Those Who Came Before

by J. H. Moncrieff

  “I have always thought it better to ignore nonsense. Grey Mother would not want to hear you speaking this way.”

  She threw the cup into the fire, where it shattered. “Grey Mother is dead. Everyone is dead. There is no place for me anymore, no purpose.”

  “You are still alive. Grey Mother was a warrior, fighting for every breath until the end. You disrespect her by saying these things.”

  He was right. It was what had always made Lone Wolf infuriating – how often he was right. He’d been right about the pale people, right about their tainted gifts, and right about her unsuitability as a healer.

  “You are not to blame,” he said, in a voice so low she almost didn’t hear it. “You believe I have pinned the reason for our misfortune on you, but I have not. You were the only other one who tried to stop it, Little Dove. What happened to our people had been foretold. You are not at fault.”

  Rage turned to shame and hot tears burned her eyes, blurring her vision. “It is my fault. Grey Mother would be alive if not for me.” She had been the only sister capable of nursing the golden-haired woman’s baby back to health, the only one whose milk had still flowed when the creature stumbled into their camp, a breath away from death herself. With her errant act of kindness, Little Dove had sealed her sisters’ fate.

  “I know you did your best to discourage our sisters from taking the diseased offerings. Red Sky Dancer told me. At the time, she sneered at you, but bear that no mind, as she also sneered at me. When she lay dying, she recognized your wisdom. She saw that you had attempted to save them, and told me so. I hope that brings you some peace.”

  The idea of that lovely being, so free and beautiful like her name, dying from the same terrible disease that had taken Grey Mother and Quivering Birch, brought her no joy. “If I’d refused that hateful woman and her child, as you’d told me to do, none of this would have occurred. My mother would still live. Your sister would as well.”

  “Little Dove, look at me.” Reluctantly, she raised her eyes to his and finally noticed how exhausted Lone Wolf looked, his face set in tired lines. For once, the man was showing his age. How far had he carried her? How much had he sacrificed to save such a worthless life? “Do I appear a happy man?”

  Startled by the question, she could only shake her head. Lone Wolf was many things, but joy had always been an emotion that eluded him.

  “You are correct. Anger and a desire for vengeance turned my sister and me against our people long ago. There was no one to mourn her, save for me, and now that she is gone, no one left to mourn me. Do not make the same mistake we did. Do not let bitterness twist your heart into something unrecognizable.”

  “There will be no tears shed at my passing into the next world. Everyone I’ve loved is gone.”

  The shaman tipped his head at her abdomen. “The pale man has planted a seed in you. It is tiny now, so tiny you could not see it, even if I were to show it to you. But it will grow into a child, a child who will have the best qualities of both their people and ours.”

  Little Dove’s entire body shook with such violence she felt the earth under her tremble. Spying Lone Wolf’s spear, she seized the blade, intent on plunging it into her womb. He leapt on her, using his strength to pry the weapon from her fingers. “No, Little Dove. No! You must listen to me. This is your destiny, to live. To love this child. That is why you have been spared.”

  She cared nothing for destiny, or for the shaman’s visions. She would have nothing of that hateful man’s legacy growing within her. Her hand went limp as she recognized Lone Wolf’s superior power. While she may not be able to best him now, he could not watch her night and day. Eventually his guard would be down, and then she would do what must be done.

  “You gave everything you had to save your sisters, to the point of nearly dying yourself. You made sure they knew comfort, and warmth, and dignity, at the moment of meeting our Creator. Do you see what a gift that is? Do you see you have nothing to be ashamed of?”

  At the mention of her sisters’ deaths, each one more painful than the last, new tears flowed. How could he so easily forgive her for allowing the monster into their camp? She would never forgive herself, never. How could she explain that a woman whose heart had been ripped to pieces by her sisters’ suffering could not love?

  “I see nothing,” she said.

  “You are in mourning, Little Dove. In time, the skies will clear, and your vision with them. You will see, and you will regain your capacity to love. You will love this child – it is your destiny.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  A knock on her door startled Rose out of sleep. For a moment, she was tempted to ignore it. It was bitterly cold in her trailer, but cozy in her feather bed. As the pounding on her door grew more insistent, she sighed and pulled on her robe. She had pledged to use her gifts to help her people, no matter how inconvenient or ill timed their need for her might be.

  The knocking continued without pause as she made her way through her darkened home. Whoever her visitor was, he or she must be in crisis to act so boldly. Her people tended to treat her with consideration and respect – almost too much, as if she were a queen. It made her uncomfortable, but she understood. She represented hope, a quality often in sparse supply in their community.

  Rose touched the latch, hissing at the coldness of the metal. It was freezing, the warmth of her fingers leaving faint circles in the frost that coated it. Something was wrong. She had survived the worst of many winters in this home, and the latch had never frozen.

  The knocking ceased. She fancied she could hear breathing on the other side of the door, but that was impossible. No one breathed loudly enough to be heard through wood and metal.

  Her heart thudded in her chest, pulse pounding in her throat. She was surprised at her own fear. Rose had never had anything to fear from her people. Even when her visions of their futures had been less than auspicious, they had never been anything but kind to her. Her little home was full of their offerings, proof of their affection.

  Still, every instinct she had warned her not to open the door. Each exhalation drifted in the air as vapor. Her furnace must have died in the night as the temperatures plunged. She rested her head against the door, straining to hear more, but the night was silent again. Perhaps she had dreamed the strange knocking, or her visitor had decided to return at a reasonable hour. Perhaps she was dreaming now.

  “Rose?”

  At the familiar voice, a powerful sensation of relief rushed over her. Hands clammy and knees shaking, she hurried to unfasten the latch, pulling the door wide. “I didn’t expect to see you back here so soon. Are you—”

  Her words died as she beheld the spectacle on her doorstep. Rose’s keen mind slowed to a crawl, belatedly informing her she had been tricked. Her eyes landed on an emaciated chest, protruding bones…and the pulsating arrowhead, swollen and grotesque like a gluttonous tick overfed on the blood of its host.

  She didn’t have the chance to scream before her head was ripped from her body.

  * * *

  Miles away, another woman awoke in the middle of the night. She felt unclean, disgusted with herself. She longed to shed her skin like a snake and become someone else.

  The problem did not reside with her, though, and so it could never end with her. She had to take other measures. Lone Wolf may have forced her to bear the pale man’s hateful offspring, but he could not make her raise it. For the good of her people, it must be destroyed.

  She followed the sounds of the creature’s snoring. As if it knew of her intentions, it moaned in its sleep. Had there ever been so evil a sound in the world? Padding on thick carpet, her feet made no noise as she crept toward the monster’s lair. Her fingers tightened on the butcher knife she’d lifted from the kitchen after dinner. No one had noticed. One of woman’s greatest gifts is the ability to blend into the walls and disappear. Sometimes being ignored had its adva
ntages.

  Tiptoeing to the place the creature slept, she raised the knife overhead, its blade wicked in the moonlight. One strong thrust would send the weapon through the foul thing’s body, and it would all be over. The world would be safe once more. She was responsible for this wickedness – she couldn’t fail.

  The room flared with light, blinding her. She heard a cry from behind, a man’s voice. Shit. The guardian. That man had sharper senses than a crow’s. His body connected with hers, knocking her to the ground. The knife skittered across the floor, just out of reach of her grasping fingers.

  “What are you doing? Jesus Christ, have you gone crazy?”

  The woman struggled against him, managing to turn so she could face her tormenter. He squeezed her wrists, grinding the fine bones against each other, holding her to the ground. Above her, the creature wakened and wailed.

  “Let me go.” The woman spat in his face. He didn’t flinch.

  “Fuck! There’s that thing again.”

  One of his hands went for her neck. She seized the opportunity and punched him with every bit of strength she had. Blood spurted from his nose as she heard a loud crack.

  The guardian cried out in pain, but didn’t falter. She felt a sharp tug against her throat as he went for the amulet and jerked it free. Before she could take it back, he flung it across the room. The power left her body; her vision clouded.

  The woman blinked. “Ben? What are you doing? Oh my God, what happened to your face? You’re bleeding!”

  Maria’s husband gathered her in his arms and sobbed, his body shaking against hers. In all their years of marriage, she had seen him cry maybe twice. His tears scared her more than the blood pouring from his nose.

  “What’s wrong? Talk to me, Ben. What happened? How did I get in Heidi’s room? Was I sleepwalking?”

  He cried harder, and she saw her questions would have to wait. His arms crushed her to his chest so tightly she found it difficult to breathe, but she stifled her own discomfort, stroking his hair and murmuring what she hoped were soothing words, that it was going to be all right – even though she suspected that wasn’t the truth.

  “Mommy?” Heidi leaned over her bed, her eyes wide when she saw her mother rocking her father on the bedroom floor. “What’s wrong with Daddy?”

  “Nothing, sweetheart. He had a bad dream. Grownups have them sometimes too, you know, just like little girls. Try to go back to sleep.” But as she said it, Maria recognized it was futile. What child could drift back to sleep after witnessing something so dramatic?

  Two small feet dangled over the mattress, soon followed by the rest of their daughter. Heidi threw her arms around her father’s back, making Maria’s attempt to comfort Ben a group effort. Her heart swelled with love for her little girl, who was already showing signs of the compassionate woman she would one day become.

  “Mommy, what is that doing on my floor?” Once Ben’s sobs had quieted, Heidi pointed at something on her rug. Lately, she’d grown quite possessive of her belongings: her room, her blankie, her teddy bear. It worried Maria, but Ben had assured her it was a normal stage of development, as children tried to exert some form of control over their world. While that was a relief – Maria couldn’t bear the thought of raising a selfish brat – Heidi’s new insistence on everything being in its proper place was tiring, to say the least. She wouldn’t have bothered to pay the question any attention if not for her daughter’s repeated insistence.

  Maria felt cold when she saw the large butcher knife winking at her from the carpet. “I don’t know, sweetie, but let’s get it out of here.”

  She cupped her coffee in her freezing hands, but the hot liquid refused to warm her. “It’s not what either of us want. It’s not what I want. But obviously I can’t stay.”

  “There’s got to be another way.” Ben cradled their daughter to his chest, his eyes bloodshot and so pained it broke her heart to look at him. She’d wanted to take Heidi back to bed, but he’d refused, and she couldn’t blame him. If the situation had been reversed, she wouldn’t have wanted to let the girl go, either. As a cop, she’d seen how a split second could turn tragic too many times. “We’ve been through so much, and we’ll get through this too. Splitting up isn’t going to solve anything,” he said.

  “Ben, you caught me about to stab our daughter.” She was careful to keep her voice low, and studied Heidi’s features for any reaction. Thankfully, the girl was exhausted enough to sleep through the most horrible conversation of her young life. “What would have happened if you hadn’t woken up? I can’t risk it. It’s not safe for me to be around her right now.”

  “It’s that damn arrowhead. Whenever something’s happened, I’ve found it around your neck. Why do you keep wearing it?”

  Maria tugged the afghan closer around her body. She’d been vaguely aware of her husband yanking the arrowhead from her neck as they’d struggled in Heidi’s room, but afterwards, they hadn’t been able to find it. “You honestly think I’d touch that thing willingly? I must have put it on in my sleep.”

  His face darkened. “I want it out of here. It never should have been in our home in the first place. It belongs in an evidence locker, or whatever you want to call it. As soon as it’s light out, I’m going to find it and take it to the station.”

  “Okay.” How could she tell him about the insane thoughts that ran through her mind? About how he could put that evil thing on the bottom of the ocean, and it wouldn’t matter. It would always find its way back to her. Until she figured out what was happening at Strong Lake, she would never be free of the arrowhead. And neither would her family.

  “Why don’t you talk to Doctor Wilder? I’m sure there’s something he could give you, something that would help you sleep.”

  Frustration and fear had worn her nerves until they were thin as piano wire, but she couldn’t snap at him, not now. Not when he was pleading with her to stay, looking like his best friend had died. Ben knew as well as she did that this had nothing to do with insomnia or sleepwalking. She’d almost killed their child. “It’s too risky,” she said as gently as she could, as if that would soften the blow of her leaving.

  “Talking to Doctor Wilder is too risky, but going back to that bloody campground isn’t? Christ, Maria, three – no, four – people have died out there in a matter of days. Two little boys are in the hospital in serious condition. That campground is the last place you should be going.”

  “It’s still an active crime scene, Ben. It’s my job to go.”

  His eyes flared with rage. She had never seen him look so angry. “So let Jorge handle it.”

  “Jorge is my partner. Partner means that neither of us handles things on our own. This investigation is a joint effort, and the sooner we resolve it, the sooner it’ll be safe for me to come home.”

  “Are you sure that’s what you want?” He spit the words at her like acid, and they burned as he’d intended. She reached for his hand, and forced herself to swallow her hurt and anger when he pulled away.

  “I’m not leaving because I want to. I’m leaving for our daughter’s safety. For your safety.”

  His lips tightened. “I can take care of myself, thank you.”

  Maria barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes. Though her husband was less Neanderthal than most, the suggestion that a mere woman could cause him damage still caused that ol’ machismo to surface. She refused to get into a pissing contest. “Why are you so angry? I’m not happy about this either, but I’m going to do everything I can to make things right as soon as humanly possible.”

  “Why am I angry? Why am I angry?” Ben’s voice rose, but as their daughter whimpered in her sleep, he dropped it to a whisper. “Because it’s always about what you want, Maria. For once, just once, it would be nice if you listened to me.”

  She felt like he’d slapped her. “How does this have anything to do with what I want? You know w
hat I want? I want our life back. I want us to be happy again. I want to stop having nightmares and fainting spells and feeling like I can’t trust my own mind. I want to look in the mirror without worrying that that goddamn arrowhead is going to be around my neck again. Nothing about this situation has anything to do with what I want.”

  “Okay, okay.” He raised a hand in the air, cradling their daughter with the other. “Calm down. You’ve made your point.”

  “Don’t you dare fucking tell me to calm down. You pretty much insinuated I’m leaping at the chance to get out of our marriage.”

  Ben pushed away from the table. “Fine. I’d thought we could discuss this like rational adults, but obviously you’re not capable of it. I don’t want our daughter to hear this.”

  “Then maybe you should have put her to bed, like I suggested.”

  She seethed, breathing hard as her husband left the room with Heidi. It was just like him to throw these unfair accusations at her and then get pissy when she reacted poorly. What a big man, fleeing the uncomfortable conversation. Gripping her mug, Maria closed her eyes and tried to calm down. She loved the guy, but sometimes she wanted to throttle him with her bare hands.

  Her cell vibrated, making her jump. Who would be calling at five in the morning? It had to be Jorge. Or dispatch.

  But it wasn’t.

  It was Kinew. What the hell does he want?

  “Greyeyes,” she said, hoping he wouldn’t detect the strain in her voice.

  “Maria.” Mr. Laidback sounded panicked. Her hackles rose. “There’s been another death. I think you better get down here.”

  “I’ll call for backup,” she said, already rising from the table, mentally going through her checklist.

  “Don’t. I need you to come alone for this one. There’s something—” She was surprised to realize he was crying. “There’s something you need to see.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  As Maria sped down the highway, guilt over the truth of her husband’s ugly accusations nagged at the edges of her brain. She might be able to lie, however unconvincingly, to him, but she couldn’t fool herself. It had been a relief to get the hell out of there.