by Kim Murphy
“A vision?” he asked.
“It’s similar to the dreaming, but I didn’t go through the steps to enter the dreaming. I just saw it. I know you may have difficulty believing—”
“Nay, you know I have seen much since coming to Virginia that questions what I was taught as a lad. What sort of vision?”
“It’s about my people, killing your family, including you.”
He wobbled on his feet. “Elenor, Christopher...”
“All of them. The only one I didn’t see was James.”
Henry paled. “Do such visions normally come to pass?”
“I don’t know. Wildcat told me that sometimes they’re warnings to prevent such disasters. And you know I’ll do whatever I can to keep it from happening, but I have no idea as to when it might take place. If I could reach Phoebe, she might be able to search the records for this century. Even then, the records are sparse for this time period.”
“What should I do?”
“Be on your guard. That’s all I ask.”
“Aye, I shall, and I’ll make certain the family takes proper precautions.”
* * *
During the winter, Charging Bear visited twice, bringing pelts and deer meat in exchange for English goods. Although the colony was more sustainable than when it had first been settled, it remained considerably dependent on England. The spring ships had yet to arrive at port, giving Henry little to trade.
More to the point, Charging Bear’s manner troubled me. I couldn’t quite put my finger on what was wrong. After dealing with Henry, we passed a pipe around, and he asked about Meg and Phoebe. “I haven’t been able to reach Phoebe, and Meg... she’s been in an accident,” I said. I described what I knew as best as I could, yet Charging Bear asked no questions. He was clearly distracted. It was almost like the vitality had been sucked right out of him. “How’s Strong Bow?” I asked, changing the subject.
“He’s in good health,” he replied.
I had been a cop for far too long. Something was definitely wrong. Finally, I pulled him aside when the others were nowhere around. “What’s wrong, Charging Bear? You’re my brother. Tell me what troubles you.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know the details.”
“Details? What details?”
“Come spring, there will be an attack on the colony. I don’t know when and won’t be allowed to trade again before then.”
Attack? Paramount chief Opechancanough had attacked the colonists in 1622. Phoebe’s first husband, Lightning Storm, had been involved. Had there been another? If only I could recall my history, but an organized attack could be the source of my visions. I squeezed Charging Bear’s arm. “You may have saved Walks Through Mist’s family.”
“I wish I could say more, but the weroance plan in secrecy until shortly before it is time to make their move.”
The fact that he had managed to gain some knowledge of the leaders’ plans was useful. The vision Meg and I had seemed a possible reality. I had to keep trying to reach Phoebe. She might be able to provide me with more information.
* * *
When I entered the dreaming, Crow led the way, but the wind was absent. Foreboding filled me, yet when the mist vanished, I entered my own dining room. Phoebe, Meg, and Tiffany sat around a table with kiddie party favors. I waved, but no one returned it, nor did they look in my direction.
Phoebe rose and blew out a candle on a cake in the shape of cartoon-looking yellow duck, labeled with a one. From the high chair, Heather squealed in delight. I was missing my daughter’s first birthday. Although my job had kept me away from the house for many hours at a time, I had never expected to be the sort of dad who missed milestones. My heart ached.
“Phoebe.” But she didn’t look in my direction. “Meg, I’ve reached you before.” Nothing. I could see and hear them, but for whatever reason, I was invisible.
Like any kid’s party, there was cake and ice cream. Afterward, Heather charged around the room while holding onto Phoebe’s fingers for support. It wouldn’t be long before she’d take the first step under her own power. And Meg seemed to be recovering slowly from the accident. She resorted to the use of a cane in getting around.
The idyllic scene lulled me into believing that I really was present. That if only I wished hard enough, I could stay and forget about the reason why I had come. I could call Ed and have my old job back. After spending most of the winter huddled around a fire, even Shae’s comment about central heating haunted me. I had spent more nights than I cared to think about shivering in cold cars during stake outs; I thought how nice it would be to not have to worry about a fire going out in order to keep warm.
Oh what the hell. I was with my family—even if only in spirit. Tiffany blew bubbles, and Heather crawled after them. One popped on the floor near my foot before Heather could reach it. I knelt down. “Heather...” She looked up as if she had heard me, and I repeated her name. “If only you could talk, you could give your mother a message. I miss you—all of you.”
Phoebe stepped beside our daughter and I straightened. For a moment, she seemed to gaze in my direction. Crow cawed a warning.
“Lee?” She smiled. “I knew you wouldn’t miss Heather’s birthday.”
I had finally broken through whatever barrier had kept us apart. But the breeze came between us. Before the wind could separate us, I drew her into my arms, kissed, and hugged her. If only I held onto her tight enough... the gusts grew stronger, and my arms were empty. I sat near the James River in the same place as I had when first entering the dreaming. I clenched my hands and struggled to keep from screaming. I didn’t know how long I had sat in the same spot, unmoving, when the spring air ruffled my hair. I cast my gaze to the tranquil waves and blinked. A small shallop sailed toward Henry’s dock. Uncertain whether I was visible to the crew, I ducked behind a clump of trees and watched as a couple of men secured the mooring.
Before I could alert Henry to the crew’s presence, he appeared on the dock, grinning from ear to ear. The kids scampered after him, screaming with excitement and jumping up and down. No one needed to tell me who the men were. Henry’s son and Elenor’s husband had returned.
I sought out Wildcat and William and waited until the initial welcomes and hugs were over. Finally, the group turned in our direction. Elenor held Christopher’s arm in a stranglehold grip. Around five foot ten with light brown hair and blue eyes, he reached out to shake my hand. Maybe due to the fact that he had a mixed heritage wife, he showed no hesitation greeting me. His grasp was strong and confident, but before my eyes his face shattered like glass.
Blinking back the vision, I withdrew my hand, and Christopher went on to meet Wildcat and William. My hand shook, and I waited a moment to catch my breath.
“What’s wrong, brother?” Wildcat asked.
“Another vision.” But he kept his place and didn’t inquire further. I collected myself before following everyone else inside. As usual, the women outdid themselves and cooked a feast to welcome Christopher and David home.
Over the meal, Christopher told us about the war in England. Their ship and cargo had been seized, which was why it had taken them two years to return to Virginia.
My history of seventeenth-century England was even worse than my history of Virginia. When I thought of a civil war, I thought of the American one. I really had no idea what the English one was about, but I picked up on the fact that it affected the ships to and from England. Surprisingly, Virginia had remained neutral and benefited through trade with the Dutch, New England, and the West Indies.
By the time we retreated outside to pass the pipe and share more stories, Christopher and Elenor had withdrawn from the group. I hoped that Phoebe and I would be able to share a similar reunion soon, but reality hit me. Troubled by my visions and where they could be leading, I worried this reunion celebration might be cut short.
* * *
22
Phoebe
Even though Lee’s appearance had been fleeting, at least Phoebe h
ad relished a moment in his arms. But like always, he had vanished too soon. Throughout the day, she maintained a cheerful countenance—for Heather’s sake. ’Twas her first birthday, and Phoebe wouldn’t mark the occasion with a sullen face. Whilst the lasses played, Meg attempted to reassure her, but her friend had her own worries. Her memory continued to lapse, and she had frequent headaches. Though she grew stronger, she had resorted to the use of a cane due to an unsteady gait from her head injury. The dreaming was a release from Meg’s ailments, but the time had come to focus on her vision.
After the lasses went to bed, Phoebe went into the kitchen and collected the candle. In the parlor, they sat across from each other. She lit the candle. “Now concentrate.”
Instead of seeing the hound, Phoebe spied a dragonfly flitting upon the wind.
“I see it,” Meg said.
“Follow it. Your spirit has shown us that you shall lead.”
“Am I ready?”
“Your guardian spirit must think so.”
The blue-green insect’s iridescent wings beat a steady rhythm and led them straight into the mist. Aside Meg, Phoebe called for Carol, a woman they had known when they lived in transitional housing.
Meg begged for Carol to come out of her room, and then Lee appeared aside them. Phoebe resisted the temptation to go to him. This was the dreaming. He motioned for them to stand away from the door. “Carol, I’m Detective Crowley with the county police. Are you all right?”
Behind the door, Carol choked a sob but said, “Yes.”
“Open the door and let me see that you’re all right.” When no response returned, Lee tensed. “Carol...”
The door slowly opened, and a man with tattoos stepped out. Lee asked Carol, “Do you want to press charges?”
She shook her head and cried into a tissue.
Whilst Lee escorted the man out of the house, Phoebe and Meg went to Carol and asked her if she was all right.
The scene shifted and the dragonfly hovered. Meg smoked a glass tube. “Phoebe, I don’t wish to relive this.”
“ ’Tis all right, Meg. Your guardian won’t ask you ’til you’re ready.”
The dragonfly switched direction, and they continued through the mist. When they emerged from the fog, smoke rose from a chimney. They crept closer, and the brick house was engulfed in flames. “I’ve been here before,” Meg said, as if half remembering.
The sight of flames from Elenor and Henry’s house tore through Phoebe’s heart. ’Twasn’t real. She took a deep breath and moved forward. They were here to discover answers. An arrow sailed past her shoulder. Near the door, a boy screamed and fell. Christopher. She charged to his side and bent down. No pulse.
“Phoebe...” Meg pointed.
Two feet away lay Elenor with an arrow protruding from her breast. “Elenor...” She took the broken body of her daughter into her arms and cried on Elenor’s shoulder. “Elenor, ’tis my fault. I have failed you.”
“Phoebe!” Meg shook her. “We’re here to learn—to try and prevent this.” She pulled Phoebe away from the lifeless corpse.
“Elenor...” In silent grief, Phoebe reached out, turned away, and stepped inside the house. Elsa lay inside the door. Nicolas and Bess were in the parlor. Blood covered the walls and furniture. It pooled across the floor. Phoebe and Meg followed the trail. A warrior stood over Henry. He held Henry’s scalp lock in one hand. In the other, his knife cut around it. Henry screamed. The skin loosened, and the warrior jerked at Henry’s hair, lifting the scalp from his head.
Without seeing Phoebe and Meg, the warrior tucked the bloody scalp into his belt and slipped out the back door. Henry slumped to the floor.
“Henry...” Phoebe bent down to him. His breathing was shallow, but he was alive. Meg placed a cloth to his head to stifle the blood flow.
“Phoebe...” He gripped her arm. “You came.”
“ ’Tis Meg and Lee’s vision.”
“Aye, he... he told me.” He coughed up blood, and Phoebe examined him for another wound. “Phoebe...” His voice was so soft that Phoebe leaned closer to hear him better. “I ne’er meant to hurt you.”
“Oh Henry, you didn’t. Now, don’t do anything foolish.” She found the source of his bleeding. He had taken at least two knife wounds—one in the stomach and another in the chest. “Henry, I ne’er told you, but I did love you.” She continued, whispering words of comfort.
“Phoebe...” Henry’s eyes rolled up into his head, and his body writhed in fits. His shaking stopped, and he gasped for breath. “Phoebe...” His eyes flickered closed, then opened again in death. Elenor, Henry, her grandchildren, and her beloved servant... she couldn’t think straight.
The smoke from the fire thickened around them, and Meg bent aside her. “There’s more.”
“More?” How could her body take any more? Yet, she sensed a presence, then heard a death song near the door where Elsa lay. “Wind Talker.”
Meg and Phoebe groped their way through the smoke. Sputtering and coughing, Phoebe couldn’t locate him. His song came from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. She had no guidance. ’Twas like the time that he had been lost in the woods as a lad. She stretched her arms afore her and fumbled. “Wind Talker, where are you?” She repeated his name, and his voice went silent.
A warrior emerged from the smoke. He wore black war paint on his face and chest and carried a bow and arrow.
Meg gasped. “Charging Bear?”
“Go back. You mustn’t be here now.”
“Charging Bear,” Phoebe said.
He glanced in Phoebe’s direction, and his gaze hardened. “Especially you, or you will die with your family.”
“Is there any way we can change what is to come?” Phoebe asked.
“I don’t know. There will be an attack. Of that I am certain. Whether you can save your family remains to be seen. On that day the tassantassas will be my enemy.”
“Then you and Wind Talker...?”
“The choice is his.”
“You’re brothers—not enemies.”
“The choice is his,” Charging Bear repeated.
“Charging Bear,” Meg said. “This is how I envisioned you just before my accident. It scared me.”
His countenance softened slightly. “My heart sings when you’re near, but I must focus on the days ahead.” He looked to Phoebe. “Walks Through Mist, tell her of our ways, so that she may understand.”
“How can I? For I do not understand. Do not shame yourself as Lightning Storm did. He ne’er forgave himself for fighting the cowardly way of the tassantassas.” With her words, Charging Bear vanished. Phoebe blinked, and they were once again in the living room.
“I remember now,” Meg said. “That’s what I saw before the accident. Charging Bear and Lee were enemies. I was so afraid from the vision that I didn’t see the other car coming at me. It caused the accident.”
Phoebe went round the table and hugged Meg. “There may not be much time, but we’ll try to contact Lee to warn him and the family.”
Meg withdrew from her grip but remained tense. “I already have.”
“You have?”
“In the hospital. When I was in a coma. He heard me, and I told him about my vision.”
Phoebe hugged her friend once more. “Then you may have saved them.”
Meg grasped her cane and stood. “There might be more.”
“More?”
“I can’t believe that we were given the visions without a good reason. Maybe, just maybe, we can discover a date.” Meg shuffled over to the desk, sat in the chair, and began tapping away on the computer.
Phoebe followed Meg and peered over her shoulder. Of all of the twenty-first-century devices, computers confused her the most. The keyboard was in disarray, and she wondered how anyone found the correct letters. Tab key, shift key, enter—she was unable to recall what function the differing keys performed, but Meg’s fingers sailed across the keyboard in ways that Phoebe could only dream of.
“I think I found it!” Meg said. “In 1644 there was an Anglo-Powhatan War. Like the attack in 1622, many colonists were killed, but because there were more colonists in Virginia, the attack had less impact. It took place on April 18, 1644.”
Such an attack would explain Lightning Storm’s warning, as well as Charging Bear’s appearance. “ ’Twas spring when we caught glimpses during the dreaming. We need to find a way to warn them.”
Meg gripped Phoebe’s hand. “We both got through to Lee before. We can do it again.”
“Aye. We shall try again.”
* * *
23
Wind Talker
I lay in a dream state and imagined Phoebe calling my name. “Walks Through Mist,” I whispered. More than anything, I wanted to draw her into my arms.
“Wind Talker,” she repeated.
Her voice sounded urgent, and I sat up. “Phoebe?”
“The attack will come on April 18th.”
The date—what was the date? In my muddled state, I couldn’t think clearly. Spring had arrived, but I had lost track of the days. I suspected April had arrived because the trees were almost fully in leaf. “I don’t know what the date is.”
“Henry will have an almanac.”
“Good. I’ll ask him. Elenor’s husband and Henry’s son have returned.”
“Then you’re not here to aid in their return?”
I had never believed I could be helpful in that regard. “No. I’m convinced I’m here to help your family in the upcoming attack.” Though she remained silent, I spotted fear in her eyes. Paspahegh women voiced their worries between themselves, so as not to distract the men from taking dangerous but necessary actions. “It’s no different than when I was a cop,” I said. “I have a job to do. I’m convinced this is why I was sent here.” Her brow furrowed. “You know I’ll do whatever I can to see that everyone is safe, including myself.”
“Aye. I know.” She wrapped her arms around my neck and gave me a kiss. “I love you.”