by Aimée
“At least our enemies won’t get what they’re after,” Ella muttered. Big Ed was reluctantly taking care of the real skin-walker doll now, having locked it away in his office safe. He’d proved to be trustworthy, unlike his predecessor, and was standing by at the station, waiting for the arrival of officers from all over the Rez. If Ella needed reinforcements, he’s be leading them himself.
“It’s almost time,” Ella said, and gathered the officers around her. She’d pulled in Philip and Michael Cloud, Jimmy Frank, and Sergeant Hobson, in addition to Justine and Neskahi. Blalock had also joined them. They were all in full SWAT gear, with bulletproof vests, helmets, gas masks, sidearms, and shotguns.
Ella had opted not to use assault rifles because the officers were much more familiar with their own weapons. There was also less chance of being struck by friendly fire with the guns they were using. Shotgun pellets, for one, were less likely to pass through walls.
The assault team checked and rechecked their gear, awaiting her go-ahead.
“Angel Hawk will pass over in another minute and drop the flash-bangs in the front yard. The minute Angel Hawk comes into view, we’ll move. The chopper noise will mask our approach. Once the flash-bangs detonate, Justine will send tear gas through the back. The ones inside the house will expect us to attack from that direction, but we’ll circle around and go through the front instead. Surprise should give us a temporary advantage. But they won’t be fooled for long. We have to move fast and take them down hard.”
Ella glanced at the determined faces crouched around her in the shallow ditch, less than a hundred feet from the Benally house. Not one of the officers beside her would hesitate for a second once the assault began. Wilson Joe was well-known and respected by all of them. They all knew his life depended upon the effectiveness of this attack.
“We work with partners, covering each other’s backs. Keep the masks on because of the gas. I know they’re old, but they’ll have to do. If a mask failure puts you in danger, get out, then cover a door or window in the back yard. Justine will be out there, too, backing us up with a rifle and night-scope, so you won’t be on your own.”
“Are you sure you can’t delay this an hour until I can get some better masks here?” Blalock asked. He was armed with an HK submachine gun, a weapon favored by anti-terrorist forces.
“We can’t afford to wait any longer, and I didn’t dare ask you for them over the phone, in case someone was listening. That’s why I had to mention the doll. We’re running out of time to help Wilson,” Ella answered. “I hope it’s not too late already.”
As everyone checked their gear one last time and put on their masks, Clifford approached and gave her a small jish, a medicine bundle. “There’s sacred pollen in this. I know you don’t believe in it, not really, but our enemies do, and you may find it useful. It may also help break the hold the witches have on our friend.”
“Thanks.”
He smiled, then put on his own gas mask as he had been instructed.
Angel Hawk roared overhead and Ella scrambled out of the ditch and ran toward the side of the house, the assault team at her heels.
A muzzle flash appeared at a half-open window at the same time a shotgun roared, and one of her team fell backwards, struck on his chest. Behind them came the blast from Justine’s rifle, and the window shattered. The officer’s partner stopped to cover the fallen man, but the rest continued running, splitting into two groups as they circled around toward the front door.
The night suddenly turned to day, and two groundshaking explosions told Ella the flash-bangs had gone off. There was another blast that came from the back of the house. Ella hoped it was the first tear gas round smashing through a window.
Hobson, who’d volunteered for the job, rushed forward and hit the front door low with his shoulder. Ella’s eyes widened as the door broke in the center and fell inward, separating into two pieces as Hobson tumbled into the house. Neskahi, serving as his partner, was right behind him, shotgun ready. Ella and Clifford followed, covered by Blalock.
As they entered, Ella saw one of the skinwalkers lying on the floor, stunned apparently by the door striking him as it crashed inward. Hobson had his pistol at the man’s throat. Neskahi gathered up a rifle and threw it outside.
Suddenly another skinwalker holding a pistol rose up from behind a sofa, and with a curse, threw a handful of yellow powder toward Ella. Clifford responded immediately with flash of light from his hand, and the powder fizzled toward the ground where it burned with a pale blue flame. Blalock fired a three-shot burst from his submachine gun, and the skinwalker clutched his chest, falling to the ground.
Neskahi and Hobson cuffed their prisoner hand and foot, then signaled that they were going to check out the kitchen. Clifford waved them off, and instead, threw a cushion from the sofa into the entryway. A rain of yellow powder from somewhere inside the kitchen struck the cushion, and it burst into flames before it hit the floor.
Ella drove through the doorway, rolling as she entered the kitchen. She surprised a woman, who was hiding in the corner, coughing from the tear gas. Before the woman could swing the revolver she was holding into line, Ella fired two shots, striking her in the chest. Blalock and Clifford were in the room at almost the same time, but there were no other skinwalkers present.
A shotgun blast, followed by a flurry of gunfire, came from the back bedrooms. “Go, you two. Help the others!” Ella shouted to Blalock and her brother. Blalock complied instantly, but Clifford stayed, pointing to a utility room.
“She’s in there. Want me with you?” Clifford whispered.
Ella shook her head as a bright light flashed from somewhere in the back of the house, and another series of gunshots rattled the walls. Some of them she knew were from Blalock’s automatic weapon. “You’re needed in the back.”
Clifford uttered a word of blessing, and disappeared.
Ella grabbed a cup from the counter, then swung the utility-room door open, throwing the cup into the darkened space. She followed right behind it, crouched low, before the broken pieces stopped rattling.
Ella smelled the suffocating stench of kerosene almost immediately and realized her gas mask had slipped. The odor overwhelmed everything, including any traces of tear gas that might have penetrated this far into the house. Before she had time to think, a burning lantern suddenly arced across the darkness, striking the doorway right behind her, and shattering with a splash of fire.
One entire wall of the little laundry room ignited, illuminating the room. Ella took off her gas mask, and shoved it into her jacket pocket, hoping it would stay. She had to warn the others in her team.
“Fire!” Ella shouted the word as loud as she could, moving away from the heat.
Turning, Ella saw Jane Clah limping through the doorway that led into the garage, pulling a robot-like Wilson along with her. She closed the door before Ella had a clear shot.
Ella jumped across the room, but it had already been jammed from the garage side. Without hesitation, Ella placed four rounds into the hinges and kicked the door open.
Ella slipped into the darkened garage quickly, escaping the growing wall of flames behind her and keeping her back to the wall. “Give it up,” she ordered. “You’re not taking him anywhere.”
“Shoot her,” Ella heard Jane Clah yell from one of the dark corners of the garage.
Ella slipped farther along the wall. The far side of the garage was in shadow, despite the flames from the utility room. She’d thought of going for the light switch, but light would make her an easier target, too.
Straining to see, Ella worked her way along the wall toward the darker side of the room. Something brushed her cheek, and she instinctively swatted it hard, thinking it was a spider. It was a pull chain to an overhead light. Suddenly the light came on.
Wilson Joe stood about twelve feet in front of her, shielding Jane Clah with his body. He was holding a lever-action thirty-thirty Winchester, and it was pointed at Ella.
; “She wants to kill me. You can’t let that happen, my love,” Jane Clah purred to Wilson from behind her human shield, pointing her cane at Ella. “I’m your bride. When you look at me, you know I’m your Lisa.”
Ella looked at Wilson. His eyes were so glazed that right now she was sure Jane would have been able to convince him that she was the cover model from a sports magazine’s swimsuit edition. Jane was playing with Wilson like a cat with a cockroach.
“That’s not Lisa, old friend,” Ella said. “Reach inside yourself and fight. You know me, you know my voice. I’m Ella. Feel the power of my name. We’ve fought their kind together in the past. This witch has no power over our friendship. Shut her voice from your mind, and let your heart lead you to the truth.”
“Listen to her. She’s jealous, don’t you see? She’s trying to split us apart. You can’t let her destroy our love,” Jane whispered.
To Ella, the woman’s wheedling voice had the same unpleasant resonance as fingernails on a chalkboard. As Ella stood her ground, she felt heat emanating from her badger fetish, extending in a line of fire from her neck to her waist. Suddenly she remembered Clifford’s gift. Reaching into the jish, she opened the bag and threw the contents toward Wilson and Jane. Sacred pollen scattered over all them.
With a scream, Jane jumped back quickly, brushing the pollen off herself frantically, as if on fire. Her cane rattled to the floor.
“You’re still the man I know,” Ella said, reaching toward Wilson with her pollen-dusted palm up and open. “You don’t have it in you to kill a friend. The drug is powerful, but so is your spirit.”
Wilson breathed in the pollen heavily, then slowly turned, looking at the frantic Jane Clah as if seeing her for the first time. “Who are you?”
Jane recovered and stumbled toward the burning utility room, ignoring Ella’s order to stop.
“You won this battle,” the old woman shrieked, silhouetted by the flames. “But, for you, the fight is not over. My death will insure that you will never know who your true enemies are.”
Seeing Jane place something into her mouth, Ella dove toward her. Jane reacted by throwing some shiny powder into the air, and it exploded into a cloud of flame, knocking them all to the floor with a powerful blast of hot air.
By the time Ella scrambled to her feet, the woman was lying beside the scorched utility-room door, seemingly dead. Ella pulled her up, though she could feel Jane’s strength ebbing away with each passing second.
“Wilson, I need your help!” Ella’s voice cracked through her friend’s drug-induced stupor, and he picked himself off the floor, stumbling forward. “Help me drag her outside,” Ella ordered.
Choking smoke from the burning utility room engulfed the garage. Ella took her gas mask and placed it over the elderly woman’s face. She intended to do everything in her power to make sure Jane lived to rue the day she’d declared war on those Ella loved.
Ella grabbed one of Jane’s arms and placed it over her shoulders and, with Wilson’s help, carried the elderly woman away from the fire. The utility room behind them was in flames, and smoke billowed everywhere. There was only one way out. Ella shot away the lock, then forced the spring balanced garage door up with a desperate shove.
Smoke choking them, Wilson and Ella made their way onto the driveway, then out onto the front yard, dragging the old woman with them. The entire neighborhood was now illuminated by the flames from the burning house.
Ella felt her chest tighten as she saw that two members of her team were down on the ground. She recognized Blalock and Phillip Cloud as the officers tending them. She breathed a little easier as she spotted Clifford there, too, helping to give first aid. Turning around, she saw the other officers walking around the house, keeping the perimeter safe.
As the emergency vehicles from the phoney accident scene approached, and Angel Hawk hovered overhead, waiting to carry away the wounded, Ella swallowed back bitter tears.
Pushing away her grief so she could function, Ella laid the woman she held responsible for this tragedy down on the ground beside the street, a safe distance from the heat of the fire. When Ella and Wilson released their hold on her, Jane jumped up with an agility that surprised both of them and, tearing off the gas mask, stumbled back toward the house. Ella was after her in an instant, determined not to let the evil woman escape or take her own life.
Pressing her sleeve to her mouth, and struggling for every breath, Ella stepped back into the smoke-filled living room and saw Jane reaching for a pouch underneath the sofa. As Jane’s fingers closed around it, the ceiling above her abruptly collapsed, and flaming timbers came crashing down on the old witch.
Coughing and gasping for air, Ella picked her way through the rubble to where the woman was pinned, but it was already too late. Jane Clah was dead, her skull crushed by a massive beam.
Ella stuck the pouch Jane had tried to retrieve into her own belt. There was no time to check the contents now, but it felt as if the doll her brother had made was within.
Ella was making her way to the door when two firemen wearing masks arrived, and helped her back outside.
As they stepped out into the lightening horizon of a new day, a paramedic ran toward her. Ella accepted the oxygen mask he offered gratefully and, a short time later, was finally able to stop coughing. As Clifford and Justine approached her, Ella removed the mask.
“Are you okay?” Clifford asked, crouching in front of Ella.
She nodded. “I think I’ve got your doll,” she said, reaching for the pouch she’d stuck in her belt. “She went back for it—” Ella felt a sudden burst of fear as she realized that the pouch was no longer there. Only a small piece of cloth remained where the pouch had been, as if someone had yanked it off her. But no one had. Surely she would have felt that. “Help me look. It has got to be around here someplace.”
They searched the ground outside the front and back of the house, but the pouch was nowhere to be seen.
“It probably came loose when the firemen pulled you out,” Clifford said, pointing to the house, now completely engulfed in flames despite the efforts of the firemen. “Don’t worry about it now. It’s gone forever in the flames. I would know otherwise.”
Ella was still bitter. “But she still won, in a way. She died, and with her passing goes our only link to the remaining members of my father-in-law’s secret family—our sworn enemies.”
“This may not be much of a consolation,” Clifford said slowly, “but you won’t have to search for them.”
Ella nodded. “Yes, I know. Sooner or later, they’ll come after me.”
“Why don’t you go home, boss? You look like hell. I can handle the wrapup.” Justine said.
“I can’t go, not yet. There’s still work for me to do here.” Ella stared at the black smoke, and the flames that flared up almost every time the firemen appeared to be making progress. Their fight paralleled her own. There was a war raging between her family and those enemies of the tribe who were willing to use the old ways against the Dineh. She was needed here, and, for now, this was where she belonged.
TWENTY
The bodies of five dead skin-walkers were recovered and taken away, and the one survivor who’d been knocked out by the door was taken to jail. Although Officers Hobson and Michael Cloud had sustained injuries, they were not life threatening, thanks to the body armor and helmets they had worn.
Ella helped load both into Angel Hawk—thanking them for their dedication. Her team had reason to be proud of the job they’d done today. They’d fought bravely, and stood together against a fearsome enemy.
While Justine took care of the after-action logistics, Ella turned her attention to Wilson Joe. He stood immobile, staring at the burning building as it slowly collapsed. Though still a bit groggy, the spark of life was back in his eyes, a trait she’d missed the past few weeks.
“Come home with my brother and me. You need us now, and we need you,” she said softly.
Wilson nodded. “Yes, you’re right. I
wanted to forget the dangers in our world, but I almost paid the ultimate price for that foolishness.”
Clifford stood by them. “We scored a victory for our side today, but there’ll be a price to pay later for it. That’s inescapable.” Clifford reached for his keys, and handed his borrowed revolver back to Ella. “I’ll meet you at Mom’s in a little while.”
Wilson was quiet for a long while as Ella drove. When he finally spoke, he said, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something. In fact, I was getting into my truck to come see you when those … people took me.”
“What’s on your mind?” Ella asked.
“I heard about Leo Bekis, and that his sister said someone pulled out in front of them. They went off the road, and the resulting crash killed him.” Wilson’s voice had dropped to a whisper. There was a deathly pallor on his face.
Ella looked at him, and the intuition that Wilson had been the other driver who’d caused the accident hit her like a bolt of lightning. She remembered the night Wilson had been drunk, when she’d taken him to the Totah Cafe. She also recalled hearing about Gladys’ statement, that the pickup she’d seen had been mud-splattered—it was the same recollection Ella had of Wilson’s truck that same night.
“Did you know he was at the wheel again, and drunk?” Ella said, interrupting Wilson. “We’ll never know whether he died because of his drinking or not. He lost control of a vehicle he wasn’t supposed to be driving in the first place. I don’t think it matters if we ever find out who the other driver was. Leo was living on borrowed time, and fortunately Gladys will be all right. That’s all that’s important now, right?” Ella looked her friend in the eye, hoping to convey the message that his confession would serve no purpose at this time.
“Don’t you think that the truth is more important…?”
“What I think, is that sometimes justice is more important that the truth, especially when the truth will only damage the living. We should get on with things, and live our lives the best way we know how.” Ella said, hoping Wilson would drop the subject, once and for all.