Death Chant

by Vella Munn

  Booth stepped to her side, grabbed her hair and jerked her head back. Ignoring her screaming shoulders and arms, she strained to separate her hands. Sweat stained her body. She bared her teeth.

  “I’ll do—do…”

  She sensed more than felt the knife touch her throat. Maybe had less than a second to live. Would die the same way Doc and Floyd had.

  Her hands sprang apart. Pain seared her upper body, but she ignored the sensation as she brought her arms forward and struck his cheek with the rock. Cursing, he released her hair. Enraged, she tucked her bound legs under her and struggled to her knees. Growled.

  “No! You couldn’t—”

  She dropped the rock and launched herself as best she could, grabbing him around his hips with one arm and struggling to push him back. She held up her other arm to keep the knife from striking her vital organs. A fist struck her eye. Despite her blurred vision, she saw the knife coming at her from the side.

  She ducked and drove her head into his belly. He lurched backward, breaking free of her hold. Off balance, she fell forward.

  “How’d—”

  Booth danced to her side and kicked her. The force behind the blow made her gasp. He aimed for her head. Despite being stunned, she managed to cover it with her hands.

  Pain swelled in her throat. This time, instead of screaming, she howled. The sound strengthened her, and she forced her arms and legs under her. Booth had backed away, retrieved his pistol, and was staring at her as if he’d just seen something inhuman.

  She howled again, keeping the sound going until her lungs burned. “Untie my legs,” she demanded. “Make the battle an equal one.”

  “Not supposed to happen like this, not supposed…” Watching Booth fight to hold onto his weapons despite his trembling, she again almost felt sorry for him.

  A howl spun him away from her. “Where’s the bastard? You can’t be calling him in, you can’t. What are you, insane?”

  Maybe they both were, not that it mattered.

  “You aren’t going to get away with killing me,” she said. “They’ll look for me, find—you’ll leave clues—”

  “Not if that damn wolf gets hold of you. Besides, no one here cares what happens to you. You’ve made enemies.”

  Not with Jay, she hadn’t. She refused to believe that. She struggled to stand but couldn’t. Sitting on her rump, she bent her legs and reached for the ankle rope.

  Her mind-wolf showed his fangs.

  Booth shook the knife and pistol at her. “Last chance to live, Winter. Tell me where the damn files are, now.”

  “Wolf!” she cried. “Please show yourself. Make him face what he’s doing.”

  Booth stared down at her as if he’d never seen her before. Her fingers clawed at the ropes.

  “Not a bullet,” he muttered. “If there’s anything left of you once the wolf’s done, they might find it. A knife. Yes. Lots of blood.”

  Even with her hands free, she was still at Booth’s mercy. Her mind stalled over the question of whether Wolf had enough substance to save her. She wanted to live! Needed to experience life!

  To love.

  Booth wasn’t far away, and yet it seemed to take him forever to close the distance between them. She was done trying to talk to him, had become more animal than human.

  As her enemy widened his stance, she filled her lungs. Her howl echoed.

  “Shit! Stop it!”

  Booth rocked from side to side, looking for his advantage. She rocked with him, continuing to howl as she did.

  “Don’t, don’t, don’t!” he screamed.

  The instant he jabbed with the knife, she threw her body to the right. Her elbow and hip struck the ground. Before she could straighten, he shoved her onto her side with his boot. Snarling, she stared up at her killer.

  No way would she plead for her life.

  “Get the hell away from her!”

  Chapter Thirty

  Jay’s command pulled Winter back from the brink of madness. It didn’t matter how he’d gotten there, just that he was. Jay was little more than a man-sized shadow surrounded by night, and yet, suddenly, she could breathe more easily.

  “Who—” Booth started. “Damn it, no!”

  “You heard me.” Jay’s words were like drumbeats. “Get away from her.”

  Instead of obeying, Booth dropped the knife. The pistol, looking like death, rose. Before Booth could shoot, Jay launched himself. His strength knocked Booth off his feet. The two landed on the ground, feet from her. Grunts and curses filled the air as they wrestled. Wolf’s familiar howl was accompanied by cries from a new voice.

  Jay, be careful! She wanted to scream but didn’t dare distract him. Jay was the stronger of the two, but Booth’s desperation might tip the balance. Besides, Booth had the weapon.

  Muted thuds told her blows were landing. For several seconds, she remained in place while pain sang through her. Then her mind cleared. Hissing from the effort, she crawled toward the knife. Staring at the combatants, she scooped it up and began slicing the ropes around her ankles.

  One of the men cried out. More blows, accompanied by profanity. They embraced, broke free, punched and kicked, again clung to each other. She didn’t see how Booth could keep hold of the pistol, but if it was trapped between them—

  The gun went off.

  “Jay!” she bellowed.

  The darkness intensified, and she couldn’t remember how to make her hand work. She buried herself in the silence. Became part of it. Felt the wilderness embrace her.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Booth babbled.

  “No!” Her throat burned.

  One of the men stood.

  Jay. The pistol was in his right hand.

  “You bastard!” Jay yelled. “You murdering bastard.”

  Because she’d briefly stopped being a human and had become animal-like, she recognized the same in Jay. If he shot Booth, she’d testify on his behalf.

  Wolf wailed. More of the shrill cries she’d heard a few minutes ago joined Wolf’s message.

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “Raven,” Jay answered.

  As she continued listening to the strident caws, she realized that, on some level, she’d accepted what had been responsible for the sound. Now, she understood something else—Raven was speaking to Jay.

  “Get up,” Jay ordered.

  Booth staggered to his feet. The way he stood bent over put her in mind of a fighter at the end of a long match. His breathing sounded tortured, and his head hung. Thank god the bullet had missed.

  “It’s over,” Jay said.

  “I know.”

  Booth started crying.

  Incapable of speaking, she finished freeing her ankles and planted her legs under her. She felt strong. Free. Wild.

  “Give me the rope.” Jay didn’t take his attention off Booth.

  She did as he commanded. Her mind replayed what had taken place right before Jay showed up. Without his intervention, she’d be dead, or wishing she were.

  Jay handed her the pistol, spun Booth so his back was to them and tied Booth’s hands behind him. That done, he ordered Booth to sit. The man who’d been her captor obeyed without protest. He sagged so far over that his head nearly touched the ground.

  Jay extended a hand toward her. She started to give the pistol back to him. Then suddenly, somehow, his arms were around her, and her free one was around him. She wasn’t going to cry! Not she who didn’t know how. Who’d become part wolf.

  “I wanted to kill him,” Jay said. “I would have if Raven hadn’t— Are you all right?”

  Jay smelled of sweat and forest. He held her so tight she couldn’t move. “I’m fine. What about Raven?” she asked.

  “He convinced me not to.”

  Hard as it was to back away from this man who meant so much to her, she pushed against his chest. His fingers slid down her arms and settled over her wrists. She didn’t care what Booth saw or heard. Booth didn’t matter. Only Jay and w
hat he’d just told her did.

  “You believe Raven…” She couldn’t finish.

  Jay eased the pistol out of her hand and tucked it in his coat pocket. Then he laced his fingers through hers.

  “He brought me to you.”

  In her mind’s eye, she saw Jay’s spirit helper and Wolf together. She intended to tell Jay about Wolf’s role tonight, but that could wait. Wolf had given her courage while Raven had been Jay’s eyes in the dark.

  Saved her.

  Tears burned. Started to fall. For the first time in many, many years, she didn’t will them away as she lifted her head in silent invitation. Jay bracketed her face with his hands and kissed her. Long. Gentle.

  “You’re crying,” he said at length. “Where’d he hurt you?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “I heard you scream.” His fingers slid to her throat. “I was so damn scared. If I’d been too late—”

  “You weren’t. Raven wouldn’t let you be. Between him and Wolf—”

  “Give me time to get used to having a spirit.”

  She nodded. “You’ll love it.”

  He sighed. “Yes, I will.”

  Now her fingers were in his hair so she could drag his head down toward her. Her throbbing thigh warned her not to attempt standing on her toes, but she ignored it.

  Only Jay mattered.

  Jay, with his heritage and ties to this land, with his commitment to the people who shared it with him.

  Jay, who’d followed his spirit into the forest to her.

  She kissed him. Touched his cheeks and neck. Held onto his shoulders and pressed her breasts and pelvis against him. Moaned when his tongue slipped between her lips. Stopped breathing when he whispered, “I love you.”

  “You forgive me for not telling you about the mask?” she asked when she trusted herself to speak.

  “I know why you did it. Yes, I forgive you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I just wish that hadn’t come between us.”

  “It’s in the past, now,” she whispered.

  “Yes, it is.”

  As the night breeze slipped through the trees, she had no doubt that Wolf and Raven were out there, watching and listening to them. “Jay?”

  “What?”

  Her hold on him tightened. “I love you.”

  Epilogue

  A week later…

  “Is it what you expected?” Jay asked.

  Much as she wanted to answer, Winter couldn’t speak. Even though he’d refused to tell her what Grandparents Cave looked like, she’d thought she’d be prepared. It would resemble a bear’s den, larger of course and protected from the elements, but nothing awe-inspiring.

  How wrong she’d been.

  The flashlights she and Jay carried illuminated a stone room nearly seven feet tall and twice as large as the cabin they now shared. They’d had to walk bent over, after he’d pushed aside the boulder that served to hide and protect the entrance. Then the space had opened up.

  A natural stone shelf along two walls served as the display area for at least twenty ceremonial masks similar to the one she carried. The painstakingly detailed masks stared at her as if taking their measure of her. Two depicting bull elks must have been part of a heretofore unknown elk renewal ceremony she’d come across in one of the oral histories.

  A large, exquisitely decorated wood chest rested on a deerskin rug on the floor. When she trained her flashlight on it, light from hundreds of embedded abalone shells glittered back at her. Next to the chest stood an elongated mask she recognized as being from the Nootka tribe. A dozen carved and painted salmon figures had been secured to the mask’s neck to represent the salmon’s vital role in early Native survival. She noted an ornate Tlingit pipe that was in far better condition than the one she’d seen at a museum.

  Three totem poles at least twenty feet long lay next to each other on the ground. The bases had started to decay due to having once been set in the ground. In contrast, what ancient craftsmen had carved into the poles looked new. The three-dimensional depictions of animals, birds, fish, even humans were so lifelike they spooked her a little.

  “Haida,” she whispered, indicating the totems.

  “Good guess.”

  “Not really. I know my tribes.”

  “Your tribes. I love hearing you say that.”

  They’d discussed her place in the Native American world since Jay saved her life, including what Wolf had told her about her right to touch the mask. They’d spent even more time speaking with law enforcement, particularly Christian, who obviously realized they weren’t telling him everything but didn’t see the point in pressuring them.

  Winter had heard from the grants people that they’d rejected Wilheim’s request to have the grant transferred to him based in large part on his abrasive personality. They’d told her to contact them when and if she was ready to continue Doc’s work. Later the same day, Carolyn had called to tell her rumors were rampant that Wilheim was being pressured to take early retirement.

  Michael was still working for the park but was sending out résumés because, as he put it, his talents weren’t being appreciated there. The truth was that representatives from the various Northwest Native American tribes had sent a formal statement to several key politicians detailing their objections to his attempts to exploit them. Jay had signed his name to the document.

  He’d also put in for a week’s vacation next month so he could accompany Winter when she went to visit Doc’s son and grandchildren. They’d decided to go well in advance of Booth’s murder and attempted murder trial.

  Winter had been concerned that Booth’s defense attorney would question why Booth had killed Doc and Floyd and she’d be forced to explain more than she wanted to, but the D.A.’s office assured her they’d keep the focus on Booth’s attempt to kill her. Hopes were he’d plead guilty.

  “No wonder the Natives don’t want outsiders to see this,” she said. The cave was cool and dark but without the humidity that permeated the rest of the forest. As Jay had explained, the stone walls, ceiling and floor kept moisture out.

  “How do you feel?”

  They’d come here, just the two of them, so she could return the wolf mask to where it belonged.

  “I’m in awe.”

  “Is that all?”

  Jay had changed since she’d first met him—no, not changed so much as evolved. Deeper and more spiritual. He was still a forest ranger and a loving nephew, but it seemed to her that he had a greater appreciation for his surroundings. Maybe that’s what he was getting at with his question.

  Leaving him, she walked over to the ledge and placed the mask next to one that represented a bear. “You’re home,” she whispered. “Where you belong.”

  She faced Jay. “That’s what you wanted me to say, isn’t it? To realize that not everything about the past is fodder for anthropologists and historians. Not everything should be studied and evaluated and then relegated to professional journals or textbooks.”

  “In part.”

  What more did he want? Weighed down by the question, she moved about the cave while he watched her. She touched an ivory and abalone shell double-headed sea lion’s head. As she trailed her fingers over the exquisite workmanship, she envisioned the craftsman who’d created what a shaman had once used to capture departing souls.

  Next to the soul catcher was a colorful Tlingit rattle some long-dead shaman had depended on to call up his guardian spirit. The wooden rattle showed an intertwined fox and man. Undoubtedly the turquoises, reds and blacks were as vibrant now as when the instrument had been created.

  She faced Jay. “This place is all about belief. Endurance. Reverence. That’s what Doc didn’t understand. When your uncle said Yakanon to me, he was trying to tell me that my mentor didn’t have a soul.” She sighed. “Yakanon is right, but I still mourn Doc.”

  “Doc wasn’t all bad.” Arms at his sides, Jay joined her. “Just as my brother wasn’t.” He indicated th
e new tattoo on his forearm that was a likeness of a smiling Floyd. “Even Booth accomplished some good.”

  A good she hoped to learn more about as soon as she began her new job as park librarian. Smiling, she wrapped her arms around Jay’s neck and rose onto her toes. Thanks to the healing salve Talio had given her, her thigh barely protested.

  “I’m so glad you brought me here. I want to thank everyone who safeguards this for trusting me enough to make this possible. They’ll never understand how much it means to me.”

  “Yes, they do.”

  She didn’t ask what he meant, and he didn’t elaborate, because kissing and holding on took priority. By then, she was half crazy with wanting the man she’d had sex with every night since he’d rescued her from Booth.

  He pushed her back from him but held on. “The Native council will continue their efforts to keep Dr. Wilheim and others like him as far from the land around Ghost Totem as possible.”

  “I’m glad. I agree with their decision in ways I never would have been able to before.”

  “Which is why they want you to have this.”

  He reached under his shirt and withdrew an eagle feather on a leather strip. His features gentle, he handed it to her.

  One hand went to her mouth while the other reached for what only Native Americans had a right to.

  “You belong here,” Jay whispered. “My uncle and the other elders accept and embrace you almost as much as I do.”

  Unable to speak, she slipped the necklace over her head and settled the feather against her skin, inches from her tattoo. Then she was back on her toes with her arms around Jay. Their lips sealed.

  Despite the thick walls, a wolf’s howl and a raven’s cry reached them. She emotionally embraced Wolf and had no doubt Jay was doing the same with his spirit.

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  Excerpt

  Chapter One

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