Those teeth…razor sharp and made for rending flesh from bone….
The face. Those eyes, black and red and emanating evil. Eyes that held cognizance, which made the gaze worse than if there had been only deadness or lunacy there.
Could Kymbria be right? Did that thing have human comprehension buried somewhere inside its evil brain?
"I'd be honored to stay with you, Nodinens," he said. "It will save me a drive."
An hour later, freshly showered and full from a delicious stew, homemade bread and a huge slice of apple pie, he said good night to the elderly woman. He pulled out the couch and fitted the fresh linens on it, then a heavy comforter. She'd provided pajamas, a robe and slippers from some of her dead husband's clothing, too small for him but good enough for decency. He started to remove the robe and lie down, but despite his exhaustion, he knew he wouldn't sleep.
Instead, he found his sat phone and called Kymbria.
"How's Keoman?" he asked when she answered in a sleepy voice. "Hope I'm not calling too late. Did I wake you?"
"I'm not asleep," she answered. "We just got home a while ago."
"Long time at the hospital?"
"That, and I went by to pick up Risa. But she's sound asleep. And my lack of sleep isn't for want of trying. Had to pick my bed clothes up off the floor twice from all my tossing around. But you asked about Keoman. There's no real word on him, at least, as far as any hope for his survival. The doctor said he won't know one way or the other for at least forty-eight hours."
"Broken neck?"
"Yes, among a multitude of other injuries. It's serious touch-and-go right now. Have you made any progress up there?"
"Nada," Caleb replied. "Except for getting a good start a partial list of Marten Clan members back through the ages, with Nodinens's help. We've still got a ways to go before we wade through all the tribal history. I'm staying at her place tonight. We'll get back on the computer in the morning."
"Hope you've got another hole left in your belt," she teased in a soft, distracted voice. "Nodinens is the best cook in the state."
He gave a mock groan. "Don't remind me. I finished off half a loaf of bread and three bowls of the best venison stew I've ever tasted."
She chuckled, though he could tell her heart wasn't in it.
"Are things going all right between you and Niona? Has she…?"
"No," she answered after a few seconds. "She hasn't kept her promise to tell me what she knows. We got home and while I was getting Risa settled, she was on her way out the front door to a taxi to go back and sit with Keoman. I was so angry with her, I nearly went after her. She's got some damned convoluted reason for hiding whatever it is, Caleb."
"I agree." He thought about mentioning what he had found in Keoman's jeep, but decided against it. She had enough on her mind right now. Besides, Hjak had asked him to keep quiet until he could do a little investigating himself…whenever he found time with everything else going on.
"And how are you?" he asked. He didn't elaborate. Let her tell him whatever she felt comfortable with.
"I'm doing O.K." Bed clothing rustled as she evidently sat up. Then she sipped something, ice tinkling in a glass. "Listen, Caleb, I'm finally starting to feel sleepy. I'll keep you informed about Keoman, and you let me know if there's anything new up there. The windigo still hasn't fulfilled his count this season."
"Don't remind me. But yeah, get some sleep. And stay safe."
"You, too. Night."
She'd already disconnected by the time he quietly responded. He placed his sat-phone on the end table, then eyed the bed. Crisp, snow-white sheets beckoned. He had hardly slept the night before; he needed some shut-eye. Yet he admitted the thought of losing himself in sleep scared the hell out of him.
He'd had ghastly, vicious nightmares for months after Mona and Skippy disappeared. When he lost twenty pounds and couldn't even hold a coffee cup because of his shaky hands, he gave in and started taking sleeping pills. With rest, his strength came back and he weaned himself off the narcotic.
After confronting that monster today, he had no doubt it would invade his sleep tonight. Fill it with screams and smells. Noises and slurps similar to those he'd heard on a trip to Alaska to show Skippy the gigantic brown bears during the salmon runs. Rendering chomps as the bears devoured the fish and fed their bodies. Snarls and roars as they occasionally fought one another over a prime fishing spot.
Sounds and odors similar to what a windigo would make as it fed….
He shuddered and covered his face with his hands. The gesture did nothing to quiet the turmoil in his mind, the sharp stabs of nearly physical pain in his psyche. He found himself longing for a woman to hold, someone whose warmth he could share to thwart the cold agony.
No, not someone. He wished Kymbria was at her cabin. He'd brave the icy drive willingly if she waited at the end of it. In this short time, she'd already become important to him. He admired her courage, even through the pangs of fear she suffered when that damned monster was close. She dredged deep to overcome the mental erosion her PTSD fostered. What it must have cost her to leave her baby in order to get herself together again.
And now that damned monster had her in its sight for some reason….
Nodinens stuck her head out the bedroom door, wearing a long quilted robe, her hair braided for sleep. "I forgot to tell you. There's Jack Daniel's in the cupboard over the sink. A case of sodas in the pantry, although you look like someone who drinks it neat."
"Thank you," Caleb replied, already on his way to the kitchen as she closed the door.
Moments later, one shot of Jack in his belly and two more in the glass in his hand, he turned out the lights in the house and walked over to the plate-glass window across the living room. Nodinens hadn't pulled the curtains, and without the interfering glare, Caleb could study the landscape easily. Only about twenty yards on each side of the house had been cleared. Past that, untamed wilderness encroached: tall, snow-covered pines, leafless white birch with trunks discernible from the snow due to black spots on the bark. Briars and denuded underbrush tangled together, making it nearly impossible to travel through the trees unless you followed a deer trail. Even then, a person could become lost within feet of safety if they didn't pay attention and mis-stepped.
The wilderness flourished in the Northwood. Caleb had heard about a train engine left in the woods by a lumber crew one winter. Late arriving in the spring to resume the logging operations, the crew found the growth already so thick no one could find the engine.
But the windigo could traverse this land — easily and with no impediment, barely having to think itself in a different spot.
Caleb raised his glass, surprised to find it empty. Deciding he could replace Nodinens' liquor tomorrow, he headed back into the kitchen. He didn't have any sleeping pills with him, and the alcohol so far wasn't enough to banish the thought of looming nightmares. Tonight he just didn't have the strength to face one of them. Not with the vision of the monster so recent, the reality of what its brother beast in Colorado had done.
He carried his fresh glass of Jack back to the window, sipping as he walked. Something else had been bothering him, something different to focus on, but he hadn't had time to discuss it with Hjak. Where had all that money in Keoman's jeep come from? But Caleb was willing to bet that he knew. That land out there helped tell the story. Isolated wild country, a perfect avenue for drug trade. In fact, he vaguely recalled reading an article now and then as to just such activities in the Northwood.
Had Keoman been involved in the drug trade? It seemed impossible to Caleb, given the man was a Midé, a holy man, a shaman, someone who supposedly kept his body and mind pure as part of the practice of his belief.
Then there was the shot at Caleb soon after he arrived — if it was an attack. He recalled Hjak saying someone who knew the wilderness well was probably behind that. Keoman knew the Northwood as well as anyone, better than most. Had Caleb rented a cabin in a place where he might disrupt th
e drug trade? Had Keoman been the one who shot at him, trying to scare him off?
Caleb called Hjak. He doubted the sheriff was sleeping any better than he was.
"So you've been thinking the same thing?" he asked Hjak a few seconds into their conversation.
"I've got a monster to locate before I can worry about this," Hjak responded. "Death trumps drugs. Besides…."
"Yes?" Caleb prodded when Hjak didn't continue.
"There's a possibility this isn't what both of us are thinking. But I'm not going to discuss that with you until I know more."
Chapter 32
Kymbria stroked Scarlet, who sat beside her as she gazed upon her tiny daughter and waited for her to wake. Although she searched for it daily, the baby didn't appear to be developing a resemblance to either one of her parents. Perhaps a bit of Rick in that dimple in her chin, though Rick's dimple was definitely more prominent. And…she sighed. If she were honest, she couldn't really tell how much Marie's daughter had inherited of her mother's appearance. Kymbria hadn't paid much attention to Marie in the infrequent glimpses she'd had of her over the years after the other woman joined Rick's unit. There had been a couple joint Christmas parties, that one time at the German hospital….
She couldn't prevent herself from wondering once in a while what Rick would have wanted for his daughter, had he lived. No doubt about one thing for sure. Rick had wanted a divorce to marry the mother of his child, make a life with his new family. He'd want his daughter taken care of. Would he want Kymbria to be the one who did that?
Did she care? For some crazy reason, she did wish for his approval, even from the grave. Perhaps that feeling, too, was the beginning of healing.
She couldn't completely forget the first years of their marriage; honestly, the majority of their time together. How much in love she and Rick had been, despite minor flare-ups now and then. Or, she had thought them minor, up until that last year or so. Still, the good times outweighed all that: trips and R&R together, the sharing, the companionship, the friendship between them, all part of the love they shared. She'd never been tempted to cheat on Rick, even during their periodic separate deployments.
She couldn't hate him, although those last few days before he died, she’d thought hate her prevalent emotion. For something to do while she waited for Risa to open those beautiful eyes, she reached into her robe pocket to pull out the picture she'd found this morning when she cleaned out her purse. Every other picture of her and Rick’s life together was in storage, but she'd forgotten about this one until long after the funeral. The one she carried in the hidden compartment, the one taken at the state fair where she and Rick had met.
She'd known the group of men were military. There was an air about them. She and a friend had finagled a day's leave from the base and gone alone, just wanting to get away for a while, escape the stress of dealing with patients. Half drunk on both beer and freedom, the men had spotted them and descended.
"You two look way too somber for such a festive atmosphere," the one she learned was Rick said, zeroing in on her. "I'll bet we can cheer you up."
Nearby was one of those photo booths that gave five pictures for each dollar deposited. Rick had drawn her in with him, closed the curtain, then teased and tickled her until she laughed. The strip of pictures had shown the two of them clowning and happy, heads together. Rick had wanted to keep all of them; she talked him out of one. The sepia tones had darkened somewhat over the years, but she still treasured it.
They'd dated, although right from the first, she informed him that she wasn't interested in any sort of permanent relationship. Later, she even admitted she was barren, although at the time, that was an attempt to widen the distance between them, which was narrowing way too fast. She'd started missing him when they were apart, looking forward to seeing him again.
They'd made love. Even though she knew she would never marry, she wasn't about to lead a celibate life. But lovemaking with Rick was a lot more than she had counted on. More than sex, much more. A melding of their minds as well as their bodies.
He'd started asking her to marry him a month after they met. He countered all her objections, even her inability to become pregnant. It wasn't a good idea, anyway, he justified, to have children, given their career choices. They both were subject to tours in dangerous military hot zones. Should they change their minds later on down the road, Rick promised, they could adopt. They'd seen hundreds of children in need of homes over the years, both in the U.S. and during duty tours.
Rick. He was a good man. A damn good man. She'd buried way too much about their relationship the past year. It had been as much her fault that things went awry. Maybe more hers. For two years, Rick had been insisting they discuss resigning their commissions and settling down. Been reminding her of his agreement to adopt a child some day. She wanted to continue her upward career path, assuring him that she would consider leaving the Army after this next promotion. Then the next one.
If she'd left when they first started discussing it, Rick would still be alive. He wouldn't have fallen in love with Marie.
Was he…was he actually trying to save his marriage even then? Was he feeling an attraction to Marie so strong he was willing to give up his career to get away from her?
"My fault," Kymbria whispered as she caressed the picture. Then she sank to the floor, laid her head on her knees and sobbed.
"Stop it," she whispered when she found herself wishing Caleb was there to hold her. Wishing for another man while she wallowed in guilt over her dead husband. How could she? But hindsight was twenty-twenty. After the plane crash, she had put aside the animosity she felt for Marie and considered the baby. Would a child a part of Rick inherit some of his characteristics? His daughter would want to know about her father some day. And Kymbria didn't have the right to make the child pay for what her mother did, especially when it was partially Kymbria’s fault.
She admitted with a resigned sigh that she would even have to contact some of Rick's old buddies, try to establish a pool of information about Marie. Someday Risa would want to know about her mother, too, and Kymbria would have to bite the bullet and give her daughter some answers.
Risa stretched in the crib, tiny fists clenched, arms reaching above her head, and Kymbria gazed at her through the slats. She'd watched her daughter wake many times, and it would be a few more minutes before she demanded attention.
Risa was all Kymbria had left of Rick and their life together. But her love for this tiny person was in no way a divergence of her guilt over their shattered marriage. Risa was her daughter now, someone Kymbria loved more than she'd ever thought it possible to care for another person. She had to become a woman her daughter could emulate. Be an example for her.
Evidently catching her mood, Scarlet whined and snuggled closer. Kymbria stroked the setter's glossy hair, then laid down beside her. She cuddled the dog close, hoping maybe the presence of her loyal pet in her arms might fill a little of the loneliness, at least until Risa woke fully.
A fleeting thought tugged, and she frowned. But it flew from her mind before she could make a grab for it.
Or did it?
Scarlet trembled beside her, a low whine in her throat. Then Kymbria heard the faint whisper, far off, words indiscernible.
No, not completely indiscernible. Come! Then, even fainter, an Old Word she recognized as being a plea: the white word for Please.
"No," she breathed. It couldn't have. No way could the windigo be here in Duluth! Maybe her mother had returned. But who would she be talking to? It was too early for any visitors.
Risa whimpered, and Kymbria surged to her feet. She snatched her daughter from the crib and protected her in her arms, glaring around the room as Risa caught her tenseness and fright and drew in a breath, preliminary to a sob of distress.
Nimiwin, she heard in her mind. Cingusi, gidima —
Risa's wail cut off any chance of interpreting the words. Instead, Kymbria used her own mind to warn the being, if that was
what it was, while she hurried out of the bedroom.
You will not come near my daughter! Don't you dare approach Risa! I will see you in hell first!
Even her daughter's cries couldn't drown out what she thought she heard next: Nibowin. Yes!
What had that thing said? Nibowin meant death, that much she recalled of the Old Words. Was it threatening her? For some reason, that didn't work. The thing had had plenty of chances to kill her already. What else could it mean?
Nibowin. Yes!
What the hell? Was the beast wanting to die? It was already dead, damn it!
She slowed her steps as she smelled coffee and realized her mother was probably waiting in the kitchen. Should she tell her that fucking monster had been here? Maybe not physically, but somehow it had again touched her mind. A weak touching, probably due to the distance between them, but she had been able to hear the words. On reconsideration, the mind-touchings at the lake hadn't been that strong, at least, not at first. The distance between them now could account for the weakness….
Or had that son of a bitch found her here? Caleb had said it could almost think itself somewhere….
What she had heard highlighted the fear that, if she didn't find out what was going on, she might live with remorse. Or…maybe die regretting it.
She strode into the kitchen. Niona sat at the table, a cup of coffee in front of her and a concerned expression on her face as she looked at the unsettled baby in Kymbria's arms. For an instant, Kymbria thought about forestalling this discussion. Dark circles marred the skin beneath her mother's drawn eyes.
"I've got a bottle warm for her there beside the microwave," Niona said.
Kymbria grabbed the bottle and settled in the rocking chair they kept in the kitchen for the sole purpose of feeding Risa. After the first gulp, her daughter snuggled against her breast and settled in. Kymbria waited for another few moments, until she could speak without screaming at her mother and upsetting Risa again.
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