Wind Dancer stood, his eyes meeting the detective’s. “If you didn’t believe, you would not have your hand on your weapon.”
He hadn’t even realized he’d rested his hand on the butt of the gun. “Being cautious is totally different.”
“We are making preparations. Come meet my new brothers.” Wind Dancer fanned his hand out in the direction of the ceremony room.
“These are normal people, right? I’m not sure how many more of your weirdo friends I can handle.”
Wind Dancer’s forehead creased slightly as if he might be processing the question as they moved inside the Native American wing where a major transformation had taken place.
He introduced the group, saving Two Feathers, who extended his hand to the detective, for last. “Jacque is concerned you might be weirdos,” the Pawnee offered.
Two Feathers grinned.
“Sorry. We weren’t properly introduced the other day.” The detective felt embarrassed as the older Pawnee withdrew his hand. “It’s just— “
“No need to apologize, Detective Marquette. I understand. I assure you we are of this universe. The vote is still out on the weirdo part, however.” He chuckled, dispelling Jacque’s feeling of awkwardness.
“Glad to hear it, Mr. Two Feathers.”
“Call me Two Feathers. Keep it simple.”
Jacque nodded as he took in the transformation of the room. He lost track of the dog he imagined searched for a good hiding place or a tasty security guard to gnaw on. Probably should be more vigilant at where the beast lurked in case he tried to jump in his body or some other absurd nonsense. Maybe he’d be safe until the skinwalker chose a more appropriate time when he could finish his vendetta.
Two Feathers took great pains to explain the history of the Pawnee until Jacque felt a yawn coming on which he covered just as a couple of men his own age ask for his help in carrying what appeared to be movie props. He sure hoped they belonged to them and not the museum. Arresting the Pawnee delegation for theft could get embarrassing for everyone. He didn’t need any more complications. He realized too late they kept him busy to avoid the elephant in the room, which was the scaffolding.
“So what do we have here, Joseph?” Jacque moved around the platform rising about four feet off the floor. He didn’t know anything about Native American culture, but this place had taken on some kind of Plains Indian extravaganza about to happen. The thought occurred to him the decorations might be a little over the top.
“We will celebrate our deity of the Morning Star by offering a sacrifice.”
“I’d like to offer one mangy dog,” he mumbled as he looked over the platform.
“We come each year to share with the people of your city. Our ceremony has become very popular.” Two Feathers checked out some tie-downs on the platform.
“Morbid curiosity.” The detective frowned. “Go figure.”
“Yes. I suspect in some cases this is true,” Two Feathers agreed. “It is more for us than anything. There are still people among you who believe in the old ways, though. They will be here soon, to assist in our transformation.”
Jacque’s radar went up. “Whoa. Wait a minute. Transformation? What the hell are you talking about?” He stepped in front of the old Pawnee and Wind Dancer, noticing the others taking a defensive stand.
“I am taking these men to where they belong, with my people, their people, to prepare them for the future.”
Jacque leveled a disgruntled glare at the Pawnee delegation. “Okay. I was wrong. You are a bunch of weirdos. Do you realize this could kill you? Who knows if it is even possible? You’ll never survive.”
“We will take our chances.” Two Feathers pointed to the earth lodge. “Wind Dancer has agreed to be our guide.”
Jacque eyed his friend. “What about Cleo? You came to this world because of her. You’re just going to abandon her?”
Wind Dancer motioned for Two Feathers to leave them alone. “I promised to take them if they helped me rescue her.”
“How is an old man and”—he pointed to the other men— “whatever they are, going to help rescue Cleo? She’s with gangbangers. These guys might think they’re a bunch of badass Indians, but I’m here to tell you they are no match for those guys.”
Wind Dancer folded his arms across his chest, reminding Jacque of many a stereotyped Indian he’d seen in movies over the years. The Pawnee squinted. “They are untested but have prepared their whole lives for such a challenge.”
Jacque couldn’t help letting an exasperated chuckle escape through clenched teeth. “And what are you going to sacrifice?”
“One will be provided. It always is.”
“Spoken like a true bogeyman slash crazy person.”
“I don’t understand your words, but it sounds like you doubt mine.”
“Listen to me, Joseph. You need to stop screwin’ around and get your head in the game.”
Wind Dancer’s brow pinched over his nose, and Jacque hurried to clarify.
“What I mean is we need to get serious about finding Cleo. She’s in real danger.”
“Neosho will protect her until he can bring her before me to see him crossover or kill her. Until then she will be protected.” He spoke so matter-of-factly, Jacque almost believed him.
“He is only one man. The guys he’s running with are seriously crazy in the head,” he said pointing to his own skull. “What if they take Cleo from him? Did you consider that?”
Wind Dancer stared at him a few seconds before speaking. “No.” The Pawnee dropped his hands to his side. “I believe he is in charge.”
“You don’t know squat. There’s no way the Death Apostles would go for an outsider to take over.”
“He is Osage. There could be ten different tribal elders present, and the Osage would believe themselves to be in charge. If they weren’t, they would be when they got through making a point. These gangs you speak of could not take Neosho on their best day before he crossed over. Now it would be impossible.”
“I hope you’re right.” He glanced at his watch. Time seemed to be getting away from him with all this education on Indian hocus pocus. “Almost eleven thirty. I’m going to check in to see if there is any word on the situation.”
“Jacque?” Wind Dancer stepped closer. “What would happen to Cleo if she escaped the gang?”
The detective reached for his vibrating phone. “A woman like her, alone on the streets of Chicago in Gangland?” He shook his head. “Not good.” Lifting the phone, he hit answer. “Detective Marquette. Talk to me.”
A desk jockey at the precinct filled him in. “A call came in ten minutes ago. Two people, one black male and one white female, spotted crossing the street near a warehouse district, not far from here. They disappeared down an alley. The caller had a scanner and thought they heard the person of interest call.”
“Text me the location. I’ll head that direction.” Jacque hurried toward the exit as Wind Dancer followed.
“What is it, Jacque?”
“I think Cleo is on the run. Going to check it out.”
Wind Dancer jerked the door open with the kind of brute strength he’d also seen in Neosho. “I’m coming with you.”
Jacque glanced at the dog that rejoined them. “Guess you’re coming, too.”
Chapter 24
Cleo squealed in fear when something ran over her feet as Ty pulled her deeper into the shadows of the alley, his tobacco-stained hand covering her mouth.
He whispered, “Just a rat.” His chest rose and fell rapidly. “If I move my hand, will you keep quiet?”
She gave a jerky nod of acceptance.
Cleo shivered. Lightning flashes exposed cockroaches scurrying up a dumpster next to them as thunder rumbled across the sky. A drop of rain hit her cheek, followed by several more. They’d escaped around an hour earlier but hidden after someone spotted them and tried to get them to come inside. Ty feared a trap and kept her running until he located a safe place in an abandoned storefront. I
t provided some protection from the downpour, the downside being it also masked the footfalls of any approaching Death Apostles.
“We gotta find a ride. When they wake up and find us gone, they’ll come after us. I don’t want to be anywhere around here when that happens, especially with your crazy Indian. Understand?”
Cleo nodded like a scared child, understanding the violence these men were capable of after having treated many wounds over the last few years in the ER.
“Maybe we should split up,” she whispered as they peeked around a corner to see most of the streetlights flickering like strobes.
“No way. You’re goin’ save my skin with the Feds or whoever you’re tied to. I’m not takin’ the fall for any of this. You’re tellin’ them I saved you. Right?” He scowled into her face.
“Right. Let’s get out of here.”
Rain poured from the sky in torrents as they escaped into the darkness, neglected streetlights flickering like lightning flashes. With such tumultuous weather, it felt unlikely they would come in contact with the shadier side of Chicago. Even criminals had better sense than to come out in this, Cleo reasoned. She took solace knowing the only one who could track them would be Neosho. From what she’d seen of him, a little thing like a severe thunderstorm would be a walk in the park.
“Do you have a phone?” Cleo followed Ty under an awning flapping in the wind. She heard it rip and figured by morning it would be in Lake Michigan or Indianapolis, depending on the strength of the storm.
Ty fumbled with his prepaid phone inside his jacket and promptly dropped it in a puddle. Cleo rescued it with a quick grab, hoping she had been quick enough. There wasn’t a dry thread on her, so wiping it off seemed a waste of time. Her fingers trembled from the cold seeping through her body as she tried to punch in Jacque’s cell number she’d memorized the day before. The habit of memorizing had gotten her through medical school. Taking notes in her head saved her on many occasions when computers crashed, ER chaos prevailed, or details slipped past others.
“Give me the phone,” Ty groaned. “Tell me the number. You’re shaking like a leaf.”
When the phone rang, he passed it to her.
“Jacque, please, please answer the phone.”
~~~~
A clap of thunder startled Neosho awake. He took a moment to make sense of the unfamiliarity of his situation. Nothing made sense in this land. Noises vibrated against his brain with such intensity, it caused a throbbing over one eye. It subsided only if he slept. Soon the pounding would return. Food tasted saltier than the purslane he sometimes ate on the plains in his world. It made him thirsty. These men drank something they called beer that made them act with strange behaviors. He’d seen this even with the white men who visited the plains in his world. It never ended well, so he drank only water, but even this tasted unclean.
But his enhanced sense of smell surprised him the most, even more than the strength, because now he possessed the ability to track without following signs left by sloppy people. This made all the difference since he didn’t understand many of the physical signs anyway. All of this must be true for Wind Dancer as well. In the other world, they were evenly matched, so it seemed reasonable to expect the Pawnee to have many of these same gifts.
The sound of rain pelted against the dirty windows he’d noticed earlier. The moan of wind tunneling through the narrow canyons of Chicago kept him in a state of disorientation for a few minutes. Darkness had fallen hours ago. He sat staring out into a room with dim light cascading from the ceiling.
The sound of snores, snorts, and blubbering lips alerted him to the condition of the men who had followed him to the Field Museum. The mindless music emitted from a black box sitting on the floor attached to a cord leading to a wall. How could a box make music, he wondered? Even from where he sat, he could smell their breath and the meal they’d eaten, consisting of round meat on bread with something they called fries. In spite of not eating for hours, he felt little hunger and decided the smells suppressed the urge.
One thing that remained satisfying to him was the fresh smell of sweetgrass on the skin of Cleopatra. She reminded him of home and how the wind carried the scent of cleansing after a spring rain. He closed his eyes to inhale her scent, holding his breath longer than he thought possible, when he jumped to his feet. Her scent no longer existed. In a few strides, he crossed the room to where he’d left her in Ty’s care. With an abundance of pent-up anger to fuel his impatience, he tossed tables, chairs, and boxes aside in search for Cleo, even though he had no doubt she was gone.
“Neosho. What the hell?” Ashanti rubbed his belly and stretched like a waking bear.
“Ty took Cleo away. They run.”
“I knew I couldn’t trust the little weasel.” Ashanti stood and moved about the room, kicking the bottoms of feet on the floor or shoving at exposed shoulders of his men. He checked the time on his cell phone. The boom of thunder shook the windows. “It’s almost one o’clock. Wonder when they left.”
“I got up to take a leak around midnight, but I figured everyone was sleeping,” a man with a shaved head commented. “This storm sounds bad. I’m checking the weather,” he said playing with the radio dial.
Neosho slipped his Packers jacket over his bare chest, having taken it off earlier in the evening because of the rising temperatures. “I find her.” He jerked the door open and let the onslaught of wind and rain slam into his body. “You coming?”
Dissension lifted over having to go out in such weather, but fell flat when Ashanti held his hand up. He jerked his chin toward the Osage. “We’re coming.” He issued orders and they moved out, leaving Neosho standing in the open door, who stared out into the darkness with the howling wind slamming against his body.
~~~~
“Where is she?” Wind Dancer strained to see through the windshield as fans of water sprayed like fountains on each side of the car when Jacque hit the puddles at a speed considered reckless in this kind of weather.
“Not far from here. Almost there. She’s been on the run for several hours to avoid being captured by the Death Apostles. Sounds like she hid for a while, considering how late it is. Said the phone she’s using keeps dropping calls.
“Dropping calls is bad. Are they hard to hold?”
Jacque normally would laugh at this kind of conversation, but for the moment all he wanted to do was find Cleo, not explain the English language.
The storm intensified with each hour it moved toward dawn. Jacque couldn’t remember this kind of weather ever rampaging through his city. Maybe all the talk about climate change had some merit after all, but he’d leave the questions for the geeks to decide. He needed to find Cleo and get her to a safe place.
After searching several side streets, making three wrong turns, and one backup, Jacque found a parking lot. The surface resembled a shallow pool where bouncing raindrops resembled wet ballerinas dancing to thunderous applause, and escape might be possible. With each gust of wind, they appeared to change direction in some frantic routine.
With a flip of a switch, the red lights on Jacque’s vehicle flashed then pulsed like a strobe. With the release of seat belts, Jacque checked his weapon then reached for a couple of flashlights. A flash of lighting followed by a boom of thunder shook the car, creating a moment’s hesitation between the two men.
A text to the number Cleo used earlier let her know help had arrived. “Let’s go. She should be around here somewhere. Probably hunkered down to stay out of sight in case Neosho is tracking her.”
“It will be hard for him to track in this storm but not impossible. I know because I’m struggling.” Wind Dancer opened the door and stepped out into water that came up over the instep of his cowboy boots. As he slammed the door shut, Jacque came around the front and tossed him a flashlight.
They moved out, letting the flashes of lightning open up spaces the flashlight couldn’t reach. Neither called out to Cleo in case others searched for her as well. The rain soaked them to the skin
almost instantly but neither appeared to notice as they moved together toward a dark alley. In a moment where lightning mixed with the strobe of bouncing light from the police car, a shadowy figure stood ahead of them like a statue with his arms slightly out from his sides, carrying a hatchet in one hand and a club in the other.
~~~~
“They’re here, Ty.” Cleo breathed a sigh of relief as she slipped the cell phone he’d given her into her pants pocket. Even though he’d secured jackets for them before they had escaped into the night, the rain still managed to soak through the exposed parts of their bodies the flimsy jackets failed to cover. In spite of the warm temperature, the icy rain would take its toll soon enough. “How far is the Jamison parking lot?”
“Should be able to see it as soon as we get out of this alley.” He stepped out from under the awning jutting out over the doorway in the alley where they’d hidden and grabbed her hand and led her out into the rain. “Stay as close to the wall as possible.”
The rain felt like tiny pins slamming into her face as Ty shook his head then rubbed his eyes. When they neared the end of the alley they headed north. Less than a half block remained before they needed to cross the street. Since the location of the parking lot offered little to no cover, Ty promised her their hideout would be a healthier choice if the Death Apostles came in search of them. That turned out to be good advice. Since there had been no sign of them, she felt optimistic their escape might prove successful.
After spotting the strobe of light bouncing off the nearby building, Cleo picked up the pace, sloshing through puddles adding to her discomfort. “Come on. Can’t wait to get out of this weather.” She paused to push strands of wet hair out of her eyes. “There they are,” Cleo yelled against the wind and tugged free from her protector’s hand. She rushed forward dodging areas she feared might be watery abysses.
Dark Side of Morning (Wind Dancer Book 1) Page 20