by Sara Clancy
The Yee Naaldiooshii giggled with perverse joy and leaped forward. A click. A snap. Someone wrenched the door open and set the trap into motion. The slender, knife-tipped beam swung down, slashing into the Yee Naaldiooshii. Not dispersing it or shattering it. Merely passing through it as if it had never existed. The intruder shrieked.
Benton’s eyes grew impossibly wider. “Mom!”
Benton was the first one to move, sprinting across the room before Nicole could stop him. So she followed, her father by her side, the staircase rattling as Dorothy thundered down to join the others. Benton rounded the corner, still a few steps before her. She only lost sight of him for a split-second, but it made her blood run cold. Hurling herself around the corner, she found Cheyanne Bertrand huddled in the doorway, kept from falling completely on her back by her husband. Theodore desperately gripped at his wife’s shoulder, trying to slow the blood that flowed from the knife wound. Neither one cared about the people thundering towards them. Their attention was upon the creature that was darting across the lawn.
Benton had leaped over his mother to better position himself between them and the Yee Naaldiooshii. Time had caught up with him. The prophetic dream that had broken him out of the Yee Naaldiooshii hold was now taking its toll. His knees trembled and one hand pressed hard into his skull, as if trying to keep it together as his growing migraine threatened to crack it apart. Clutching the doorframe with his free hand, he clenched his teeth and glared at the monster sinking into the shadows.
As a single flock, the owls took flight. Their wings beat against the air without a sound, leaving only the sharp, bone snapping crack of their beaks. The Yee Naaldiooshii kept its sickening smile and turned to face them. Cheyanne and Theodore scurried further into the building, startled yelps and sputtered curses flowing endlessly from their lips. Nicole could feel the exact moment something shifted.
It can’t control the owls, she realized. Great Horned Owls. Omens of death. They’re Benton’s. The birds swirled and swooped at the Skinwalker but couldn’t touch it. Still, there was something different within the cold, dead gaze of the monster. Something she couldn’t understand. It was only a feeling, but she found she wasn’t surprised to see the creature slowly slink back into the deep shadows. Not fleeing, merely returning to wait and watch.
Benton held his composure until the glowing eyes disappeared. Then he doubled over with a pained cry.
“Mom, he dreamt,” Nicole said as she crouched down next to Cheyanne, trying to pry Theodore’s fingers away. “Dad, first aid kit.”
“What was that thing?” Cheyanne asked over and over, leaving no pause to hear the answer.
“Mr. Bertrand, let me help your wife,” Nicole insisted.
“Benton!” Theodore roared.
It seemed that neither one could see anything beyond their son. The boy that was currently ignoring them to detail his dream to the Constable.
“He needs to purge,” Nicole said as her father returned. “Mom will take care of him. Mrs. Bertrand, let me take care of you.”
“What was that?!” Cheyanne shrieked.
Nicole fought with Theodore’s fingers, but he refused to release his grip. Every attempt only added to their panic. The passing seconds turned their frozen terror into a wild and thrashing panic. Blood slicked Nicole’s fingers, glistening in the light of the flare, drizzling to the ground like liquid rubies. Pain suddenly exploded across the side of her jaw as a stray arm clashed against her. She staggered back with the blow as her father surged forward. It was a swift motion marked with a sharp crack and both of the adult Bertrand’s fell abruptly silent. Blinking numbly, Nicole couldn’t force her frazzled mind to explain what had just happened.
“Was knocking them out necessary?” Dorothy snapped, suddenly bringing everything into focus.
“They hit Nicole,” Logan spat back, all of his normal humor gone, leaving his voice hollow and cold. “They’re lucky I only drove their heads into the wall once.”
Dorothy didn’t bother to push the issue. Instead, she got to her feet, pulling Benton with her.
“We’ve got to get to the reservation before it catches up. Nicole, get the keys for your Jeep. Logan, we’re taking those two with us.”
“Mrs. Bertrand is still bleeding. I haven’t had the chance to look at the wound,” Nicole said.
“You can clean her up when we’re on the road,” Dorothy shot back.
“But, if it hit a vein, she could bleed out.”
“Then she bleeds out!” Dorothy screamed. “That was a Skinwalker! We’re not staying!”
Nicole flinched, having never heard her mother scream before. Never heard the panic that radiated from every word.
Spinning on her heel, she bolted for her keys.
Chapter 10
A simple wooden sign barely rose above the towering grass. Benton had been desperately searching for that sign for hours, somehow sure that crossing that border would change everything. Now that it streaked by in a blur, he was crushed to find that the tension remained, like an iron ball sitting heavily within his chest.
“Okay, we’re on the reservation now,” Theodore snapped. “Someone explain to us what is going on.”
“Shut up,” Logan growled.
Benton watched as his father’s face flushed red.
“You told us you would explain−”
“Be quiet, or I’ll knock you out again,” Logan cut in. “Your choice.”
Theodore pressed his mouth into a thin line. It seemed to satisfy Logan, since the far larger man went back to scanning the jeep windows. The vehicle wasn’t built to handle four grown adults and two teenagers. The way they were crammed into it didn’t make things any more comfortable. Dorothy drove, keeping the headlights off as she sped across the dirt roads, the jeep bucking over potholes and skidding on random patches of ice.
Theodore and Cheyanne clutched each other with a desperation Benton had never seen in them. Since they had refused to let go, they had both scrambled into the backseat, with Nicole following to help tend to Cheyanne’s wounds. Logan had leaped into the trunk to ensure that the Yee Naaldiooshii didn’t attempt to follow them. The soldier hadn’t given Benton the option of taking the empty front passenger seat and had dragged him into the back with him. Presumably, to keep him as far away from the driver as possible. Benton didn’t know if there was any real concern of the Yee Naaldiooshii overtaking him again, or if Logan was more worried that, if attacked, Benton’s attempts to help would do more damage than good.
After Dorothy made a call to the station house to report Benton’s dream as an ‘anonymous tip,’ the Jeep had been forced into a tense silence. Benton wasn’t sure if it was because the Yee Naaldiooshii would be attracted to human voices or if the Rider family couldn’t stand his parents’ screaming for a second longer.
Pushing himself into the corner, Benton took them all in again. Theodore was desperately trying to gain anything he could misconstrue as ‘control.’ Cheyanne sobbed in both terror and pain. His eyes moved to Nicole and lingered on his best friend’s hands. They were shaking. That, more than anything, fed the gnarled veins of fear that slithered through his bones. Nothing else they had been through had affected her like this.
Without a word, he slipped a hand over the seat backing that separated them. She didn’t look at him but quickly snatched up his hand, fingers tightening until it hurt, her nails digging into his flesh. The dim light within the Jeep turned the blood along her nailbeds a tar black.
Mom’s blood, Benton’s mind acknowledged. It struck him then that she might want some kind of physical comfort as well. He flicked his eyes to the woman who had helped raise him. Curled up in the fetal position, she lay nestled in Theodore’s arms. She bit her bottom lip, trying to stifle her whimpers as her husband smoothed a hand over her hair. The pair had shown more affection toward each other in the last few hours than they had for years. Benton didn’t feel right imposing on that.
Dorothy didn’t slow down to navigate th
e sharp twist in the road. The tires kicked up dirt and gravel, creating small clouds within the dark night. It jostled everyone. Nicole clutched Benton’s hand, her nails digging into his flesh. The sea of grass parted before them, opening up to create a meadow that enclosed a large lake. Thin hunks of ice bobbed upon the surface, unable to attach to each other and create a complete layer.
A few houses came into view. The glow flooding out of their windows did more to illuminate the night than the moon was capable of. Suddenly amongst people again, Dorothy was forced to slow the Jeep. Benton took the opportunity to take it in as much as he could. Having never set foot on the reservation, he wasn’t sure what he had been expecting. The houses were battered but still in good shape. Each one stood apart from the others, seemingly with no overall layout or uniform property borders. Smoke spiraled from the chimneys in thin snakes; proof that other people were present. They weren’t alone. Benton wished that he could find more comfort in that.
Wapun had put the porch light on. The stark white illuminated a good portion of the carefully mowed yard but couldn’t reach as far as the RV Benton remembered from the powwow. Snow clustered around the whitewashed pickets of the fence surrounding the porch and made the royal blue siding look even brighter. It was a one-story, shotgun home; narrow but long.
Dorothy brought the Jeep as close to the porch as she could. The front door opened before she killed the engine. Wapun emerged, a knitted blanket tightened around her shoulders like a shall, her graying hair drifting on the light breeze. Even seated within the dark Jeep, Benton could feel the old woman’s penetrative gaze. She could skin someone alive with her eyes alone.
“Who’s she?” Theodore asked.
“That’s my aunt, Wapun,” Logan said. “She’ll keep us safe.”
Theodore looked the frail woman over. “A soldier and a police officer, and we’re going to a senior citizen for protection?”
“Careful, Theo.” Logan grinned like a shark. “She’s kin, and I’m not above hitting you out of anger.”
“Auntie Wapun is an elder and very knowledgeable,” Nicole cut in, her voice as sweet as sugar. “She’s also able to bless the ground, which will keep the Yee Naaldiooshii at bay.” She added ‘hopefully’ under her breath.
Theodore caught onto it instantly. “Hopefully? My wife needs a doctor. Surely there has to be one around here somewhere.”
Nicole’s diplomatic response was covered by Dorothy’s razor-sharp voice.
“Get in the house.” She spat out each word and growled the last. “Now.”
Everyone evacuated the Jeep as if it were on fire. Benton’s feet had barely touched the ground before Nicole rounded the end of the vehicle and grabbed his hand once more. Logan passed the gun to her free hand, a move that startled Benton’s parents. Which was probably while Logan managed to scoop up Cheyanne with so little protest.
“Hi, Auntie,” Nicole beamed as she sprinted for the stairs, Benton in tow. “We really need to get into the house right now. Love you.”
Nicole pushed Benton toward the door but lingered on the porch, keeping watch as Logan ran up the stairs. There was a bloody woman in her nephew’s arms and a trembling man a set behind him, yet she still motioned to Benton with her chin.
“Why did you bring him here?”
“Skinwalker,” Logan said, as he slipped inside the house.
Instantly, Wapun’s spine was replaced with a steel rod. “Where did you last see it?”
“Our house,” Dorothy said.
Wapun nodded once and motioned to the door. “Get inside. Benton, be a dear and close the curtains. Lock everything.”
Benton was slightly stunned to be invited inside. While there wasn’t any bad blood between them, she wasn’t exactly thrilled by his existence. Sometimes, it seemed like she saw him as a wild animal; fascinating but nothing she wanted too close.
“Go on,” Nicole whispered in encouragement. “We’ll be right behind you.”
Benton slipped inside and found himself in a small box of a mud room. A door to his left opened up to a wood-paneled bedroom of around equal size. It could barely fit the queen bed nestled within. He had to climb over it to ensure that the high set window was locked. A folding door opened up to a shared bathroom. It only took three strides to cross the tiled floor and enter the next bedroom. It was almost identical to the first in size and shape. This one, however, had a narrow bunk bed, allowing for the addition of a sewing machine and miles of neatly rolled fabric. He closed the window and exited the main bedroom door, emerging onto the thin hallway that ran the length of the building. The master bedroom was slightly bigger. With its own bathroom and, surprisingly, a walk-in closet. The living room and kitchen were combined into one. Once more, it was perfectly square. It almost looked as if the house was a collection of blocks bolted together. In all, it barely took ten seconds to completely orientate himself and complete his assigned task.
His parents had been left to settle themselves on a low sofa pressed against the far living room wall. Logan had taken a sentry post by the back door. Floodlights illuminated the backyard. A small porch gave way to a sloping yard that was treated with the same amount of care as the front. That, in turn, transformed to a muddy bank. The lake gently lapped against the shoreline. It wouldn’t have been visible at all if the minuscule waves hadn’t kept some small clumps of ice in constant motion. The movement helped.
“Is the door locked?” Benton asked.
“Nah,” Logan scoffed. “I’ve decided that it’s about time that I died horribly. I’ve had a good run.”
Benton bit back a smile, glad to have the man joking again. Even if it was at his expense.
“You are pretty old,” Benton agreed in a deadpan tone.
Logan gasped audibly.
“I’m just saying, it’s probably better for you to go out now before you start to deteriorate.”
“Deteriorate?” He flexed one arm. “But my bicep is bigger than your self-esteem.”
“That’s not hard,” Benton dismissed.
Logan made a sound of disgust before returning his attention back to the door. “Too sad, boy. You’re sucking all the fun out of it.”
Benton smiled slightly and shrugged in agreement. Leaning back slightly, he looked around Logan’s bulk to check on his parents once more. Nicole was rechecking his mother’s shoulder, taking full advantage of the better light and running water. Once more, she declared that it wouldn’t need stitches. Apparently, it had just nicked the top of her shoulder. It was a good thing Nicole had set up the trap for a much larger target. Shuffling his weight from one to the other, he wrapped his arms around his chest and tried not to stare. He wanted to go over and check on them but forced himself to keep his distance.
Logan noticed and thankfully kept his voice low. “So, are they just horrible parents or something?”
“No,” Benton said, adding with a scoff. “They’re miles from perfect, though.”
“They love you.”
Benton shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe. They took me by accident.”
“But they raised you.”
“Give or take a few months,” Benton said. He caught Logan’s gaze and tightened his arms around his stomach. “Yeah, I know they love me. And I love them. But we’ve hurt each other a lot, and I don’t know if we can get past that.”
“Yeah, well, staring at them from across the room isn’t going to get anything done. Your mom’s hurt. They’re both scared. This is the first time they’ve seen a monster in person, right?”
“Exactly.” Benton looked Logan over, surprised that he hadn’t caught on by now. Nicole would get it. “For close to a decade, I’ve been telling them about all of this stuff. They preferred to think I was insane, shove me through a revolving door of therapists, and drug me against my will. Now they know that it’s all true. Any second now, it’s going to click for them.”
“That you’re not human,” Logan said.
“Not their son. Not human.” Benton shrugg
ed and stared out the window, hoping that the soldier wouldn’t hear the quiver in his voice. “They’re scared, in pain, and confused. Whatever conversation we have next isn’t going to be pleasant. I’m not ready to hear that stuff right now.”
Logan stared at him for a long moment. Just as the silence was becoming uncomfortable, he dumped a meaty hand on Benton’s shoulder, gave it a reassuring squeeze, and said with all seriousness.
“Sucks to be you.”
Benton barked out a laugh, loud and sharp, leaving his throat aching. Wincing sharply, he rubbed his burning throat with one hand and smacked Logan’s arm away with the other.
“You’re a jerk,” Benton grumbled.
Trying to look stoic, Logan returned his hand to Benton’s shoulder each time the lanky boy swatted it away, frustrating the Banshee until he could do little else but laugh. Then he shifted his hand to the crown of Benton’s head and rubbed until his hair puffed up with static.
“Aw, there’s a smile. Look at you. You’re such a cute little harbinger of death.”
Benton shoved at his hand, simultaneously trying to get his hair back under control and stifle his laughter.
“What the hell do you find so funny about this?” Theodore snapped from the couch. “Your mother is bleeding. There’s that thing out there. And you’re just mucking around with this colossal moron?”
“That’s my father.”
It was the first time Nicole had ever been anything but flowers and sunshine around Benton’s parents. It caught Theodore off guard and he stammered for a moment before regaining his composure.
“I know you must feel very protective, Nicole, but I’m disciplining my son right now. It’s not your place to interrupt.”
The smile that settled upon Nicole’s face was terrifying. Still, her voice remained sweet. “Mr. Bertrand, you’re here under the protection of my family, including my father.”
“Miss. Rider,” Cheyanne said through clenched teeth, “just leave this conversation to the adults.”
