Dark Side of Morning (Wind Dancer Book 1)

by Tierney James

  Ashanti convulsed violently. Was the skinwalker finally eliminated? But no sooner had the body dropped to the floor than Jacque sprang to his feet, eyes red with the rage of a possessed being. He tossed his head and rolled his shoulders, shuddering.

  Wind Dancer raced to Cleo’s side and tugged on the shaft enough to free her from being pinned in place, although the arrowhead remained in her arm as he gently lifted her to place her on the floor beneath the scaffold.

  She reached for Wind Dancer, but he slipped away to join in the fray. The wind increased enough to force the members of the Pawnee delegation to grab on to something to keep from being tossed like a child’s toys against a wall. As currents of air lifted her body, she wrapped a rope around her good arm.

  The clatter of weapons being tossed against the cases gave Cleo enough concern that she stuck her head out in the open to locate Wind Dancer and Jacque. Even the characters in the enclosed cases hunkered down as if they could feel the momentum of the storm. Only Neosho, Wind Dancer, and Jacque remained standing, unmoved by the wind.

  With the cry of a warrior, Neosho beat his chest then shook his head. He pointed his club toward her threateningly, but the sound from within the earth lodge drew his attention. A large portion of the back wall ripped open. Cleo had an overpowering urge to jump up and run toward it, in hopes of leading the Osage away from the man she loved.

  Then the skinwalker bounded toward the Osage with the screech of a demonic being, fist raised in a final act of revenge. Neosho’s eyes widened, but he met the skinwalker with his own lunge of anger. They crashed into each other like Titans, each stronger than should be was possible.

  Jacque fell under one of Neosho’s hammer-like punches. As Jacque went down, Neosho grabbed another weapon strapped on the calf of the detective’s leg.

  “Wind Dancer, he has a gun!” Cleo screamed into the wind.

  The Osage leveled his weapon at Jacque, but Wind Dancer grabbed the barrel as he fired, sending the shot into a piece of priceless pottery. Neosho fumbled the gun, which scooted across the floor toward Cleo.

  Before she could get to it, Neosho grabbed the gun, slamming it upside the Pawnee’s head hard enough to send him reeling. Jumping to his feet, he leveled the gun down at Jacque again as he rose from the floor in slow motion, eyes fiery red. Neosho pulled the trigger several times, sending the creature against the wall with a tortured cry.

  In that instant, the wind stopped completely, causing the rest of the Pawnee to stumble out into the open.

  The encased Indians remained animated, banging on the glass for release while the gang members remained frozen, except for their eyes that seemed to follow the activities unfolding around them. Several men moaned as the exhibit hall filled with one more sound. Cleo motioned for the tribal members to stand back behind a chest-high wall and held her finger to her lips for silence.

  The buffalo meandered into the exhibit, snorting beasts of the plains. Jacque slid down to the floor once more, grasping his blood-soaked pant leg. Cleo wondered how he lived as blood oozed from his neck and upper arm where he’d taken a bullet from his own gun.

  The Osage slowly refocused on the buffalo that eyed him with glowing red eyes and pawed at the floor with impatience.

  Neosho sprinted toward the opening in the earth lodge as the buffalo slammed him into the wall with his head, over and over until he fell to the floor. The buffalo stomped him while Wind Dancer shot arrow after arrow into the beast, each bursting into momentary flame when it landed. Finally, the beast fell to its knees and turned his head to gaze at Wind Dancer. The Pawnee approached him and laid a hand on his head as his eyes faded red to brown.

  Cleo stumbled to his side as he spoke. “Go on to the next world, my friend, and be with your family.”

  The buffalo took its last breath and collapsed on its side.

  “Wind Dancer!” Two Feathers pointed to the opening in the earth lodge. “It is full circle. We must hurry before the sun breaks through above the horizon.”

  Several of the Pawnee had clubbed the Death Apostles into unconsciousness or pinned them with arrows before the magic of the universe subsided. Several others had been hit by flying debris so they couldn’t move if they wanted to.

  “Grab your things. It’s time.” Two Feathers motioned for them to hurry.

  Wind Dancer reached Jacque and picked him up like a fallen toddler, blood seeping from the parts of his body the protective vest hadn’t covered.

  “Put him on the scaffold, Joseph. I can keep an eye on him until help comes.” With the burn in her arm, she wouldn’t be able to help more than that.

  “Remember what I said, Jacque.” Wind Dancer removed his shirt as he sat him on the edge.

  “Yeah. Yeah. Got it.”

  Cleo felt like she’d been left out of an important conversation. “I don’t understand. Everything is fine now. You aren’t leaving.”

  Wind Dancer pushed her hair away from her face, even as the others called to him. He kissed her as if there would be no tomorrow. “You are the only one I’ve ever loved, Cleopatra. I hope our paths cross again in the future.”

  “No. Wait.” Tears streamed down her face. In spite of his injuries, Jacque slipped off the platform and tried to prevent her from stopping the Pawnee. Wind Dancer jumped through the hole as it began to close. The detective held her against his bloody chest with his good arm. They waited longer than necessary, as if the night might still expose surprises they didn’t understand.

  The mangy dog crept out from under the scaffold and crawled to their side, emitting a growl as he seemed to observe the exhibit room now in shambles. “Some watch dog you are,” Jacque complained as the animal wagged his tail.

  ~~~~

  “And that’s it, Agent Farentino.” Jacque finished retelling the whole story once more. The only thing left of Neosho was a smashed mannequin the museum staff had tossed in the trash. Poetic justice. Since the FBI had been in on the whole parallel universe thing, he didn’t need to make anything up. They would handle the details and the media coverage. People continued to be more freaked out about the smallpox outbreak than a storm tearing through the Field Museum the night before.

  The ramblings of a bunch of gang members about monsters, powerful magic, and flaming arrows got them a night in jail then booked on weapons charges, breaking and entering, and attempted murder along with a number of drug offenses. The cherry on top for Jacque was the additional charges of assaulting a police officer and animal cruelty.

  “How’s Dr. Sommers?” the agent asked as they stepped over the mess. When the detective frowned, he continued, “And you, of course. How’re the arm and leg?”

  Jacque adjusted his sling. “Didn’t hit anything important. Cleo, I mean Dr. Sommers will be okay, too. The burn on her arm gave them concern at first, but she should be good as new before too long.”

  “Tell her if she needs anything to call.”

  Jacque rolled his eyes. “If she needs anything you will be the last person she calls.”

  “So Dr. Sommers told me at the hospital she wasn’t in any real danger from Wind Dancer. Care to explain? I thought he planned to sacrifice her.”

  “Yeah. So did I. Turns out those nerves of steel I thought she had were really all because of a story Wind Dancer told her.”

  “Take more than a story to calm me down if I thought I was a sacrifice.” The agent chuckled.

  “Well, the story goes that some Pawnee who planned to sacrifice a Comanche girl to the Morning Star decided that wasn’t such a good idea. On the morning of the sacrifice, he rode in and rescued her.”

  “Rode off into the sunset, huh?”

  “Sunrise in this case. Apparently, it was the beginning of the end for the sacrifice thing.” Jacque picked up a piece of broken pottery and gently laid it on a folding table brought in to place artifacts.

  “So Cleo thought they wouldn’t actually go through with killing her?”

  “She was more upset about Wind Dancer leaving. But
participating in the role of sacrifice apparently got the Morning Star, if you believe in that sort of thing, juiced up enough to open the hole into their world.”

  “Are you two…”

  “No. Don’t be an idiot. We’re friends. And.” He jabbed a finger in the agent’s chest. “I know about your propensity to love ‘em and leave ‘em so no taking advantage of a bad situation.”

  “Propensity? Another big word for a Chicago cop.”

  “Yeah, well, that is the last one I know so stop feeling so inferior.”

  The agent laughed good-naturedly as he swung the door open to meet the press at the bottom of the steps of the Field Museum. Colonel Jefferson from the Pentagon stood with stoic resolve as he waited with a few other military personnel. Their presence made sure everyone stayed on script. “Well, let’s see if they’ll buy the story we’ve made up.”

  Epilogue

  One year later

  Cleo removed the disposable gloves then dropped them in the appropriate container. The clock brought her awareness she’d worked two hours past her go-home-at-five-o’clock-no-matter-what deadline. She’d promised the head nurse, who she’d nicknamed helicopter, because of her constant hovering, to cut down on her hours. But she didn’t have a family or even a cat to go home to at the end of her shift, so she often times let someone else leave. Besides, then she wouldn’t be thinking about her father, and the little brother she’d never know. Her memories did a flip-flop as she scrubbed her hands. She wondered if Wind Dancer continued with his studies with her father when he returned to his village on the prairie. Was he well? More importantly, did he miss her, still love and long for her body as she did his?

  Two weeks earlier she’d driven out to where she thought his village may have been in Nebraska. She found a subdivision and strip mall. She parked her car and wept for a love she’d never know. With a broken heart, it became easier to bury herself in being a doctor. Others needed her and, at this point, she needed to be needed.

  The smallpox outbreak a year earlier had nearly gotten away from them. Fortunately, it had been contained to the Chicago area. Seven hundred cases diagnosed, another thousand quarantined, and two million vaccinated. Only three died, and they’d compromised immune systems already: one elderly man, a woman with cancer, and a teen mom who lived with Ashanti.

  “Hey, I thought you’d be ready to leave.” Jacque strolled into the locker room of the hospital. “The museum staff are anxious for you to see the exhibit before it reopens in the morning.” She slipped on a denim jacket and lifted out her hair over the collar. She had decided to grow it long in the last year.

  “Ty dropped me off this morning because he took my car to the shop to see about the knocking sound. Can you take me home so I can shower and change clothes?”

  “I wondered why you wanted me to drop by. Ty has done pretty well for himself in the last year.”

  “Yes. I’m proud of him. So, can you take me home first?”

  “Women. I guess, but don’t take all night. I got a date later.”

  She stood on tip toes and kissed his cheek. They’d become the best of friends. They went to dinner at least once a week and phoned each other on the weekends. Several times, Cleo had thought maybe something would happen between them, but it never did. Those moments she felt most vulnerable and alone.

  “Did Mangy Dog survive his manhood surgery?” She grinned.

  Jacque placed his hand over his face. “Let’s not talk about it. I feel guilty as it is. Poor guy. You should see him walk.”

  Cleo slipped her arm through his. “It’s for the best. You’ll see.”

  Once at Cleo’s, Jacque made himself at home with the Weather Channel as she hurried to get ready for the private showing of the North American Indian Exhibit. She came out dressed in a flowery dress and for once wore a little makeup she thought brought out the peaches and cream in her complexion. He wolf-whistled as he clicked off the television.

  “You are really a doll, you know that?”

  “So you think I’m a stuffed idiot?” She pretended to fume as she grabbed her purse.

  He shrugged. “Yes. A pretty stuffed idiot.”

  This made her laugh.

  The drive to the Field Museum went slower than usual because of the rain pooling on the highway. A low rumble of thunder followed as distant clouds flickered with lightning. They stopped to gaze out over Lake Michigan; huddled under an umbrella, Jacque found in his car.

  “Ready?” He sounded as unsure as Cleo felt. She knew the case where Wind Dancer stood had been removed. The whole room had to be reconfigured because of the damage. Some of the old things had been replaced with other artifacts, but most of the cases with mannequins would remain. Donations had poured in at unprecedented amounts, making it possible to restore one of the most popular areas of the museum. A buzz had been generated by the media about the reopening the next day. The staff wanted Cleo to be the first one to see it though because of her father’s life’s work.

  “Thanks for coming, Dr. Sommers. Can I give you a quick tour?” The curator shook her hand then Jacque’s.

  Before she could answer, he began pointing and directing her attention to various changes. Jacque kept an appropriate distance, letting the curator have the show. Cleo appreciated his efforts to pretend he enjoyed himself. She knew the place still made his skin crawl and that he remembered being possessed by a skinwalker for a short time. He never talked about it, not even when Cleo tried to draw him out. After several months, she’d dropped it. This was hard for her, too.

  “And finally I’m going to let you go into the next section where we’ve restored several tribal displays. The Pawnee section is the last one before the earth lodge.”

  Jacque stepped up next to her and jammed his hands onto his waist, forcing his sport coat back to reveal his badge and weapon.

  The curator’s eyes fell on it then moved toward the inside. “Please take Detective Marquette. I know he is responsible for saving much of what we still have here. I’m going to check on a few things. A storm is rolling in, and I want to make sure everyone did their due diligence about surge protection in the lab.” He pivoted to make a quick exit but added an afterthought. “Take your time.”

  “Thank you, Dr. McGrath,” Cleo called as she grabbed Jacque’s hand and tugged him into the dimly lit area where she used to steal away in search of Wind Dancer.

  “Let’s get this over with,” Jacque mumbled under his breath.

  “You’re limping again. You need to have that knee checked out. Might be something other than the weather causing the soreness.”

  “I’m fine. This place just gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

  She hugged his arm then released it as they entered the area where the display cases stood.

  “I see the tribes aren’t restless tonight,” Jacque mocked as they stopped in front of several Sioux females holding babies, standing next to their husbands. “Hmm. Guess they do more than make war on the white man.”

  Cleo shoved him aside and smiled. “Stop it. Your bad jokes aren’t fooling me. You’re scared.” She continued to move along the row of cases, admiring the beadwork of the Cheyenne and Cherokee.

  “Damn right. Any of these mannequins give me a thumbs-up, I’m going to be the most trigger-happy cop in Chicago.” To prove his point, he unsnapped his holster.

  “I think it’s in here, Jacque.” She saw the case covered in a white sheet. It stood in the same spot she used to visit Wind Dancer and Neosho when she was a child.

  “Will it be him?”

  Cleo shrugged. “They didn’t say, only that I would be surprised.” She hesitated as her fingertips touched the white covering. “Here goes.” A gentle tug started the slow, downward drop of the sheet-like covering, revealing the new occupants of the enclosed display case.

  Cleo sucked in her breath as she fell against Jacque, who caught her by placing his hands on her waist.

  “Who is it?” he asked.

  “My father!” Cleo t
ouched the glass, seeing him for the first time in years. He wore buckskins and his hair fell down his neck, making her laugh. He kneeled as if he searched for something with his hand nearly touching the glass. “Oh, Dad,” she sighed. “I love you so much.” She raised her hand, pretending he might be able to see and feel her from another universe.

  “Who is that with him?” he asked, coming up next to her.

  Cleo chuckled as she turned her face to Jacque. “Wind Dancer’s sister and my stepmother.” A little boy stood next to her father with his little brown hand on his shoulder. “And this is my baby brother. He’s beautiful.”

  “I think you have a baby sister, too,” he said admiring the chubby baby in its mother’s arms.

  “Dr. Kuzma said he and Wind Dancer had a long talk about my father the day they met. I guess the good doctor filled in some gaps for the museum.”

  The lights flickered as a boom of thunder rocked the building. “I hate this place. Are you done?”

  A breeze moved through the room, toying with the hem of Cleo’s dress. She looked toward the earth lodge. “No. I want to stay. I want…”

  Before she could say another word, a great wind rushed by them. Jacque grabbed her arm and spun her around to see her father’s case.

  “Dad!” Her father stood as she rushed forward. “Dad! I love you! Dad!” He dropped his hand to the head of the little boy who stared up at him with admiration. He rested his palm against the glass as the wind suddenly stopped. She placed her hand against his and smiled. “Thank you for coming, Dad.” He nodded then pointed at something behind her and Jacque.

  As they stepped sideways, a silhouette of a man appeared in the earth lodge. At first he didn’t move but stared out at them as if calculating his next move. Both Jacque and Cleo moved to completely face the earth lodge.

  The lights behind him extinguished as he stepped through the opening toward them into the dim light.

  “Wind Dancer.” His name caught in her throat as she rushed forward.

  He caught her up in his arms then buried his mouth against hers. “I tried so many times to get here.” He placed her feet on the floor as Jacque approached. Wind Dancer cocked his head at him. “You have protected her. Thank you.”