Winter Prey

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Winter Prey Page 18

by T. M. Simmons


  "And I'm white."

  "I have told Gagewin I trust you. That maybe we should work with you. I wouldn't have agreed for you to come here if I thought you'd be a hindrance." After a nod at Caleb, he navigated past the vehicles and roared down the road back to the highway.

  Torn between approaching Kymbria's mother to try to once again uncover what she was hiding or returning to Kymbria, Caleb chose the cabin. He didn't like knowing Kymbria was in there alone, despite her spirit bundle.

  Admit it, McCoy. You're starting to care for her above and beyond just protecting her.

  Chapter 22

  Caleb kept his focus on the snow-banked roadway, trying without success to think of something to calm Kymbria's tenseness. Distracted and uneasy, she sat on the passenger seat, hands fisted in her lap. Her posture mirrored his own inner unrest, although he hoped he was covering it up better than her. He was trying, anyway, to keep a lid on nearly the same bundle of emotions he'd suffered through back in Colorado. This situation was way too close to what he'd already gone through. It was one thing to chase this damned entity at a distance. Now it had started its actual hunt, taken a little boy's mother —

  Kymbria abruptly turned toward him.

  "Sorry. I'm falling down as navigator. You just missed the Tallbear's driveway."

  "No prob," he assured her and pulled into a convenient wide spot to turn around. A moment later, Kymbria pointed. "There."

  A pair of blue spruce grew on each side of the lane, the mailbox barely visible beneath the overhang from the pine on the right and snow piled up by the plow. Caleb drove between the two spruce, down a narrow trail, bumpy with uneven layers of packed snow.

  Behind the tidy brick one-story with red shutters on the windows lay a fairly small lake. Smoke curled from one of several ice-fishing shanties in a thin, dark path against the cloud-laden sky. A backdrop of green pines interspersed with white birch lined the shore. The smaller lakes would be shallower and freeze over earlier than the large ones. Experienced ice fishermen knew which lakes were safe at this point in the season. Caleb wished himself out on the lake, nothing on his mind except when the yellow flag would flicker, indicating a possible walleye or northern pike nibbling at his minnow. Perhaps Kymbria with him in the close confines of one of those small four-sided buildings, her excitement tangible when they caught a fish.

  An acre of cleared land surrounded the home, and snowmobile tracks littered the area from both the lake and sides of the house. Three machines sat in front of the door, a fairly new four-wheel drive pickup and a sporty restored white Mustang beside them. He pulled his truck in beside the Mustang.

  "That's Donnie's car," Kymbria said, indicating the Mustang. "Amber's son. He bought it several years ago from money he earned himself. Before he could even get a driver's license. Donnie and Bob, Amber's husband, restored it. The pickup's Amber's. I guess Bob had to go to work. His truck can't be in the garage. There's no room there for any vehicles. It's packed with all sorts of sporting goods and Bob's boat."

  Caleb let her ramble on. He understood her reluctance to enter the house, no matter how deeply she cared for her friend and wanted to be there for her. His own lack of enthusiasm stemmed from a different reason — knowing a small, terrorized boy waited inside.

  "I wish Mom had come with us. She's so much better at nurturing. With my patients, I can distance myself."

  "You left her the keys," Caleb reminded her. "Your mother will be here as soon as she gets her car taken care of."

  Kymbria stared at the snowmobiles. "One of those belongs to Bob, but I don't recognize the other two. Amber must have someone here with her already. I'm sure the moccasin telegraph has been hot this morning."

  "Do you still want to go in?"

  She looked at him as though he'd called her a nasty name. "Of course. I'm her friend."

  She threw the passenger door open and started to slide out, then sighed. "I'm sorry, Caleb. I know you didn't mean it that way. I…I am — honestly — afraid to go in there and become an integral part of this trauma right now. I asked to be relieved of my counseling duties the last month I was in the Army. I just couldn't face other people's problems, let alone help them overcome them. But I have no choice here. Amber's been my friend for most of my life."

  For a moment, she gazed at him as though she felt a need to talk. Not just a need to talk to anyone; a need to talk to him. Caleb nearly reached out to pull her to him, hold her close and try to ease her pain. But her dark eyes filled with shadows, as though she sensed his thoughts and knew there was no time now.

  "I'll be with you," Caleb said quietly.

  "Even though I’ve known you such a short while, you have no idea how much that helps," she breathed as she slid on out and shut the door. Caleb joined her as she strode to the house.

  Kymbria didn't bother to knock, and Caleb took a steadying breath and followed her inside to a living room decorated in bright colors, cream-white walls adding to the sense of spaciousness. Five-by-seven framed photos crammed the mantle on a brick fireplace against the far wall. No one sat on the extra-long couch or the loungers arranged in front of a big-screen TV, and only ashes layered the fireplace grate. A hallway led off to the left, room doors open but no sound of life that way.

  Kymbria continued on into a kitchen, where they found the people. They were sitting around a sprawling pine table, each with a coffee cup. No one appeared to notice Kymbria's arrival, until she cleared her throat.

  A Native American woman close to Kymbria's age leaped up from the table and rushed to her. The two of them embraced in a hug that should have bruised ribs. Of the others at the table — one older man and woman, and an elderly woman of undeterminable age with snow-white hair — only the elderly woman looked up. Rather than focus on Kymbria and Amber, she caught Caleb's gaze, and he found he couldn't look away.

  Black eyes bored into him as though piercing his soul. Still, for some reason her examination comforted rather than irritated. The woman nodded in an inclination so slight he would have missed it had he not been staring straight at her, and waved a gnarled hand at the chair beside her.

  Caleb obeyed, the only sound in the room Amber's wracking sobs and Kymbria's shushes and murmured, "It will be all right."

  Caleb somehow knew it wouldn't. Yet the platitudes had to be offered.

  When he sat beside the elderly woman, she confirmed the belief that had whispered through his mind in a low, smoker's voice. "Jane will not return." Then she went on, "I am Nodinens. In your language, it means Little Wind. That is Amber Tallbear with our friend Kymbria. These two here at the table with us are Walter and Nancy Tallbear, who are the mother and father of Amber's husband, Bob."

  Walter Tallbear extended his hand to Caleb, and the two men shook as Caleb murmured, "Caleb McCoy." Amber's mother only dipped her head, then focused on her coffee cup.

  "The children are finally asleep," Nodinens said. "But when they wake, you and I will speak with Jimmy, the boy. Sasha is only three, and she did not see anything. Jimmy is five. He was in the upstairs window, watching his father leave. We need to find out all the boy can tell us. He may not even be aware of the knowledge he might pass on."

  Reluctance stabbed Caleb and his fingers curled into his palms to steady his shakiness. Five years old — a year younger than Skippy. That young boy had just watched his mother being taken by a horrible monster — the monster the little boy probably thought only lived under his bed. He didn't need to be pressured further right now. They had no choice, though. Perhaps the child could help them in their quest to end this entity's reign of terror.

  It surprised Caleb that Nodinens appeared to accept him so easily, integrate a stranger she'd just met into the situation. Perhaps the weight of her long years gave her the experience to judge someone immediately, and he'd come across in her judgment as honest and dependable. He hoped so. But that was something he'd consider later. Now he needed to focus on how to question a child without further traumatizing him. He'd almost rath
er face the windigo. No, not almost; he would rather.

  "Kymbria said the kids were both pretty distraught," he ventured. "Amber may not want us to question them."

  "So be it, but we will anyway," Nodinens said in a stern voice. "They will have many strengths to learn without a mother."

  "Will the father make it?" Her prediction about the mother hadn't shocked him. He'd already sensed Nodinens had a measure of psychic power, a power he was familiar with due to his investigations over the years. And very few had ever escaped a windigo, man or woman.

  "I believe Tom will live," she replied. "It did not want Tom dead, only rendered unable to protect his wife."

  "It doesn't make sense!" Caleb's voice rose, but he lowered it when Nodinens tilted her head in admonition. "It doesn't. Does this thing select its prey somehow? Not just take someone who's…convenient?"

  "I believe it does select certain ones, but this is something we must talk about. I've passed through two of its other hunting seasons, although I was only vaguely aware of the first. Each time, something has bothered me. I believe it only takes its victims from a certain clan."

  "Have you told the Elders?"

  "They know."

  "Still…" Caleb shook his head. "It won't do a damned bit of good to know who the possible victims might be. We could guard them with an Army — or a war party — and it wouldn't help. This thing can move with lightning speed. Probably even faster than a bullet. There's no way to protect anyone from it, short of killing it."

  "True," Nodinens replied. "We could round up all the descendants from this clan and keep them in a prayer circle. That would not stop the windigo." She chuckled wryly. "Even though it would only take a small prayer circle to go around the few people left of the Marten Clan."

  "Are you Marten Clan?"

  "No. Nor am I of Kymbria's Wolf Clan. We have twenty-one clans, and I am of the Pike Clan."

  Caleb wanted to continue his conversation with Nodinens, but Amber and Kymbria joined them at the table.

  "Tom's people are with him at the hospital," Kymbria said. "The last time Amber talked to them, they said he's in surgery."

  "Prognosis?" Caleb asked.

  "He has a slight chance. Oh, lord, I hope he pulls through, for his children." She went on, "Have you met…?" Then she noticed the woman beside Caleb. "Grandmother! I greet you." She bowed her head in reverence.

  "You have not forgotten the respect for your elders Niona taught you, Granddaughter," Nodinens said as she examined Kymbria with a keen gaze. "Or the ways you learned from Keoman's father. You have also brought us someone I am pleased with."

  "Thank you, Grandmother. But I didn't bring Caleb here to our land. He came on his own, for his own reasons."

  "Reasons that fit with ours," Nodinens said sagely. "Remember, sometimes paths we walk are not totally our own choice."

  Damn, how Caleb wished he could get Nodinens and Kymbria alone. The three of them might be able to make a dent in the enigma of this monster. Nodinens's words also resonated with him. Perhaps the threads were pulling together, guided by the Universe and its populace. He'd never considered the fact the world across the veil might have a direct bearing on human life paths. The scant information he'd had time to read on Native American culture, however, indicated those of deep beliefs placed not only trust in it, but also an unwavering faith.

  Walter rose slowly from the table. "I think we'll go home now," he said to Amber. "We have animals to feed. Call us if you need anything. Anything at all."

  "I will," Amber promised. Nancy rose to join her husband, but she hugged Amber tightly before the two of them walked on through the house. Moments later, a snowmobile engine fired up, then roared off into the distance. When the noise died, a child cried somewhere in the house.

  "Sasha." Amber hurried out of the kitchen, Kymbria following.

  Glad of the opportunity to talk to Nodinens again, Caleb turned to her. She held up a hand and rose to her feet as easily as a much younger woman. "Come with me. We must not wait."

  She led a hesitant Caleb down a hallway, to the door of a bedroom. His heart beat erratically, and anxiety sweat pooled under his armpits. At the doorway, he paused and took in a deep breath, blowing it out to try to relieve tension. But two more similar breaths didn't ease the pit in his stomach.

  He felt his gutsy façade crumble. On the other side of the door sat two tiny children whose lives had been devastated by the same type of supernatural demon that had torn apart his own life. The boy was old enough to be cognizant of the terrible turn his path had taken, the horrible pain in store for his mother.

  Caleb flashed back to a beautiful summer day he'd arrived at the Colorado mountain cabin where he'd left his wife and son. Back to the excruciating agony that stabbed him when he walked in and found them gone. Unbearable guilt had been his companion every day since.

  He laid his hand on his chest, unashamed of the comfort he sought from his consecrated cross. There were other people unknowingly on this monster's list, and if there was any way at all he could help prevent more deaths, he had to try. Had to control his own pain and perhaps make up for his lack in protecting his own family. Even though the people in danger now were strangers, and even though no amount of effort at protecting them could make up for his guilt, he had to do his damn best.

  Nodinens had waited for him, and she took his free hand in hers. Then she laid her hands with his over the consecrated cross. They both stood there for a while longer, until Caleb realized his emotions had steadied. Nodinens dropped his hand and led him into the bedroom.

  Amber and Kymbria stood beside a bed with a rumpled spread, each holding a small child. Amber soothed the little girl, Sasha. And Kymbria held…Caleb nearly doubled over with the renewed pain in his gut before he remembered to clutch the cross beneath his shirt. The boy, Jimmy, was a chubby, dark-haired version of Caleb's son. Eyes red-rimmed from crying, he stoically clenched his fists and held himself rigid in Kymbria's arms.

  Had Skippy tried to protect his mother? Had he put on a brave, unyielding front toward that son-of-a-bitching monster? Had he broken quickly, or maintained his false bravado well into their terror-filled captivity?

  "You may take the girl with you into the kitchen," Nodinens told Amber. "See if she will take some food. Leave Jimmy with us, Kymbria, and go with Amber."

  "But — " Kymbria abruptly broke off. "Yes, Grandmother."

  As Amber left the room with Sasha, Kymbria handed Jimmy to Caleb. He accepted the boy without reluctance, hoping he could offer some sort of succor. Kymbria stroked the boy's silky black hair a final time, kissed him on the forehead, then said, "This is Caleb, Jimmy. He's a good friend of mine."

  As Kymbria left, the boy stared up at Caleb with red-rimmed brown eyes. Caleb shifted the chunky weight — so similar to what he'd held when he snuggled Skippy — and carried him over to the bed. He sat with the child clasped in his arms, the little legs dangling between his knees. Caleb's heart broke a bit more when Jimmy buried his face against his chest to stifle renewed sobs.

  Nodinens indicated for him to sit the boy down beside him.

  "Nodinens," he protested, but she ignored his pleading tone.

  "When he is grown," she said quietly, "he will want to look back and know he did all he could to help find the beast that took his mother."

  Caleb nodded in agreement and shifted the boy to the bed. He kept one arm around the small waist as Nodinens eased herself down on the other side of Jimmy. She took both his small, chubby hands in her aged ones. "We know you are filled with hurt, little one."

  "I's not little," Jimmy protested petulantly before a spasm of shame crossed his face. "I's sorry, Grandmother. Daddy says we ain't never s'posed to talk back to our honored ones. But…" He sniffed back another sob. "It…it took Mommy!"

  Nodinens assured him, "I understand, little one. But yes, you must not sass those who have age on you, even if you are right. And you are right. You are not little, not after this morning."


  A tear rolled down Jimmy's cheek, and Caleb could tell the boy wanted to fling himself at Nodinens and be held. His own strong desire to comfort the boy tugged at him, but he knew better than to interfere with this woman. Relief filled him, though, when she reached out and pulled the boy to her breast.

  "I will give you some of my strength," Nodinens murmured as she closed her eyes and held the child.

  When at last Jimmy pulled away, he asked in a steadier voice, "When's that thing gonna let Mommy go? When will she and Daddy come to take me home?"

  Even with all her years of experience, Nodinens faltered in her answer. Reluctant himself, and entirely unsure about how to assuage the boy's fears — and with a total lack of confidence that he could — Caleb knelt in front of Jimmy. He swallowed his own pain and memories and tried to think what Skippy would want someone to say, had his parents gone missing from his life.

  "Your daddy's being cared for by really good doctors at the hospital," he said quietly. "They're working on him to get him well, so he can come back to you soon. The doctors want to be sure your daddy's well and can play with you."

  "Mommy?" Jimmy choked.

  "We're trying to find her," Caleb assured him as he took the child's trembling hands in his larger ones. "Maybe you can help us do that. Can you tell us what you saw this morning?"

  The little boy stiffened with an effort beyond his years, and gulped, but the sobs broke through. He shook his head violently and pulled his hands free. Fists at his eyes scrubbed at the new tears, and Caleb drew him into his arms and let him cry. His small arms crept around Caleb's neck, and he buried his face beneath Caleb's chin. Tears wet Caleb's shirt, and the silver cross around his neck.

  Oh, god, how I wish I could have held Skippy and let him cry out his angst and pain. Why the hell did I leave him and Mona alone just then? Could I have saved them if I'd been there? At least I could have died with them!

 

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