“Headquarters, this is Unit One. We’re at old man Conch’s cabin. No sign of him. Mary Charlie is dead. We have two weapons and maybe forty rounds total. My radio battery is about to die. Do not try to come after us. We’ll get out of here…somehow.”
“Rachel, I copy. The RCMP members are dead. Almost everyone is out of the park and I called the Squamish detachment. They’re sending an army,” William answered.
“Call the Squamish band. Tell them what’s happening. If they can help, they will. Mary communicated with one of them before she died.”
“Communicated with who?” he asked.
Rachel paused and flicked at look at Garrett. “Harry. Mary said this is a betrayal and there’s…skinwalkers in the forest, but the Sasquatch are not to blame.”
“What does that mean? And what the hell is a skinwalker?”
“Ask the band. Find out as much as you can.”
“Are you going to be okay, Rachel?” William’s voice softened with concern.
“Keep everyone safe. Don’t be a hero. Leave the park. Leave this to the RCMP to handle.”
“What about you?” William asked.
“It’s my park to protect and everything in it, including these furry creatures. Unit One, out.” She nudged next to Garrett to peer out the window. “Any sign of them?”
“Nope, they’ve pulled back.”
“We can’t stay cornered in this cabin,” she said.
He straightened to his full height. “Think they’re waiting for nightfall.”
“You think they’ll attack again?”
“I’m not sure of anything.” He lay the weapon down on the tiny kitchen table built by old man Conch. “Been cornered by plenty of ISIS rebels, but never been held down by a team of angry Sasquatch with such a beautiful woman by my side. Can’t say it’s all bad.”
She couldn’t help but grin. “Well, that makes two of us, JTF. I’ve never been alone in a mountain cabin with such a handsome man before.”
Garrett’s lip lifted at the corner, and he glanced at her from beneath his dark bangs. “When this is all over, I’m going to ask you out for dinner, if that’s all right with you?”
“If we live through this, let’s make it a weekend in a hotel room in Whistler.”
A full-blown smile eclipsed his grin and melted her socks to her ankles.
“Now, that’s something worth living for.”
****
William watched Sarah pace the width of the visitor centre. There was nothing they could do for the RCMP officers. They’d been torn to pieces. Agreeing with Tigg, they’d gotten the families out of the park and closed the gates. His priority now was convincing Sarah to leave.
“We can’t abandon Rachel out there,” she said.
She stopped mid stride and took a gulp of hot coffee. He’d made a pot earlier and glared at her until she accepted the cup he offered.
“Rachel’s not alone,” he reminded her. “She’s got that Special Ops guy with her. He knows how to survive. He’ll get them out of the forest.”
Sarah leaned against the counter and cupped the mug in her palms. “He might, but Garrett could abandon her to save his own hide.”
William considered the same thing at first, but he also recognized when a guy was attracted to a woman, and Garrett definitely noticed Rachel. Similar to how Sarah caught his eye his first day on the job.
Her soft red hair and dulcet green eyes caused an impressive rise beneath his waistband. But he’d learned from experience, work relationships didn’t pan out. Although Sarah had been professional, her gaze lingered longer than a co-worker should when he spoke to her. Her sultry eyes drove his desire into a dangerous zone, one that might end with her naked beneath him. If he allowed it, all good sense would whistle out the window. At best, he’d lose his reputation with Ranger Crossing, at worst, his job.
He stepped to Sarah’s side and palmed her soft cheeks to calm her down. “Listen, we’re outmanned. It sounds like the cavalry is coming. You should go. Get out of the park.”
“Without you? Her gaze rose to meet his.
Oh, man. Resist her! “I’ll stay until the RCMP show up. Samuel and Lacy are warning the residents of Cedar Estates, and Marla is already gone.”
“Sorry,” she said, coughing out a laugh of disbelief. “I’m not leaving. In fact, I have half a mind to take the trail to old man Conch’s cabin.”
He shook his head. “Whatever is happening out there, we don’t have the resources to help them.”
“We could leave a note for the RCMP. Tell them we need backup.”
The front door burst open, and they both jolted in surprise. Lucie George and her elders peered at them from the porch. No one spoke a word until all the elders filtered into the room. In native tribes, gender roles were well defined. Each band had its own governing power. In British Columbia, many women held a position of rank and mystical status.
“Where is Young Raven?” Lucie asked.
Sarah smiled sadly. “Rachel is investigating a murder, Lucie.” She approached the most respected woman of the Squamish Nation’s tribe. “Do you have any idea what’s going on?” Sarah had called the Squamish band an hour ago and relayed Rachel’s message.
“We have sent out our people to seek the wild ones. They will tell us more.”
Sarah nodded, then asked, “What are skinwalkers? The name sounds familiar, but Rachel is the expert in native legends.”
Lucie sat on the floor and the tribe members formed a circle. He wasn’t as familiar with native customs, but followed Sarah’s lead and joined them.
“The skinwalker is not one of our people, but we know of the creature. It’s evil and a betrayer.”
William didn’t want to believe any of this. “Sasquatch is supposed to be a legend. Now you’re telling us that a skinwalker is real and we’ve got one prowling in the park?”
Lucie’s oval face and dark, soulful eyes remained void of expression. “We have lived in peace with the tall beasts, but they are very real. Do you doubt their existence?”
Sarah sighed. “I don’t. I’ve seen tracks around the park many times, but I convinced myself it was a hoax.”
The tribe remained silent, deferring to their elder. “Because you’re afraid of what you don’t understand,” Lucie said.
Sarah nodded. “Yes.” She bit her lip and closed her eyes.
William swept a comforting hand around her shoulder. “We’re worried. Rachel’s out there with whatever is killing people.”
Lucie offered a meek smile. “Young Raven is protected. Do not fear for her safety.”
He didn’t understand what Lucie meant. An outrageous thought came to mind. “Are you saying the Sasquatch are trying to help us?”
“I am.” Lucie shared a look with her band members. “See’atco and our wild men are the only ones strong enough to stop a skinwalker.”
William didn’t say it, but he figured a bullet could do the job too. As a conservation officer, he wanted to protect all wildlife, but he wasn’t going to stand around hugging a tree if he was on the menu. Afraid of the answer, yet he asked anyway. “Are we being hunted by the skinwalker?”
With a nod, the closest members to Lucie helped her to her feet. “We’ll know more soon, but the answer is yes.”
****
Garrett stoked the fire to life. The heat didn’t help much to calm her nerves, but it was better than being dank and cold. A few strips of smoked meat hung from a hook beneath the cabinet to her right. She pondered whether old man Conch was alive. Although she wasn’t certain, he had to be in his seventies. Plagued with arthritis and nowhere as quick on his feet as he used to be, how could he avoid whatever was killing people in her park? Rachel poured boiling water over the tea leaves, then offered Garrett a cup.
“Do you believe Mary?” he asked.
“I’d prefer not to.” She sat in one of two chairs placed in front of the fireplace.
“What’s a skinwalker? I’m a little lost on monster leg
end.” A long, lonely howl came from deep within the forest. “I wish they wouldn’t do that.”
“Maybe it’s a cougar or a…a…yeah, me neither,” she admitted. Rachel set her mug down on the floor. “Skinwalkers come from the Navajo legend. They’re not part of British Columbia lore.”
“Then what’s it doing here?”
“I’m not sure. They’re medicine men who reach the highest level of priesthood but use their powers for evil. They can take the form of an animal for the purpose of inflicting pain on others. And if I recall correctly, there’s some kind of initiation process.”
“Which is?”
“Skinwalkers must kill a close relative. Once a novice passes that test, he gains immense magical powers, including shape-shifting abilities. These abilities enable skinwalkers to turn into any animal they choose. Mostly foxes, owls, wolves, or crows. But I suppose if it can shift into the known creatures of the forest, it can shift into anything.”
“That’s handy, isn’t it? And not the kind of enemy I’m used to going into battle against.”
“It’s hard for me to believe, too.”
“Think we’re long past that, Rachel. Continue.”
“The lore of the skinwalker belongs to ancient Native American history, but they’re said to exist today. People have reported hearing them knocking on doors. Peering through windows, trying to frighten and inflict harm. Skinwalkers are immortal, but according to legend, it’s possible to kill them before they finish their initiation. Those brave enough to track a skinwalker and learn of their true identity must say the name of the evil one in full. Once this happens, the skinwalker will get sick and usually die for the wrongs they’ve inflicted against others.”
As if summoned, a tap on the window slowly drew Rachel’s gaze, though every instinct warned her not to look.
Chapter Five
A barrage of rocks struck the front of the cabin. Rachel jumped to her feet as Garrett reached for the rifle. Whatever tapped on the window was only a fleeting shadow before rocks tumbled down the sloped angle of the metal roof. Hollers and high pitched screams erupted from the forest. He was really getting tired of this.
Garrett edged his way to the window and peered into the darkness toward the forest. The overcast sky hid the moon and any hope of seeing past the outside of the old log cabin walls. He heard thumping on the porch boards, and then a deathly silence followed.
He’d seen a lot of combat in the thirteen years he’d spent with the Canadian military. He’d joined JTF2 seven years ago. But this had to be the strangest experience he’d ever had.
“Guess this isn’t quite the boys’ weekend you were expecting,” Rachel said quietly.
Distracted from the window, he glanced her way, then joined her near the fire and lay the rifle across his thighs when he sat in the old rickety chair, not completely certain it could hold his weight.
“Came for the Arsenal concert in Whistler.”
“Don’t know the group.” Rachel glanced at the door nervously.
“You get out of the park much?” he asked, trying to divert her attention. Whatever had been there a moment ago was gone.
“Usually spend my two-week holiday with my sister in Pemberton. My parents retired to Osoyoos. I visit them at Christmas.”
He leaned forward and tossed a couple more maple logs onto the fire. “The team and I live outside of Ottawa.”
“You’re French-Canadian?”
“No, originally from Edmonton. I’m bilingual.” He paused, then shrugged. “Maybe a few more languages than just French and English.”
“So, you charge into danger when the government needs you?”
He chuckled. CANSOFCOM—”
“Again with the acronyms,” she said.
“Canadian Special Operations Forces Command is used for antiterrorism missions, but we deploy for a wide spectrum of issues. If we’re not on a mission, we’re training.”
“Just like the SEALs.”
He raised a brow. “They’re trained to the highest standard as are we, but we don’t mind they get all the attention. Keeps our asses out of the limelight. We protect. We retrieve hostages. Our missions vary. We’re on a plane to Buenos Aires and a week later we’re protecting the Prime Minister or some other VIP.”
“Sounds like the SEALs.”
He laughed out loud. “You’re yanking my chain, aren’t you?”
A grin curled her lips. “Maybe.”
“Like the SEALs,” he drawled. “We’re both employed for kill and capture missions to protect our countries.”
“This must seem like a walk in the park for you.”
He chuckled at her play on words. “I’m more familiar with IED networks and the command and control structure of the Taliban and Al Qaeda than I am with something that borders on the paranormal.”
“Doubt can get you killed,” she said. “I’m sure they teach you that in JTF2 school.”
“Especially if it’s eight feet tall, has a swing like an excavator and a bad attitude. But I’m starting to think something else is going on here.”
Her brow creased. “As in?”
“It’s way out there.”
“As you pointed out, we’re past that milestone already. What’re you thinking?”
“Thinking we might be caught in a civil war.”
Rachel shook her head.
“It’s possible the Sasquatch might be on our side.”
“Our side? Hurtling rocks at us, is on our side?”
“Maybe.” He nodded. “The Sasquatch didn’t harm Mary. I think it pulled her into the bush to protect her. It’s possible they’re hurling rocks at the cabin to keep us in here like they did Mary.”
“Until today, I’d never seen Harry before. His prints, but never him.”
He grinned. “As in Harry and Hendersons?”
She nodded. “We’ve all seen the prints around the park. It’s been a joke for years. Especially to keep new rangers on their toes.”
“Not a joke anymore.”
“Appears not. What makes you think we’re caught in some kind of civil war?”
Garrett scratched his brow and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. “There’s a tactical side of this I recognize.”
Rachel’s eyes widened.
“I know, but hear me out.”
“All ears.”
“The way they keep themselves covered in the forest. The excited calls when something gets close to the cabin. I think they want us to stay in here to keep us safe. The fact that…I still have a hard time saying it—that Bigfoot picked up Mary with great care, tells me they’re not the aggressors. When she was pulled into the bush, something else was coming at them from the right in an ambushed attack.”
Rachel raised a hand for him to stop. “You think a skinwalker is after the Sasquatch?”
“No. I think something is after us. I don’t believe in skinwalkers. If this creature doesn’t belong here, then the Sasquatch could be protecting their turf. They know it’s a threat.”
Rachel crossed her arms. “And the guy in the tree?”
“Based on your understanding of the lore, that may have been the initiation kill. But based on my experience, I’d rather believe it’s some psychopath who’s lost his shit and he’s somewhere in this park. You’ve had no disturbances like this before last night, correct?”
“No, nothing like this. Visitors drink too much alcohol and cause trouble. Bears or cougars cause a stir, but they’re all explainable. A guy hung thirty feet up in a tree is not explainable.”
“Everything is explainable, Rachel. Someone could have hoisted that body with a rope. We didn’t have time to investigate the area. I get the feeling you believe in the tribal legends. Nothing is out of the realm of possibility to me, except a man cannot become an owl.”
Rachel let out a breath and shimmied out of her ranger’s jacket, laying it on the floor beside her. The immediate swell beneath his zipper wasn’t a new reaction to her natural b
eauty. The polyester-cotton blend of her green uniform looked like a Glad bag on most people, but on Rachel and her curves, it had the same effect as a negligee to him.
On the flight out to BC, he’d been talking with Tigg, asking how tough it is to be a married guy in SpecOps. Tigg had grinned at him. “Thinkin’ about getting out, aren’t you, Lieutenant?”
He’d admitted he was. Lately, the thought crossed his mind more than once. Garrett wanted out before he became addicted to the missions more than civilian life. He’d seen it happen many times before. The next time a team guy looked up, half his life was gone and so was the chance to have a family. He was on the fringe already, at thirty-seven. A couple years ago, a long time veteran Lt. Greg LaPierre had hung up his weapons and left JTF2. He hadn’t explained much, but Garrett knew he’d fallen in love with a journalist while solving a series of murders in Victoria.
“How old are you, Rachel?”
“Thirty-two. Why?”
“Wondering how a beautiful woman like you isn’t attached.”
She shrugged, her gaze flitting toward the fire. “Everyone I meet is just passing through, or lives in…Ottawa.”
Unwittingly, he’d pretty much shot himself in the foot. But she didn’t know his retirement involved a move across the country to join the rest of his family who lived in BC. Two brothers, happily married, and his parents who’d bought a hobby farm in south Langley. With his skills, he had options. Meeting Rachel, even under bizarre circumstances, nudged his decision to hang up his weapons from the Forces a little closer to reality.
A tap on the door startled both of them. Garrett raised the rifle.
Silence thickened in the one room cabin. Neither of them moved.
“Young Raven?”
Rachel vaulted from her chair. Before he could stop her, she’d opened the door. “Elijah?”
Garrett hesitated, but his finger brushed the trigger. A man with sleek black hair and dark skin covered in grime, filled the doorway. He’d draped an animal pelt across his shoulders, and wore handmade leather pants and boots.
Legend of Spiralling Cedars Page 4
