Jacque smirked. “Probably not. He can come with me. I’ve got some paperwork to take care of at headquarters then we’ll go shopping.” He returned the card to her. “I got this. Least I can do. I’ve got a lot of questions for this guy.”
“Can it wait until I’m there? I’d like to hear the answers, too.”
“No. You don’t get to make the rules on this one, Cleo.” She noticed they’d transitioned to a first-name basis. “I’ll swing by and pick you up around nine tonight. We’ll grab some pizza and catch up then. Okay with you?”
Her eyes went to the Frenchman’s body being covered in a white sheet. “Yes. I need to do a few things myself, Jacque. I’ll take care of your twin.” She tilted her head toward the body.
~~~~
The Osage emerged from an alley he’d discovered the night before. His head hurt and a lump on his head felt tender where he’d fallen against something hard. He wondered where the woman with fire hair hid. Cleopatra. The name filled his head. How he’d ended up in a dark passage between towering buildings remained a mystery.
For years, he’d watched from the glass enclosure along with the Pawnee, Wind Dancer. As the little girl grew into womanhood, she’d chosen the Pawnee, not him, to share secrets and dreams. When her father crossed over a night long ago, Cleo returned for one last time to grieve. He could tell from her tears and the way she stumbled around the room, where his case stood, she suffered from a broken heart. Police searched the area to find clues. Although he had one foot in the past, the museum taught him all about the future. Some things remained unclear. The meaning of words changed so often he failed to keep up.
The Pawnee had become his enemy long ago. He made his people sick, and now Wind Dancer would pay by taking his precious fire-haired woman to the other side. Finding several ways in and out of this world taught him patience. The pale skin of her body and the sun in her hair would satisfy him in his world. She’d stopped talking to him long ago—until yesterday. Something tugged at him even though she spoke in a teasing fashion. He didn’t like to be teased. Maybe she could save the rest of his people as her father claimed. Maybe the little girl he’d watched grow into a woman would come willingly. Either way, he would have to kill Wind Dancer for what he’d done.
Chapter 5
The day dragged on at a snail’s pace for Cleo, in spite of a busy day in the ER. For once, enough help arrived due to the expectation of bad weather and continued gang activity in the area. She kept wondering how Wind Dancer fared with the short-tempered detective. Should she have let them leave together? Time would tell. Time sounded like the key to all of this.
She’d glanced at the news around five when interviews with people at the Field Museum and the Shedd Aquarium took the lead story. There remained more questions than answers as the news media appeared to be salivating over the unexplained events. The patrolman who lost his horse gave little indication of why he had become separated from his ride. He posed with his animal, which bobbed its head up and down. With a humorous thought, she imagined the horse wanting to interject some vital information. Fortunately, the news reported security cameras had failed with the storm. Although Cleo didn’t understand why they hadn’t worked, she believed it had nothing to do with the storm.
Three text messages came in the afternoon, two from her friends alerting her they arrived home safely with a colorful reference to her Canadian Mounted Policeman. In spite of the X-rating, she chuckled a little, drawing the attention of one of the nurses. The third text came from Detective Marquette.
It said simply, “All is well. No problems. He is very quiet and won’t talk to me. See you tonight.”
She longed to take a hot shower with cucumber-melon soap in her own home. Getting one earlier in the morning hadn’t worked out. The hospital showers provided for long shifts failed to remove the faint scent of the beluga whale. She wrinkled her nose at the sensation of poopy whale water and smelly horse hair that might still be stuck to her skin. After sending a text to the detective to come to the condo, she bugged out thirty minutes early. She managed to make it home in time to take a hot shower then slipped into clean jeans, and a thin sweater. She felt like a new person. A quick towel dry of her hair and a light application of makeup gave her a better outlook on life.
Having no men in her life, other than coworkers, the thought of two coming to visit at the same time made her feel almost giddy. When the detective called to let her know they were bringing pizza up to her place instead of going out, she gave her appearance one last glance in the mirror. Could she really be this excited and flushed? The thought of Wind Dancer returning to her caused a spike in her pulse.
The desk clerk alerted her to her guests. At the ding of the elevator, Cleo resisted flinging open the door and waving like a cheerleader at a homecoming parade. Even when the doorbell buzzed, she opened the door slowly, struggling to still her shaking hand.
Wind Dancer stood in the hallway, beaming at her. Why did he have to be so handsome? Straight black hair to his shoulders, golden-brown skin, darkened she guessed, by too much sun exposure. Aware once again of his lean body she already knew to be hard as a rock, created a feeling of weakness in the knees, and a rising desire to get rid of the detective ASAP.
Maybe it was wishful thinking, but she thought his gaze toward her took on a smoldering edge beneath an otherwise calm exterior. His mouth bordered on being wide, but it was the full lips beneath a straight nose that created a flutter in the pit of her stomach. The nose flared as he took in a breath then released it slowly. The few scars on one side of his face failed to rob him of his rough beauty.
“I’m starving,” Cleo declared as she locked the door, inhaling the aroma of luscious tomato, mozzarella, and basil from the pizza box the detective held. The idea of anyone being a match for a Pawnee warrior who probably could chase down a buffalo and bop him on the head with little effort could certainly take down an intruder with little effort. “What kind of pizza?”
“Half veggie—thought you might be the veggie type—and meat lovers for us.” He raised his chin toward Wind Dancer. “Right, Joseph?”
Wind Dancer shifted his eyes from Cleo who had begun to wither under his examination. He mimicked the raised chin as Jacque had done. He followed Cleo into the kitchen and began opening cabinet doors, inspecting the contents with his almond-shaped eyes, occasionally inspecting an item then would close it and move to the next.
Cleo removed some plates and glasses. “I don’t have any beer. Not much of a drinker. I have water and I think there’s some kind of diet soda my friends left.”
“Diet will be okay with me. How about you, Joseph?”
“Diet okay with me,” he echoed.
Cleo frowned at Jacque. “You don’t have to drink that, Wind Dancer, just because he wants it.”
“My buddy says he wants what I have.” Jacque opened the pizza box and leaned in to sniff.
Cleo rolled her eyes. “I’ll have water. Maybe I should pour you some water, Wind Dancer.”
“No. Diet is good,” Wind Dancer insisted.
The Pawnee took a deep drink and began to sneeze. Had he ever had carbonation before? Or caffeine. He strode around the condo holding a piece of pizza.
“You need to sit down and eat, Wind Dancer.” The detective pointed at a chair.
“Cle-o,” he said, as if toying with the sound of her nickname, “you should call me Joseph like he does.” He pointed his half-eaten pizza at the detective. “No one will suspect I’m not from here.”
She and Jacque choked on their laughter.
“Yeah. Well we’re going to have to work on that.” Jacque chewed then took a swig of soda. “Joseph and I had quite a day.” The detective faced Cleo. “Joseph here learned some new things on how to fit in with the underbelly of Chicago’s frequent flyers at the precinct. Show her what you learned.”
Wind Dancer sat down at the table and wiped his hands on his jeans. When he raised his middle finger on both hands, she gasped and gl
ared at Jacque. Wind Dancer’s smile faded.
“Wind—I mean, Joseph, you can’t show people that. It is an insult. You are showing them you don’t like them or you wish them bad luck. No respect.”
“Bad luck?” Jacque chuckled. “Never heard that before.” He grabbed another piece of pizza. “Cleo is right. Those guys at the station didn’t like you putting them in a headlock when they mouthed off to one of the officers.” His grin appeared. “They weren’t thanking you for your guidance. Probably a good thing Chicago’s finest had your back.”
“I understand.” He nodded. “I will remember this.”
Cleo crumpled a napkin after dabbing at her mouth. “Joseph, when I was with your friend in the hospital he talked about the Osage but also about my father. He said ‘Your father says he is sick.’ Did he mean he knew where my father is and he is ill? Do you also know something about my father?”
Jacque laid down his pizza and chewed his last bite a little slower. “You never mentioned you knew Cleo’s father. Do you?”
“Yes. Of course.” Before it could sink in, he continued, “He is my friend. Like the Frenchman.”
“My father is alive?” Cleo couldn’t contain the surprise in her voice. “Where is he?”
“The other side of the earth lodge. It opens into my world. Sometimes it closes and nothing can get through.”
“What the hell is he talking about?” Jacque rubbed his nape and shivered.
“It is where I come from. Like the Frenchman. Your father found this passage four years ago. I came upon him, nearly dead after falling into the river. When he revived, he teach me, sorry, I mean, taught me about this world so I could come see you.” His eyes softened for an instant. “I told him we are friends and the many things you told me.”
Under her breath, she mumbled, “Hopefully not everything I told you.”
Wind Dancer raised an eyebrow. “No. Not everything.”
“Are we having a moment or what?” Jacque snapped. “Let’s stay on topic.” He rubbed his hands on a napkin. “What the hell are you talking about? The other side sounds like something Stephen King would write about.”
Wind Dancer cocked his head. “I should meet this king. I do not like the president very much. He makes promises then breaks them. Maybe a king would be better.”
Cleo opened her mouth to speak but stopped when Jacque held up his hand to her. “Are you telling me there is some kind of parallel universe or something?”
“It is not exactly parallel because it is in the past. This means it already happened.” Wind Dancer stared at the pizza as if examining his next move.
“I’m aware of what it means. How does that work?” This time the detective shot a questioning glance at Cleo.
“How should I know? Worm holes? Magic? Voodoo? Hocus pocus? But I know it exists. The Frenchman threw me through the wall. There was an opening earlier in the day.” She told him about the encounter with the woman in the earth lodge trying to get her to come through. “I was terrified because I saw Wind Dancer and Neosho moving in their case.” She then told the detective about the Osage coming after them. “I’m not sure why he is so angry.”
“He comes for you. You are a healer. He knows this. When you talked to me, he could hear. He wants you to save his people. Your father knew this. He spent the last few years teaching me everything about this world in case I ever needed to come across or if you came in search of him.”
“My father is alive,” she sighed, dabbing at wet eyes.
“You’re believing this stuff?” Jacque dragged another piece of pizza onto his plate then one for the Pawnee. “Guess you’re not as smart as I thought. Sounds pretty desperate. And I’m not sure Joseph here, and Neosho aren’t escaped inmates from the Minnehaha Insane Asylum.”
“You sound incredibly racist, Detective Marquette,” she said with a huff drawing a concerned frown from Wind Dancer. Reaching across the table she patted Wind Dancer’s hand as he reached for the pizza. “I believe you, Joseph. So, tell us. What did your friend mean about my father being ill?”
“Your father isn’t sick. He strong. When the Frenchman said to tell you he was sick he meant Neosho. Many Osage die from sickness. Your father thinks Neosho might be sick, too, or will be soon.” He swallowed and pointed to the pizza box. “This is good. What part of this do you hunt?”
“Mostly just the name of the restaurant,” Jacque spoke with his mouth full.
“I don’t understand.” He gulped the last of the diet cola from the two-liter bottle then burped. Jacque laughed then he also burped.
“Stop it. Both of you. You’re disgusting.”
“Sorry, Cleo. Just trying to make the guy feel at home.” Jacque closed the empty box. “Bad manners, Joseph. Women don’t really like men to burp.”
“Understood. Sorry, Cleo.” He reached out and grabbed her hand. “We need a safe place so we don’t get sick and he doesn’t try to take you.”
“You keep talking about getting sick. What’s wrong with him?”
“He will have small holes in socks.”
Jacque frowned. He held up both his feet to show his mismatched socks with holes in the heels. He’d left his shoes at the door as had Wind Dancer. “Guess I already caught it, then.”
The Pawnee furrowed his brow as if bewildered then shook his head. “No. Not socks. Holes in body.” He pointed to the side of his face where a number of scars trailed down to his chin. “I very sick once. Almost died. Your father saved my people by moving me far away to get well. They didn’t get sick. Neosho met the same white men as me. Your father say they carried this sickness. Neosho let them stay with his people. We did not. They got sick and many died.”
Cleo jumped to her feet as she grabbed his face and inspected it closely. “Oh no,” she moaned.
“What is it?” Jacque leaned in to inspect the Pawnee.
“Neosho is carrying smallpox.”
Chapter 6
Jacque stood as if in slow motion. “Smallpox. The disease.”
Wind Dancer lifted his eyes to the two-people towering over him, grave concern etched on their faces.
“Yes. Your father said we must stop him from coming here. Neosho tried to get your father to help, but he is not the right kind of doctor. When your father realized what Neosho intended to do, he tried to stop him. He got away and headed here.”
“How did he know of the opening to this world?” Cleo’s voice dropped to almost a whisper.
“We all know. Every tribe in the cases at the museum know this. Only the Pawnee have a way in, and it is the earth lodge. The other tribes have not found this.”
“Are there other openings? The Frenchman sounded like he knew of someplace else.”
“Sometimes the opening moves from the lodge to another place. That is why we fell into the fish pool.”
Cleo laid her hand against her forehead. “Why didn’t Jacque and I freeze up like the others? Or the animals?”
“There is a space between light and dark, good and evil. This holds great power. The opening in my world poured out enough magic to protect you. As to the animals, they are not affected by such things. Everyone knows this.”
“Magic?” Jacque shook his head and let out an exasperated sigh. “Let’s focus, shall we,” the detective snapped. “Are you sure this Neosho guy has smallpox?”
“His village became sick after the white men called surveyors left. I think they acted like soldiers. Very hard men. Neosho not sick when he left the case, but your father said this sickness would harm you.” He reached out and touched Cleo’s cheek then withdrew his hand. “I could not let such a thing happen. I will find and destroy him before he infects you. Don’t be afraid.”
Jacque propped his hands on the table. “You don’t understand. He could infect the entire city within a matter of a few hours.” He looked over at Cleo. “Have you been vaccinated?”
“Yes. When I traveled with Doctors Without Borders.”
“We need to contact the Center f
or Disease Control and Homeland Security immediately.”
“The trouble is there are only about seven million doses of vaccine. There are almost three million people in Chicago alone. If Neosho is walking through the streets with a fever, he could be infecting hundreds of people. We’ve got to find him.”
“First responders, health care professionals, teachers, and the Field Museum employees who were there last night need the vaccine ASAP.” Jacque fumbled for his phone.
“Yes. If they have been exposed, then the vaccine will offer some protection. It is doubtful Neosho approached any of them, though. Do you remember?”
“He was one bad-ass Indian. The Frenchman caught up with me and tried to take the officer’s gun. I believed he planned to kill him. I think maybe this Neosho character was searching for something, maybe you, then headed outside. So, no, he probably didn’t interact with any museum people or your friends. The coffee shop is located too far from where your friends waited. If he touched them before they got on the planes, this could be spreading beyond our control.”
“To be on the safe side, how about making up something to quarantine them. Then you’d need to get a plane manifest, to see who else was on those planes,” Cleo added. “Think of the web of infection because Neosho got too close.”
Wind Dancer watched each of them talk, shifting his eyes each time one of them spoke. Finally he stood, becoming imposing as a frown darkened his face. “A plain is where we hunt buffalo. Will this kill the buffalo if we do not stop it?”
Cleo reached out and touched his shoulder, realizing how strange all of this must be for the Pawnee. Cleo fingered her hair behind her ears. “No. The buffalo will be fine. You need not worry about them. This is a different kind of plain. I will show you pictures later. In the meantime, I need to run a blood test on you and get Jacque vaccinated.” She refocused on the detective. “Make your calls, Jacque, after I run blood work on Joseph. I have a feeling we’re going to need to answer a lot of questions. This whole parallel universe idea isn’t going to fly unless you can prove it to the CDC and Homeland. They’ll lock us up and then it will be too late. I know a volunteer at the Museum of Science and Industry who used to work for NASA. He’ll believe us. He worked on this kind of thing for years.”
Dark Side of Morning (Wind Dancer Book 1) Page 5