Moonlit Feathers

by Sarah Makela

  She opened the door for me, then followed me inside. The open layout of her house was a reminder of the older days of living in the plains, yet the solid wooden walls provided nice additional shelter for winter. The walls had a variety of tools and hunting equipment lining one side, with a massive bearskin rug taking up the middle of the floor, in front of the fireplace. The smell of watery soup, tobacco, and burnt pine mixed with more typical household smells.

  Without waiting for her instruction, I walked over to a picture of our family taken years ago. At the center, my father was holding my mother in a tender embrace, while the children sat in front of them. In the background, my grandmother stood, watchful as ever over the couple.

  While I was looking at the photo, my grandmother went to the small stove in the corner and poured us both a steaming mug of tea. Apparently, the spirits had been very specific about when I would arrive.

  "What is so urgent that the grandson I raised would visit me?" she asked, her voice calm as usual. She handed me one of the cups and sat down in a chair before the fireplace.

  "Sorry to interrupt your evening, but I need to talk with you. All this time you've said that the artifacts we lost weren’t destroyed. Well, I believe you're right. I think someone has found one of them," I began tentatively. With a nod from her, I shared what I’d found in the forest. By the time I’d finished telling her about the destruction, the tea in my hands had cooled enough to be drinkable.

  "Someone has found it. There's little question about that now. Do you know what it is, Cody? It's the talisman of an old wizard that lived among our people. With no respect for nature, he tricked the spirits into aiding him. When the white man came the first time, he saw their lust for gold and land. He spoke about riches and wealth...doom and curses. The spirits listened, imbuing that into the talisman. Whoever has the talisman must tread lightly, lest they anger the spirits within," she said with a sigh, pouring herself more tea.

  "A wizard did that?" Knowing she didn't often open up about the older times, I hoped she would be kind enough to share more details.

  "Yes. Listen with those coyote ears when I speak." She cast me a stern frown. "The wizard paid no respect to the living world around him. Shamans guide and protect their people and their surroundings. They act as a bridge between our world and the spirits. Wizards live by their own rules. Not all know, respect, or protect what they possess. Those that lead selfish or irresponsible lives will always face the consequences.

  “This wizard spoke to the ground and to the air about his wants. Many spirits answered his pleas, and they need to be satisfied," she said, staring into the fire. Her eyes were focused on something only she could see. "What concerns me, Grandson, is that whoever uses the artifact does not know its full power. They play around with it like a toy, not understanding where or how it got its magic. Smoking a pipe and paying respects is something anyone can learn how to do. Knowing how, and why or why not to use the power, is a far greater lesson. It's like with your kind. One must respect and be one with themselves. If a shifter is out of balance, they are restless, wandering away from what they call home and seeking out things they don't need." Her knowing eyes now locked on mine. Power, and an iron will, lay behind her stare.

  She nodded in satisfaction, as if she'd taught me enough. But I couldn't help but feel the sting of her remark. My coyote didn't like it either, and locking her gaze to mine had been a show of dominance. "It's hard enough when my own family doesn't want to spend time with me. Even my cousin, Jacy, no longer responds to my calls. I know I look different from them, but am I not part of the same family?" I said quietly to her, my voice heavy with emotion.

  Shaking her head, she frowned at me with sadness and understanding in her eyes. "They don't know how to behave. You are Coyote to them. Trickster and playful, but you are also the white man. They aren't used to that. Coyotes are usually found in pureblooded family lines. Somehow, you move beyond that. Jacy has been distant lately, and out hunting for a while. The spirits have spoken of him going through a season of trials, working out his own path in life. He is an adult, and we need to respect that. He will return to the family, or find his own way through life." Grandmother sighed and waved her hand at me. "Most importantly, if you find whoever has the talisman, it needs to be returned at once. No one will be safe until it is home. From what you described, the user has little to no control of it, beyond waking up the spirits. Trouble is brewing, and containing it is our responsibility. I'll reach out to others so they can keep their eyes and ears open. Maybe the spirits will be with us and someone has seen something." She smiled toothily.

  "I hope so," I said, climbing to my feet. "I should let you get some rest." At her nod, I headed for the door.

  Outside, the evening had turned into nighttime. My coyote stirred, eager for a quick run home. With a smile on my lips, I stretched and let the change overtake me again. I'd be dead tired in the morning, but none of that mattered now.

  Chapter Eleven

  Morgana

  I sat down and let my mind wander a moment. Coffee with Cody had been nice, but I couldn't help but feel so vulnerable sometimes with him. Why on earth did I mention Ezra to him? Something about him made me feel like I could trust him. Even my raven didn't mind his presence. Typical humans made her agitated and a little uneasy, since she was a solitary beast. I walked over to my computer, wanting to verify some details about his story. Never trust a client, no matter how detailed they are about the object needing to be retrieved.

  Sitting down in my chair, I waited for the computer to wake up from its electronic slumber. Some days were spent more in front of the computer than out in the field, much to my raven’s chagrin. She’d rather have me fly across the landscape, looking for any and every minor detail for hours, rather than spend fifteen minutes on Google. Search engines made life a lot easier. A few quick and snappy queries and, voila, an instant library of detail about some object's history or legend. Digging through shelves in the actual library to read books was mostly a thing of the past. Thank God for technology.

  My raven felt like bouncing up and down, ready to attack something out of sheer boredom, as I searched for truth in an electric sea of knowledge. Ten excruciating minutes later—for the raven at least—I found what I'd needed. Cody had been truthful.

  A stray tornado had hit the area in April, destroying several houses. The weathermen who had reported on it stated that it was a highly unusual one, appearing out of thin air. One moment the weather radar had been normal, the next an insignificant thunderstorm in the area had turned into a tornado. There had been minimal rotation, and almost no warning signs for people in its path. Of course, a scientist had come up to the media only two days later, stating that a change in the upper atmosphere earlier that day had resulted in a sudden and massive pressure change, allowing the tornado to form. The media had gobbled up the story, and no one had decided to check the facts behind it.

  Residents had begun reconstruction slowly. The tornado had also torn through a small section of the forest. Another article had mentioned the local chief of police requesting that hikers in the area be cautious, as the tornado might have disturbed local wildlife, and to keep an eye out for any missing historic relics, promising there would be a small reward given for the effort.

  I was about to look further into Cody's personal details, to ensure that he was from the nearby tribe, even though his coloring seemed more Nordic than Native American, when an e-mail message dropped into my inbox. It was marked ‘urgent,’ with receipt request on being opened. It was linked to the one I’d received just before Cody and I had sat down for coffee. This James McGuire seemed in a hurry to have his message read. My interest was piqued, and I opened the email.

  Mr. McGuire was very interested in getting immediate assistance with obtaining an item of 'obvious value,' and he’d been made aware that I had found something relating to it. He would cover all the usual expenses, and make sure I was compensated for the urgency. There was even a prom
ise of assistance and protection, should I need it while I would be working for him. And he requested I reach out to him immediately in order to get my first paycheck. The retainer amount specified was higher than my usual one for local jobs. Was this for something overseas? I didn't have time for that right now. Besides, something felt off about this.

  I was accustomed to customers who required immediate assistance, but even among those who were overly bossy and thought they could order everyone around at their own whim, the email still stood out like a sore thumb. I normally worked through a known set of intermediate contacts, but this e-mail had been sent to me directly. Asking for receipts on opening was normal, but customers normally wanted a degree of discretion about themselves, or worked through their lawyers. Either this man had influence, or the matter was urgent enough to him that he didn't even try to hide who he was.

  This had also come up shortly after things went haywire in Running Deer, and after meeting Cody. Could this be an offer for another item of value in this area? But the price... It didn't add up. Artifacts, items of wealth, art, and other objects of desire rarely showed up in multiples in small towns. Raven krawed inside my head in obvious warning. She was uneasy about it as well. Whoever it was could just find another treasure hunter to help him out.

  I pulled my draft replies folder up and found a respectful enough form letter turning down the job. Doing that always held a bit of danger, since some clients would be offended regardless, but they couldn't put a bad name out in my circles. If they did, they’d soon find their circle of friends shrink in front of their eyes. The market for my kind of talent had its own ways to ensure that those violating contracts, or worse, wouldn’t find anyone willing to assist them in their dirty work ever again. I removed the auto-signature, which included my phone number, from the e-mail before pressing reply.

  With at least two parties going for potentially the same thing, or at least messing around in the same area, I knew that if I had any hope of getting whatever Cody was after, I had to step up my game. It wouldn’t be the first time one investigation stepped on the shoes of another in already in progress. Clues could be mixed up, evidence destroyed, scenes where things happened could get dirtied by people who had no idea that something important had happened, and of course, people's feelings got hurt.

  It sounded like Cody might be getting more information from someone close to him. Maybe he'd have more clues for me soon. In the meantime, I still had the thing that had led me into this mess. I dialed Kevin's number.

  "Hi Morgana, finally got some time?" he asked, his voice a little groggy. Apparently, his erratic sleeping schedule had gotten the better of him again.

  "You awake enough to tell me why you called me earlier? Is it about the gold?" I asked, keeping my voice level as not to aggravate him too much.

  "Yeah, hold on a moment," he said. I heard the familiar sound of coffee pouring into a cup a few moments later. A few long audible gulps later, his much more alert voice returned to the line. "Hey, yeah, I found out something quite interesting about your stone here. I have another pot brewing, so I’ll be awake enough to share the details with you."

  By the time we’d finished the call, he'd gone through a second pot of coffee and was making a third. Some days I hoped he would cut back, but I was afraid how he'd act if he went cold turkey. He’d been excited about the findings, but had let it slip that he’d reached out to someone on the finer details of the metal composites. I would’ve kicked him if he’d been in the same room, but I let it slide over the phone. That must be where Mr. McGuire had somehow gotten a whiff of what it was what we’d found. As Kevin’s description of the gold continued, I become more and more sure that it was related to what Cody was after.

  At one time, the rock had been a normal everyday collection of silica, carbon, various metals, and tiny amounts of sulfur. Then, slowly, from outside in, the lesser elements had begun changing into gold. The heavier elements and strain of rust that had been inside of the rock seemed to have resisted the conversion. And it had taken time. The cross-section of the rock, Kevin had said, was laced with gold inclusions, fractal patterns slowly filling the inside.

  "Nature likes nothing better than replicating patterns. Minerals and metals like to clump together, though. And the conversion had started on some of the metal strands. There’s no material in between, or impurities like you'd see in normal human processes of making things. Instead it's one atom of gold, followed by the next being iron. It just doesn't happen in a normal melting process," Kevin said.

  I didn't like to jump to conclusions, and Kevin was incapable of it. His world was all facts and possibilities. So, he mentioned a few manufacturing techniques that might be responsible, but each would cost so much more to make the rock than merely melting it from pure gold.

  And, according to Kevin, the conversion process explained the weight, or lack thereof. "You see, you still have the center of the rock essentially left alone. If I were to guess, only two fifths of the atomic weight was actually converted. There are still pockets of other metals within the gold. My guess is that they were heavy enough to avoid full conversion in the time given to it. And from that I can say that whoever started this stopped early. I don't know why, but in the area we’re in there really is no shortage of magic running under our feet."

  I was left with one conclusion: magic was responsible for making the rock as it was. It was a chilling thought that something in the magical world around me had such power. The alchemists of Old World had tried for generations to magically produce gold, and had gotten nowhere fast. Whoever was responsible for this lacked enough practice—or skill—to determine how long the conversion ought to take. Or they’d been interrupted before the task was done.

  The last bit that Kevin shared was more practical. It seemed that some college kids had found some similar samples here and there. Since they’d tried to sell the pseudo-gold to various black market locations, the shopkeepers had kept their eyes and ears open. With each fence knowing how to evaluate proper gold, the criminals realized the weight didn't add up. The kids had finally reached out to the campus’s archeology professor. Before I asked, Kevin sent me a list of addresses they’d attempted to sell the gold, and a detailed description of the area the kids said they’d found the stones. Whoever was out there apparently was practicing all over the place.

  Taking a local area map, I jotted down what I believed were some of the locations, including my own, the rocks might be from. I also put down the scene of the destruction Cody had mentioned. Sadly, there was no apparent pattern. So much for that. The good news was that at least the person trying to use the artifact seemed to have remained in the area. This would be a lot harder with a moving target. A small town with its own secrets was difficult enough to keep track of some days.

  The raven was pushing me to head outside to take another look, but I knew better. Right now, I had to go over everything again, in case I’d missed anything obvious, especially with the conversation with Kevin fresh in my mind. With an annoyed kraa, the raven finally let go of the idea of being able to stretch its wings. I found myself a comfortable spot and focused again on the papers in front of me.

  Chapter Twelve

  Cody

  After talking with my grandmother, I gave my coyote the long run that he desperately craved. It felt good to let loose and chase down small animals. We ate a squirrel that didn’t scurry up a tree fast enough, then napped for a while.

  Now I was back in my dorm room, freshly showered and listening to my roommate watch cartoons in the common room. Sometimes, I wished I'd gotten a studio apartment, even if it was in the rougher section of town. My roomies stayed up late watching TV every night, and while they tried to be polite and lower the volume, it didn't really help with my sensitive hearing.

  I'd considered my options, but most of the time I just tossed a couple pillows over my head in an attempt to block out the noise. I laid there for a while, the thoughts of the day running through my head as I tri
ed to sleep.

  Tomorrow, I had a full day of classes, starting at nine o'clock with Concepts of Physics, so I needed my rest if I wanted to function. While I wasn't horrible at the subject, I had to keep my grades up enough for my scholarships. But I couldn't stop thinking about Morgana. The tears in her eyes, regardless of how badass she was, made me wish I'd stayed a little longer to tell her it was going to be okay. Maybe I should've been a better person, and not so stuck on what I was going through.

  She had more going on than just trying to find my family's talisman, and I should have respected that, but I also knew that she was probably the only one who could help me figure this out. My archeology professor had given me a wizard's e-mail address, saying he knew someone who could help, and so far he seemed right.

  My phone buzzed once. I jerked upright, but the vibrations didn’t continue to indicate a call. I lay back down, pissed that I was so antsy and anxious to hear back from her. Morgana had said she’d let me know when she found something out, and I couldn't expect her to move mountains in a few hours. Besides, it wasn't as if I'd gotten a lot of information from my grandmother that I could share with her. Even if I did call, she'd probably think I was being needy, and I didn't want to come across like that.

  Shaking my thoughts aside, I rolled over onto my side, staring at the white wall and thinking about the first time I'd met her. I'd caught a glimpse of her naked body before she could make it around the corner, and it had turned me into a bumbling idiot. The combination of her sleek curves and the definition of her muscles awed me. It hadn't been my first time seeing a naked woman, but it was certainly the most pleasurable image I'd seen.