE LIES BLEEDING, is Midwest Connections Pick for the month of August. Retired from her “day” job, she devotes her time to writing, cleaning up after two dogs, and chasing around numerous grandchildren.
Visit Shirley at www.shirleydamsgaard.com or www.jessmcconkey.com. You can also join her at Something Wicked (wickedauthors.blogspot.com) every Thursday.
More by this author
WITCH WAY TO MURDER
CHARMED TO DEATH
THE TROUBLE WITH WITCHES
WITCH HUNT
THE WITCH IS DEAD
THE WITCH’S GRAVE
THE SEVENTH WITCH
Writing as Jess McConkey
LOVE LIES BLEEDING
Shadow Tales Page 14