Those Who Came Before

by J. H. Moncrieff

  Mother’s face flushed. “I’m – I’m very sorry to hear that. Well, if Reese feels up to it, of course he can.”

  Three pairs of eyes bored into me. The silence weighed heavy as everyone waited for my answer. Crazyhorse had been pretty cool for an old drunk, but so what? What was I supposed to do? I’d met him once, and it wasn’t like we’d had a ton of time to chat.

  “Is this a funeral or something? Do I need to change?”

  “No, it’s nothing like that. What you’re wearing is fine. This is informal,” Kinew said.

  “Okay, just let me get my coat.” I headed for the closet, releasing the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. Something else was going on, something beyond Crazyhorse’s death. They wouldn’t tell me in front of my mother, though – that was obvious. As much as I didn’t want to go with them, I had no choice. Not if I wanted to figure out what was happening to me.

  Mom held me tighter than usual when I said goodbye, and I felt guilty for the horrible thoughts I’d had earlier. What was wrong with me? We’d never been especially close, but we’d always gotten along. “Don’t worry,” I told her. “I won’t be long. Will I?” I directed my question to Chief Kinew, as he seemed to be the one most capable of speech.

  “No. Maybe an hour or two, and most of that will be driving time.”

  “Call Dad if it’ll make you feel better. Call Prosper too,” I said in her ear. It couldn’t hurt. Prosper at least had been paid to look out for my best interests.

  “Be careful.”

  “Don’t worry,” Greyeyes said, touching my mother’s shoulder as she left. “We’ll take care of your boy.”

  Somehow, I didn’t find that comforting.

  “So, what happened to the old guy?” I asked when we were on the road. We were in Detective Greyeyes’ Suburban, but Kinew was driving, which I found curious. I hadn’t realized the two of them were so close.

  “What old guy?” The chief squinted against the late-afternoon sun, never taking his eyes from the highway.

  “Crazyhorse. Isn’t he the one who died?”

  “Crazyhorse will probably outlive us all. Sadly, the same can’t be said for his sister.”

  Rose? Recalling the woman’s kind face, the gentle way she’d spoken to me, something behind my eyes ached. “But she was so young. What happened?”

  Detective Greyeyes turned to face me, holding on to the back of her seat. “She was murdered, Reese.”

  “Murdered? But who would want to hurt her? She was so nice.”

  Kinew said nothing, but I could see something twitch in his jaw. I’d noticed their chemistry, wondered if maybe they’d had a thing going…if not now, then in the past.

  “That’s kind of what we hoped you could help us with,” Greyeyes said.

  Whaaa? “I wish I could, but I really didn’t know her. I only met her the one time, yesterday, and Kinew was there. He can tell you as much as I could about it. She told me I was related to a tribe that used to live around here, and she gave me something to help with my headaches. Oh, and that little charm thing.”

  “You mean this?” Greyeyes held up the cloth bag in the same moment I discovered it was no longer hanging from my neck. “We found it on Rose’s doorstep. After she was murdered.”

  I’d watched enough reruns of CSI: Miami to know exactly what they were getting at. “Pull over.”

  “What’s that?” Kinew’s tone was casual, as if his companion hadn’t just accused me of murder in her charming, roundabout way.

  “I said, pull over. Now. Turn around and take me home. I’ve had it with this bullshit.” My stomach churned again, but this time with rage instead of nausea. How dare they? I wasn’t some dumb kid anymore, and I was through taking their shit.

  “Reese, you’re overreacting,” Greyeyes said.

  “Fuck you.” As her mouth dropped open almost comically, it only made me angrier. “Seriously, fuck you. You lied to me and my mother to get me out of the house under false pretenses, and then you have the nerve to go and accuse me of murder.”

  “No one’s accusing you of anything.” Greyeyes pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes, which were wide and hurt. Kinew cut his speed, moving the Suburban over to the side with a flick of his indicator lights and the crunching of gravel. “If anything, you’re a witness.”

  “But that’s not what you said at the house, is it? You said you were taking me to pay my respects. So where were we actually going?”

  “We were hoping you’d have a cup of coffee with us and talk, that’s all.”

  “I’m not saying anything to you without a lawyer present. What you did counts as kidnapping, Detective, and don’t think I won’t sue your ass for it.”

  “What’s going on, Reese? We’ve always gotten along.”

  “That was before you had your thugs barge into my home, arrest me in front of my family, and throw me in that disgusting cell. It was before Archer nearly killed me and made me fucking blind. But I guess you’ve forgotten about that.”

  Kinew and Greyeyes exchanged a glance that infuriated me even more. I gripped the leg of my jeans with so much force it pinched my skin. If Kinew didn’t get moving soon, I’d jump out of the van and walk home.

  “And don’t fucking give each other that look, like I’m crazy. I’m right here – I can see you.”

  “No one thinks you’re crazy, Reese.” Kinew raised an eyebrow. “But you do seem extraordinarily angry.”

  “Maybe you can tell me what the proper reaction is after someone murders your girlfriend and her friends, you’re falsely arrested, a cop beats the shit out of you and robs you of your sight, and then two assholes kidnap you with some bullshit story about paying my respects. How am I supposed to act? I’d love to know.”

  I’d hoped to provoke Kinew, to get the man to lash back at me, but the chief remained as expressionless as always. It only made me angrier.

  Greyeyes held up a hand before I could unleash another barrage of insults. “It’s true. We haven’t been fair to you. You’ve gone through hell, and we had no right to expect you to help us with this, especially when we weren’t forthcoming. I apologize. We’ll take you home.”

  Momentarily defused, I leaned against the seat, arms crossed. “Jesus Christ, did you two ever stop to think that I probably dropped that damn bag when we left Rose’s trailer?”

  It sounded logical, and would have been, if not for the fact I remembered toying with it all evening, squishing the soft fabric and trying to guess at what was inside. So how had it ended up on Rose’s doorstep? I recalled how the water in the sink had turned crimson when I’d scrubbed my hands that afternoon. I couldn’t have done anything to Rose, though – I wasn’t a killer. Besides, how could I have driven to the reservation without my folks hearing? They’d had a fit about me escaping yesterday afternoon. They would have been on high alert.

  “There was blood underneath the bag,” Greyeyes said. “Whoever left it there did so after Rose was killed.”

  “Then I left it in her house and the killer took it. Or kicked it outside by accident. Jesus, for someone you claim to have such a great rapport with, you certainly accuse me of murder a lot. I’d hate to see how you treat people you don’t get along with.”

  “We don’t think you murdered Rose, but we do think you could be the key to this whole thing. We need your help, Reese.”

  Greyeyes was pulling her doe-eyed act again, batting her lashes and acting innocent, like she hadn’t convinced her stalwart friend that I was some kind of deranged serial killer. Well, fuck that shit. I was through cooperating. What good had come from my dealings with her? Less than zero.

  “Then talk to my lawyer.”

  “We were hoping to keep this unofficial,” Kinew said, and I threw back my head and laughed, not surprised when it sounded more like a snarl.

  “No kidding. I wonder why.”
>
  “I thought you’d want to help get justice for Rose. You saw how kind she was, how generous. She tried to help you without asking anything in return.”

  “Yeah, and I saw you had a boner for her too. For fuck’s sake, I don’t even know the woman. I met her once. I don’t owe her – or you – anything.”

  Greyeyes winced, looking over at her new partner, who stared straight ahead. “What about Jessica and Dan, Reese? What about Kira? Do you owe them something?”

  I had no answer for her.

  Without another word, Kinew shifted the van into drive and turned the vehicle around. A heavy silence settled over us as I tried my best to ignore the guilt plaguing me. I’d gone too far with my last comment. Kinew was a decent guy, and Rose had been nice. She had wanted to help me. She hadn’t made a lot of sense, but she certainly hadn’t deserved to be murdered. No one did.

  Coming home was a lot faster than the abbreviated highway tour had been. Kinew parked alongside the curb without pulling into the driveway. If he could have gotten away with shoving me out of the vehicle while it was still running, he most likely would have.

  “Hey.” I dared to touch him on the arm. “I’m sorry for your loss. She was a nice lady.”

  The chief’s jaw tightened. Under my hand, the man’s flesh felt like iron. Best get out while the getting was good. I opened the door.

  “Sorry to inconvenience you,” Greyeyes said as I jumped out. “We won’t bother you again.”

  I was about to snap some clever retort about lying cops and proper procedure, but it was too late. The Suburban sped off in a cloud of dust before I could get the door closed.

  “Reese? Reese, what’s wrong? Why are you back so soon?” Mom hurried to my side.

  “Did you call Prosper?”

  “Not yet. There hasn’t been time. You were only gone a few minutes.”

  “Better call him. It looks like they’re going to charge me with another murder.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “Well, that was a disaster.” Maria buried her face in her hands. What the hell had she been thinking? Reese was right – she had kidnapped him under false pretenses. She’d probably lost her marriage, her family, and now she could lose her job too, and for what? One stupid mistake.

  “What were you expecting?” Kinew added sugar to his coffee. She’d seen how much Reese’s crude comment had upset him, but now that the chief had returned to his unflappable self, she wondered if she’d imagined it.

  There was something about his calm demeanor that had the opposite effect on Maria. She wanted to scream at him, to shake him. Perhaps Reese had rubbed off on her.

  “I don’t know about you, but I’ve got a family at home. A little girl who depends on me to help put food on the table. If I lose my job over this—”

  “You’re not going to lose your job.”

  “How do you know? You heard what Reese said – he plans to sue me. And even if he doesn’t have grounds, it will be an embarrassment to the department. We never should have lied to him.”

  “You’d prefer to have told his mother we suspect her son is possessed by a wendigo?” Kinew arched an eyebrow while he sipped his coffee.

  Maria shook her head. “This is crazy. Are you listening to us? We sound insane.”

  “Yes, it is crazy. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t true. Anyway, you don’t have to worry. Reese is not going to sue you.”

  “Would you mind explaining to me where you’re gleaning all this special insight from?”

  He shrugged. “He’s a smart kid. Probably watched a cop show or two in his time. Get some luminol in that room of his, and the place is going to light up like a Christmas tree. And he knows it. I’m thinking that, while we chatted over tea with his mother, he was busting his ass to get Rose’s blood off his hands.”

  “You really think he did this? He’s never struck me as a killer.”

  “I’m sure you don’t think of yourself that way, either, and yet, your husband found you brandishing a butcher knife over your child. Whatever did this to Rose wasn’t Reese, just as the woman with the knife wasn’t you. You’re both puppets, as far as it’s concerned.”

  “And what would be its motive for attacking Rose?”

  “She knew too much. She told Reese he was related to the lost tribe. Reese the college student didn’t believe it, but the thing inside him felt it was way too close to home.”

  The disbelief must have been clear on her face, for the chief leaned closer. “I get that this is difficult for you to process. For years, you’ve depended on reason and logic in order to do your job, but you’re also Cree, Detective. Didn’t anyone tell you about the wendigo?”

  “Sure, in the same way white folks are told about the boogeyman. I never for a second believed it existed, even as a child.”

  “Well, it does. And it’s got Reese. What we need to figure out is how to get him back – before anyone else dies.”

  * * *

  That night I had a disturbing dream.

  I was a warrior, lean and strong. Hiding in the trees, I watched my victims from afar, glorying in the power I had over them.

  I was also starving. It had been a grueling winter, the cruelest of my life. The hunger was a constant gnawing at my gut, driving me half-mad with longing and need.

  It fueled my rage.

  When I took their women for my pleasure, I usually let them live. It delighted me to see their bellies swell while they wept, knowing the seeds they grew were mine. At the right time, I would rescue those children from their breeders and train them to fight, to kill. In this way, I would raise my army, and rejoice as the children, then grown, raped their own mothers.

  I would destroy the pale people, as they had once destroyed everything that was mine.

  The last woman had fought. She had sunk her teeth into my skin and screamed. I’d slit her throat before we were discovered, and some of her blood had splashed against my lips, salty and sweet.

  Before I could stop myself, I buried my face in her neck and drank. For the first time in over a moon’s passing, the pains clawing in my gut eased. The terrible hunger waned. I would not waste another opportunity to feast.

  My enemy had become my sustenance.

  Now the craving had grown strong again, and my insides growled as I surveyed my prey from above, watching them scurry like the vermin they were. This night, I would take a child – an infant that wasn’t mine – reveling in the people’s shrieks as they watched me tear it apart with my teeth. That tender, young flesh would taste so delicious.

  Creeping from the trees, I moved among the shadows. The pale people were sleeping, but I heard their whimpers and cries as images of me invaded their nightmares.

  A lone woman remained by the fire, cradling a child to her breast. Her yellow hair hung in curls to her waist, and it was all I could do to keep from crowing my victory to the moonlit sky. I had held a special preference for the yellow hairs ever since Lone Wolf had told me a female of their ilk was responsible for destroying our people. And now these fools had left one out for me like an offering.

  As the moon painted my silhouette upon the ground, I bit back a cry. For it wasn’t the shadow of a man, but a beast with the antlered head of a moose or deer and long arms that ended in wicked claws that dragged upon the dirt. My ribcage was prominent, my waist so miniscule as to be nearly nonexistent, and hooves punctuated my heavily muscled legs. What fiendish thing was this?

  But the warrior appeared unconcerned as we continued stalking the village, comfortable in this hideous form. I wasn’t a man any longer and not quite a beast, either, but some appalling hybrid of both.

  Stepping over a thin wire someone had positioned around the camp, I smirked at their pathetic attempts to protect and warn themselves. Didn’t they realize they could never hope to outsmart me? My nation’s greatest warrior had trained me,
and trained me well.

  My intended victim stiffened as I approached, and I saw something flash – a glint of steel that attracted the moon’s light. A blade or some other weapon. They had anticipated my arrival, then. Again, I stifled the urge to howl in delight. Did they truly believe a lone fighter to be a match for Little Bear? Circling to the woman’s weak side, away from that hidden saber, I lunged, teeth bared to taste her blood.

  She sprang to her feet and sidestepped, my fangs clipping a curl as she moved out of reach. Flinging off her cloak, she revealed her infant to be a child’s toy, and her vibrant hair a fake that she cast upon the earth. ‘She’ wasn’t female at all, but a man outfitted for battle. At his whistle, we were soon surrounded.

  The pale people’s torches illuminated the impending skirmish. Several women screeched among whispers of “Monster!” and “Wendigo!” but such terms meant nothing to me. These were the fiends who had repaid my mother’s kindness with death, rape, and destruction. They were the monsters, not I.

  My would-be victim advanced, thrusting his blade forward. I towered above him, much too tall for him to reach my heart, so he aimed for my midsection. With one swipe, I cleaved his arm from his body. The look of shock upon his face as he clutched the wound, life force spurting from between his fingers, was so amusing I almost let him live, but I preferred the screaming. Another swipe and his head rolled to a stop at my hooves, his torso collapsing into the ashes around the fire.

  Their arrows pierced my hide, then, and I roared – more for effect than from pain, as I did love to impress. Yanking the missiles from my body, I sent them back into my enemy’s midst at harrowing speed, striking at least two in the forehead. They would sully my land no more.

  Resigned to fighting for my supper, I slashed and kicked, sending death in every direction. However, it did not matter. Whenever one man dropped, two more arrived to take his place. The pale people had called on their brethren for reinforcements. Their blades and pellets penetrated my flesh, burning and piercing, until a powerful strike brought me down to their level, my legs cut out from under me. They descended with every weapon they had at their disposal – rocks and sticks as well as swords and those ridiculous fire cannons. My vision dimmed and I realized I would not win this battle. My strength waned as I assumed my mortal form.