Mystic Danger 2: From the Ashes

by Cash Cole

  “He looked like a drowned rat when I first saw him,” Jake interjected. “It was obvious he was lost, unsure of himself. To be honest, at first I thought he was some homeless person, but the homeless don’t have Mulholland leather.” He indicated Rance’s backpack. “I may live in the sticks, but I’m not totally without class.” He winked.

  Rance smiled. Jake knew his hiking gear.

  “Then, when he left the boat,” Jake continued, “he says he wound up at the cave and spoke with some man. I guess he called a cab right after...”

  Vera gasped, cutting him off. “What man? What did he look like?” She leaned forward.

  Rance was bewildered, trying to recall specific details. “He was an older man, about seventy or so, and he wore jeans, loafers and a chambray shirt.” He snapped his fingers. “Suspenders. They were cute, a novelty…uh…yellow with black markings like a yardstick. And he had thick silver hair and wire-framed glasses.”

  Rance stopped, noticing the disbelieving expressions on the other two faces. “What did I say? Oh. And gardening gloves.”

  Vera began crying, and Jake comforted her.

  “I’m sorry,” Rance said. “I’ve obviously said something wrong.”

  He played his own words back in his mind then clarity struck.

  He didn’t know whether to believe what he’d seen or question his own sanity. “It was…no, it couldn’t have been.”

  Vera rose and crossed the room. She pulled out a couple of tissues from a box and picked up a framed photo. Handing the picture to Rance, she nodded. “Look. You see him?”

  Rance traced the face in the photo. The man was smiling, waving. He wore the clothes he’d just described.

  “I don’t understand any of this.” He had to leave, to go back to Las Vegas, to get as far from Oklahoma as possible before he completely lost his grip on reality.

  “Sarah took that photo,” Vera explained when Rance thrust the picture back. “It was the day before they left for Las Vegas. Mason had been in his cave. We jokingly referred to it as where his spirit hibernated.” She chuckled, despite her tears. “Looks like the joke is on me.”

  “Jake, I think I’d better go. I am so sorry for dragging everyone into this…this…whatever it is that’s going on with my mind.”

  “No!” Vera touched Rance’s arm. “You must first go to the cave. There’s something there you are supposed to have.” She motioned for Jake to draw closer. “Now, I know what to do.”

  Rance noticed that Jake, too, seemed perplexed, but they’d come this far. They might as well walk with Vera to her husband’s earth-sheltered office, or whatever he’d called it.

  Mason’s wife left them alone for a moment. When she returned, she held a key. “It’s to the safe. That young man who worked for Ben…he was here the other day and wanted to go through Mason’s things, but I wouldn’t let him. He said Mason told him about some papers that Ben needed.” She paused. “You know Ben?” she asked Rance.

  Rance shook his head. “I’ve never met him.”

  Jake supplied a short answer for him. “Big dog in the tribe, lots of money. He’s behind pushing for more casinos, and that’s who some suspect of having Sarah and the others killed.”

  “Well, this little man—he’s…” Vera waggled her fingers. “He’s funny, if you know what I mean. Something about him I don’t trust. Anyway, at first I didn’t know what he wanted. Now. I think I do. I bet those papers are in that safe.”

  Then Vera grabbed Jake’s arm. “One of the reasons Sarah was here before they left for the meeting about the casinos…it concerns you.”

  “Me?” Jake looked from one of them to the other. “Why?”

  “You’ll see when we get to the cave. I figure we should have told you before, but there was no need. Then this mess with the casino, Mason’s talk about what went on somewhere near the cave. I thought it was just the babbling of an old man. We lived here our whole married life, and I’d heard the stories, but Mason wasn’t Native, so I didn’t think he knew what he was talking about half the time, because he was white and none of it concerned him.” She dabbed her eyes. “Except as a doctor. He was always that, even after he quit practicing. Some things never go away.”

  “Like your gifts?” Jake asked gently.

  “Yah. Like mine. I still see things.” She reached for Rance’s hands. “I expect you know what I’m talking about now.” Vera shook her head. “We don’t ask for these gifts—they just are what they are, and it’s up to us to make the best of them.”

  “What if we can’t trust them to be true, to be real?” Rance asked, feeling comforted that at last someone seemed to understand his predicament.

  “They’re always true,” Vera explained. “It’s our interpretations that go off kilter. But the visions, the gifts, what we are shown…all real.”

  She motioned towards the door. “Now, we go to the cave, and you will find what it is you need. After that…?” She shrugged. “Time will tell if it’s bad or good. Some secrets aren’t meant to last forever, only for a time until their use comes to light.”

  Then she laughed. “Who knows? Maybe my husband will reveal himself again.”

  Rance found little humor in Vera’s words, and even though he knew the old woman would probably love nothing better than to see her husband one last time, Rance sincerely hoped Mason Rogers would stay wherever he was and leave them alone.

  Chapter Four

  The walk was a short one and the trail well-worn, but grass and weeds crept from beneath rocks to brush against their feet. Rance was used to paved paths and open spaces, not tree arbors where birds cawed or passageways covered with greenery and Lord knew what else. He kept watch for spiders and snakes and whatever creatures they might encounter. Ahead of him, Jake swung a machete to clear overhanging limbs and tall grasses that hadn’t been trimmed in what looked like years. Vera kept a constant chatter. One minute, she’d apologize to Jake for something that had happened in the past; another, she’d reminisce and rationalize, seeming to put puzzle pieces together in her mind.

  “At the time, none of us knew what else to do,” she said. “Deborah was wild, and Milo would have killed her if he’d found out she was pregnant.” Vera’s voice wavered. “You must understand that we were just girls, only about fifteen or sixteen at the time. Well, some like me and your moth—Mahala—were in their twenties.”

  Jake stopped short and turned around. “Who was Deborah, and what does this have to do with my mother?”

  Vera threw her hands in the air. “That’s what I’m trying to explain. But it shouldn’t be me telling you—Mahala should be here.”

  He looked exasperated and shook his head. “Vera, whatever it is, just spit it out. If you’re worried I’ll ask Mom about it, I won’t.”

  “Yes, you will. In time. And you should.” She motioned for him to continue walking. “We’re almost there.”

  Rance wondered what the hell this had to do with Sarah and Mason’s deaths, with his strange memories and with finding the car, but he kept silent and continued watching the ground for unknown critters.

  “There,” Vera alerted them. “About fifty yards to your right—that’s the cave. It sits about twenty feet or so above the lake, so you’ll hear the water below. The rocks are sturdy, so don’t worry about falling through.”

  Rance wished at that moment that he’d never seen an Indiana Jones film, didn’t know anything about musty caverns, diabolical enemies with evil intentions, secret passageways, rolling boulders, spider-webbed openings or slick, damp walls. Every musical number he’d heard while watching a horror film assaulted his memory banks, as did every scary nuance. He wanted to turn back, but something compelled him to press forward with the others. He had to know why the memories and why Sarah’s death.

  And now a new mystery. What did any of it have to do with Jake and the woman called Deborah?

  Once inside, Rance felt the earth shift beneath his feet. His head swam with images of the man who’d inhabited th
e cave during his experiments or thoughtful moments, the man he’d seen when he’d left Jake’s boat. And he had seen him—Rance knew he hadn’t imagined him.

  “Anything look familiar?” Vera asked.

  Rance nodded. “Yeah. He was standing over there.” He pointed to a wall that rose at one end and dipped further into the ground at the other. When he peered, he saw the outline of a huge metal box. Rance walked closer and let his fingers trace the lettering engraved on the massive iron rectangle.

  Vera handed him the key she’d carried from the house. “Go ahead.”

  Rance looked at Jake for confirmation before turning the key in the lock. Jake nodded wordlessly, frowning.

  “Vera, do you mean Hawk’s uncle, Milo Sanders? Didn’t he have a daughter named Deborah?”

  Rance noticed from the corner of his eye that Vera nodded.

  “Deborah wasn’t always irresponsible.”

  Jake guffawed. “You’re referring to Sister Mary Catherine? Milo’s daughter, the nun?”

  The key in Rance’s hands turned as if it were greased, and he felt the latch give. He pushed, and the heavy door swung open. Inside the safe were dozens of file folders and envelopes. Vera brushed him aside and thumbed through the documents until she found what she wanted. Turning, she handed a large packet of paperwork to Jake.

  “Don’t know why, but I’m sure this is why Mason and Sarah were killed. That man… What’s his name? Your sister’s friend she worked with?”

  Jake nodded. “Danny Gibson.” He took what Vera handed him and walked to the mouth of the cave, checking for light as he began leafing through the documents.

  Vera snapped her fingers. “That’s the one, weasel-looking fellow who works for Ben. He was here two days ago, wanted me to let him into Mason’s study. I watched, and he didn’t take anything, but he was really agitated, and he asked if there were any other papers Mason had stored. I told him no. Didn’t trust him and didn’t want him on a fishing expedition down here.”

  “So did he give you any trouble after that?” Jake asked.

  “No, he left, but I could tell he was upset about something.”

  Rance followed him and peered over Jake’s shoulder as he stopped rummaging and pulled out a particular sheet of paper.

  “That’s it,” Rance said. “That’s the document I saw through Sarah’s eyes.”

  “Vera, why did Doc have my birth certificate? Why didn’t my parents have it?” Then Jake paused and read more. He looked up, shocked. “Vera?”

  “That’s right. We were all there. Me, Mahala, Christine.”

  “Hawk’s mother was there?” Jake asked.

  Vera nodded. “And Georgia Knife Chief and Daniel’s mother, Mary Ann Red Feather. We had all gone to school there, and the place was deserted when Deborah showed up that night, because it was summer and all the other kids had gone home. Her own mother, Susannah, was the midwife, and Mason was still the school’s physician on call. Someone came to the house for him, and he delivered the baby—you—with no electricity, no running water. It was a hard labor, but you both made it. Deborah couldn’t keep you because her husband was so mean, and we all wanted you, but Mahala made the most sense. She was in a bad marriage, too, in a way, but Deborah’s husband would have killed the both of you, and at least with Mahala you’d have brothers and a sister.”

  Jake shook his head as if to clear his thoughts, and he leaned against a cave wall. “Are you telling me that I’m adopted?”

  “Not really. You were just…kept.” Vera sniffed. “I am so sorry to tell you all of this.”

  “No, really, Vera, it’s okay. But I don’t understand. Why all the secrecy? Why didn’t my mother…why didn’t anyone in my immediate family tell me?”

  Then he rolled his head back and closed his eyes briefly. “Never mind. Sarah tried to tell me. I thought she was just being spiteful, because I disagreed with her on the casino deal.”

  He opened his eyes. “What does all this have to do with her and Doc?”

  Vera stood close-mouthed, and she looked at Rance, almost accusingly.

  Jake placed a hand on Vera’s shoulder to get her attention. “It’s alright, Vera. Rance is a part of this, thanks to Sarah. What is it? Were they afraid I’d raise a fuss, considering my birth mother is now a nun somewhere in Tulsa? Were they afraid Dad would go off on a drunken bender and cause trouble?”

  “You are one of Wahui’s grandsons.”

  Jake blinked. “Old Owl?” Then he seemed to reconsider. “Ah. Okay.” He turned to Rance. “Wahui is like a shaman, a tribal elder, and…” His eyes grew rounder, and he stopped talking. “I guess that I’m one of Wahui’s direct lineage, so to speak.”

  Vera nodded. “And you all…change. Just the full bloods. Mason was studying you. All of you. He kept records.” Vera thumped the packet Jake held with a thumb and forefinger. “Ben Carson and his men were looking for information dealing with shape-shifting. Somehow, it’s all tied to the land—this land.” She stomped her feet, indicating the land on which they stood.

  “Vera, surely not. Doc wouldn’t have told them about the ley lines and my family’s penchant for turning into animals.”

  “Doc didn’t tell them shit,” she confirmed.

  “Then you admit it?” Rance whispered.

  Jake sighed. “Rance, you said Sarah saw me change. You already knew about this.”

  “Yeah, but you never confirmed it.” The dread that had shrouded Rance’s thoughts dissipated. “And what are ley lines?”

  Vera muttered something in Cherokee and crossed herself. “Don’t ask.”

  Jake took a deep breath. “Okay, imagine a matrix of imaginary lines.”

  Rance cocked her head. “We’re talking about something that doesn’t exist?”

  “I said imaginary lines, but they do exist—you just can’t see them. The Old Ones have passed on stories for decades about these lines that hold power. They’re grounded to the earth, the heavens, everything, and if you step inside them it’s possible—no one I know has proven it—to travel.”

  Now, Rance lowered his head, looking up at him with disbelieving eyes. “Time…travel, Jake?”

  The Native looked at him accusingly. “You asked me to believe in this cellular memory shit. Don’t you think you’re being hypocritical if you can’t give me the same amount of leeway?”

  “But time travel?”

  Jake added slowly, “As well as teleportation.”

  “R-i-i-i-ight.” Rance took a deep breath, feeling like Alice stepping through the proverbial looking glass. “And this is tied to their murders? How?”

  Vera clasped her hands. “Ben Carson and his men wanted the land, but my husband refused to sell it. Mason said he never found the ley lines, but Wahui told him about them, said he’s walked them many times.”

  “Who would have told Carson, though?” Jake asked Vera.

  “Nobody I know. Had to have been some old one who he got drunk. Someone who had heard the stories. Who knows?” She stared hard at Rance again. “He’s the white man, you know? Wahui said he’d be related to the U-Ne-Gv U-Ni-Tsi, who would start a new race of shape-shifters.”

  Rance held up his hands. “Whoa. I’m related to a what?”

  Vera poked a finger at him. “You have a sister or a cousin or somebody, and she’s the one old Owl said would help start a new race here. You and yours have healthy sexual appetites and good genes.”

  Jake’s jaw muscles worked, and Rance knew he had to be thinking the same thing he was, recalling their first encounter that night on his boat, when they’d both lost all inhibition and had mated like animals, unafraid, unwavering, uncaring, just two people in need with no clue of why or how they’d managed to find one another. Now, it seemed, there was a higher purpose that neither of them had known…or fought.

  Rance shook his head. “Not me. I’m nobody’s ooh-nee-chee-whatcha-ma-call-her.” Maybe he hadn’t the tools or inclination to fight his attraction to Jake before, but now that he knew ther
e might be supernatural forces at work, he was damned if he’d just hand over his brain to the first mystical moment that enveloped him. Besides…he was gay! Not like he’d be helping repopulate the reservation any time soon.

  Jake tucked the papers beneath one of his arms. “Don’t get excited. It means White Mother. Again, she’s not talking about you but a member of your family—you’re related to the woman Wahui spoke of.”

  He looked up. “The sky is darkening. It’s time we got back to the house before this storm hits.”

  A rustle outside the cave alerted them that someone was there. Rance froze as a man burst through the thicket of shrubbery at the mouth of the cave—he carried a rifle.

  “I’ll take those, Jake.” The man’s voice was high-pitched but gravelly, like he’d smoked too many cigarettes.

  “Danny.” Jake nodded but didn’t hand over the documents. “Why the gun?”

  Rance looked from Vera to Jake to the newcomer, who he surmised must be Danny Gibson, the man Vera had mentioned. A seasick feeling washed over Rance, the same feeling he’d had when he’d first read about the murders after his corneal transplants and his eyes had healed. The same sensation he’d experienced when he’d first set foot in Oklahoma. Destiny—the door opening and someone walking over his grave.

  Rance shuddered. Not mine. Sarah’s grave. This man had been instrumental in Sarah’s death. He just knew it. Rance stepped closer to him, at last unafraid, because he knew his purpose in being there. He finally knew why Sarah had sent him here.

  “Danny,” Rance said softly, stretching forth a hand as if to touch him.

  Gibson backed away. “Who the hell are you?” He swung the rifle towards Rance.

  “Don’t you recognize me, Danny?” Rance continued, calling him by his name, showing familiarity, knowing it was throwing him off balance.

  “No.” He cocked the rifle.

  Vera gasped, and Jake held out a hand to keep Rance from moving, but he brushed aside Jake’s hand and continued, almost cooing as he talked to their would-be-killer.