We all went inside. The home was in disarray; crates and bags on tables and chairs were scattered throughout the rooms. A large red-brown stain that had been Joseph Carey’s blood remained in the center of the wood floor. It would never be scrubbed fully away.
I collapsed into a chair, nearly missing it as I did so, painfully slamming my tailbone against the edge of the seat.
Chelan pulled out a set of red stoneware bowls. She painted Haimovi’s face white with red and black streaks and dots. She lit herbs and blew them into his face and whispered over him. It was a prayer of some sort, that I knew, but when he took up a long cord from his belt and tied it around his torso, I sat up, transfixed. It was even stranger to watch Nacto also tie a band around his chest. Haimovi took his knife and returned to the yard, where the men lay broken and dying.
I tried to speak. My voice was so hoarse nothing came out. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Chelan, what…?”
She shushed me and brought another bowl of the same poultice she had used to treat my burned hands. “Haimovi and my brother are great warriors. Hotamétaneo’o. Dog soldiers. They make vows to not leave a place. They will defend it to their death to protect those they love and to protect their people. The band tied around their chest is their tether. If Haimovi is defeated , my brother will not leave this house, it is the site of his tether. He will fight to the death to give us—you, Nate, the children, and me—a chance to get away from the hestanováhe.”
The poultice felt wonderful against my burns, I wished I could lower my entire body into a bath of it. “And the paint?”
“It will protect Haimovi from the wendigo’s eyes for a time,” she said. “It is made of burned bones. The dead draw less notice.”
“Why can’t he see it?” I asked. “Nate and I can see it. You can.”
“Wendigo is a creature of the spirit world. Only those who are chosen by the spirit world can see it. My mother is a great medicine woman, chosen by the Great Chief to look after her people. My brother was chosen by her to look after me. He can see the shadow the wendigo casts upon the land of Man. The shadow it casts is stronger in the light.”
I looked over to Nacto, who was staring out at the yard. “Then why not send Nacto out to help the men in the yard?”
“Haimovi will be safe for a time. If wendigo does kill him as well”—Chelan swallowed hard—“if the wendigo kills him as well, Nacto may be all that can stand against him. We will need one who can see it to fight it.”
“I would fight it,” I said, a little insulted she didn’t consider me in her plan for defense.
“I am sure you would. Nate, too. But it is not my place to decide what you will and will not fight.” Chelan dried my hands and wrapped them in soft flannel. “I am not your chief. You are not mine to command.”
Nate came down from the upper level of the home, wearing Joseph Carey’s clothes. He buttoned a striped, homespun shirt. If he had any concerns about wearing a dead man’s clothes, he didn’t let it show. “What exactly is that thing?” He gripped the banister for support and closed his eyes for a moment. Perhaps he wasn’t as unscathed as I had hoped.
Chelan put another log in the wood stove and set the kettle upon it. “Hestanováhe, the life drinker. Another name for it is wendigo.”
“I get that,” Nate said. “What is the wendigo? A spirit of evil? We can’t fight it, so how do we get it to go away?”
It was a relevant question. “If it stays as long as people are sinful and wicked, how do we banish it? Man is not going to get better.” I had hoped my Tarot magic would be enough. My first blow to the wendigo outside the Tate home had not been enough, and it cost me three symbols. I saved Nate from it tonight, and I was sure I had not killed it this time, either. “If it was somehow summoned, can it be banished?”
“Yes.” Nacto stood at the window watching over Haimovi. I could have laughed. Oddly, I felt an immediate sense of relief that at least if the monster had many names, it was not an unknown horror.
Nacto made a sign like he was slashing over his eye. I was surprised they warded off the evil eye here, too. We were not all that different after all. “It is a monster. But like all monsters, it is bound by the law of Maheo.”
“He is the god of all things,” Chelan explained to me.
“If we stop the one that summoned it, would that banish the wendigo?” I thought about Geiger. Stopping him would probably mean killing him. I was shocked at how easily I accepted that conclusion. He murdered to get what he wanted. Was I any different? My motives were, but was that enough?
We sat in silence as the water heated. Nate expertly worked his jaw as he always did after a fight, checking for cracked teeth, testing his bite, and easing stiffness. I sat with him, in the oppressive silence that only the popping fire occasionally interrupted. I was terrified the monster had done something to him. What if it had? I would not harm him nor allow anyone else to, but, if the wendigo had turned him into a monster that hungered for human flesh, then no one would be able to stop him. As far as I could tell, Nate wasn’t a werewolf. And, even if he was, could I hunt him with silver bullets? According to legend, that was the only thing that could kill a werewolf. I dismissed the thought. The wendigo had touched him and had not turned him, so somehow the magic of the leywell protected him. For now, that was comfort enough.
Chameli tended to her brother, bathing a bloody knot the size of a goose egg on his face. He protested, but only half-heartedly. Then she served us tea. It was weak, but I was grateful for something warm to hold and sip.
Nate accepted the cup Chameli handed him. “Why is the wendigo here?”
Chelan offered her breast to the baby. “It comes when it is called.”
Nate flushed at the sight of her bare chest and immediately busied himself with his tea. “Who calls it?”
Chelan adjusted her son’s latch and closed her eyes, allowing herself to relax into the comfort of the bond between mother and baby. “Man calls it.”
I set my cup down. “Which man?” I already knew which man. Nate did, too. We weren’t asking the right questions, but it was so hard to think clearly after a fight like that.
Chelan motioned for Meturato to move a crate of canned food from a chair so she could sit. “Hestanováhe is called when mankind is out of balance. When all is wrong with the world. When we have fallen so far into sin and vice that there is a great sickness in the souls of mankind. The wendigo is a life drinker, it consumes souls, and it consumes flesh. It will consume man for as long as sin and evil are greater than the good in man; for as long as it has a body. It tricks man, poisons us. We consume ourselves.”
A life-drinker, a soul-taker. I shuddered. If Geiger thought he could truly control it, he was madder than I thought. “How long will it have a body?”
Chelan looked up from her baby to the darkened windows where her brother watched over Haimovi in the yard. “As long as it can pull together enough evil to form one.”
Based upon what I had just seen, there was more than enough evil to keep the wendigo here for a very long time. “How long could someone manipulate it?”
Chelan looked at me, eyes wide. “Only one of true evil, one with a heart heavy with vengeance and hate, can keep it enthralled for a time. Only one with no care for his brother would attempt such a thing. And he would have to offer the wendigo a prize of great value.” In her arms, the baby shifted and squawked. She shushed him and held him close. “You would have to be insane to attempt such a thing.”
I had to know. “Chelan, have you ever seen a man with a silver arm?”
Nate gave me a look.
Nacto moved from the window and drew his knife. I leapt to my feet. I could see a shadow moving outside, and Haimovi was facing it alone. I wasn’t sure I could bring forth another beam of light like I had before. It was love of Nate that helped me channel The Lovers, but I had to try. I could not leave anyone to face the monster alone.
I leapt for the door. Nate lunged from his seat and lo
oped his arm around my waist.
“But Haimovi is out there!” I protested.
Nacto nodded. “He is. My brother is being polite. Haimovi is letting us see him.”
I stopped struggling. “He what?”
“If he were tainted, he would not wait. He would be consumed by the monster’s hunger. My brother is letting us see that he is still himself.”
I exchanged a look with Nate. “Polite is all well and good, but while he is being polite, and if the monster is there, Haimovi is as good as dead.” There was my reasonable husband.
Chelan nodded “Yes, but if the Hestanováhe is still hunting you, then Haimovi cannot stop it.”
My blood turned to ice. “What do you mean ‘still hunting me’?”
“This is twice you have fought the Hestanováhe,” he said. “Why else would you encounter it twice?”
Nate shrugged. “Coincidence?” He didn’t sound convinced. His hand on my back was heavy as lead.
Nacto opened the door.
Haimovi stood there, knife in hand. His eyes were heavy and black, the black traveling far down from his eyes, toward his mouth, squaring at his lower lip. The rest of his face was pale white.
Nate had not been in the room when Chelan had painted him in the sacred ash paint. Nate shoved me behind him. I tripped over the table leg and handed hard on my backside.
Nacto stood before him and reached up to touch Haimovi’s shoulder where the leather strap had been tied. “Is your duty completed?”
“It is. For now my family is safe,” Haimovi said.
“Then I remove your picket, my brother.” Nacto untied the band. Haimovi expertly caught the rope before it slithered to the ground.
They both coiled up the flat ropes with practiced ease and tucked them away in pouches they wore around their waists.
Dog Soldiers, loyal and ready to defend those they loved. Ready to bind themselves to a certain point and defend it to the death to ensure the safety of their loved ones. I looked over at my husband. A dog is the most loyal of creatures, beloved of those who hold their hearts, and unwavering in their devotion.
Chapter Seventeen
THE DEAD MEN lay scattered in the yard. The kerosene lamps burned low. Inside the Carey home, we all stared at one another over more tea and fresh bread. Chameli opened two glass jars that had not been taken outside before the mob arrived and dumped them into a cook pot. The preserved stew warmed and gave off a fine, rich scent that mingled with the choking stink of the kerosene, making my stomach turn flips.
Chameli served the stew in bowls, with large chunks of bread for our supper. I could not even consider eating now. It was a somber meal, as everyone picked and poked at their food, more for something to do than out of actual hunger, other than Meturato. Teenage boys are furnaces, always in need of fuel.
“I know we were going to help them get north to their people,” I told Nate quietly. “I’m going all the way with them. I’m going to meet her mother, the medicine woman. She can fix…” I took a deep breath, “…me.”
Nate took my hands. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”
“When we were in China, Mr. Quinn said a tiger would haunt my shadow. Chelan can see a striped cat. She says it devours the spirits of our babies before they can reach us.” I swallowed hard, suddenly unable to draw a full breath. “Nate, I—”
“Quinn was an idiot,” he said. “Keeping Xihuan-Lung from returning to
the world and devouring it is something we should be rewarded for, not punished.”
“I have to go. I need you to understand.” Even if Nate was right and we deserved to be rewarded, our luck in all things had soured. We needed a way to put things to rights and I would ask anyone who might help us.
“Then we have to go,” Nate said. “Where you go, I go. Even if you hate the idea of them being peons, it’s just an idea.” He looked around the room. “We can go by foot, if you like. I would be honored to protect you, and them.”
I was immediately grateful I would not be taking the trip alone. Traveling by train would be swifter, and safer, because the faster we moved, the less time it would mean for the bodies of the missing men to be discovered. If everyone agreed, it would be better for them to travel with us as peons.
Nate took my hand. “Viv, I know what I am.” The silence between us was easy again. I looked up at him and he smiled; handsome, friendly, happy. “I’ve been your dog since the night I followed you home, after you were almost mugged in the alley.”
I couldn’t help but return the smile, it was infectious. “What?”
“I’ve always been yours. Your dog, your man; I meant it. I would have laid on your feet every night until the end of my days if I needed to.” He gave me a crooked smile. “You came with me to the Molten Cay so we could face a demon and fix the magic, or at least give me some measure of control over it. Maybe this medicine woman can do the same for you.” He pulled me against him. “Remember. when we first battled the Lamia she said magic cannot be cured. It can be changed, but it can’t be cured.”
“You believe her? For God’s sake, Nate! She was a demon.” I would rather the curse, which I could only suspect was magical in nature, be cured.
“I don’t think she was wrong,” Nate said. “She was bound by some form of the truth. Remember when she tried to hypnotize us with riddles and that awful bone flute? The truth broke her spells. And when we asked her questions, when we asked them in the right way, she answered them honestly. She wasn’t happy about it, but she did it was like she was bound to it. Remember how she growled at us?” Nate’s voice cut through the memory, “Vivian, when we traveled to China, you managed to sever the link between that woman and her abusive brother, Prince Qixiang. You were able to wake us from a monster’s spell. I still don’t get how it works, but I’m glad it does. Now you can banish a monster with holy light you summon through your body. Whatever this is, you’re getting stronger. I don’t want to cure it, but if you cannot control it, I worry it may control you. I love you.” He paused. “I can’t let it destroy you. We need to go see her mother, but not for a baby, for you. Something is wrong.”
I dismissed it with a wave, but Nate caught my hand in midair. “You stole the ruby, Viv. You hid it from me.”
Something in his tone made me pause. I caught an image of three swords piercing a heart, but not just any heart: Nate’s heart, and all around him poured rain. I had wounded him. But how could I explain? I swallowed against the sudden lump in my throat. How could I tell him I kept the ruby, the center of the key that lead to the dragon’s grave, to prevent the dragon from being set loose upon the world?
“You’re right.” I whispered. “I kept it.”
“Not that I’m not glad, now.” Nate turned my hand in his own, stroking it. He probably assumed he was being comforting. “It sure helps against the wendigo. Right now, I need you to eat something.”
For his sake, I choked down a few bites. My blood was sluggish, like tar in my veins. I was cold and numb. He was right. We had traded one monster for another. The ruby did give me a focus I had never known before, but now I could not use The Star, The Moon, or The Sun. When I tried to draw the cards to mind, they were lost to me like before I had awakened my power. I was more likely to summon gold from thin air than I was to call up those cards. Even trying to find their place within myself left me feeling hollow and empty, like someone had torn great pages from a book. Sure, most of the story was still there, but something was missing. It would never be complete again.
The loss of The Lovers hurt more. Symbolic or not, it was us I saw, hand in hand, strolling through the garden, watched over by a loving angel as we cared for one another, when I thought of that card. If I could not have a child, then at least I wanted to have The Lovers.
My heart hurt as though a fresh burn had settled over the area. I needed to picture myself in the deep tomb of The Four of Swords again. I needed to lay the blade down, for a moment, and let the peace of the earth soothe me. It had he
lped before. I was sure it would help again.
Nate’s lifted me from the chair and walked me upstairs to bed. I was tired, so tired. I just wanted to rest, deep in my dark tomb, where I could heal.
“You wouldn’t just go there for a baby?” I wasn’t sure if that hurt or not. It was a cold comfort.
Nate shook his head. “I wouldn’t go there for a baby. I will go there for you. You are becoming more powerful, but whatever you are touching is also destroying you. You are seeing things I can’t see. If I can’t see them, I can’t help you fight them.”
He wasn’t just referring to the wendigo. The dragon, the dead one we had left in China, Xihuan-Lung, I could see her in all things; her eye was the moon, her growl was the train’s wheels on the tracks, her foul breath was the smoke of the fire. I could see her. Nate could not.
I didn’t know where I preferred to lay. The bed was warm and inviting, and Nate was there.
It was cool beneath the earth in the tomb. Only in the knight’s tomb, where the four swords were laid to rest, where the four women attended the tomb, was I safe from Xihuan-Lung. I closed my eyes and felt myself sinking back into the tomb, that sacred, quiet place, my tomb. I just needed to gather more strength. I just needed more time.
Nate put his arm around my shoulder. “I don’t need a baby, Vivian. I need you.”
I opened my eyes. He looked at me with that wonderful, loving gaze. “You are my wife, and a powerful woman. You are amazing. You are mighty. I know what I am. It’s easy to be what I am. I’m just your dog. I will keep you safe. I know my job.”
“But—”
“You’re searching for something, Viv. I just wish I knew what it was.”
I wished I did, too. It was buried in my tomb, safe and secret, attended by four women. Today they were queens, regal and sacred. Blonde, Brunette, Scarlet, and Raven-haired, all radiant and resplendent as goddesses, staring at me, waiting for me to see something I could not yet see.
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