Windigo Thrall

by Cate Culpepper

  “I’m thinking how badly I need to pee,” Becca said, and then of course she did.

  Elena chuckled. “I think we have taken to peeing in the bathtub. One problem solved.”

  Becca let herself lean against Elena, and felt again that pure wash of easy friendship that had flowered between them before all this weirdness began. She struggled with an almost irresistible urge to confess to Elena, to tell her she had kissed Grady, to receive her forgiveness. She had never wanted absolution, and a drink, so badly in her life.

  “Do you think it’s dark over Seattle?” Becca asked. “Is technology dead all over Puget Sound?”

  “No. I think the six of us are in a different place, chica. We’re caught in a point in time called la mala hora, the bad hour. I don’t pretend to understand it very well. But I believe we’re the only ones looking up at that strange moon.” Elena was silent for a moment. “Becca. Are you ready to let me try to help Jo?”

  Becca wanted specifics. She wanted to know exactly what Elena had in mind. Her methodology, and some documented proof that her peer-reviewed protocol had worked in the past. Becca wanted reassurance. And increasingly, she wanted a drink.

  She glanced over her shoulder at Pat, who could imprison Jo but not free her. At Maggie, whose stories could trace a nightmare but not wake them from it. And at Grady, Jo, Becca herself, whose academic credentials were useless in fighting a demon. She looked into the strange, lingering night.

  “Yes,” Becca said. “Elena, please try.”

  Elena pressed her shoulders again, and Becca followed her back to the sofa. They sat on either side of Jo.

  “Hey. How’s my favorite space cadet?” Becca brushed a lock off Jo’s forehead.

  “Spacey.” Jo’s tongue sounded thick in her mouth. “I don’t want to fall asleep again. Bad things seem to happen when I sleep.”

  “Well, you have to stay awake for the Xena marathon, once the power comes back.” Becca didn’t like Jo’s pallor, the cool clamminess of her skin. “If we don’t get power soon, we’ll act out season two for you. In the meantime, though, I want Elena to try to help us, honey.”

  Jo turned her head on the back of the couch and regarded Elena. “Can you give me something to keep me awake?”

  “I no longer think giving you any kind of stimulant, or sedative, is a good idea, Jo.” Elena touched Jo’s throat, taking her pulse. “But with your permission, I’d like to perform a simple ceremony. A very old one. It might bring you some relief.”

  The others were drifting closer now to listen, and Becca avoided Grady’s gaze. She tried to inject some lightness into her tone. “Please tell us it’s not an exorcism that might involve sacrificing a virgin, Elena. Pat would have to ski out to find one. Maybe out of state.”

  “It is a kind of exorcism.” Elena spoke the word so calmly, she might have been referring to an inoculation under sterile conditions. “And it’s not without risks. But I think this ceremony is our best chance to protect us all from whatever is coming.”

  “What kind of risks?” Becca asked.

  “It doesn’t matter.” Jo’s weary eyes were on Elena. “Let’s try it.”

  “Excuse me, with the risks?” Becca frowned.

  “Well, by calling on any kind of spiritual energy, we’ll be challenging this demon on its own ground.” Elena looked up as Grady rested her hand on her shoulder. She covered it with her own. “I can reassure you, though, that my side has a sixteen and oh record.”

  Becca blinked. “A sixteen and oh record?”

  “In my years working with my champion, fighting spiritual bullies with Her, She has won sixteen times.” Elena waved one finger slightly at the ceiling. “She’s very good.”

  A dimple appeared in Elena’s cheek, and for some reason Becca found the teasing in her eyes as reassuring as her offer of hope.

  “We should try this,” Jo said, an old confidence in her again. “At least we’ll be doing something. Get on with it, Elena.”

  “On Jo’s planet, that means thank you, Elena,” Becca translated automatically. “Tell us what to do.”

  “We’ll need everyone’s help.” Elena’s eyes searched Grady’s face, then Pat’s and Maggie’s. “Whenever a healing takes place, we draw on the loving energy of friends of the afflicted.”

  “I’m a dead woman,” Jo grumbled.

  Pat snorted laughter, then stopped abruptly. Becca knew it was pure nervous energy, but poor Pat looked embarrassed anyway.

  “No, you’re not.” Grady nudged Jo’s shoulder. “Jo, we’re all in this together. You’re one of us. Of course we’ll help.”

  Jo studied Grady’s face and then nodded shortly, with quickly banked astonishment. Becca watched Jo because she didn’t want to see Grady, but she was deeply grateful for Grady’s words, her authority and sincerity.

  “Sure, I’m in.” Maggie smiled with a gamin charm, obviously relieved to have a plan, any plan. “Will this ceremony involve an orgy of any kind? Because I’ve heard about you Seattle lesbians.”

  “Regretfully, no,” Elena chuckled. “Pat, please build up this fire for us. I need to get a few things from our room upstairs. The rest of you, just sit somewhere quietly and call on any deities that guide you.” She leaned into Becca and whispered, “Don’t forget to pee,” and kissed her cheek.

  Elena went to the mantel and took one of the tapered candles, then made her way up the dark stairs. The glowing circle of candlelight cast her straight, assured posture in shadow against the curving wall. Becca adjusted the blanket across Jo’s shoulders until she feared she might spit into a Kleenex to scrub her cheek; her anxiety was driving her maternal urges to extremes.

  “You don’t have to go outside for more wood, right?” Maggie was talking to Pat, and she sounded a little maternal herself.

  “No, I stocked the anteroom pretty well.” Pat drew on her gloves. “Lend me a hand?”

  “Sure.” Maggie took another candle and followed her, color rising in her face.

  Grady was half-lifting, half-sliding a heavy armchair out of the circle of firelight. Becca watched her muscle the other sofa back several feet as well, the lines of her body strong and supple.

  “Can I ask what you’re doing?” Jo asked politely.

  “Just clearing a little space.”

  “Do you know anything about this ceremony, Grady?” Becca pulled her gaze from Grady and focused on Jo’s features, on the most important woman in the room.

  “Not really. I just know my wife.” Such fondness in Grady’s voice. “Elena grew up under desert skies. The woman likes space.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Becca watched Grady kneel to roll up the small Pendleton rug, clearing a circular expanse of blond wood floor before the fire. She thought she saw a pulse of low amber light from one of the side windows, but it faded when she looked directly at it. Marvy. She was hallucinating too now. At least she and Jo had finally found something they could do together on this vacation.

  “We can trust Elena.” Jo had lowered her voice to speak to Becca alone, but that confidence was still in her. “I watched her face closely. There were no tells in her expressions, no indications of deceit or evasion. She was telling us the full truth. At least, the truth as Elena sees it.”

  “But what does that mean?” Becca shivered. “She was telling us the truth about fighting a demon?”

  “Elena cares for me and she wants to help me. She meant that.” There was muted wonder in Jo’s voice. “This, in spite of my trying to kill her with an iron poker earlier, and braining her lover with it instead.”

  Becca smiled.

  “Grady too,” Jo murmured. “I still think she would happily flatten me, mind you, but she meant what she said about having my back. My being part of the clan.”

  “Well. That’s the least Grady can say. You did give her a passing grade in your class, right?”

  “Yes, I did. You’re right, Becca. Grady owes me her life.”

  Becca giggled, half-giddy with sleeplessness an
d worry and fear, but enjoying the moment anyway. It was helping already, any kind of activity after the long, restless night. The other four women were moving with energy and purpose again, and Jo sounded much more herself. Better; this was the Jo she knew when they were alone together.

  “I hope Pat doesn’t feel she has to resort to heroic measures in all this.” Jo sighed. “She’s not much more than a kid. I forget that, at times, because she stalks around like some macho Stormtrooper bobblehead, but she speaks as if she’s sixty years—Becca, I’m being entirely serious.”

  “I know. I hear you.” Becca warmed her cold nose on Jo’s sleeve. “You’re right to be worried. Pat might pull something really heroic to impress Maggie.”

  “Maggie?”

  “Come on. You haven’t seen the way those two look at each other? They’re working up to flammable.”

  “Pat? And Maggie?” Jo looked dismayed. “Maggie could inspire sexual addiction in a rock, for God’s sake. Can Pat even handle Maggie?”

  “I hope they get a chance to find out.” Becca rested against Jo, relishing these last moments of peace before this strange party started. “Pat and Maggie will be fine, honey. We’ll look out for them. They’re clan too.”

  *

  Elena closed the bedroom door and sank back against it. She released a shaking sigh, and the candle flame she held jittered. She rested her head against the door and closed her eyes.

  Okay. Last night I searched for You in my dreams, Mother. And I found only a terrible silence. So buenos días. It’s time for You to wake up, please. I have a question. I didn’t bring any asaga with me, so simple sage will have to do. If that’s not all right…give me a sign. Hell, throw a tree through a window, anything, my Goddess.

  Silence. For once, Elena cursed the opulence and space of this cabin, because she could hear nothing from the lower level. If her Goddess remained stubbornly silent, she wanted to hear the voices of her friends.

  She fell back on the loved old words, the prayer she always offered before a healing. It had come to her for the first time when she was nine years old, and she had never seen reason to change it. The prayer fell from her lips mechanically, but still carried some measure of comfort.

  Here we go. I’ll trust You to guide me. Don’t let me mess up. Don’t let me hurt anybody, especially the gringa I’m supposed to help. Thank You. I love You. Go with me.

  Elena waited for the tenuous breath of well-being that usually filled her after prayer. And waited some more.

  *

  Grady knew Elena needed some time alone before she worked, but she didn’t like her out of sight for long. She had mounted the stairs when a candle’s glow appeared at the top, and Elena emerged from the hallway.

  “Watch your step.” Grady trotted up the stairs to take the bag Elena carried.

  “You’re the one with the possible concussion. Watch your own step.” Elena tapped Grady’s chin, then surveyed the large room. “Good. We have space to work in and a bright fire to keep us warm. Well, warmish. It looks like our friends are ready down there. Are you, querida?”

  Grady nodded, grimly. “As ready as I can ever be for these things. Elena?”

  Elena looked up at her.

  This had been bothering Grady. “The darkness freaked everyone out. I think we’re all a lot more receptive to trying your methods than we were yesterday. You didn’t have to strong-arm anyone into this ceremony. But, sweetheart, I would have backed you up, if it had come to that. I trust you. I have faith in you. Just wanted to remind you of that.”

  There was a weariness in Elena’s smile, in the distracted brush of her fingers down Grady’s face, that did nothing to reassure her.

  “Okay. Thank you. We need to focus on Jo now. Fold a blanket on the floor, please.”

  Grady followed her into the living room and lifted a blanket from an ottoman.

  “It’s time we start,” Elena said to the others, and it was the curandera Grady loved who greeted them, calm and gracious. “Jo, we’re going to want you here, close to the fire.”

  Pat and Becca helped Jo lever herself out of the deep sofa. Grady draped the folded blanket over the floor in front of the hearth, and Jo stepped onto it.

  “Grady, would you and Maggie witness?”

  Grady had been asked to serve as witness at a few rites, and remembered they stood to the afflicted’s right. She took Maggie’s arm and escorted her into place.

  “Smokey Bear?” Elena used Maggie’s name for Pat warmly, but then she grew serious. “I don’t usually ask for physical protection during a healing, for someone to keep watch, but I’m asking it for this one. When we open these doors, we never know what will walk through. Will you look out for us?”

  “Sure,” Pat said softly. She moved to the edge of the circle where she could see everyone. She slipped her hand briefly into her pocket and then hooked her thumbs in her belt.

  Elena looked into the fire for a moment. “All right. There are certain times a woman should not be alone. When she is born, when she gives birth, when she dies. When she needs healing.”

  Grady knew what was coming. She was going to enjoy this.

  Elena settled cross-legged on the floor, her back against the hearth, and patted her lap. “Lie down please, Jo, and put your head here.”

  Jo frowned down at her. “You’re serious?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m not overly comfortable with touch, Elena.”

  “All the same.” Elena patted her thighs again.

  Luckily, comfort wasn’t their main objective, because Jo looked damned stiff stretching out on a blanket with her hands tied behind her. She rested her head in Elena’s lap gingerly, as if she worried it might be too heavy.

  “Relax, hija.” Elena tussled Jo’s hair as if she were a child, then reached into the bag on the floor beside her. She took out a small brass pot and lifted its lid, then dipped a lit candle into it. After a second, a thin white wisp of fragrant smoke rose, and she set the little pot on the stone hearth. Then Elena took a delicate chain from the bag, kissed its crucifix, and slid it around her neck.

  “Excuse me,” Maggie whispered beside Grady. “No disrespect. But I can’t decide if Elena’s turning into a midwife or a witch. Or a nun. What religion is this?”

  “There’s definitely a note of Catholicism,” Grady whispered back. “Certain Mexican and Latin influences. But mostly, this is Elena. A curandera heals as her spirits instruct her to heal.”

  “But why is Jo lying in her lap?” Maggie looked fascinated.

  “Elena believes no woman should have to go through something this hard alone.” Grady touched the small shape in the breast pocket of her jacket. The image of that strange little mask kept coming to her.

  “Becca, you kneel here.” Elena gestured.

  Becca looked uneasy, but she folded herself obediently onto the floor at Jo’s left. She rested her hand on Jo’s side without needing direction.

  There was usually light music playing during a session, and Grady missed that comfort. The crackling fire held its own music, though, and Elena’s low voice was soothing. The large room was taking on the hush of a cathedral. The air outside the cabin was dark and utterly still.

  Elena looked up at them. “I don’t think anything dramatic is going to happen, just yet. I just want to say a few prayers. Please remember that no one here is a passive observer. We’re here because Jo is our sister, and she’s decided to trust us.”

  She rested her hand on Jo’s head. Jo shifted stiffly on the floor.

  “The essence of healing is community,” Elena said. “So we should ask Jo’s community, her clan, for their wisdom. Do any of you have anything you want to say?”

  Elena paused, and Grady remembered Elena was comfortable with silence. This one might go on for several minutes, if Elena read anything in their faces that said they needed time. She touched the shape in her breast pocket again, and unwound her arm from Maggie’s.

  “Elena, I’d like to remind you of
this.” Grady drew the mask from her jacket. “Pat, do you know this image?”

  “Yeah.” A wave of subtle emotions, pleasant ones, crossed Pat’s face as she looked at the mask. “That’s a Makah glyph, an image that appears on some of my tribe’s canoes and shields. My grandmother used to tell me her story.”

  “Her?” Maggie peered at the mask with some trepidation; it wasn’t a very cheering image; the woman was snaggle-toothed and glowering. “Who is she?”

  “She doesn’t have a name,” Pat said. “She’s just the Cannibal Woman.”

  “Oh.” Maggie folded her arms. “Peachy.”

  “I dreamed about this mask earlier.” Grady brought it to Elena. “No idea if it’ll be useful, but for what it’s worth…”

  “Grady told me a little about this Makah legend, Pat.” Elena touched the thin white pine delicately, drawing her finger along one of its feathers. “This Cannibal Woman threatened one of your clans a long time ago, but the children were able to stop her?”

  “Right. They tricked her into a big pot of boiling water, and scalded her to death.”

  “Gee, the kids in your tribe sound as charming as the kids in mine,” Maggie said, and Pat smiled at her. “Why would you guys put a cannibal on shields and canoes?”

  Pat shrugged. “Because it’s the image of a defeated enemy, a threat we conquered. But my grandmother seemed fond of the poor Cannibal Woman. When she told me those stories, she was always on her side.”

  “Well, if Delores Daka liked her.” Jo looked glum. “Perhaps we should move directly to dousing me in kerosene.”

  “Let’s keep that possibility in mind.” Becca accepted the small mask from Elena and studied it. “You know, I think I like the Cannibal Woman too. She looks rather Xenic, Jo.”

  Grady was unfamiliar with xenic as an adjective, but Jo smiled reluctantly at the mask.

  “I think she’ll be good juju for us.” Becca rested the mask on the center of Jo’s chest. “She can be our shield in this Amazon battle.”

  Elena thanked Grady with her eyes, then waited another full patient minute for anyone else to speak. The quiet was calming them; even Jo was relaxing on the hard floor. A tendril of the white smoke from the pot reached Grady, a pleasant whiff of sage.