by Lee Driver
“For the love of…” Dagger breathed, returning his gun to his holster and shaking his leather coat off. “I have to get you to a hospital.”
“No!” Her hands gripped his arms as he wrapped her in his coat. He stripped out of his shirt and tied it tightly around her injured leg that had been shot off just below the knee. “You have to take me to my grandmother. She’s the only one who can help. Please, Dagger.”
“You need a doctor, Sara.” There was an underlying fear and desperation in her voice. Her eyes pleaded and he was a sucker for those eyes.
The door to the downstairs bedroom was slightly ajar. Curious, Dagger peered through the opening at Sara’s sweat-soaked body which was covered in a sheet. Sara’s grandmother had not seemed the least bit excited about her granddaughter’s condition. She had just instructed Dagger to lay her on the bed and thanked him for bringing her home. For some reason, he couldn’t tear himself away without getting some answers.
As the grandmother pulled back the sheet, exposing the injured leg, Dagger was shocked to see that half of it had already grown back. The bleeding had stopped, almost as if it had been cauterized. A cold chill crept up his back. Dagger’s gaze moved up the sheet, watching Sara’s chest rise and fall with each ragged breath. His gaze settled on her face where her opened eyes, filled with tears, were staring right at him. Startled, he pulled away and pressed his back against the wall. Five years as a PI and he had never seen anything that so shocked and bewildered him. His mind was numb, unable to digest what he had seen.
He moved away from the bedroom and surveyed the house, which looked like the showroom and automotive repair facility Simon had talked about. There were stone walls, tiled floors, numerous windows, and skylights. Other than area rugs and what looked like garage sale furniture, there didn’t seem to be anything extravagant in the living room. There was one wall of shelving loaded with books, a television, and a VCR. Stairs lead up to a second floor that probably once housed offices that overlooked the downstairs, and there was a catwalk that dissected the width of the living room.
He located the kitchen and with shaky legs dropped down onto a chair. From the looks of all the fresh vegetables gathered on the counter, it would be his guess that they had a large garden out back.
Sara’s grandmother appeared out of nowhere and poured two glasses of cognac. She reminded him of Yoda with her stooped appearance and heavy-lidded eyes. His hand shook as he brought the glass to his lips and gulped the hot liquid. She refilled it quickly.
“How is Sara?” Dagger asked in a raspy voice.
“She will be fine,” Ada replied. “I can’t thank you enough for being there tonight and bringing her back to me.” Her eyes had a milky veil and her head shook slightly as if she had a mild case of Parkinson’s disease. It was difficult to tell her age.
“What…how did…?” But Dagger couldn’t seem to get the words out. He dragged a hand through his long, damp hair.
“Sara is a shapeshifter,” Ada explained. “Some say it is just Native American folklore. It was believed elders could shift into animal forms in order to spy on their enemies. Others believed there were those with more bestial natures who would kill the farmers’ cattle. I first witnessed Sara’s abilities when she was six years old, when her parents died. That was twelve years ago on a reservation in Montana. She withdrew from her human form to deal with the grief. She didn’t know how to change back. I took her to a powerful medicine man who had been outcast from the tribe because he was a shapeshifter. They were afraid of him. He took us in and showed Sara how to control her shifting. To some, it is a curse. But to us, it is a magical gift. Sara shifts into two distinct forms.”
Dagger paused, his glass near his lips. He was already feeling the effects of the liquor. “There’s another shape besides a wolf?”
“Yes,” Ada said with a hint of pride. “Besides the gray wolf, Sara also shifts to a gray hawk, a beautiful creature with a wing span of forty inches.”
No wonder she couldn’t tell me how she got the badge, Dagger thought. “And,” he glanced toward the doorway, “her leg. How does she…?”
“A shape-hifter has regenerative powers. Bleeding stops quickly and the body begins to regrow parts and close wounds.”
Dagger shook his head, feeling something rattling between his ears, losing equilibrium. He wondered if this was how people felt right before passing out.
“I know this is all very hard to understand.”
“Ma’am,” Dagger said as he stood. “You don’t know the half of it.”
“Yes, I do,” was her parting remark.
“Grandmother?” Sara opened her eyes as Ada patted Sara’s face with a cool washcloth.
“You must rest, Sara.”
“He saw, Grandmother. Dagger saw.”
“I know, dear. He’s gone now.”
Trying to lift herself up from the bed she said, “But the wolf will kill him. There can be no witnesses. The wolf will kill.”
“Shhhh. Be still, my child. I am safe from the wolf because you and I are connected by blood. According to legend, he is protected because he saved the wolf.” Ada fingered the necklace hanging from her neck. It was a black leather cord with a sterling silver wolf head pendant. Its eyes were made of two bright turquoise gems.
A package was waiting for Dagger the next day when he arrived at his office.
“AWWWKK. YOU’RE LATE; YOU’RE LATE,” Einstein scolded as he flew over and clamped his claws onto the back of a chair.
“I know, Einstein.” Dagger tore open the envelope and spilled audiotapes on the desk. They were from Mick Fazio with a note instructing Dagger to listen to them if for some reason something happened to him.
Crown jewel. Mick had made that comment in Dagger’s office six months ago. That was how Einstein associated Rollins’ name with crown jewel.
Dagger listened to the tapes and then made two phone calls, one to Ed Rollins, and the other to a friend with the FBI.
Sara stood on her upstairs balcony inhaling the clean, crisp air. Her thoughts turned to Dagger and how it felt when he held her. She was afraid for him. What if her grandmother was wrong? Legend is just that. Legend. They really had no way of knowing what would happen the next time the wolf saw Dagger. There weren’t any rulebooks and no one to confide in. Just like in the past, they might have to run again, get the wolf as far away as possible so it wouldn’t be tempted to protect Sara’s identity. She would never be able to forgive herself if someone else died because of her.
She stepped out onto the balcony. Night was fast approaching, bringing with it a damp mist. There was unfinished business. That was the problem with having the instincts of the hawk and wolf. Sara could hear things other people couldn’t hear, go places and see things not humanly possible. She owed it to Mick Fazio to bring his killers to justice. Smiling, she silently called upon the spirit of the hawk, bowed her head, and felt the spirit enter her. Her dress fell away, shed like some unwanted skin, a cumbersome annoyance. And the hawk took flight.
A semi pulled up, the freight door lifted, spilling the light from inside. When Rollins stepped out of the warehouse, Dagger emerged from his hiding place. Dagger’s earlier telephone conversation with Rollins had hinted that Rollins might be in need of someone to replace Mick.
“Are you Dagger?” Rollins asked, his beady eyes studying Dagger. Rollins was joined by a stocky man wearing pounds of gold and an expensive-looking suit that would meet Sheila’s approval.
“You must be the fruit of Mayor Sawyer’s loins,” Dagger quipped. Mick Sawyer took a step forward. Three youths jumped down from the back of the truck, positioning themselves around Dagger. They sported black berets and armbands. The grips of guns could be seen in the waistbands of their jeans. He felt surrounded by three fire hydrants. The best he could hope for was that they had poor aim.
“Calm down, boys,” Rollins instructed. “Let’s hear what the gentleman has to say.”
Dagger pressed the play button on the re
corder. Mick Fazio’s voice was heard clearly, explaining how he had first suspected something when valuables listed on theft reports were showing up in Rollins’ possession. Ed Rollins, head of the Gang Task Force, was using gang members to steal expensive artwork and jewelry from rich suburbanites. The items were then smuggled out of state to fences in New York and Miami. Mick had been working with Internal Affairs to bust the theft ring.
“Pretty lucrative business you two boys have masterminded.” Dagger clicked off the recorder as he stepped closer.
“We’re not in need of any more partners,” Sawyer barked, pulling out his gun. “But we’ll take those tapes.”
“Not so fast.” Dagger held up Rollins’ badge. “Lose something, Sergeant?”
Rollins lit a cigar and tossed the match at Dagger’s feet. “Think you’re pretty brave coming in here?”
Dagger noticed a hawk circling overhead. He saw leaves rustling and the shadow of a figure lurking. Snipers? He had suspected as much and wondered exactly how many were out there. Then the hawk moved to another tree to his right, circling over another shadow lurking in the dark. Dagger smiled slowly and shrugged. “Maybe I’m not alone.”
Things happened quickly. FBI agents arrived in four unmarked cars, storming the warehouse as Dagger shot two of the snipers. High-beam lights flooded the area. The youths were inexperienced, not knowing where to run or where to shoot first.
“You okay, Dagger?” The gray-haired agent asked after the dust settled.
Dagger nodded, patting his bulletproof vest. He watched as the hawk lighted on a nearby post, its blue-green eyes shining brightly. Dagger thought he might be reading into it but he could swear the hawk seemed to wait to make sure he was all right before gracefully swooping over the area and disappearing into the shadowy forest.
Dagger sat at his desk listening to another call from Sheila. There were already three on the recorder. It was one-thirty in the morning and he didn’t feel like going home where there were probably even more messages, and he definitely didn’t feel like talking to Sheila.
“Dagger, honey. Where are you? I know I should be mad at you, baby.” She started out sounding hurt that he had missed the rehearsal, trying to sound understanding, but then her true character came through. “You son of a bitch. Where are you? Daddy is so upset. But I made excuses for you, again.” There was silence for a few moments and then an exhaustive expletive. Sheila hung up.
“AWK. GOOD RIDDANCE,” Einstein bellowed as he paced back and forth on his perch.
Leaning back in his chair, Dagger propped his legs on the desk and rubbed his hands across his face feeling the dirt and grit from the gravel lot.
“You never liked Sheila, did you Einstein?” Einstein shook his head frantically back and forth. Dagger smiled. He should give Sheila a call, but he didn’t know yet how to tell her he wasn’t going to make it to the wedding either.
All he could think of was Sara. Her naked body lying on the ground in the forest, her shapeshifting abilities, and the way her leg had regenerated. He had just come across a magical, undiscovered island, and he had to explore it first.
“And what about Sara? Do you like Sara, Einstein?”
Einstein let out a whistle.
“I don’t know why I ever agreed to marry Sheila. This should be a lesson, buddy. Never have more than one martini.” Dagger closed his eyes, pressing his palms to his forehead to ward off the headache that was developing.
He felt the air move, and opened his eyes to see Einstein, wings spread, landing on the desk. Einstein plodded over to Dagger and dropped something in front of him. It was a cheese curl.
Dagger smiled as he picked up the treat. “Thanks, but I think it’s going to take more than a cheese curl.”
In the morning, after a restless nap, Dagger showered and drove over to Sara’s. He rapped lightly on the back door. After a few moments, he peered through the screen at the empty kitchen. Somewhere inside he heard someone crying. Pulling lightly on the door, it opened and he stepped inside.
On the kitchen counter was a sheet of paper with his name printed in shaky lettering. Beside the notepad was the leather cord necklace Sara’s grandmother had worn yesterday.
Dagger followed the soft cries to the downstairs bedroom where he found Sara, her arms wrapped around her grandmother. Ada was a light shade of gray and her face had the most serene look.
“Sara?” Dagger sat on the edge of the bed.
Sara slowly looked up. “She must have died in her sleep.” Sara let the tears fall freely, pressing her cheek to Ada’s forehead. “She promised she would never leave me,” Sara sobbed. Her hand shook as she swiped at her tears.
Dagger felt Ada’s skin. Rigor was beginning to set in.
He kept Sara busy gathering Ada’s possessions that she might want buried with her while he dug a grave on a flowery knoll overlooking Thornton Creek. Sara carried some of Ada’s favorite plants to the gravesite.
After pounding a makeshift cross into the ground, Dagger returned to the house to find Sara sitting cross-legged on the couch, sobbing quietly, her hands clenched tightly. He sat down next to her.
“It’s as if Grandmother knew.” She unfolded the note and handed him the necklace. “I think she wanted you to have this.”
Dagger took the necklace from her and touched her arm. Her body recoiled like the frightened wolf he had found in the forest. Sara, too, was afraid of all humans except her grandmother. It would take a lot to quell her fears of living in a world as an outcast.
For a moment when he had met Ada yesterday, he had wondered if she was Sara’s great-grandmother, not grandmother. If he counted the folds of skin as anyone would the rings in a tree to determine age, she had to have been over one hundred years old. It was as though she had been waiting for someone to take her place as Sara’s protector. Once Dagger came on the scene, Ada seemed grateful finally to be able to rest.
His gaze drifted toward the skylights and he took in the enormous size of the house. The property was isolated, safe, and secure. He walked over to an adjacent room that was sparsely dotted with floor plants. By the looks of the floor drains, it might have been planned as the service center for the car dealership.
Glancing over at Sara he saw a frightened child in many ways but a unique woman in others. Although Ada Kills Bull had been able to be a companion and confidante to her granddaughter, there was very little she taught her about the outside world, his world.
“Come here, Sara.”
Slowly Sara approached, still keeping her distance, her hands trembling.
“Einstein and I have been kicked out of our apartment and office. I think this area would make a great bird room. I can take over your grandmother’s bedroom and,” he turned toward the living room, “I can cordon off a portion of the living room to set up my office.” He studied her face as she nervously chewed on her bottom lip. “What do you think?”
You mean you want to move in here after you are married?”
“No, Sara. There isn’t going to be a wedding.”
“Oh.”
“That relationship was on shaky ground from the start.”
“Oh,” Sara repeated.
“I can pay you one thousand dollars a month for the room and office space.”
“That’s way too much,” Sara protested.
“You need to make a living, Sara. You can’t live on vegetables and hand-me-downs all your life.” At least she didn’t say no, Dagger thought. “Seven hundred and fifty and that’s my last offer.” Sara forced a smile. “Dagger Investigations could also use a partner.”
“Me?”
Dagger smiled. “I could use someone with your unusual…talents.” Sara’s eyes filled again. He cautiously reached out, wrapped his arms around her and held her until she stopped shaking. “You’re going to be fine, Sara,” he whispered. “Your secret is safe with me.”
- END -
Note from the author:
Sara Morningsky first appeared in A Myster
y in Mind Anthology in 2004. This short story is a prelude to the Chase Dagger series and was never meant to be a series. However, the characters refused to shut up. There are currently four books in the series. The Good Die Twice, Full Moon Bloody Moon, The Unseen, and Chasing Ghosts. Visit the author at www.sdtooley.com