The Shaman of Kupa Piti

by A. Nybo

  Chapter 14

  WHILE SERGEI locked himself away with his drum, Leon and Lucy concocted a story of how she came to be staying at the safe house with them. Despite being attacked, moved from her home, and told about Sergei’s shamanism—which, unlike Leon, she accepted easily—Lucy managed to maintain her sense of humour, which made the whole idea of lying to the police less traumatic for Leon. She made it seem like a kind of puzzle that needed to be solved.

  Fabrication was yet another strike against Leon’s professionalism, but he was so tangled in the web of deception now, the only way to disentangle himself was to catch Evgeni and close this case.

  While omitting evidence in Sergei’s case wasn’t really a problem, since the police weren’t open to crimes of sorcery, it was another thing entirely when it came to failing to report the attack on Lucy. And the answer as to why he hadn’t reported it made him cringe. Telling Internal Affairs he’d been too hung-over from consuming a controlled substance to think straight would be the icing on the cake of madness that he seemed to have been eating since having met Sergei.

  If he came out of this alive, he was going to have to engage in some serious re-evaluation of his life choices.

  Confident with the story they’d constructed, and with the “evidence” in place, Leon rang Charlie to report that Lucy had been accosted the previous night by some guy hassling her about Sergei and saying how he’d seen them going to a party together. She thought she’d been followed home, and today when she’d arrived home from shopping, she had discovered someone had been in her house. She’d rung Leon, and they’d organised for her to come to the safe house, leaving her car one street over.

  Charlie’s suspicion was apparent by all the questions he asked, but Leon and Lucy had covered every contingency, from evidence of Sergei and Leon’s presence in her house, to how Lucy came to have Leon’s phone number, to a record on Lucy’s phone of her calling Leon earlier.

  From a policeman’s perspective, it was slightly disturbing to discover how easy it was to concoct and present a viable story. Charlie might have his suspicions, but without evidence, he was unlikely to come right out and challenge Leon.

  It was almost evening when Charlie dropped around with more groceries and told them they’d found evidence of forced entry at Lucy’s. His attitude towards Leon had softened now that there was some proof, but it wasn’t any easier for Leon to accept that he had lied to Charlie. Even so, Leon managed to relax a little after that, but by the time they’d eaten dinner, his lapsed anxiety had reignited and morphed into concern about the upcoming confrontation with Evgeni.

  Lucy had obviously gotten bored with the TV programs, as she disappeared off into the bathroom and reappeared half an hour later. It was only upon seeing her red hair with the orange tips carefully sculpted upwards into what looked like flames that Leon realised it was no longer black and purple.

  It was easy being with Lucy, as she didn’t hold herself aloof and easily shared herself, but not to the point of encroaching. She had even managed to insinuate herself on the couch with her feet on his lap without it seeming weird. After yesterday and today, Leon suspected she was getting as much comfort out of having another person close as he was.

  Sergei still hadn’t emerged from the bedroom when Lucy decided to go to bed. Leon considered sleeping on the couch, but he needed to be close to Sergei.

  Light from the passage shone onto Sergei’s form beneath the blanket. His drum was sitting up against the wall, which suggested he’d worn himself to exhaustion.

  Leon stripped down to his trunks and slipped in beside Sergei, who mumbled something unintelligible. Leon put his arm over him, and Sergei burrowed in against him like a litter mate in search of protection and comfort. Leon’s heart soared with joy as he tightened around Sergei, who released a contented sigh.

  ON THE day of the full moon, the dugout was filled with such intense energy, Sergei thought he might go mad. Both Leon and Lucy were as anxious and agitated as he was, and being unable to leave the house, the energy remained coiled tight around him.

  Sergei had asked them not to drink coffee as any rise in energy would be more unsettling, so the three of them sat in the lounge room drinking water.

  “What are we supposed to do while you’re in this trance?” asked Leon.

  “Protect me,” said Sergei.

  “How do we do that?”

  “Like any Doris would.”

  “What about me?” asked Lucy.

  “You are to be in the room with me.”

  “Okay, but what am I supposed to do?”

  Sergei cocked his head as if listening for a distant siren. “I don’t know. Be yourself. Just don’t separate me from my drum. I need to be able to keep contact with it to guide me home.”

  “Fuck, Sergei,” complained Lucy. “What does ‘be myself’ mean? Do you want me to sit and read or do my hair or something while you’re off battling some spirit and Leon is prowling the house ready to shoot this bloke, or am I supposed to actually… I don’t know”—she threw her hands in the air—“throw some bloody crystals at something?”

  Sergei levelled a thoughtful gaze at her and then took a deep breath. “I’m not sure how effective it would be, but if it makes you feel better.” He smirked. “But I don’t have any crystals.”

  “Are you keeping me in the room with you so I don’t get in Leon’s way?”

  “You’re the anchor,” Leon said. They both turned to look at him. He shrugged. Given how steady she’d made him feel at her place, he thought it was a reasonable thing.

  Sergei’s brow creased, the light of realisation in his eyes. “You’re right.”

  “If I’m to be—” began Leon.

  “Stop!” Sergei held his hands up. “I don’t know. This is the only direction I can offer. I don’t know the why. You seem to know as much as I do,” he said to Leon.

  “So if we do this as it’s supposed to be done, then we’ll be all right?” asked Lucy.

  Sergei took a galvanising breath. “It gives us the best chance of coming out alive. They have spirit guides too. Who’s to know which ones are stronger, smarter, or more cunning? There is no right or wrong, there just is,” said Sergei.

  “It is what it is,” said Lucy with resignation.

  “Exactly. We do our best and hope it is enough.”

  Taking his water with him, Sergei excused himself to prepare for the evening. He had to escape the agitated energy of the others and centre himself. To achieve a state of calm, he needed to maintain detachment for the intervening hours. He couldn’t risk taking an entheogen as it would make him vulnerable to soul-theft by the Karelian.

  In preparation, he retrieved the plastic wrap that contained the scrapings of Evgeni’s excrement he’d taken from his drum and rubbed the plastic between his fingers, causing the dried excrement to flake. In the event that Evgeni didn’t have Lucy’s other earring, Sergei still had a way to get his attention.

  LEON OPENED the bedroom door a crack. “Sergei, it’s nearly dark. There’s some dinner if you want it.”

  Sergei appeared at the door, but since he kept a distance between them, Leon didn’t try to breach it, despite wanting to.

  Out in the kitchen, instead of eating dinner, which Leon had expected, Sergei took the glass holding the earring from the fridge. He dug into it, located the earring, and pulled it from the dirt. Sergei rinsed it, reciting a whispered chant as he did so.

  “Bring water to drink,” said Sergei.

  Suppressing disappointment brought on by Sergei’s remoteness, Leon reminded himself they had a job to do. But Jesus, he just wanted to hold Sergei in his arms and reaffirm their connection before they embarked on what could potentially be the last thing they did together—or did ever.

  Sergei took the earring and returned to the bedroom. Leon indicated for Lucy to follow while he filled a two-litre drink bottle with water.

  Leaving lights on throughout the house, wearing his gun in its holster, and with the w
ater bottle in hand, Leon opened the bedroom door.

  A sharp crack by his ear as he entered caused him to duck from a spark. Energy filled the air, and it had sparked off him like static. He had the strong sensation that he had merged with the bedroom’s atmosphere.

  Lucy sat on the bed, her back against the headboard, watching the proceedings, while Sergei was on the floor beside the bed, drum on his lap, eyes closed, the earring and some dark powdered flakes in the centre of the drumhead. He drank from a glass and then, setting his hands by his side, sat quietly for moments before picking up his hammer and tapping out a gentle but solid rhythm. A minute later Sergei began yoiking—the chant Leon had now grown accustomed to.

  Leon set the bottle of water on the bedside table and lay across the bottom of the bed. He’d only just settled when Lucy moved to tuck her toe tips beneath his ribs. Understanding her need for connection, he rubbed her lower leg. Her wobbly smile warmed his heart more than he could ever express.

  Although it was obvious that trouble would occur at this house tonight, Lucy was here and willing to be part of whatever was about to happen out of her loyalty to Sergei. To Leon, that spoke volumes about the person she was.

  Leon became enthralled with the progress of the earring and the powdered flakes moving across the drumhead as Sergei tapped it. They moved first one way, then the other, without any discernible tilting of the drum, change in tempo, or even change in tone. When Sergei struck the drumhead with several loud, sharp bursts, both Leon and Lucy started. They smirked at each other at the way they had both jumped.

  It occurred several more times, and if Leon didn’t know better, he’d think Sergei was purposely lulling them into inattentiveness and then shocking them to awareness with sharp raps on the drum. But he suspected in truth Sergei was no longer aware of their presence—or that he himself was in the room for that matter.

  The air grew thinner, cooler, and Sergei’s yoiking sank into whispers with discrete beginnings and ends. Leon suspected he was speaking Russian. The top half of Sergei’s body was unnaturally rigid and looked as if it were being slowly pulled backwards by invisible hands as it lowered to the floor. But he continued to drum and whisper.

  Time was Leon’s interminable enemy. He wanted to be doing something, needed it, but was bound to the scene and stillness.

  The hammer hit the drumhead a final time and scraped as Sergei’s hand landed on the drum and slid off. The drum itself tipped off Sergei’s legs but remained in contact as it hit the ground by his hip. Strangely, it was in exactly the same position it had been the first time Leon had seen Sergei by the side of the bed, his arm beneath the drum, the rest of it covering his hip. Only this time Sergei was dressed.

  Minutes passed, and Leon noticed several almost imperceptible jerks of Sergei’s legs. An uncontrollable urge to offer some sort of support caused Leon to drop a hand by the side of the bed and gently, so as not to distract, touch Sergei’s thigh.

  Yanked from the bed by the arm, Leon battled himself mentally to keep from struggling against the assault, which, although seemingly physical, didn’t hurt. Allowing whatever it was to take him, movement and sound whooshed past and then came to an abrupt halt.

  Red dirt beneath him signified the dimensional shift to outdoors. Flat red plains surrounded him, and scrabbling to his feet in bewilderment, he searched for other signs of life.

  Not so much as a hillock was on the horizon in any direction. He turned a full circle, and then with a blink, out ahead, kilometres in the distance, clouds of dust rose. Amongst them, small dark shapes moved.

  He started towards the disturbance, surprised when a mere few steps later he had covered much of the distance between himself and the shapes, which were now far from small. A bear stood at one point of a triangle, a wolf with its head lowered at a second point, and a reindeer, legs braced and antlers down, ready to charge, stood on the third point.

  Wolf and reindeer moved in opposite directions, trying to get behind bear, but each time one of them moved, bear backed up, not allowing either out of its sight. The triangle would grow with each attempt, but somehow the animals were never any further apart, as in the strange mechanics of a dream.

  Although Sergei had told Leon his free soul was seen by others as a bear, Leon didn’t need the guidance. He could feel Sergei, his energy, coming from the big brown beast. Since he’d experienced Evgeni as the wolf, he deduced the reindeer was the Karelian shaman.

  In no doubt as to what he was seeing, Leon tried to step forwards, make the triangle a square to even the numbers, but no matter what he tried, the triangle was always the same distance from him. He called out, but none of the trio appeared to hear, like he wasn’t there. He didn’t even rate as a ghost on their dimension, apparently.

  Wolf worried bear’s legs, diving in, nipping, and snapping whenever bear’s attention was drawn by reindeer. Wolf leapt at bear’s shoulder. Trying to capture wolf, bear opened his jaws wide and went into a roll as he attempted to snap wolf from the air. Reindeer charged and, while bear was on the ground, gored him with its antlers. Bear roared in pain as the antlers dug into his side.

  Leon looked for wolf, but wolf was gone.

  Frustrated and helpless, Leon winced as reindeer laid another attack, but bear had turned the full force of his attention to reindeer. In that moment Leon understood wolf wasn’t expected to return.

  Fired by fear, Leon spun around to run back to where he came from but found himself on the bed in the room—his hand had fallen from Sergei’s leg. A flurry of motion to his right scared him momentarily, but he realised his abrupt movement had frightened Lucy. He gestured for silence, rose from the bed, and tiptoed to the door. There was only one reason for wolf to leave bear and reindeer—to effect a double-pronged attack in differing dimensions.

  Evgeni couldn’t be allowed into the room with Sergei.

  Leon opened the door to find the house in darkness. Since Leon had purposely left the lights on, Evgeni had to be inside already. He took his gun from his holster and, turning the doorknob fully to muffle the closing of the door, pulled it shut.

  Uncertain whether he was facing a wolf, a person, or both, Leon was momentarily paralysed by panic. His wild heartbeat thundered in his ears, and he took calming breaths to rein in his fears so he could act with forethought.

  Ears straining, eyes wide, nostrils flared, Leon caught the faint funky scent of dog, reminding him of the only recollection Rodney had of his attacker—wet dog smell.

  In the dugout the darkness was almost complete. Only the flickering of the unset LCD clock on the DVD player in the lounge and the one on the microwave illuminated the house. The only way he’d be able to tell if Evgeni was moving around was either by sound or when the light was momentarily blocked. Judging distance would be guesswork. All he could do was aim in the general direction and hope he hit him.

  Keeping low, he crept close to the end of the passage but allowed himself distance in case Evgeni was waiting in ambush at the end. The smell of dog was stronger here, but he couldn’t determine from which direction the scent wafted. He licked his fingers and slid them down both sides of his face, hoping if a draught came from either side he would feel it against the dampened strip, indicating which way the air was drifting.

  Coolness touched the strip on his right, so he moved his gun to point in that direction.

  Nothing.

  Silence. Stillness.

  Trying to determine the best strategy, he considered the merits of falling back and turning on the light of Lucy’s room, allowing it to shine into the passage.

  A sharp inward breath through saliva was the only warning he got. Then pain in his left shoulder. He pulled the trigger as he fell backwards. Burning agony in his outer thigh in the same instant. He crashed to a sitting position, hearing dulled from the close-range gun discharge.

  Nails at his throat dragged down his chest. He fired again.

  No movement.

  Harsh breaths and the banging on a drum were
little more than muffled sounds.

  Leon moved, and pain lanced his thigh, his shoulder, his chest, until it melded into blinding constriction in his brain. He waited for it to release its hold before attempting to move again.

  Holding his breath, Leon strained to hear anything other than the drumbeat coming from the room.

  Using the wall to rise to his feet, he withstood the agony of unseen injuries and once again relied on his hearing for hints of an impending attack. The skin on his upper arm, sensitive to the machine-hewn stone as he inched along it, triggered the vague recognition that the material of his shirt was no longer offering protection.

  Gun held across his body, he crossed the passage and tried to raise his left hand to turn on the light in Lucy’s room, but agony pierced his brain, and he bumped against the doorframe.

  Scrabbling sounds on the tiles near the end of the hall caused every hair on Leon’s body to stand on end. With his gun in hand, he fumbled against the light switch. The light came on. Leon dropped low. He fired at the shape coming towards him.

  Evgeni fell in front of him, his face turned towards the light. A bubble of bloody saliva formed at his mouth like translucent bubblegum.

  Leon could do nothing other than slide the last few inches to the floor and watch as Evgeni’s eyes grew vacant.

  The beat of the drum entered his awareness again sometime later. Blood had pooled at his thigh, and he set his hand in it as he put it to the floor to assist him to stand. Stiffness had settled into his injuries, making his attempt to stand a greater struggle. He hobbled to the closed door and, leaning his chest against the outer doorframe, opened it.

  Fearful blue eyes looked up at him in the dim light, but scared as she might have been, Lucy didn’t miss a beat as she hammered against the drum still leaning against Sergei’s hip. Lucy sat on the floor beside him.