Detective Greyeyes squeezed my hand. It felt nice, comforting. We were in this together. “Try not to worry. It’ll be okay. It’s different this time.”
“How can you say that?” My voice rose, and I closed my eyes for a moment, attempting to maintain my cool. “I have a repulsive, supernatural creature lurking inside me that rips apart everything it sees. How can that possibly be okay?”
“Hang in there, Reese.” Kinew raised his hand in greeting to a man wearing ceremonial dress who held open the campground gate to let us in. “Some of our Elders have done this before. You’re going to be fine. Maria is going to be fine.”
“But what if we’re not? What if it doesn’t work?” I sounded like a whiny little kid, but I couldn’t help it. Anxiety was clawing the crap out of my insides.
“It will.”
“But how do you know?”
A nerve in Kinew’s jaw twitched. “Because it has to.”
Sweat damped my back. I reeked of fear, but it was better than smelling like that other…thing. Detective Greyeyes had assured me I couldn’t have killed Jessica, since I’d had none of her blood on me – or Kira’s, for that matter – only Dan’s, from being in the tent when he was murdered. Still, the notion that whatever had done those terrible things to her, to them, now resided in me, made me sick. Worse than that – it made me want to grab Kinew’s knife from his pocket and slit my throat. That was guaranteed to be effective.
“You’re not alone. I’m scared too,” the detective said. She’d told me about the dreams she’d had, and what had happened with her daughter, how her husband had discovered her standing over Heidi with a knife. Kinew had spoken of the wendigo’s need for vengeance, but it didn’t make any sense to me. These were innocent people. What had Dan’s mother done wrong? Or Jessica? Or those two little boys who got smallpox? Heidi was only a child, for Christ’s sake. Why should she pay for anyone’s sins?
That Archer guy, he’d been an asshole, sure. A sadistic fuck. But what about Rose? All she’d ever done was help people. Kinew had told me that once Little Bear became a wendigo, he’d lost perspective and reason. The only thing he cared about after that point was the hunt, the kill. But that didn’t make it easier to understand.
Dan had been a great guy. He deserved to be here, not me. It had been my stupid idea to cut branches from that tree, my idea to break into the campground. Why hadn’t I been the one to die? I deserved it. They didn’t.
I pulled my hand away from the detective’s to dry my eyes with my sleeve.
“You have to stop blaming yourself. It’s not your fault,” she said.
“Of course it’s my fault. If I’d listened to Jess and camped somewhere else, none of this would have happened. She’d still be alive.” The tears fell faster than I could wipe them away. “She told me not to cut the trees. Don’t you get it? I killed my girlfriend and our friends. Maybe not with my hands, but it was still my fault.”
I hadn’t let myself think of her, really think of her, since it happened. Maybe I’d been afraid that thinking of her would lead to remembering how she’d looked when I’d found her that morning. And if let myself go there, I would lose my mind for sure.
That hadn’t been fair, though. I got that now. Jess was so much more than her death. Somehow, her faults and quirks no longer struck me as annoying. Instead I remembered the way she’d laughed until she snorted, and then laughed some more. The fun we’d had. The way her body had responded to mine. She’d been a beautiful, funny, smart-as-hell woman, and she was gone. I’d lost her. Her family had lost her. The world would never know her name, or benefit from whatever she would have ended up doing with her life. And every bit of it was my fault.
Kinew’s knife looked more and more tempting. It would be so easy, so fast. Over before either of them understood what was happening. I probably wouldn’t feel much pain. Certainly less than I was feeling now.
Detective Greyeyes wrapped her arms around me and held me close. “Shh, shh, stop punishing yourself. That’s not what she would want. She loved you.”
My initial impulse was to push her away. I didn’t want comfort, didn’t deserve comfort. Cruel words sprang to my lips, words that denied Jessica had cared for me. I’d just been a fling, a nice distraction from the stress of schoolwork and parental pressure and our looming futures, and all that crap.
But it wasn’t true, and I knew it. I hadn’t treated Jess the way I should have, hadn’t always been kind. She’d put up with my shit and loved me anyway.
I pressed my face into the detective’s shoulder and sobbed.
* * *
Twilight. The stillness shattered by drums. Shivering, I tugged my denim jacket closed, wishing I’d thought to bring something warmer. Winter would arrive soon.
“How are you feeling? Everything all right?” Detective Greyeyes studied my face like she expected to see fangs or something. Who knows, maybe she did.
“Okay, I guess. Cold.” Was I supposed to turn into it? And if I did, would I be conscious of it? That wasn’t how it had worked in the past, though. I’d fallen asleep and woken up the next day covered in blood. I wasn’t a fricking werewolf.
She called to someone and asked for a blanket, and before I could tell them not to bother, one was placed around my shoulders like a cape. We sat with our backs pressed together in the center of a circle. I hated being so close to that damn tree. Fucking thing gave me the creeps.
The drummers walked toward us, moving in a long row through the growing dark. Their voices, raised in song, made the skin on the back of my neck prickle. There was something so eerie, so intense, about their voices, as if they weren’t quite human. My mouth went dry. As if she could read my mind, Greyeyes took my hand in hers again.
We’re in this together.
When the first drummer approached, I flinched, thinking he was the creature from my nightmares, but then I realized he wore a mask. They all wore masks, each one more monstrous than the last.
Their song grew louder as they called to the sky. They began to dance backwards around us. This was it, then – the ceremony. Kinew had explained that much. Greyeyes’ fingers closed on mine, tightening and releasing, her non-verbal way of making sure I was fine. I tried to return the pressure with my nerveless hands. My body felt strange, like I had no control over it. It became lighter and lighter, as if it would float away from me.
Kinew shouted something in my direction, but I couldn’t hear him over the singing. His mouth opened and closed like a fish’s. It looked funny, and I would have laughed, but I couldn’t stay awake any longer.
I closed my eyes, and that’s the last thing I remembered.
* * *
The singing stopped. Screaming took its place.
“Maria! Maria, get over here now.”
She blinked, feeling dazed. Where was she? And why was everyone yelling at her? It hurt. She pressed her hands against her ears, buried her face in her knees.
Someone yanked her to her feet, dragging her away. She’d been holding hands with someone – Heidi? – but felt the fingers let go of hers without a fight. “What’s going on? Kinew? What’s wrong? Where are you taking me?”
She’d never in her life seen anyone look so afraid.
“You need to get the hell out of here. Run. As fast as you can.” The chief gave her a little shove and then stepped in front, taking up the song again, crying to the heavens. Drummers fell in behind him, pounding as if their lives depended on it.
Then she smelled it. It was the worst thing she’d ever smelled in her life, a combination of death, rot, and the gaminess of wild meat. Bile rose in her throat, and she covered her nose with both hands, choking at the stench. Even though every instinct she had warned her not to turn around, not to look, she did.
Reese was gone. In his place was the most hideous creature imaginable. Antlers sprouted from its shaggy gray head, each p
oint dripping with blood and something darker. Its eyes glowed crimson, and when it opened its gnarled snout to reveal a maw of saber-sharp teeth, the resulting stink made her vomit down the front of her jacket.
She stood rooted to the spot, urine trickling down her legs as her bladder let go. She couldn’t run, couldn’t move. The heat of the creature’s breath caused blisters to rise on her cheeks. As she gawked at it, it raised a powerful, ragged arm and struck her to the ground, slicing her jacket and sweatshirt through to the skin. Blood flowed from the wound, but she couldn’t feel it, couldn’t do anything to protect herself.
Maria waited to die, eyes bulging as the wendigo advanced on hoofed feet, steam rising from its repulsive form.
“Leave her alone.” Kinew sheltered her with his body, stretching his arms to block her from the thing’s view. “I’m the one you want – take me.”
The creature’s ferocity was nothing next to its glee, as it grinned with its disgusting, yellow-hued fangs. Before Maria could protest or yell or do anything to change Kinew’s mind, he was gone, the living, breathing nightmare standing in his place.
Reese lay in the center of the circle again, gasping for air, his skin the shade of a dead man’s.
It didn’t work. This is the end.
If she’d hoped the wendigo would acquire some of Kinew’s humanity, that optimism was shattered when the beast looked at her. If anything, the malevolent glint in its eyes had grown stronger, not weaker.
The thought of Heidi and Ben, waiting for her at home, helped her find her voice. “Kinew, it’s me – Maria. You’re stronger than this monster. Fight it.”
The beast advanced, claws still dripping with her blood, its snarling snout twisted into a terrible smile. Its protruding chest heaved with each breath, exposing bone beneath the tattered flesh. Soon it was close enough to kill, but it paused, head tilted, as if undecided how best to do it. Stomp or slash? Or simply rip her to shreds like the others? Maria crawled backwards, trying her best to put space between them, until she struck something solid. A tree in her path. There was no time to turn, or to find a place to hide. The creature closed the distance with a single step. She could almost hear it gloating.
“Kinew! I know you’re in there. You’re better than this.”
Still on the ground with his eyes closed, Reese moaned.
So this is it.
After all the near misses, her life would end here, torn from her by a mythological beast few believed existed.
Maria raised herself to her feet. If she were going to die, she’d be damned if she’d do it lying down. Standing, she came up to the creature’s waist. She was close enough to see its wicked heart, bloody purple against the gray of its flesh, thrumming inside the exposed ribcage.
This close, the odor was overwhelming. It burned her throat and nasal passages, making it almost impossible to breathe. Her head swam. At this rate, she would be unconscious when the thing killed her. Perhaps it was a blessing.
“Kinew, please. You do not want to hurt me. I’m your friend.”
Was that a flicker of consciousness in the creature’s eyes? Could she get through to Kinew after all?
Gritting her teeth, her body paralyzed but her mind racing at warp speed, Maria dug deep for the words that would set the chief free of this evil, and hopefully send the spirit back into the trees where it belonged.
A memory flashed through her mind of the time she’d met Kinew in his office. His office full of books. This quiet, introspective man who’d read all the classics.
Not as well read herself, Maria drew on the only one she knew by heart.
“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness….”
The wendigo raised its arm – foreleg? So it had decided, then. It would be death by claw.
The words tumbled out of her as she spoke faster and faster. “It was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness….”
With a jolt, Maria realized the creature had lowered its arm. Its head was tilted again, and she glimpsed something human behind its snarl. Kinew?
“It was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us….”
So focused was she on Dickens’ famous opening lines that her brain didn’t immediately register a familiar sound.
The click of a shotgun.
Maria whirled in that direction. “No, don’t shoot! Hold your fire – it’s Ki—”
In that moment, whatever trance the wendigo had been in vanished, and its roar echoed through the forest, scattering most of the drummers. It raised its claws.
The shotgun fired, deafening her. She fell to her knees as a shrieking whirlwind engulfed her in its funnel. It was black as pitch, and everything went dark until she saw the face of a confused, frightened man, his mouth twisted into a grimace.
My son, something within her cried, and she understood that she was looking at Little Bear – or who the man had been before losing his humanity. Rest well, my son. The killing is over.
And then he was gone.
Someone touched her shoulder and she looked into the eyes of Crazyhorse, who still clutched his shotgun, smoke curling from the barrel. “Are you all right, Maria?”
She spotted the body of Kinew, his eyes staring at a point in the sky she could not yet see, blood seeping out of the hole in his chest, and knew she’d never be all right again.
Epilogue
Crazyhorse never stood trial for the death of Chief Kinew. The incident hadn’t been his fault. Everyone said he’d been suffering from alcohol-related hallucinations for some time, and they shrugged off his ramblings about wendigos and spirits as the result of a pickled brain. If he had killed a white man, he probably would have been dead before he glimpsed the inside of a hospital, but since his victim was ‘just another Indian’, no one made much of a fuss.
It was the kind of hypocrisy that ordinarily made her wild with rage, but for once, it had worked in their favor. The community would never forget the kind of man Kinew had been, or the sacrifice he’d made, and Crazyhorse would finally get the help he needed, the kind of help he couldn’t afford until it was state ordered.
His sister would have approved of the serendipity. The man who’d given her his heart so many years ago had, in a strange way, helped her beloved brother by dying. Rose had never given up on Crazyhorse, and in her honor, the community would be there for him when he got out.
And so would Maria.
“Has your mother gotten used to the idea yet?”
Reese sipped his milkshake before shaking his head. “Are you kidding? She’s hoping I’ll wake up tomorrow and admit I’ve made a terrible mistake.”
They’d gotten into the habit of meeting at Happy’s, at the same table she’d once shared with Kinew. It made them both feel better to spend time with the only other person on the planet who understood.
Well, it made her feel better. When it came to Reese, she had to assume, for he didn’t say. But she hoped he felt the same.
“She’s going to miss you, but getting into Cornell is a huge honor. She’ll come around. It’ll just take some time.”
Maria understood all too well what it was like to miss a child. Seeing Heidi a couple of times a week was torture. She longed for the days when her rambunctious little girl had driven her squirrelly, when getting her to settle down for bed had been a nightly battle.
“How are things with Ben?”
After a pause, she shrugged. “About the same. He wants me to give up the job, but police work isn’t what I do. It’s who I am.”
“I get that. And if Ben really loves you, he will too. Like you said, it takes time to get over these things.”
She recognized the pain in his eyes, the trauma that had aged him
well beyond his years. He wasn’t over losing Jessica and his friends yet, or the guilt from what he might have done when possessed by the wendigo.
Some wounds never heal.
“Any more nightmares?”
“Not a one,” he said, signaling for the check. Their meetings had gotten shorter and shorter lately. “Otherwise, I’d turn myself in. Whatever Kinew did, it worked.”
“I’m glad.” She insisted on paying when the waitress came, grateful for the diversion. The next time Reese spoke, it would be to say goodbye.
The moment had passed, like it always did, without him asking her the same.
Have the nightmares stopped?
If he’d asked, would she have told the truth?
About why she didn’t push Ben harder for a reconciliation?
About the butcher knife she kept finding in her bed?
About the arrowhead around her neck that she kept hidden under her shirt?
Thankfully, he never asked, so she didn’t have to decide.
It would have been a tough call.
Because Detective Maria Greyeyes was still a cop.
And everyone knew cops didn’t lie.
Author’s note
While this is clearly a work of fiction, some of its most horrifying events are based on historical fact. Settlers murdered entire nations of indigenous people, and diseased blankets were given as gifts. Untold numbers of Native American children were taken from their families and forced into ‘boarding’ or residential schools, where they were beaten, verbally and sexually abused, separated from those who loved them, and forbidden to speak their own languages. That trauma from the past continues to affect indigenous people today – this is not ancient history. The last residential school closed in 1996.
Native Americans were denied all basic rights until 1924. In Canada, indigenous people weren’t permitted to vote until 1960. The plight of missing and murdered indigenous women in North America is a modern crisis, as thousands of young girls and women continue to vanish. Sometimes their bodies are found. Sometimes they disappear forever. It is estimated that eighty-four percent of Native American women experience violence in their lifetime.
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