Murder Under a Mystic Moon

by Yasmine Galenorn

  “That house—think it belongs to whoever owns the land?”

  Murray nodded. “Yeah, it’s owned by some cousin of Clyde’s. Clyde runs the enclave. Their power bill must be huge, but I guess Puget Sound Energy doesn’t care, as long as it gets paid every month.”

  At that point, we turned to the right, where a dense thicket of trees buttressed the base of Klickavail Mountain, and headed toward the copse. Nestled among the scrub and the forest windbreak, the cliff side rose above us, towering and dark. A foothill to the Cascades, Klickavail Mountain was a baby compared to its older siblings like Mount Baker, but from our vantage point, the butte was imposing and stark.

  “I think we should finish the ritual first before attempting to ferret any information out of the bikers.” Murray nodded over her shoulder toward the encampment, which was now behind us. In the rearview mirror, I could see a few figures emerging from the trailers, looking in our direction.

  I was starting to have second thoughts. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. We were out here, in the middle of a group of outlaw bikers, looking to banish a monster that we weren’t even sure existed.

  With a snort, I said, “You know what? We remind me of some lame-brained wannabe heroines out of an old fifties B-grade horror flick. The Valley of Gwangi or something equally bad.”

  She laughed. “Yeah, I remember that old clunker. Well, we promised Jimmy we’d do this, so let’s just get it over with.”

  The grass thinned as we bounced along the valley floor. Murray twisted the wheel, avoiding a delightful array of objects, including a scattering of fist-sized pebbles left over from the alluvial flow deposited by the glaciers as they had marched their way through the valley. Five minutes later, we had passed through the dense windbreak dividing the meadow from the mountain, and entered yet another narrow strip of grassland girding the base of the cliff.

  She put the truck in park. “I guess this is as good a place as any.”

  I opened the door, cautiously dropping to the ground. Didn’t want to fall and break my neck because of loose stones underfoot or anything stupid like that. I glanced around at the terrain. “You think there are any rattlers around here?”

  Murray shook her head, swinging out of the cab to land lightly on her feet. “Nope. They don’t cross the Cascades from eastern Washington, thank heavens. Meeting one of those babies would be just a little too much adventure for me, though they really aren’t aggressive unless you invade their territory. Actually,” she paused, musing, “I’ve thought of getting a rattler for my collection but I think Sid and Nancy would be jealous.”

  Sid and Nancy would probably try to eat the thing, I thought. Murray’s boas were lovely creatures, but a rattle-snake? Was she out of her ever-loving mind? “Big bad, Mur. Don’t do it unless you want me to never darken your door again.” I looked around, kicking loose stones out of my way as I made my way to the back of the truck.

  Murray joined me. She put her hands on her hips and looked around. “So now what do we do? After all, you are running this show.”

  I had worked out a rudimentary plan, but as I looked around, I realized that it just wouldn’t wash. We were in the wild, and my kitchen folk magic was far too domesticated for this. I unwrapped the crystal ball, which I’d smudged with sage and cedar smoke to clear out as much energy as I could. Lingering energy prints from Maeve’s mother surrounded the crystal, but they were just tracks from the past, nothing more, and they wouldn’t interfere with my using it.

  A rock about thirty yards away from the truck provided an excellent seat, and I settled myself on it, cradling the crystal ball in my hands. “Let me see what we’re dealing with out here,” I said.

  I closed my eyes and allowed myself to drift into a trance. Downward, inward… following the spiral of energy, flowing on the currents that zinged through the air from deep in the heart of the forest. The trees swayed gently in a light breeze that drifted across the valley. They were thirsty, yearning for the autumn rains that would saturate the area. Drift lower. Searching inward, even as my consciousness expanded out to encompass the area. The rowdiness of the biker enclave hovered on the edge of my awareness, but I turned my attention away from them and focused on probing the roots of the mountain, the deep by-ways of the forest.

  And then, I felt it. A resonating heartbeat, buried far below the ground, into the heart of the mountain. The energy was ancient beyond counting, far older than the human race. As I waited, watching, a skull rose up in my mind’s eye, human and yet not human; some slumbering creature that had been buried for eons. I could feel it turning my way, questioning, probing my thoughts. Startled, I pulled out, yanking myself to consciousness again. Murray was watching me, a wary expression on her face.

  “What is it?” She squatted near the rock, resting on her heels.

  “I’m not sure, but the energy here is very old. So old that I think it pre-dates humanity.” Disoriented, I rubbed my temples. The beginnings of a headache were starting to whisper in the muscles of my neck. “Whatever it is, it knows we’re here. You were right, Murray. These mountains contain primal spirits and I’m not sure what we can, or even should, do out here.” I held up my hand. My fingers were trembling. “It’s not evil, not like Mr. Big & Ugly was. But whatever the source, it’s more powerful than anything I’ve ever felt before.”

  Murray studied the ground. “Do you think it’s the Klakatat Monster?”

  Was it the monster? Or was it something else? I thought about it for a moment before answering. “Maybe. I’ve got nothing to go on, though. I can’t be sure. This felt… big. Big as in overpowering. Big as in spread out. Big as in rooted in the very land itself. If it was the creature, wouldn’t it be been focused into one area?” I struggled, trying to explain a feeling that was—for all intents and purposes—inexplicable. “I saw a skull, but the image felt like more of a representation than any actual bone that’s buried around here.”

  Murray sucked on her lip. “The Klakatat Monster isn’t just some beast from a fairytale. It’s more than a bogeyman, more than the local legends that have built up around it.” She squatted next to me, squinting as a ray of waning light fell across her face. “I called White Deer last night and asked her opinion on all of this.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She warned me to be careful. She said that there are warrior spirits connected with the land here, that they protect the monster and the sacred mountains. They don’t like people all that much.”

  I sighed. Land spirits pretty much didn’t like people anywhere, especially in areas that had been developed quickly and without thought. “Well, we did promise Jimbo that we’d try some sort of protection spell, so let’s just ask that people be allowed to walk under a safe umbrella when they’re in the woods.”

  As I stood up, about to sprinkle the Florida water, a noise startled us. Somebody was coming through the brush near the cliff side. I tucked my bag of goodies behind the rock. Murray stood alert, eyes focused on the huckleberry bushes, her hand tucked under her jacket. I knew she was ready on the trigger in case we needed her weapon.

  A big, burly man burst through the foliage. His beard was long and unkempt, and his hair looked like it had been hacked off at shoulder length by a maverick hairstylist.

  “What you women doin’ here?” He coughed and, as he stepped closer, I could tell he hadn’t had a bath in days. He smelled foul, like a dirty cat box. His face was masked with a layer of compacted grime, and when he looked us over, his eyes narrowed as he first focused on my face, then Murray’s.

  “None of your business.” Somehow, the words had just shot out of my mouth, bypassing my brain. Oh yeah, that’s the ticket, all right. Why be diplomatic when I could be belligerent instead?

  He tilted his head and grinned, yellowed teeth showing between his moustache and beard. “Spitfire, huh? Listen, girlies, you get on home now. This isn’t any place for a couple of women. Dangerous out here. I know, I live around these p
arts.”

  Must be one of the bikers, or one of the scattered folk that made their homes out in the mountains. There were some pretty odd types out in these woods, and they didn’t all ride Harleys.

  “Who are you? What’s your name?” I wasn’t about to continue talking to him until he told me who he was. Murray gave me one of her looks, pursing her lips as if she’d bitten into something sour. If we’d been standing closer, she probably would have kicked me.

  He gave us another once-over. “Bear. Folks just call me Bear. What are you doing out here?”

  Murray broke in. “We’re hunting for monsters.”

  A light flashed in his eyes and he snorted. “Monsters? Or a monster? You wouldn’t be snooping around looking for that critter the news folk have been talking about, now would you? Dangerous to stir up the mountain. Hear tell one of our boys got hisself killed not long ago doing just that.”

  Word traveled fast. There were probably television sets and satellite dishes all over the enclave. I had no doubt that Jimbo’s friends were living pretty cushy inside the rough looking exteriors of their homes.

  Murray stepped forward, straightening her shoulders. “We’re out here to perform a ritual ceremony to ward off the monster. My people know more about this than you do, so don’t bother trying any scare tactics. If you’ve got something to hide, then quit worrying. We’re not interested in what might be growing in the brush. We’re just here to take care of matters on a spiritual level.”

  It took me a moment to figure out what she was talking about, but then it dawned on me that he might be one of those supposed drug runners the police suspected of living out here and that she was trying to put him at ease.

  “Well.” He let out a big sigh. “Guess I won’t bother you folks. But don’t go messing around in the backwoods. Just consider this a friendly warning.” He turned and headed back the way he’d came. “Oh ladies,” he shot over his shoulder, “give the monster my regards, would you? If you get a chance before he slices your gizzards out.” And then, with a loud cackle, Bear vanished into the woods and we were alone again.

  I looked at Murray. “You as nervous as I am?”

  She nodded slowly. “What did you make of that? Of him?”

  What indeed? “He had some sort of accent, did you hear it? And his energy is slimy. I really don’t want to be around here after dark; let’s get moving.”

  I placed the crystal ball in the center of the grass, resting it on a black velvet cloth and sprinkled a ring of sea salt around the orb, leaving enough room for me to sit down beside it. Then I sent a splash of Florida water in each of the four directions.

  Murray stood by my side as I raised my hands over my head. Nanna had taught me a simple invocation for honoring the spirits. “Spirits of the land, spirits of the waters, spirits of the air, spirits of the sun, spirits of the moon, ancestors and honored guests, be with us, stand by our side, strengthen us with courage, let our hearts beat with compassion, as we focus our will.”

  The breeze, which had been starting to gust, died down. The sun slowly inched toward the horizon, and an echoing silence fell over the narrow strip of meadow in which we stood. I took a long, slow breath and a rush of cool air filled my lungs as a hawk screeched overhead, circled twice, then flew toward the north.

  “The messenger,” Murray murmured. “You’ve been heard. Maybe it’s okay to do this. So what’s next?”

  I motioned for her to stand facing me, just outside of the ring of salt. “I want you to channel the energy I’m going to raise. Guide it so that it flows over the cliffs and the meadow.” I picked up the crystal ball and then lowered myself to the ground, crossing my legs with the quartz resting in my lap. I put my hands on the globe as Murray took up her stance, arms spread wide to the sky.

  One… two… three deep breaths. Lower into trance. Let the worries of the day drift away. Focus. Look for the energy of the land. Look for the heart of this meadow, of this valley.

  And there it was. A glowing core deep under the earth, a brilliant globe of light, the color of sunshine and leaves, the color of golden corn and rich blueberries. As color met color, swirling into a vortex and then out again, the energy resounded with an ancient pulse, older than any human who ever set foot in the valley, older than the fox and the stag and the bear who had once roamed this land freely, older than the ice age that had covered the forests and ravines, leaving behind rivers of rock in their wake.

  The energy went back, way back, it belonged to the volcanoes that had helped create this region, to the Thunderbird who lived high on the barren mountaintops, to the first grasses and trees that had sprung from the newly formed soil. I rode the tide of time as the eons unfolded before me, basking in the magnitude of years this valley had seen.

  Any words I might say seemed superficial. We were dust specks, we were motes in the eyes of the universe. I took a deep breath and reached out, coaxing a tendril of the energy closer. The coiling vine of earth mana reached out.

  Zap!

  The shockwave hit me like a sledgehammer, knocking me over backward.

  “Shit!” Dazed, I blinked to clear my vision as Murray knelt by my side.

  “You okay?” She rested her hand under my shoulder, helping me to sit up. “Em… talk to me, tell me you’re okay?”

  I shook my head. “I feel like I just got hit by lightning.”

  “You did.” She wasn’t laughing.

  “Say what?”

  “You got struck by a tiny lightning bolt that came out of the ground. It hit you right in the forehead. I saw it. It was green.”

  Right in my third eye. Delightful. So the valley had decided to use me for target practice? I struggled to my feet, grateful for Murray’s support. Other than a ringing in my ears and the sneaking suspicion that I now knew what it felt like to be popped into a toaster, everything seemed to be functioning right.

  She reached out gingerly and tapped my forehead with her finger. I winced as she touched the raw skin. “It’s like you were burned. You’d better put some antibiotic ointment on that or it might get infected.”

  I closed my eyes, wavering a little. Hot diggity-dog. Not only had the energy zapped me a good one, but it had left a calling card.

  “Enough.” I shook my head. “I’m not thrilled about being fried like an egg. Come on, let’s get out of here.” I

  picked up my crystal ball, which had made it through the experience unscathed, and started for the truck. Murray scooped up her bag of incense and was starting to follow when a noise reverberated through the long, narrow strip of grassland. It wasn’t coming from the trees, but from the cliff side.

  Holy hell, what now? I stopped in my tracks, looking from side to side, trying to see where the noise was coming from. Boom, boom, boom. Like drumming, or footsteps so heavy that they shook the ground. Earthquake?

  “What’s that?” I glanced at Murray, who had hurriedly joined me.

  She shook her head. “Dunno,” she whispered back.

  Nervous, but unwilling to go out on the astral to see if I could pick up anything, I started for the truck again, with Murray by my side. We were about twenty yards away when mist began coiling up from the ground in front of us. Uh oh. Not a good sign. Mist usually formed in the autumn, or in the early morning, it didn’t just vent up from the ground like steam. Unless the volcano was planning to put on a little show, and I didn’t think that it was about to erupt. Not this time.

  “Mur, we need to make tracks.” Still a little woozy from my encounter with the green lightning, I looked around to see if there was another way we could reach the truck without going through the mist.

  “You’re right, but somehow I don’t think they’re going to let us.”

  They? I looked over to where she was pointing. Emerging from the mists were walking shadows—black silhouettes, and they were headed our way. I twisted around, only to see more mist and shadows behind us. They were hemming us in, forming a circle to surrou
nd us.

  “What do we do?” I backed up against Murray, who was staring open mouthed at the figures.

  “I know who they are,” she whispered. “They’re the Warriors of the Mountain!”

  Warriors of the Mountain? That couldn’t be good. “Uh… does that mean we stirred up the Klakatat Monster?” Had my attempt to reach out and touch the energy sparked off some sort of other-worldly defense mechanism?

  She edged closer as they continued to ring us in. “I don’t know, but I suggest we do something, and we’d better make it quick.”

  “Yeah, I don’t want to stick around to find out what they have in store for intruders.” I glanced from side to side, desperately trying to come up with a way out of this one. Those walking silhouettes probably packed a punch that would make my little lightning-bolt experience seem like a bee sting.

  The shadows began to move in. With no discernable features of any kind, they reminded me of puppets, cut from an ebony board. I noticed that one of them seemed to be faltering a little, as if it couldn’t fully materialize.

  “There!” I pointed to the gap in the ring of spirits and, clutching my crystal ball to my chest, raced for it, with Murray right on my heels.

  We hit the half-empty space in the circle at a dead heat and as we plunged through, the spirit that was having trouble materializing vanished. The Warrior to the left managed to clutch my shoulder, and even though I shook it off and kept on running, my body temperature plummeted, leaving me feeling like I was slogging through icy slush. We broke through the circle and aimed for the truck. The Warriors of the Mountain turned as one and silently gave chase.

  “Your door’s unlocked, isn’t it?” Murray wasn’t even panting, while I felt like my lungs were about to explode.