Second Sunrise

by Aimée Thurlo

  He’d always tried to keep his current name close to his real identity in case he ever slipped up and responded incorrectly. It would do more than raise a few eyebrows if anyone realized he was Lee Nez, and since he hadn’t aged physically more than a year or so since 1945, he’d been forced to assume new identities from time to time. Those years had been hard ones, with skinwalkers constantly on his trail. But he’d learned about his powers and how to survive. In the world of night walkers, by and large, it had been kill or be killed. That was another reason why he never remained in one place for long.

  “Okay, Lee.” Agent Lopez smiled and this time it was a real smile—or as close as he could expect since she was questioning a suspect she didn’t know she could trust. “You were on routine patrol, moving north on Highway 666 between mile markers forty and forty-one when you came upon a rollover accident involving a Honda Accord and a Ford pickup.”

  Lee nodded. He remembered the license numbers, the years of the vehicles, and a wealth of other information too, but didn’t want to show off his nearly photographic memory. “The vehicle on its side was the Honda. The pickup was parked adjacent to the sedan, as if the driver had stopped to render assistance.

  “A Navajo man was standing beside the driver’s door of the sedan, looking inside the vehicle. When you slowed and turned on your emergency lights, the man turned, waved, and yelled for your help. You put in a call to the Navajo police dispatcher at Shiprock, then exited your unit and went to investigate.” Agent Lopez caught his eye, and waited in silence until Lee nodded.

  “You walked to within ten feet of the overturned Honda, saw that there was no one inside, then heard an unusual noise to your right. Two large, wolflike canines emerged from concealment on the far side of the pickup, and leaped toward you. You realized you were being attacked, dodged away quickly enough to avoid all but a grazing cut on your forearm from the teeth of one of the animals. You then drew your weapon and shot each animal three times at close range.”

  “I fired eight shots. Only six actually struck the animals.”

  “At the same time, you were also evading the man, who was slashing at you with a long-bladed hunting knife. When he saw the animals had been stopped, he ran off the road into the brush and you gave pursuit. Did you have a flashlight?”

  “Yes.” Lee nodded. He still carried one to create the impression he needed light to see in the dark. It was one of the first lessons he’d learned about concealing his powers.

  Diane nodded, then continued. “When you caught up to him several minutes later, he lunged at you. The man, raging about you having killed his animals, stabbed at your heart. His blow failed to penetrate your protective vest, and only ripped your uniform shirt.” Diane Lopez looked him in the eyes again, searching for a response.

  If she was watching for one of those large pupil, small pupil reactions, the woman agent was going to be disappointed. Lee had learned to lie convincingly decades ago, not because he was immoral, but because he’d gotten so much practice as he’d created new identities and sought out his enemies.

  “That’s basically it. I staggered back, managed to swing my service weapon around, and fired twice more.” Lee remembered his attacker’s curses. The man had been a Navajo skinwalker and so had the enormous wolves that had attacked him, both females. Naturally, the man’s girlfriend and her sister hadn’t been seen since the attack. He’d seen the two wolves approaching in the dark and realized it was an ambush. When he’d taken out both the females, the man had run into the brush, hiding and trying to shape-shift into a mountain lion.

  Lee had caught up to him and shot him during the transformation. It hadn’t been complete, so the man had reverted back to human form before he died, retaining the wounds. Since the females had been transformed into wolves when they’d died, there was no way to be absolutely certain of their identities.

  “And you still have no idea why the Navajo man, later identified as Johnny Tanner, decided to ambush you?” Diane never took her eyes off him.

  He held her gaze while answering. “I think Tanner was probably planning on carjacking the next vehicle that came along. It just happened to be me. The Honda didn’t even have an engine under the hood and the investigating tribal police officers were able to determine from tool marks that he’d used the winch on his pickup to overturn the car in the road to simulate an accident.”

  “So, where do those vicious wolf-dogs fit into the picture? The investigating Bureau agent told me that none of Tanner’s neighbors had ever seen them before, yet they were apparently trained to attack humans at his command.”

  That’s because they were his female companions, shape-shifted into a more lethal species for an unarmed attack, Lee thought. But of course he couldn’t say that. “He’d have had to have kept them somewhere, but nobody seems to have discovered the kennel. Maybe he only got them recently from someone else.” It was the most convincing story he’d been able to come up with and he was sticking to it.

  “Those were the biggest wolf-cross dogs I’ve ever seen. But because it was an officer shooting, I didn’t participate in the remainder of the investigation, so I don’t know what steps were taken to find the pen,” Lee added.

  Special Agent Lopez nodded, looking around the grounds until she spotted her partner leaning against a tree, watching her.

  “According to the Navajo police, there wasn’t a trace of dog kibble within five miles of his house, nor any sign of dog droppings either. And there’s something else I can’t figure out, either,” Lopez said.

  Lee already knew what was coming. He kept quiet, letting her say it.

  “What happened to Tanner’s live-in girlfriend and her sister, Nora Jane and Belinda James? Officers checking out Tanner’s house found evidence that they’d all had dinner together that night. Why did they leave? Where did they go? And where are they now?”

  Lee knew the answer to all that, but he couldn’t share it so he simply shrugged. “They probably took off after he failed to return that night. Or maybe they were in on his plan, hiding nearby, and chickened out when they saw Johnny was taking on a cop. They may have hitchhiked to Arizona and are hiding with some relatives.”

  “Or maybe they’re out looking for you, planning revenge. Is that why you’re so careful when you go out at night, Officer Hawk? I’m still not convinced you were a random target. Johnny Tanner could have backed off when he saw you were a police officer, but he didn’t. I think you were set up, and he knew that you were coming.”

  “I was working that area at that time, and I made my patrols more or less on schedule. I understand the officers found binoculars in the pickup. I suppose he could have been waiting for me and ready with a story about trying to haul the car with the pickup and having had an accident if someone came by who wasn’t the target. Do you think his roommates are trying to get even?” Lee asked, trying to sound surprised by the thought.

  Then he added, “Or does Tanner have a relative who hates cops? What do you know that I don’t?” He looked into the beautiful federal agent’s eyes, wondering if she knew how to lie without detection.

  She couldn’t do it yet, he noticed as she answered, “Just trying to dot all the i’s and cross all the t’s, Lee. The special agent serving the Four Corners area asked me to come down and interview you one more time. He hasn’t gotten a lot of cooperation from the locals on this case. You being Navajo, you probably understand. It’s not just because he’s FBI either, is it?”

  “The Dineh, the Navajo people, don’t like to talk about the dead. When something like this happens, the entire community is upset. Medicine men are called to perform Sings, ceremonies for protection and to restore balance, and people move out of the area where the spirits of the dead are said to hang out. Nobody wants to talk about it for fear of stirring up trouble. Has the house of the dead man been abandoned?”

  “I think so. And the relatives of the missing women are behaving as it they’ve lost their kin as well.” Diane looked away, having apparentl
y realized that the old eye detector wasn’t going to work with him anyway and deciding that it might just be working all too well for her interview subject.

  “So now what, Special Agent Lopez? Is there anything else I can say or do to help?” Lee noticed that the agent with the dog was now walking in their direction. Apparently she’d given him some sign that the interview was over. Either that or more likely, she was wearing a wire and the cover agent had been listening all along.

  “I’m probably going to have more questions in the next few days, Officer Hawk. Will you still be available?” Diane asked, reaching into her pocket for her inevitable business card.

  Lee took the card, looked at the number, then shrugged. “I’m just starting a week’s vacation. I might be taking a drive here and there. If you need to reach me, I have a cell phone.” Lee gave her the number, which she wrote in a small notebook that had magically appeared.

  “Is that it?” Lee smiled, nodding at the agent with the dog, a tall, clean-cut man in white shirt and tie and nice wool-blend suit pants.

  “Just watch your back, Officer Hawk. Agent Thomas and I will be available if you find yourself in a difficult situation. I’m still not convinced that you don’t have another enemy or two out there gunning for you.” Diane Lopez shook his hand, then turned and walked off with her partner.

  Lee considered what she’d said. Her instincts were on target. He had plenty of enemies and they hadn’t stopped coming at him since 1945. But the answers she was searching for would remain out of her reach . . . and understanding.

  In the meantime, he had special plans for his vacation. He had to find the skinwalker tracking him.

  CHAPTER 6

  Lee went for the walk he’d intended to take, but now was alert for Agent Lopez and her partner. He knew they wouldn’t be far, and that he hadn’t heard the entire story tonight. Either he was still being investigated in Johnny Tanner’s death, or the FBI now had reason to suspect more was going on that he wasn’t telling them.

  Of course, they were right. The skinwalker he suspected was on his trail—the one who’d left the animal footprint near his window—was probably connected to Tanner’s pack. There were no other skinwalkers Lee knew about who were still alive; every time he encountered any, he’d killed them all.

  He’d learned from experience that skinwalkers, Navajo witches, seemed by nature evil—even before their change. Maybe that was why they were singled out by other skinwalkers who saw them as worthy successors. The change always took place after one of the Dineh sustained a bite from a skinwalker in animal form. But like genetically linked diseases, in his experience only a Navajo could become a skinwalker. Maybe the stories about werewolves were factual, and other races elsewhere had their own versions of shape-shifters. It was something he just didn’t know.

  He suspected that Navajo witches might attack or defend themselves against a non-Navajo, but they were so secretive and localized in the Four Corners states that it was hard to tell for sure if this was true.

  Bowlegs had been right about the fact that skinwalkers seemed to be especially attracted to him, and could detect his night-walker affliction at some distance. In all the years he’d dedicated to tracking down and killing skinwalkers, he’d learned a lot about how to find and kill the creatures. Someday, he knew he’d run out of luck, and he’d be outmatched, not merely outnumbered.

  His only chance then would depend on his ability to heal himself. If they cut off his head or damaged his heart so it wouldn’t function, he’d be finished. Otherwise, within a half hour or less, he’d be healed and back in action. They couldn’t turn him into one of them with a bite either. He’d found that out the hard way. And, because he’d always managed to kill all those in the skinwalker packs he’d encountered, his vulnerabilities had remained hidden.

  His mind wandering, Lee found himself in a particularly dark section of his apartment complex, where an intersection met empty lots on three sides. There was a fence that enclosed the entire three-block area, a narrow metal rail construction with fleur-de-lis at the top of each rail, making climbing dangerous and difficult for ordinary people. Here there were few lights and it was especially dark for anyone who didn’t have exceptional night vision, like Lee.

  Three teenaged boys were sitting underneath the low branches of a nearby pine tree, drinking Coors beer from a six-pack they’d managed to get somewhere. He recognized the boys as residents of the complex. At least they probably weren’t going to be driving anywhere tonight and endangering someone else as well as themselves.

  Going around the long way to avoid them, he escaped their notice, and kept walking toward a central cluster of apartment buildings arranged like carefully balanced blocks in a sandbox.

  Remaining on the sidewalk to avoid crunching the gravel and disturbing residents. Lee strolled along, hoping to appear relaxed and unconcerned, occasionally stopping to look up at the stars. He was listening carefully, hoping for a sign that would signal the approach of the skinwalker.

  He was setting himself up as bait, of course, counting on his keen senses, lightning speed, and strength to counter the attack he suspected was coming. If skinwalkers knew about the superior night vision and hearing vampires had, he’d never noticed them using that knowledge sensibly. They invariably stalked him in animal form. That meant they attacked in the dark, but it was as bright as daylight to his eyes, so the darkness gave them no real advantage.

  Most of the decorative trees in the complex weren’t suitable for animals to climb except for the squirrels and house cats, but a few had sturdy enough branches to hold a cougar or other wildcat. Those, Lee avoided like the plague. He went around an enormous pine in the center of the cluster of buildings, then walked toward what was to him the most dangerous section of the complex, a narrow covered bridge between two buildings that crossed an irrigation ditch disguised as a stream and lined in textured brown concrete.

  He stopped and looked down the passageway. There were large bushes at both ends of the structure and he couldn’t tell if a human, much less a morphed wolf, was lying in wait unless it happened to move. Because it was out of the sight of witnesses, Lee realized that it was a perfect place for an ambush. To go in was like walking through a bad part of town at midnight with fifty-dollar bills hanging out of his pockets, but it was a risk he had to take.

  Looking around once more, then listening for the slightest sound, he stepped onto the redwood passage and moved briskly forward, his boots thumping noisily on the wooden floor. He could have run through it at a world-record speed, of course, but that would only risk revealing his capabilities to any stranger who happened to be looking out his window at the wrong time and noted his swift entrance and exit.

  Nearly at the end of the bridge, Lee turned. He’d heard a small thump—as if someone, or something, had hit the side of the structure. Realizing it could be a diversion, he picked up the pace. As he emerged from beneath the covered bridge, he turned to see if anything was following him. Just then something struck him in the sternum with a loud thwack. It was a small, thick arrow.

  Lee was wearing his bullet-resistant vest that he’d donned especially for this hunt, but the impact was still hard enough to make his eyes water.

  Leaping forward, Lee hit the sidewalk and rolled, coming up behind a startled Navajo man holding a crossbow, which made the first arrow technically a bolt. The weapon was loaded and cocked, and the man was swinging the short crossbow around. Before Lee could close the gap between them, his attacker fired a second bolt.

  Lee turned to avoid an impact above his heart, protecting one of his few vulnerable spots, and the powerful bow sent the short, metal-tipped bolt into his right bicep. It passed through the muscle, the bloody metal point emerging just on the other side of his arm.

  Ignoring the pain, he reached across his midsection for his handgun with his left hand. It was awkward, though he’d practiced such a move before, and slow for him, though it was still quick for someone without vampire-level agilit
y.

  The Navajo who’d attacked him dropped the crossbow and pulled a big revolver out of his jacket pocket. Lee was faster, but he would have to change his grip to fire the pistol once he pulled it from the holster.

  He heard gunfire from somewhere across the lawn, and a bullet buzzed by with a whine, striking the bridge post near Lee’s assailant. Out of the corner of his eye, Lee could see FBI Agent Lopez standing fifty yards away, her pistol aimed in his direction.

  His attacker turned his head, snapped a shot at Lee that went wide, then jumped into the irrigation ditch, diving beneath the covered walkway and disappearing from sight before Lee had a good shot.

  Lee thought about going after the skinwalker, but first, he reached down and broke off the metal tip, then pulled the shaft out with a grunt. Hopefully the wound would heal and he wouldn’t have to try explaining being shot to Diane. He sat the pieces down on the grass.

  The woman agent ran up to Lee, barely catching his eye as she instantly tried to assess his condition.

  “Do you need medical help?”

  “No, it just grazed me. I’m fine. I’ll search the upstream side, Agent Lopez. He’s probably headed downstream underwater, but he’ll have to come up for air. Watch out for his revolver.”

  “Let’s don’t waste any more time, then.”

  She ran down along the side of the ditch, pistol ready, watching for signs of movement in the fast-flowing stream. Farther down, about a hundred yards from the covered bridge, the ditch widened and became quite shallow. The center of the ditch contained a sandbar, and the area was filled with cattails and other water-loving plants.

  Lee looked down at the wound in his arm through the tear in his sleeve. It was sealing up already. Watching for signs of motion in the water and the shrubs along both sides of the ditch, he walked upstream. The Navajo witch had to surface somewhere, and Lee doubted the skinwalker would try to change into a two-hundred-pound alligator—if that was possible anyway.