It was one thing to believe in the power of the ceremonies, another to believe in the actuality of demons.
She shivered again at the memory of the anguish and evil in those screams around the sweat lodge. She hadn't imagined those.
And she hadn't imagined the whispered words, or her near attack on Scarlet and actual attack on Keoman. No sense bringing that up again, however. He'd already insinuated he wouldn't discuss the nuances of their experience, the things he didn't understand, until he consulted with the Elders.
"What are you and the Elders going to do about this…this thing?" she asked.
"Same as every forty years for the past three hundred," he said. "Try to track it. Try to find its lair. Try to kill it."
"This thing is already dead," she pointed out.
"Sometimes…" He shook his head. "Sometimes the dead are more dangerous than the living. But this thing isn't completely dead. That's the problem. Someone needs to find it, confront it."
At his words, Kymbria could feel the blood leave her face and her muscles tighten.
"Send it to nibowin, true death," Keoman continued. "Right now it's neither an odjib, a ghost, nor an odjitcag, a spirit. Right now it's just an evil monster. A monster that has no way to die."
It couldn't be. She pulled her hands off the table, burying her clenched fists in her lap, her nails carving grooves in her palms. That thing couldn't be trying to contact her, trying to get her to come to it. She hadn't even heard of this windigo until just now.
Someone needs to find it, confront it, Keoman had said.
Come now! the thing at the sweat lodge had said to her.
Was the entity trying to entice her to come to it?
"Punishment," she mused, both to distract herself and in the hope Keoman hadn't noticed her reaction. "That's what's happening to the beast, punishment for its forbidden actions. The Catholics call it Purgatory."
When Keoman only nodded, she grabbed her beer and drank two long swallows while wishing the casino served hard booze. If so, she would order something stronger right now. Given the meds she'd been on until lately, it had been a while since she'd consumed anything alcoholic. There was a fairly well-stocked bar at the cabin she could investigate as soon as she could get Keoman to take her home.
Some sense drew her attention away from Keoman. That man, wandering around and eying the slot machines as he carried a bill in his hand. The same man she'd spied at the blackjack table?
Blond hair, that easy saunter….
She sighed. No matter how attractive Caleb was, he hadn't been any more forthcoming than Keoman. So why did a brief flicker of longing to see if he could soften some of the anxious edges of her fear course through her? Rick had been dead long enough for her to start working through her grief, as well as the mixture of anger and betrayal. But she wasn't nearly at the point where she could imagine herself dating, beginning a new relationship. Taking a chance on giving her heart and soul to a man who might betray her.
Imagine herself close enough to another man for a release of some of that pent-up sexual desire she noticed during the night now and then.
"You mentioned the coincidence of Caleb McCoy's showing up," she told Keoman to distract the path her thoughts were taking, admittedly due to Caleb's presence. "He wouldn't be following you around, would he?"
"We're not supposed to meet again until tomorrow."
Caleb glanced toward her, a shimmer of surprise on his face. He changed his path.
"Private party, or can I join you?" he asked when he stood by their booth.
Kymbria scooted over to give him room. "I think maybe you're just the person this party's lacking," she said. She slipped a look at Keoman to gauge his reaction, but the Midé only nodded a greeting, his eyes black with that emotionless aura he could turn on so swiftly.
"Having any luck?" Kymbria asked as Caleb settled beside her, close enough that she could have shifted a bit and easily touched him.
"Breaking even," Caleb said with a grin, his green eyes alight with an enjoyment she wished she could take part in. "That's always good. Right now, I'm more interested in getting something to eat that doesn't come out of a can."
Kymbria shot a glance at the ten dollar bill he held and, surprising herself, winked in a teasing manner.
"Busted," he said with a boisterous laugh. "I figured if some slot machine really called to me on the way to the snack bar, I might stick this bill in."
"And none did?"
"Nope. Probably a good thing. I hear folks grumbling your tribe's got the machines set tight tonight."
"They're computers," Keoman explained in a tone indicating he hadn't caught the joke. "There's no rhyme or reason to the timers. You just have to be at a certain one when it's set to pay off. I found that out when I lost a lot of my own winnings trying to hit a big one again."
"You're not part of the casino management?" Caleb asked.
"No," Keoman replied without further explanation.
"It's the excitement of the hunt for the lucky machine," Kymbria said, then regretted her choice of words when both Caleb and Keoman exchanged a shuttered look. Resolutely, she went on, "But the sort of hunt that's in the works here on tribal grounds — if what happened to us tonight is any measure — isn't exciting. It's terrorizing."
Caleb stared at Keoman, anger replacing the enjoyment and relaxation on his face. "What the hell's she talking about? You didn't — surely you've got more sense!"
"It's not Keoman's fault," she interrupted. "We were only following through on why I'm here. For healing." She controlled a shudder as that eerie cry echoed in her thoughts. "We had to go out in the wilderness for the ceremony."
Caleb didn't even glance at her while she spoke, continuing to focus on Keoman. "That's a damn stupid thing to do until we're sure," he spat.
"Nothing happened," Keoman replied in an irritated tone. "We were protected. If anything, what took place tonight probably confirms the Elders' uneasiness."
Caleb leaned back in the booth, a hand on his chest. Kymbria noticed a silver chain around his neck, and his palm appeared to touch whatever hung hidden beneath his shirt. Before he could speak, the Midé shook his head slightly, and Kymbria spoke up.
"Keoman told me about the windigo. What's your stake in this?"
The cook at the snack bar called to them, "I'm closing down the grill in a few minutes. Last call, if you want anything."
Caleb whispered what Kymbria thought was a curse directed at either Keoman or the situation they both danced around, then slid out of the booth and went to the counter. While he ordered, Kymbria waited for Keoman to speak, but he only finished off his soda, then stood. As Caleb returned, he shoved his arms through his snowsuit top and said, "Think you could drop Kymbria off on your way home? I need to be somewhere."
"Go on," Caleb replied before Kymbria had a chance to protest. "Her place isn't that far out of my way."
Annoyed, Kymbria watched Keoman stride away without even a goodbye. Caleb sat across from her now, and she gritted her teeth in frustration.
"Sorry," Caleb said. "I guess we should have asked you if you minded the change in drivers."
"It wouldn't have done any good once Keoman made up his mind. I'm just pissed at how the two of you avoided even a semblance of explanation to me. Even a hint of a care as to my feelings. And not just about who's going to drive me home!"
"Again, I'm sorry," he repeated. "This…this situation is new to most of us. We're not sure what to do, who to say anything to. No matter how long this has been going on, no one's been able to figure out a way to end it. I, for one, don't want to put anyone who might slip under this thing's radar in danger."
"Ah, hell," Kymbria said. "I don't care who drives me home. It's really not a problem, although I would like to get back to Scarlet soon."
"I can get my burger to go, if you'd rather."
"Would you mind?"
"Nope."
Caleb returned to the counter to amend his order to take-o
ut and waited there instead of returning to the booth. Irritation stirred at his discourtesy, but given the path of their conversation, she admitted his distancing himself made sense, at least to him. He was probably deliberately avoiding her further questions.
Despite her decision to return home, she felt curious. Perhaps, even entitled. Or…maybe part of her interest lay in what Caleb McCoy's presence here had to do with the windigo.
But Caleb McCoy was a near stranger. She didn't really have any right to push him about his private affairs.
So she waited until they were in Caleb's white pickup, a new vehicle lacking the numerous rust spots on Keoman's jeep, which he'd parked near one of the high pole lights surrounding the casino parking lot. Let Caleb have two entire bites of his hamburger while the engine warmed before she pushed.
"I'm leaving in a day or so, but I believe I have a right to know what's going on up here. Given that this thing — windigo — whatever it was — attacked me tonight."
Caleb choked on his burger and grabbed the plastic cup from the console. He sucked in a long swallow, then tossed the burger back into the sack. Evidently, what she said had killed his appetite, since he folded down the sack top and tossed it on the rear seat.
"What happened tonight?"
She debated only an instant. She could demand tit-for-tat, information on his presence here in return for facts from her. However, the recent unexplainable episodes had been bottled up inside her with no one to effectively discuss them with for too long.
She explained their trip to the sweat lodge, although not the reason for it. Caleb only interrupted her once, when he shook his head and said, "Keoman should have more damned sense."
After she told Caleb that Keoman had found no sign of anyone — or any entity — outside the sweat lodge, and how he had burned it, Caleb asked her what she could recall about the nuances of the scream.
"Is that important?" she asked.
"Hell if I know," he admitted. "Dealing with an entity like this one — if that's what it is — is new to me."
"To you? What do you have to do with all this? Why was someone shooting at you?"
He sighed. "We're still leaning toward that shot being a stray. And as to the other question…I'm a paranormal investigator. I'm here because I need to find a way to kill a windigo."
She studied him a moment, then said, "I didn't know people made a living as paranormal investigators. What do you do? Write books?"
"No, although I contribute to friends who do. I made a few bucks in investments a few years ago, so I can follow some of my interests without working a nine-to-five."
"So…back to what you said about finding a way to kill a monster like this. You need to? Or want to?"
"Need," he assured her. "It's turning out to be damned hard, though. Maybe because all the information about this windigo is descended through Native American lore, and the Native American's have always been damned secretive." He glanced at her in apology. "Sorry. I keep forgetting your heritage."
"We forgave you a few years ago. When we started recouping our losses at our casinos." She reached over to pat his arm, but in the dimness, her hand landed on his chest..
The shock was more than static electricity. The energy zapped up her hand and arm, tingling with a feeling as near pain as possible without being debilitating. It wasn't nearly as devastating as the Tasor shock she'd been forced to endure in self-defense training, but she felt a power pushing her back. She instinctively scooted away in response, shaking her arm to alleviate the sting. Then she slapped a hand on her medicine pouch, hidden beneath her snowsuit, and clung to it as though to a lifeline. As at the sweat lodge, touching the pouch soothed her, yet this time, it seemed to vibrate as it dealt out a protection from an opposing force trying to attack her.
Caleb studied her in the muted light, a puzzled expression on his face. Then he cleared his throat. "It's all right."
He reached for her, but tentatively, and she flinched away from contact while she fumbled for the door handle behind her. It yielded when she pulled it, but without the welcome click of locks disengaging. Damn these new vehicles where the doors locked automatically. She surreptitiously felt around for the button to unlatch the doors.
"Look, you don't have to be afraid," he said, his gaze flicking to her arm behind her back. For a brief instant, she thought she heard that faint voice, although she refuted that idea when she recognized the whispered, "At least, I don't think you do," Caleb said beneath his breath.
"I usually keep my barriers up around the consecrated cross I've been wearing lately," he said aloud. "But there's something…I don't know for sure what just happened."
She frowned. That's what she had felt — a cross. He wore a cross beneath his shirt, a outsized one, according to what she'd touched. Many of the soldiers she'd treated wore crosses, sometimes a gift from a family friend. None of those were as large as, or had emitted the power of, the one Caleb wore, though.
"What are you trying to say?" Kymbria asked, now more interested than afraid of him as she removed her hand from the spirit bundle. "Can you see the other side? Feel you need to protect yourself from it? Are you psychic?"
"And if I were?" Caleb asked with a half-grin that, even in the dim illumination of the dash lights, she could tell didn't quite make it into his eyes to dispel his uncertainty.
"We honor those who possess the ability to commune with the spirit world."
"I understand. And no, I'm not psychic," he denied with a shake of his head. "Although I've been around lots of people who are, and supposedly, all of us have a certain amount of psychic ability."
When he picked up his cup of soda again, she went on, "The cross you wear is sanctified. Blessed."
He drank several swallows before he said, "Yes. And I'm not sure how…or why…it did…well, whatever it did to you. What did it do?"
"It…zapped me, I guess. Made sure I moved the heck back onto my own side of the seat."
He swallowed more soda, as though desperate to ease a dry mouth, then dropped his gaze to watch his fingers toy with the straw. "Some women would be freaked out by that."
"During the summers, I was raised around spirituality and legends and tales of the supernatural," she told him. "I don't believe in all of it, since I also know things can twist with retellings. Yet there's more truth than not in a lot of the tales." Again, she suppressed a shiver at the memory of the cries of the entity outside the sweat lodge. At the windigo tale. The thought of a human eating parts of another curdled her stomach. She held her spirit bundle again, and the revulsion faded and her stomach settled.
Caleb said in a puzzled voice, "This is the first time anything like this has ever happened to anyone around me. It might be something similar to what Keoman was saying about the problem the Elders are having now. Their abilities encountering some sort of block. Only this was the opposite…a reaching out of the protection."
"If you think that's a valid explanation, think again," Kymbria said. "It's a bunch of convoluted pieces of information taken out of context. And to me, it was more like that cross was protecting you from me."
"There's no reason for that at all," he insisted. "It only works against threats to me. And that's something you're definitely not. Besides, as you say, you're leaving as soon as you can, so you won't be around."
"Definitely," she said adamantly.
"Do you have any alcohol at your place?" Caleb asked as he shifted into drive. "If not, is there a liquor store open in town? I need a drink."
"I have a fair selection of liquor at the cabin," Kymbria admitted. "And since I really do want to get back to Scarlet, I'll invite you in for that drink. Plus, for now, I'll let you slide on the things you haven't been open about. The drive should give you plenty of time to organize what you want…and don't want…to tell me."
His nod could have meant concession to her demands, or just an acknowledgement he'd accept the drink. Time would tell.
Caleb drove back to the intersection
and turned down the county road to her cabin before he spoke again. "I knew about psychic abilities and the supernatural nearly as soon as I could walk. My family accepted things like that, although we were in a minority where we lived. Mormon country, mixed with a few churches that believed any supernatural entity was a demon. Lots of proselytizing. My grandmother was psychic, and even though some believe the ability skips a generation, so was my mother. I'm the generation it skipped. But I had the support of an experienced family to help me understand the things that happened around me, things those with psychic ability could experience."
"My people teach each other, also. As I mentioned, communicating with the spirit world is something to be admired rather than denigrated. We don't tolerate people who think anything they don't understand or experience themselves is bull shit."
"Some people are more afraid than bigoted."
"Agreed," she said.
"Do you have any of these abilities?"
She shook her head when he turned to her with a quick glance. "Supposedly, there were some ancestors in my mother's clan who were members of the Midewiwin Society. But the genes must have petered out down through the generations."
Caleb nodded. "My family also believed that it was something you were born with. I've seen people who were initial skeptics end up developing some strong abilities. We assumed they were latent until they worked on them."
Kymbria was waiting for him to say something else, but when he didn't mention it, she prodded, "You understand the Midewiwins?"
He slowed down and asked, "Is that the turnoff to your cabin? I haven't been there from this direction yet."
"Sorry," she said. "No, it's the next intersection. Not too fast," she added when he sped up. "It's right there." She pointed through the windshield to a side road without any identifying marker, and Caleb slowed again and made the turn.
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