"And that means I'll be a poor damsel without protection? Don't you believe that for one minute, McCoy. I had twenty-two years in the Army. The time included plenty of periodic weeks of self-defense training."
That sort of training won't help you one damned bit against the entity that's going to be roaming around here in a few weeks. But he said, "Someone shot at my cabin across the lake last night. The bullet took a path that started a fire. Which I barely managed to contain." She gasped, and her glance slid to the point in the cabin where Caleb had already spotted a steel gun case. "As far as we can tell," he hurried on, "it was probably a stray shot from a hunter. Still, it could mean there's someone careless in the woods."
"Couple that with Len's disappearance…" she said as the other two men came back in the cabin door, along with a blast of icy wind.
"More snow on the way," Hjak said. He shut the door and cleaned his boots on the mat. "Wonder if I could pry a cup of that coffee I smell out of you to take with me?"
Kymbria crossed her arms over her chest. "Not unless you tell me what you found down on the lake."
"Nothing," Hjak assured her as he stepped away from the mat so Keoman could use it. "Nothing at all." He paused, then continued, "And that's the damned puzzle about it."
"What's to puzzle about?" Kymbria asked. "Someone lost a fetish and someone found it and left it on my stair step."
"Probably," Hjak said with a nod of agreement. "I'm going to take it with me, though, and show it to Len's daughter. I hope…." His gaze fell on the same steel gun case Kymbria had focused on a few minutes earlier, then back to Kymbria. "You be careful up here, hear me? Maybe now's not the right time for you to be in the Northwood."
She bristled and replied, "I've been dodging bullets and even bombs for a lot of years now." Her bravado faltered for a second as she continued, "I didn't expect to find that up here, though. That's not why I came home."
Some tone in her voice echoed the pangs of despondency Caleb had heard from his wife during the last few months of their marriage. He instinctively took a step forward to comfort her, and their gazes met. For a brief instant, he thought she might accept the consolation he offered. However, when he placed his hands on her arms, she took a stabilizing breath and moved back. At least she nodded at him in a gesture of thanks.
Keoman brushed past Caleb and cupped Kymbria's chin in his palm, lifting her face so he could meet her gaze.
"We won't let this interfere, Kymbria," he said. "What you need is vitally important right now. Believe me when I say we'll get through this. Just like we did before."
She placed her hand over his and said, "I do believe. Otherwise, I wouldn't have come."
"Be ready this evening," Keoman said. "I'll pick you up about six. Just after dark. Now, is it all right if I get Hjak that coffee?"
She actually smiled, then laughed softly. "I'll get it."
She passed Caleb with a brief glance and walked on into the kitchen. The setter rose from the rug and trailed after her. Caleb caught himself watching her, his mind filled with questions about things for which he had no right to want answers. And Keoman solidified that conclusion when he stepped in front of Caleb with a warning expression. "She's only been widowed a few months, and she's got a seven-month-old daughter. She's also got a lot on her mind."
"Point taken," Caleb responded quietly. "But I'm worried about her being here alone. What did you find down there?"
"Nothing. Like Hjak says, that's the problem. We didn't see a damn thing. The same as you and I found."
With a glance toward the kitchen, Hjak stepped closer and also kept his voice down. "It's not supposed to wake up for three more weeks."
"Yeah," Keoman spat. "Tell it that. If that's what took Len."
A loud crash, accompanied by splintering glass, sounded in the kitchen. The dog yipped as though in pain, and Caleb shot into the kitchen a step ahead of the other two men. Kymbria stood at the sink, eyes tightly shut and hands clasped over her ears, a shattered glass coffeepot at her feet. Splatters of coffee marred her snow pants, and the setter whined and stood on three legs in the midst of the mess.
"Watch it," Keoman said as he grabbed Caleb's arm. "You don't have your shoes on."
Caleb halted, and Keoman strode past, his boots crunching glass shards. First he picked up the setter and handed her to Hjak. The sheriff took the dog out of the room to tend to as Keoman cautiously approached Kymbria.
Why so cautiously?
"What is it?" Keoman asked in a soft voice. "Kymbria?"
He placed his hands over hers and gently urged her to loosen her grip over her ears. Her eyes shot open and she stared at Keoman, a look of terror on her face. For a second, Caleb thought she would scream, but instead, she whispered in a ravaged tone, "Come now?"
The question in the phrase appeared to confuse Keoman, and he dropped her hands. Then she apparently realized who he was and flung herself at him. His arms closed tightly around her.
"What is it?" Keoman repeated. "Tell me."
She shook her head against his chest, her hair swirling around her shoulders. Then she took an audible breath and pushed back.
"I'm all right."
"You're not," Keoman said. "Tell me what just happened."
She straightened her shoulders and held out a detaining hand when he reached for her. "No. I'm getting over this. I am."
She almost seems to be trying to convince herself, Caleb thought.
"I know you are," Keoman soothed. "But there's no shame in leaning on others. Asking for help."
"I've asked and I'm leaning," she said, a taut smile on her lips. "And you'll do a hell of a lot more for me than anyone else has." She frowned and glanced at her legs, then the slivers on the floor. "What…oh, god. Where's Scarlet?"
"She's fine," Caleb assured her. "Hjak's taking care of her. You need to see if there are any burns on your legs."
"Shit," Keoman said. "I didn't even notice." Without warning, he picked her up, one arm around her shoulders, the other her knees. "See what you can do about this mess," he ordered Caleb as he walked out of the kitchen.
Although not prone to obeying orders, Caleb stifled his irritation. He was odd man out here among the three who had known each other for years. He bypassed the glass breakage to open the only other door besides the one to the outside and looked into a pantry.
Kymbria's voice carried loud enough for Caleb to hear as he searched for a broom. "Put me down, Keoman. The coffee wasn't hot. The pot had gone off. I was getting ready to dump it and make more. Damn it, put me down so I can take care of my dog."
"The dog's not hurt." Hjak's voice. "She got a tiny piece of glass in her paw, but it didn't even penetrate far enough through her rough pad to draw blood."
Hooks in the pantry held a mop, broom and dustpan. As Caleb removed what he needed, he saw an extra glass coffeepot on a shelf in the back. He swept the floor and dropped the glass shards in a garbage can before he retrieved the pot to rinse it and start a new batch of coffee.
As he worked, he realized not being privy to the long-standing relationships between the three people in the other room didn't keep him from a strong interest in the woman there. At first, he tried to tell himself her presence here was a detriment to his own goal: to find a way to destroy every damned windigo in existence. Every damn monster that had ever killed and eaten a human. And especially the one in Colorado, which had taken Mona and Skippy. He was afraid Keoman would be distracted from helping with his goal.
Caleb's research had already shown the Colorado windigo awakened every ten years, not forty, as this one did. The legend of the Colorado one indicated it satisfied itself on deer and elk for the most part, yet there were whispered stories of humans disappearing every ten years, also. Even though it would take patience to wait all those years, Caleb meant to be there when the Colorado monster stirred again from its lair — waiting and armed with the knowledge and power to destroy it.
Yet somehow he couldn't bring himself to resent
Kymbria's presence here right now. Maybe the healer had lied and was with her yesterday when he was supposed to meet Caleb, instead of with an Elder. If so, Caleb couldn't really blame him. The woman in there was a package of both physical beauty and emotional intrigue.
Keoman didn't need to warn him off, though. Caleb had more important things on his mind than a new woman in his life. That didn't mean he couldn't sympathize with whatever Kymbria's problems were. She'd looked so horrified when she was standing there, hands clasped tightly against her head. Keeping some thought out or trapping one in? And why did she whisper those specific words?
He'd been admonished to keep clear of her. He'd pay heed. He had enough on his plate.
Coffee finished and floor clean, Caleb walked over to the doorway to call the others in. He nearly ran into Hjak as he approached, and stepped aside so the sheriff could pass.
"I'll get my own coffee on the way out," Hjak said.
In the living room, Keoman sat on the sofa, the setter lying beside him, her head on his knee. He looked up as Caleb entered the room.
"Kymbria decided to take a shower and change clothes."
"I'll get out of her hair, then. You'll call me when we can meet again?"
The Midė nodded briefly.
Caleb walked on through the living room to the glassed-in porch, where he stepped into his snow boots and zipped up his snowsuit before he retrieved his helmet from beside the mat. Keoman hadn't moved on the sofa and Caleb started to open the door without saying anything further. Then….
"Keoman, what's her problem? PTSD?"
Keoman answered without turning. "What makes you think that?"
"Just that she mentioned being in Iraq and Afghanistan And IEDs."
"Most recently, Afghanistan."
"Some of my buddies came back from Desert Storm with problems."
After a brief silence, Keoman said, "I damn sure hope PTSD is all it is."
When it was clear the other man wasn't going to enlighten him about his enigmatic statement, Caleb opened the door and left.
He descended to the step where he'd found the fetish and once again examined the area where it had lain. By now he, Keoman and Hjak had trampled the area, though each had made sure not to disturb the bare spot on that particular step. Overhead, dark clouds were gathering, lending credence to Hjak's prediction of more snow. The clouds blocked the sun and Caleb was able to re-inspect the area around where he'd pulled his snowmobile up to the bank without the reflection of sunshine interfering with his sight. The only marks were the treads his snowmobile left during the trip across the lake.
A windigo could have lain the fetish there. The beast was capable of flash movements that left no trace of its passing. Had the Northwood windigo awakened early? There would be no way to tell if Keoman's fears were true. Not until they found the missing man…if they ever did…or if someone else went missing.
Why would they find the fetish at Kymbria's cabin? Was it meant for one of them to find? Which one?
Come now?
Kymbria's words, and their inappropriate intonation as a question, continued to mystify Caleb. It was almost as though she were hearing something in her head…perhaps telepathically.
Windigos are capable of telepathic communication….
It was probably a flashback, though. Flashbacks were symptomatic of PTSD, and something had probably triggered one.
What, though? She was alone in the kitchen, only making coffee.
And why did she not appear to clearly understand the words she had heard? Or perhaps the meaning of them? Usually flashback triggers had meaning for a person who suffered PTSD, so the question in her tone didn't make sense.
Caleb climbed on the snowmobile and started the engine. What could have elicited a near-flashback while she was alone in the kitchen? He sped across the lake as he recalled that during an emotional collapse caused by those triggers, something fooled the mind into reliving a traumatic incident in the past.
Kymbria had obviously suffered some sort of trauma. Maybe it had something to do with her widowhood. Certainly she was back here to be with Keoman, perhaps work with him on her problems in his healing capacity. It shouldn't interfere with their research into the windigo.
I damn sure hope PTSD is all it is.
The implication of Keoman's words finally sank in. Stunned, Caleb came close to losing control of the snowmobile when it hit a small boulder nearly submerged in the ice. He regained command of the vehicle and slowed to a near crawl as he navigated the remaining distance to his rented cabin.
Was Keoman on the right track? Had this evil entity emerged early this year? It couldn't be. Caleb hadn't found anything indicating that a windigo could veer from its set timeframe.
Yet I told Hjak that windigos evolved over time.
He took one hand off a handlebar and felt the consecrated cross beneath his layered clothing. Whatever happened — whenever the entity appeared this time — Caleb would be ready for it.
***
Harsh breathing resonating in highly sensitized ears, It stood close enough that even their puny senses of smell should have noticed. Yet not one of them had. Not the white man who arrived on that noisy machine and now rode it back around the frozen lake shoreline. Not the other two.
One of the others, also white, was called a sheriff. He held the aura of those who had pursued It during other hunts in giticmanidogizis months. Hunts when It ran afoul of people trusted with the duty of giving chase to those who broke their laws. He even had a name: Hjak. He posed no danger to It. None of those other hunters had ever come close, neither white men nor tribal members.
They had all used names with each other. The white man on that machine was Caleb. He carried protections. It sensed them: strong, tempered with things unrecognized but still powerful. As strong as those carried by the third one — Keoman.
Keoman was the one who remained with Her. It recognized him as a Midė, a member of the ancient Midewiwin Society that had existed even before It evolved. Marten Clan. It could distinguish the clan connection with senses developed over eons and through the scores of pitiless deaths It had dealt out. Could almost smell the association in the blood flowing through that one's veins. Veins that would spill blood easily when ripped open. Spilled blood that would taste sweeter when fueling the powers because of the source. Sweeter because the blood carried the taint of the age-old enemy even this many years later.
That one — Keoman — soiled Her with his nearness, even as his ancestor had. That one's death would be even slower than the others. It would take deep-seated satisfaction in unhurried but ever-increasing pain for him. The death of a Midė would be even more fulfilling than those of an entire hunting season, especially a Midė who carried the despised Marten Clan blood.
It wanted Keoman for another reason, also: to remove a Marten Clan member from Her presence before the man sullied Her, and perhaps spoiled this season's quest. If It had any chance of drawing Her to the lair, the Midė must be eliminated.
But…shaggy brows furrowed. Could the early wakening have to do with the Midé's presence in the hunting territory, not Hers?
No. No, that couldn't be. If so, though, all the more reason to get rid of the Midé as soon as possible.
Its stomach rumbled and thoughts clouded briefly, then steadied. Time for more sustenance to keep the power growing rather than fading. Not here, though. Not in front of Her. Not yet, anyway.
It stored the features of all three men in memory. And their names: Hjak, Caleb, Keoman. Though that hadn't been Its first purpose, the fetish had served as an unexpected aid. It had had a clear view of them and heard everything they said as they examined the spot where the fetish lay. Been given a clear sense of the dangers from two of them.
The noise from the machine the white man rode died into silence. Its strong vision clearly saw him climb off and start toward the small cabin amidst the trees on the far side of the lake. Then the man halted and stared back. At first It thought he was think
ing of Her. But when his hand covered the place on his body from which his protection emanated, It peered closer. The man's gaze was pointed more towards where It stood.
It bared sharp teeth, though the white man's feeble sight could in no way make It out from what had to be a half-mile across the lake. It had never tasted white flesh, but should this one not keep his distance, especially from Her, his might be the first.
Chapter 9
Only a lone candle in a sacred turtle shell flickered, a pale attempt that barely penetrated the darkness. Keoman waved the water-soaked sigaasinan, and the bundle of grass dripped on the madodowasinan, the heated sacred stones. Steam roiled up, thick and dense. Even the song/prayer on Keoman's lips was muted in a silence broken only by the hiss and faint crackles of dispersing heat. Barely visible to Kymbria in the fog, the Midé laid the grass aside and stared at the stone pit, legs crossed, sweat pouring down his bronze body. Beside him lay his midéwayan, his medicine satchel, a few articles spread around it.
Keoman's voice rose to penetrate the gathering obscurity inside the madodoigan, a sweat lodge woven from pine boughs and mud, snow packed around it for stability and insulation. These types of shelters were built for specific purposes, sometimes an ordinary sweat lodge, sometimes a place for sacred ceremonies. They were also destroyed periodically, in order to eradicate any evil spirits that might find them and lie in wait. Keoman had built this one for a purpose he refused to explain, but he'd said her need would put it to good use.
A carpet of pine boughs crisscrossed the sweat lodge floor, but even those and the animal skin where Kymbria sat did little to mask the coldness of the frozen ground. It offered a sharp contradiction to the atmosphere of mindless humidity that soaked the open area and depleted nearly all the oxygen.
Kymbria sucked in faint breaths, her body torpid and relaxed, soothed by her near meditative state as much as Keoman's melodic chant. Eyes barely slit, she lost sight of him across the stone pit and surrendered totally to her awareness of her surroundings, which encompassed only this tiny area in the vast wilderness. It seemed like eons since she'd been able to relax like this. She'd put herself totally in Keoman's hands, her faith in him complete.
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