Thunderstone

by Barbara Pietron

  Ice hung back as the group reached a clearing. They stood staring up at a tree stump about ten feet tall. A flat, notched out portion served as a sign which read in bright yellow letters:

  HERE 1475 FT ABOVE THE OCEAN THE MIGHTY MISSISSIPPI BEGINS TO

  FLOW ON ITS WINDING WAY 2552 MILES TO THE GULF OF MEXICO

  Beyond the sign, the waters of Lake Itasca rippled in the cool morning breeze. To the right, the lake spilled over a trail of sizable rocks crossing a span of water: the Mississippi Headwaters.

  The group didn’t linger however; they filed down a side trail which led to a bridge about thirty feet downstream. Seats built into the bridge’s side rails provided a place to set their various bags and coolers. Ice preferred to approach the girl when she was more sequestered from the group, so he left the path and melded with the trees to watch and wait.

  Great. Now he felt like a creepy stalker.

  Included in their provisions was a boom box, and soon music wafted across the marshy area. Horns. Jazz. The song wasn’t quite “When the Saints Go Marching In,” but the tune was similar. Next, Ice heard the unmistakable pop of a beverage can. He looked on with some amusement when he recognized cans of beer. Others held out cups to be filled with wine. What was going on here? Some kind of celebration?

  Ice stepped a bit closer, careful to stay concealed.

  As one of the men squatted down with a plastic bag and tilted the opening over the edge of the planking, Ice got it.

  Ashes.

  These people were here to spread someone’s ashes in the Mississippi Headwaters.

  Ice didn’t make a conscious decision—he simply knew couldn’t approach the girl here. As important as his mission was, his respect for one’s journey into the afterlife prevailed.

  He’d have to come up with a Plan B.

  A danger foreseen is half-avoided.

  —Cheyenne Proverb

  Chapter 2

  The breeze lifted Jeni’s hair and draped it over her face. Shivering, she tucked a lock behind her ear. Summer had yet to spread its full-blown warmth to northern Minnesota. The sun had slipped behind the cottage while she read, casting the deck into shade. The beach, however, remained in full sunlight. With the next gust of wind Jeni set aside her copy of Bram Stoker’s Dracula and abandoned her chair. Warm sunshine enveloped her as she walked along the edge of the lake collecting good skipping stones. When she couldn’t fit anymore in her hand, she began throwing them, counting the number of skips.

  “Wow, five, that’s pretty good.”

  Jeni jumped. Without turning her head, she caught a glimpse of a guy standing on her right. Most likely someone from one of the other cottages. Wonderful—she should’ve stayed in her chair. “Thanks,” she muttered and continued to throw.

  To her dismay, he began collecting stones. His first few throws barely grazed the water before sinking. “How do you make them skip so many times?” he asked.

  Jeni had planned to finish throwing the rocks in her hand and get the heck out of there. She had no interest in some strange guy saying stupid things or trying to impress her. But she’d been taught not to be rude, and he’d asked her a direct and harmless question, so she opened her fist and showed him the two stones she had left. “They have to be kinda flat, like this.”

  His black hair brushed the tops of his shoulders as he bent forward to collect stones of a similar shape. Despite the cool breeze, he wore a t-shirt, which exposed tanned skin. Something in her brain clicked, but before she made the connection, he stood and held out his hand. “Like these?”

  She instinctively looked into his face first and for a moment was rendered speechless. Jeni dropped her remaining rocks on the sand.

  It was the guy from the convenience store yesterday.

  “Don’t go, please,” he said, reading her stance and probably the suspicion on her face as well. “I want to apologize for yesterday…and explain if you’ll let me.”

  “How did…did you follow me?” Jeni glanced at the cottage to see if anyone was around. Tyler’s dad stood on the side deck smoking a cigarette. Good.

  “I…I do odd jobs here at the resort. I thought I recognized you. Listen, I know I probably freaked you out yesterday and I’m sorry. But I’m not a creep,” he hurried to explain.

  What freaked her out was his showing up here. But he sounded…sincere. And she was curious. She folded her arms and didn’t say anything.

  He met her gaze directly and she was struck again by his appearance. His eyes were impossibly blue, the irises broken into mosaic-like fragments. His scrutiny made her feel as if he saw more of her than just her outward appearance. Jeni wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

  “A man who collects Native American artifacts sent me to the store. I was on the phone with him when you came in. It just so happened that you bought the same item he was interested in. I panicked. I didn’t know how he’d react if I came back without it.”

  “Why? Is it worth a lot of money or something?”

  The guy smiled, his thoughts unreadable. “Or something. He’s Indian so these things have more value to him than to others. To him, some are priceless.”

  “And my statue is one of them?”

  “I think so.”

  “Oh.” If what he said was true, Jeni felt kind of bad about the situation. Did this man have more right to the statue than she did?

  The guy threw another one of the stones he’d picked up. It smacked the surface of the water and sank.

  Jeni said, “It’s not just the shape.”

  “What?”

  “The stones. It’s not just the shape; it’s also how you throw them.” She retrieved one of the rocks she’d dropped, positioned it between her fingers and thumb, then drew her arm down underhanded and flicked her wrist. The rock sailed over the water and bounced off the surface three times.

  He mimicked her motion and also got three skips. “Cool. Thanks.” He tossed another. “So are you here on vacation?” he asked.

  Good grief, now she’d done it—promoted a conversation. She’d merely wanted to know what was up with the statue.

  “Kinda.” She wouldn’t exactly call this trip a vacation.

  He threw again. Four skips.

  Though he didn’t ask, Jeni felt compelled to explain. “It’s a family gathering.”

  Finished with his stones, he brushed his hands on his jeans. “By the way, I’m Ice.”

  Ice? Seriously? Was this guy for real? Still, her automatic reaction to an introduction had already kicked in. “Jeni,” she heard herself say. Her eyes darted to his for a second, her stomach flipped, and she looked away. Dang, he was good-looking.

  “Yeah, yeah, I know I have an unusual name. There’re a lot of unusual names around here.” He flashed a smile and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “As you probably guessed, I’m Native American, too—well, mostly, everything but the eyes.” He laughed nervously, and when Jeni didn’t reply, he jabbered on, determined to fill the conversational gap. “Actually, my eyes are how I got my name. My full name is Shattered Ice, but everyone just calls me Ice.”

  His explanation made sense. Jeni figured she should either join the conversation or make an excuse to leave. As much as the latter appealed to her, she wondered why he hadn’t asked again to buy her statue. “Do you live around here?”

  Ice shuffled his feet around at the water’s edge, using the toe of his sneaker to turn rocks over. “About a half hour away, in Cass Lake. How about you?” He selected a stone and threw it. Four skips.

  “I’m from Michigan.”

  “I’ve been to Michigan. Charlevoix.”

  “I live on the other side of the state—near Detroit.”

  “Wow, long way for a family gathering.” Ice fired a stone that skittered across the water. Jeni counted at least six skips.

  “Yeah, wel
l, this is where the Mississippi Headwaters are.” Rather than get into a conversation about the reason for this particular destination, Jeni decided to get to the point. “So…what are you waiting for?”

  He turned to her. “What?”

  “Do you still want to buy that statue?”

  “Do you want to sell it?”

  Answer a question with a question—two could play that game. “Isn’t that why you’re here?”

  Ice shrugged. “I didn’t want you to think I was a psycho. I prefer to be straight with people.”

  Jeni watched as his next stone skimmed the water’s surface and bounced five times. “Like you were straight with me when you pretended you didn’t know how to skip stones?”

  “Uh…” Ice muttered a weak protest. The corners of his mouth barely twitched, though he couldn’t keep the smile from his eyes.

  Jeni should’ve been angry—she wanted to be angry. Using some kind of ruse to talk to a girl was such a typical guy maneuver. But Ice’s sheepish expression had the same effect as a puppy sitting among the ruins of a pillow and looking up with large innocent eyes. Jeni chuckled. “You live in an area where you can hardly step out your front door without walking into a lake and you expect me to believe you don’t know how to skip stones?”

  “Well, I do now.” His wide grin softened the lines of his cheekbones and Jeni’s heartbeat seemed to stumble for a moment.

  “Okay Mr. ‘I prefer to be straight with people’, what can you tell me about my statue?” The shade had worked its way down the lawn and across the beach. Jeni pulled the zipper up on her hoodie and put her hands in the pockets.

  “Sun’s still on the dock,” Ice pointed out.

  Jeni nodded. As she sat down on the warm wood and crossed her legs in front of her, she wondered what Ice was really doing here. People don’t care that much about a brief encounter to seek out a stranger and apologize, right? Regardless, she no longer felt weirded out, and as long as he was here she might as well find out why a cat would have scales and horns.

  ***

  Ice followed Jeni onto the dock. He was totally winging it. That’s what Plan B consisted of: trusting his instincts. His heartbeat, which had almost regulated after throwing rocks, picked up pace as he watched Jeni’s slim figure turn and sit down on the dock. Her blonde hair glimmered in the setting sun. She absently brushed it back from her face and glanced back at him.

  This would be easier if she wasn’t so pretty.

  When he’d looked deep in her eyes he sensed a sort of…kinship…that unnerved him. Did Jeni possess an inborn link to the spirit world? Nik believed the gift was more common than anyone suspected; most people just weren’t in tune to such things these days and often spent a lifetime unaware of their ability. But the thunderbird presented the copper to Nik for a reason. And the only way Ice could know for sure if Jeni was able to commune with the world beyond was to touch her. The thought made his stomach burn.

  He dropped down next to her. “Actually, your statue is a revered figure in Native American Mythology.”

  “It is?” She sounded genuinely interested—excited even. From the corner of his eye, Ice could see the smile on her face. “So I could probably find stories about it? I love myths and legends. Dragons, wizards, gods and goddesses, vampires…all that stuff.”

  “Mmmm, I happen to know quite a few legends about the Underwater Lynx.”

  Jeni groaned. She turned toward Ice, but her eyes were on the cottage. He glanced over his shoulder. “Uh-oh.” He’d forgotten about the boyfriend.

  The guy stood on the deck, arms crossed, seemingly scanning the horizon, though markedly avoiding the figures on the dock. Ice guessed the dude was a few years older and a couple inches taller than him.

  “My cousin. Just ignore him.”

  “Your cousin?”

  Jeni rolled her eyes. “Yeah, and he’ll probably tease me mercilessly—especially if he recognizes you from yesterday.”

  “Uh…sorry.”

  “Whatever. He always finds a way to pick on me.” Then Jeni smiled. “If you told me a legend, though, it would be worth it.”

  Ice should’ve been relieved to know the guy was only her cousin, but instead his nerves ratcheted up a notch. Suddenly Jeni wasn’t part of a couple; she was a girl. And he didn’t have the best track record when it came to the opposite sex. It seemed he never knew the right things to say and do—or maybe he just attracted the wrong kind of girls—because they inevitably lost interest. Taking a deep breath, Ice reminded himself that his purpose here had nothing to do with making a good impression.

  Besides, right now he did have Jeni’s interest. “What did you call it? An underwater lion?” she asked.

  He smiled. “Lynx—not lion. His name is Mishebeshu, although most Indians call him the Underwater Manitou—or spirit. He’s the most feared monster in American Indian legend; catching people when they least expect him. His choice of time, place, and victim is totally random.”

  Jeni paid rapt attention, so Ice continued. “He’d cause dangerous rapids on rivers to overturn canoes or make whirlwinds on the surface of lakes to cause people to drown.”

  Her eyes were wide, but her forehead wrinkled. “If it’s a water monster, why a cat? And what’s up with the horns and scales?”

  Ice shrugged. “Cats are known for stealth, that would be my guess. The horns and scales are said to be made of copper, a valuable medicine. Sometimes the manitou would let medicine men collect the copper, but at a high price. They usually paid with the lives of their children or wife.”

  Jeni didn’t reply, her gaze once again on the cottage. “My dad,” she muttered. “What do you want to bet Tyler sent him out here?”

  Neither spoke as they watched Jeni’s father approach. When he was close enough, Jeni called out, “Hi, Dad.” She gave him a little wave. “This is Ice. He’s going to tell me a Native American legend.”

  Jeni’s father strode purposefully onto the dock. “I’ll bet,” he said.

  “What?” Jeni looked up at him.

  “I said I’ll bet he knows a lot of legends.”

  Ice stuck out his hand, willing it to remain steady. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Yes, it is,” Jeni’s dad agreed. He shook Ice’s hand with a bemused expression and then contemplated the boat. “I’m going fishing with Tyler in the morning and I wanted to see if the oars were already out here.”

  Ice met Jeni’s eyes. She gave a slight shrug. “Will you tell me a legend about the Underwater Lynx?”

  “Well—

  “Better make it a short ‘scary tale’, they’re almost ready to eat in there,” Jeni’s dad interrupted, pointing up to the cabin.

  “Dad!” Jeni rolled her eyes. “They’re legends, not fairy tales!”

  Once her dad was out of earshot, Jeni looked at Ice apologetically. “My dad loves to be the wise guy. He kinda prides himself on it.”

  “Yeah, I got that.” Ice smiled to cover his alarm that she might go in for dinner before he figured out how to touch her casually. A stupid move could easily undo his efforts to convince her he was harmless. “Sounds like there’s not time for a story about your statue.”

  “You don’t know a short one?

  “Not with the Underwater Manitou.” Ice cast a sidelong glance at Jeni and noticed her studying the remnants of the sun slanting through the trees. She peered anxiously around her. “I should get going anyway.”

  Ice scrambled to buy a little more time. “How about the legend of Lake Itasca? You came here to see the headwaters and the story is super short.”

  “Okay.” Jeni leaned back on her hands.

  Ice began without preamble. “Nanabushu, a demi-god sent to protect the people, had a beautiful daughter named Itasca. The ruler of the underworld, Chebiabo, fell madly in love with Itasca. He wanted her to marry him and live in the underworl
d.

  “Itasca didn’t want to leave the magnificence of earth to go live in the dark. Her response infuriated Chebiabo. He raged, causing a huge storm that swept Itasca below the earth. Now she mourns for the world above, and her tears are the springs that trickle to the lake and form the source of the Mississippi River.”

  Jeni’s face brightened. “It reminds me of the story of Persephone.”

  “Persephone?” It was now or never. Ice leaned back and ‘accidentally’ put his hand on Jeni’s. A slight hum or vibration flowed through his hand and up his arm—as if a small, motorized appliance sat on the deck with them. He watched her face closely, his heart sinking as her eyes went wide and unseeing.

  “Ooops, sorry,” he mumbled and removed his hand.

  A hollow ache of guilt settled in Ice’s chest at Jeni’s dumbstruck look of confusion. He remembered the strange visions that flickered to life in his head when Nik first took his hand—except Ice had had some idea that it might happen; he knew Nik was testing him to see if he could touch the spirit world. Jeni obviously had no clue she possessed such a gift. He picked up the conversation, trying to smooth over the disruption. “Isn’t Persephone from Greek Mythology?”

  “Yeah…uh…yeah.” Jeni blinked. “Sorry, I lost my train of thought for a minute. Let’s see…Hades—ruler of the underworld—falls in love with Persephone, brings her to the underworld and marries her.” Ice followed Jeni’s lead when she stood and brushed sand from her jeans. “At first she won’t eat, but Hades talks her into eating four pomegranate seeds.”

  She set off at a brisk pace and Ice lengthened his strides in order to stay next to her while she finished her story.

  “Anyway, Persephone does get returned to earth, but because she ate the seeds she always has to return to the underworld for four months. It’s how the Greeks explained the seasons. When Persephone’s in the upper world it’s growing season and when she’s in the underworld the earth is barren.”

  As soon as she reached the circle of the cottage’s floodlight, Jeni slowed and dropped her shoulders with a small sigh.