by J. M. LeDuc
She was fascinated by the artifacts but drawn to the books. The first thing that struck her was that none of them had titles on the bindings. Touching them, they were made of a faded brown leather, soft and worn. Curious, she removed one from the shelf and noticed the etching on the cover. Cree words burnt into the leather.
Tracing the symbols with her fingers, she read aloud, “My Father’s Teachings.” Opening it, Pamoon flipped through the pages before replacing it. She then removed a thicker book from the same shelf. “My Mother’s Teachings. I guess I know who taught you more,” she giggled.
Sliding it back on the dusty shelf, she removed one more. This one, more worn and thicker than all the rest. Expecting it to be heavy, Pamoon was careful when removing it from the shelf. She was surprised to find the pages were empty. Turning it over, she read the cover. Doing so, she froze. It was the same book she had seen etched into the cave wall: The Book of Spirits.
Flushed with adrenaline, Pamoon threw open the door, burst from bedroom, and into the living room, waving the book above her head. The incense burned thick causing her to blink and turn away momentarily. Wiping her eyes with her free hand, she was stymied by what she witnessed. The tribal elders, dressed in native attire, had gathered in Powaw’s home and were engaged in heated debate.
Her presence stilled the crowd.
Witnessing the shock on their faces, Pamoon lowered her arm, bowed her head in respect, and began to retreat through the doorway. “Forgive me.”
“Wait,” one of the elders said. “Come, and sit.”
Not wanting to be disrespectful, Pamoon looked to Powaw for confirmation. In turn, he scooted to the side, giving her room to join them. She sat between Powaw and White Eagle. Scout stood behind her.
“We have always looked upon you as one of our own,” an elder said, “but now you have been transformed.”
Pamoon looked down at her dress and fidgeted with her necklace.
“Your outward appearance is a sight to behold,” he said, “but your transformation is one of spirit.”
Pamoon sat in silence.
Another elder held out his hand and asked to see the book she was holding. Examining the cover, he scowled. “Why are you carrying this book?”
“It was shown to me in the Spirit Cave. When I saw it on Powaw’s shelf, I . . .” she glanced around the room; some faces friendly, others not so much. “I just wanted to know why it was here and why the pages are blank.”
“The book you hold has been part of the tribe since the beginning. It is said that the original pages were written by Kisemanito and carry so much power that they can only be touched by her hands.” Powaw said. “A copy is kept in the homes of all the elders as a symbol of our traditions. Only one version is written in and is kept by one whose identity is known only by those in this room. What you hold is a reminder of the power of the spirit world.”
Pamoon closed her eyes and heard Kise’s words in her head.
“It is the Cree guide for calling forth spirits, both good and bad. It is guarded by a chosen person of each generation.”
Opening her eyes, she looked at the book, the image of a man forming in her mind. Pamoon eyed the elders. “Ralph’s grandfather is the keeper of the book.”
Murmuring and gesturing began as soon as the words left her mouth. Men and women alike started pointing fingers at each other. Fear grew inside Pamoon as the murmuring grew into yelling. All sounds and innuendos stopped when White Eagle grabbed her staff and banged it on the hardwood floor.
“How do you know this?” one man spoke.
“It is the work of evil spirits,” said another.
His words began the heated conversation anew.
The chief banged the staff on the floor again and yelled, “Quiet. Let her speak.”
All eyes on her, Pamoon was tongue-tied. She turned toward White Eagle and asked for her staff. As she grasped the pole, Scout moved forward and sat next to her. She glanced at the wolf and then her eyes settled on the staff. Though she had carried it for days, this was the first time she had studied it. The surface, although smooth, still carried the lines made by White Eagle’s knife. Each line representing his vision as he honed the staff from a tree trunk.
She clutched the staff in both hands, planted the tip on the floor, and stood. Eyeing the elders, she took a deep breath and spoke.
“I know this because it is my destiny.”
Arguing erupted in the room but was stopped as quickly as it had started by a shrill sound. The sound, though soft, seemed to carry weight; enough weight that everyone in the room turned toward the window.
On the sill sat a raven, cawing and pecking at the glass.
“Open the window,” Powaw ordered.
As soon as the window was open, the bird flew in and came to rest on the tip of Pamoon’s staff.
Powaw stood in front of her, his hand resting on her shoulder, and turned to face the elders. “The spirits have spoken.”
29
Netherworld
March 7, 8:00 p.m.
* * *
Looking at the winged beast, Kanontsistonties was proud that his demons had brought another into the fold.
By biting Celia, Mike’s spirit grew darker, his body stronger. He craved more of the same, knowing this was just the beginning.
Kanontsistonties flew to Bobby, commanding him to leave and head toward the reservation. “You must stay within the limits of the woods. Within its boundaries our strength lives. Lure the Kiche into the woods so I may turn her. Only I have the power to do so. If you bite her, her blood will kill you. Be careful, for her spirit is strong and the lust you’ll feel will be intoxicating.”
Bobby growled and pawed the ground. With a quick glance at the others, he held his head high and strode toward the cave exit.
30
Confusion
March 7, 9:00 p.m.
* * *
Tsomah, along with Tihk and Astina—Bobby’s mother—waited in Tihk and Tsomah’s home while Pamoon was at Powaw’s. Tsomah, her patience worn out, paced the kitchen, becoming more unnerved with every step. “Why has she been at Powaw’s for so long? I don’t like not knowing what’s going on.”
“You need to relax, Tsomah,” Tihk said. “My uncle would never let anything happen to her.”
Tsomah rubbed her hands together, knowing he was right, yet she still felt uneasy. Since Kamenna’s death, she’d felt a responsibility to watch over Pamoon. “I know, but I still feel as if I should be there. I have this tingle inside me telling me Pamoon is . . .” She threw her hands up and started speaking Seminole. She didn’t even realize she switched languages until she saw the others looking confused. “I just have a bad feeling,” she said, changing to English. “With Kamenna gone, I feel like I should be there for her.”
“Bad, as in something wrong?” Astina said.
Tsomah shook her head. “Not exactly, just bad as in . . .” Not knowing what she felt, Tsomah turned and looked out the window. Pointing, she said, “See, this is what I mean.”
Tihk and Astina joined her at the window and watched as all the elders, in ceremonial dress, walked toward Powaw’s. The first rang Powaw’s door bell.
Tsomah threw open the door, wanting to know what was going on. She was about to stomp towards the group when Powaw’s door opened. She was shocked at how vibrant he looked. He stood tall, in traditional Cree attire, his face painted.
Powaw glanced her way; a glance that told her to stay put.
“What does his face paint tell you?” she asked Tihk, who was now standing beside her.
“It is a ceremonial design meant to call forth the spirits.”
“Good spirits?”
“All spirits who wish to come.”
* * *
Tsomah checked the clock for what seemed to be the thousandth time. Over an hour had passed, yet she couldn’t get Tihk’s words out of her mind. All spirits who wish to come.
She had all she could take and threw open the do
or to head over to Powaw’s house when, once again, she was stopped in her tracks. Perched on every roof were hundreds, maybe thousands, of birds.
“Huh,” she gasped.
Tihk jumped from his seat as the overwhelming sound of the birds entered the open door.
“Ravens,” he muttered, staring out at the reservation.
“What does it mean?” Tsomah asked.
“I’m not sure, but I think it means the spirits have arrived.”
Lifting her nose to the sky, Tsomah sniffed. “Do you smell that?”
Tihk scrunched his nose. “You mean the smell of bird droppings?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. I just know it is the same odor Pamoon and I smelled when we went to the campsite the day after the boys disappeared.”
Just then, Powaw’s door opened and a young woman stepped into view. The light on Powaw’s porch shined down upon her, in an almost regal manner.
“Omiyosiw,” Tihk whispered.
Tsomah jabbed him with an elbow. “English.”
“The beautiful one,” he translated. “The one who walks with the Creator.”
“Pamoon?” Tsomah breathed as the young girl stepped into the light.
“The Kiche—the Sky Spirit Goddess,” Tihk breathed.
They stood in awe as she stepped off the porch, Scout by her side, a raven perched on top of her staff. With each step, the birds on the rooftops became thunderous and shrill, flapping their wings and cawing vehemently, until the sound was overpowering.
Tsomah watched, without taking a breath, as Pamoon stopped in the middle of the street, pointed her staff at the birds and commanded them to quiet down. At least that what she thought happened because Pamoon’s words silenced the birds. She couldn’t be sure because the command was in Cree.
* * *
Time seemed to stand still as the three of them sat around the kitchen table staring at the sixteen-year-old-girl they thought they knew. They had all watched Pamoon enter the house along with Scout and the raven a few minutes earlier, but she didn’t speak. She just sat next to the window, facing away from everyone, watching the birds.
* * *
They’re the same birds I saw in the Misty Woods. “I wish they would all go home.” Pamoon’s voice cracked as she spoke.
Tsomah rushed to her side to comfort her.
Pamoon, her makeup streaked by her tears, lifted her head to look in Tsomah’s eyes. “Why me?” she asked.
“The answer to that question, and others, is found at the Spirit Mount.”
Everyone turned to see Powaw standing in the doorway. “You must return to the sacred ground if you wish to find the answers and learn to harness your powers.”
Pamoon stood on shaky legs and addressed Powaw. “Kise, I mean the Creator, said you would teach me how.”
He shook his head and entered the kitchen. “I have called forth the spirits and they have spoken. The secrets to your power lie on the Spirit Mount and in the Spirit Cave. It’s the only way.”
“Only way for what?”
“To fight—”
A guttural howl caused them all to jump. The sound though animal, had a familiar intonation.
Astina, ashen, pushed away from the table. “Bobby?”
Before his name fully escaped her lips, they were running from the house toward the noise with Astina outpacing them all. Soon her screams muffled the growling.
“Bobby!” Astina yelled, running and reaching for her son.
A rabid beast, stooped on all four limbs, scratched at the ground, raised its head toward the sky, sinewy muscle bulging from his neck.
Tihk grabbed Astina from behind and held her around the waist. She kicked and screamed, wanting to go to her son, but he held firm. “That’s my son!”
“No, it’s not!” he yelled. “Look at his eyes!”
* * *
Pamoon inched forward. She felt Tsomah grab her shoulders but shrugged off her grip. “Let me go.”
Free from Tsomah’s protective grasp, she moved toward her best friend, staff in hand, Scout growling by her side.
“Kisâcimiwêw,” she commanded.
Scout heeded her command and stayed.
She looked back at everyone, then spoke to Powaw in Cree. He nodded, turned toward his family and stretched his arms wide, not allowing any of them to proceed.
Pamoon moved toward Bobby. In his altered state, his muscularity had increased ten-fold. His hair, a wild mane; his nails, sharp as razors, but his eyes . . . his eyes were where the danger lay. They were amber, crescent-shaped, and appeared void of life.
As she neared, the winds blew, bringing the foul odor.
“Bobby,” Pamoon’s voice was soft yet commanding.
The beast, hearing her voice, stopped pawing at the ground and snapped its head in her direction. He snarled, the corner of his mouth curving upward; grey fangs glistening in the moonlight, drool frothing and dripping from his mouth.
31
Kanontsistonties
March 8, 1:00 a.m.
* * *
Two luminescent eyes peered down from the top of a pine tree. Come to me. The skull—covered in bloody flesh, leather-like bat wings jutting from its sides, eye sockets hollow and black—watched as its creation did as commanded. Excitement grew as its disciple moved out from the protection of the trees, yet stayed in the confines of the woods and made itself known. The four-footed beast’s howling called those from the house.
Kanontsistonties sneered when it caught sight of the Kiche.
Once I have captured the spirit of the Sky Spirit Goddess, my transformation will be complete. Even Kisemanito will not be able to send me back to the netherworld.
32
Evil
March 8, 1:00 a.m.
* * *
Pamoon, shocked by the sight of her friend, still felt the need to approach. She white-knuckled her staff and stepped cautiously toward Bobby as he growled and snapped his jaws.
Each time Pamoon stepped closer, he retreated an equal distance into the woods. Speaking in Cree, she asked if he knew who she was. He answered with a quick dip of his chin and the flick of his tongue.
“I am not your enemy,” she whispered, creeping forward.
Just ten feet from him, she could see hair—or fur—along his spine standing erect. His chest and arm muscles glistened with sweat and twitched with each breath.
He pawed the earth, gouging the hard-packed dirt as if it were sand.
Pamoon, just a few feet from the edge of the woods, watched as he crouched lower. In turn, she squatted down, eye-to-eye with the monster that was once her friend. “I do not wish to fight,” she said. “I am here to help.”
* * *
The scent of the Kiche was provocative, causing Bobby to forget the reason why he came. He craned his muscle-bound neck back toward the treetops and howled like a maniacal beast. Snapping his head back toward the Kiche, he pounced with one swift movement.
* * *
His growl echoed in her ears as the monster’s weight slammed her to the ground. Pamoon screamed, anticipating pain, but only feeling pressure. Bobby flopped down on top of her, a dead weight.
Someone yelled and dragged the monster off her prone body. Somewhere in the distance, she heard Astina scream, as her consciousness faded.
* * *
“Bobby, no. Bobby, no,” Pamoon mumbled, shaking her head back and forth, her hands covering her face. Painted in sweat, she could smell his scent. She blinked repeatedly, regaining consciousness.
“Drink this.”
Pamoon opened her parched lips and sipped the cool water. Opening her eyes, through blurred vision, she saw Powaw’s face. Wrapping her arms around his neck, her entire body shook. Squeezing tighter, her sobs escalated into a full-blown wail. She cried until she had no more tears, exhaustion forcing her into a fitful sleep.
33
Dreams
March 8, 3:00 a.m.
* * *
Pamoon stood at the top of the cli
ff and felt a warm breeze in her hair. She looked down and realized she was no longer dressed in her buckskin dress, but was once again in her jeans and t-shirt.
“You have witnessed what Kanontsistonties is capable of and why he was sent to the netherworld, never to return.”
Pamoon knew the voice without looking. The voice of the Creator.
“What happened to Bobby?”
“Kanontsistonties has taken his spirit.”
“His soul?”
“If you wish, yes, his soul.”
“Why?”
“To garner strength.”
“Can it be returned?”
“That’s up to you.”
“Is he dead?”
“Dead to this world.”
“That’s not what I mean. Is he dead?”
“The answer is the same.”
Pamoon turned and looked at Kise. “I don’t understand. Stop talking in riddles.”
“I am speaking as clear as possible. It is you who are not listening.”
Exasperated, Pamoon stomped her feet. “I am listening but you’re not making sense.” She threw her arms in the air and pointed to the clouds then back toward the cave. “None of this makes any sense!”
Kise stood her ground and looked around at everywhere Pamoon pointed. “Nature makes perfect sense. The clouds keep us cool in the summer and warm in the winter. They water our crops and give us life-saving sustenance. Caves give us shelter, and this cave gives us much more, it gives us truth. What is not to understand?”
“That’s not what I meant,” Pamoon whined.
