Legend of Spiralling Cedars

by Natasza Waters

  “Look at that,” Booker said, nodding to his right.

  A young, spotted fawn stepped from a thicket. Garrett listened for rustling. Its mother probably remained hidden within the thatch of dense bush. Everyone watched as the inquisitive deer took a tentative step toward Rachel.

  “Maybe they should call you Snow White instead of Young Raven.” Garrett leaned his weapon against a nearby stump.

  Rachel tugged a fistful of grass from the ground close to her feet and held it out to the fawn. The young animal took another jerky bow-legged step in her direction, enticed by the lush grass. She smiled as the cute little thing dared a nibble of the green shoots.

  “Even the worst day in the park is better than any day working somewhere else,” Rachel said quietly.

  With a quick jerk of its head and a flick of its tail, the fawn bounded into the bush. Garrett stood. His hearing wasn’t as good as a deer, but his instincts worked just fine.

  “Start climbing,” he ordered, and picked up his weapon.

  “What’s wrong?” Rachel shot to her feet.

  “Time to move.” He gave his men the signal to protect her, and they circled Rachel as she turned to head toward the first obstacle of the climb. “Tigg!” With hand movements only a team member could understand, he gave his orders.

  Tigg nodded his understanding.

  They hadn’t climbed far when Garrett looked over his shoulder to see a great black wolf trot into the clearing where they’d just been sitting. The animal threw its head back and howled.

  “Keep climbing,” he said. Whether it was the skinwalker or not, he wasn’t going to look the creature in the eyes.

  They were nearing their target. Sure-footed, hand over hand, Rachel climbed the rocks with ease. If they kept up this pace, they’d reach the Falls thundering down onto the massive plateau above them within twenty minutes.

  As a trained warrior, he didn’t believe in luck, but they could sure use some right about now.

  Chapter Ten

  Checking the stability of the rock under her feet before each forward thrust, Rachel led the way to the Falls up the side of Nq’il’qtens ku skenknap, known as Seat of Thunder. Without climbing equipment or the luxury of time, she ignored the safety factor or the result of one wrong step. The afternoon sun beat down on her shoulders. She swiped her palms on her pants, and dug her fingers into the next crevice between the abrasive rocks.

  Booker, Crack and Cork followed. She stopped for a quick breather and looked down the steep incline. Garrett brought up the rear and climbed with lithe movements, his strong upper body making it look easy. She appreciated that the team didn’t push her, and ascended at her pace.

  The wolf had disappeared into the forest. It was one thing to learn Sasquatch was not a myth, but learning that a man could transform into a beast or possess her friends was terrifying. The First Nations people honored nature and the spirit world, but not the evil residing in her park. She had to locate whatever Harry wanted her to find at the Falls and hope it was enough to defeat the skinwalker.

  She ignored her thirst and shook out her arms. Halfway there.

  A shower of small pebbles was the only warning she got. Shielding her eyes, she looked up.

  “Rock!” she yelled to the others and scurried to the right, clinging to an unstable granite shelf. The boulder bounced and rolled past her. She quickly shoulder checked and saw it tumble past the team. When nothing else dislodged above her, she continued to climb.

  Fifteen minutes later, the muscles in her arms and thighs burning, she crawled onto the plateau and blew out a sharp breath. The spray from Emerald Falls had made the last two hundred feet treacherous, but now the droplets speckled a cooling mist against her face. Cork, Booker and Crack circled her. With little effort, Garrett hefted himself over the edge and joined them.

  Rubbing the sweat from his forehead with a shoulder, Booker said, “We’re here. Now what?”

  “Look for something that nature didn’t put here.” Rachel pushed to her feet and stared up at the Falls gushing down the mountainside. The spring thaw brought water cascading from the peak hundreds of feet above them. She watched Garrett’s team spread out across the plateau. Carefully, she walked across the granite ledge toward the torrent of water. Over eons, the water had burrowed through the rock and created a hole to pass through. Her cell rang and she saw it was Sarah calling.

  She thumbed the screen to answer. “We’ve made it to the Falls.”

  “Rachel, we found William.”

  “Found him? What do you mean?”

  “That’s not exactly correct. The RCMP found him. He was lying face down in a parking lot near my place. Unconscious.”

  “Are you sure it’s him?”

  “It’s William. We’re at the hospital having him checked out. He said while the skinwalker was inside him, he could hear his thoughts. And they’re not good.”

  “When did this happen to him. Does he know?”

  Sarah groaned. “William, you can’t get out of bed. Wait until the doctor comes.” She paused for a moment then came back on the line. “Sorry, Rachel. He told me he’d gone to HQ before driving us back to Squamish. The last thing he remembers is entering the visitors’ centre. I think the skinwalker was inside. I knew something was wrong driving down the Sea to Sky highway. He was too quiet.”

  “As long as he’s not hurt.”

  “No. Couple bruises when he did a face-plant on the parking lot. He’ll survive.”

  “Good, but once the doctor is finished with him, take him to Lucie. I want an elder to make sure.”

  “I’ll do that. I also sent the pictures you texted to the Navajo band. They identified him as a castaway from the tribe. That’s why he came here. William says his den is at Emerald Falls.”

  “What’s his name? I need his name.”

  “His real name is Paul Meadows. Arthur and his brother are his uncles, but that’s not the name you need. The Navajo elder told us you have to use his aboriginal name. When a shaman decides to break with his people and become a skinwalker, he has to carve the name into stone. It has to be at the Falls. That’s why Harry wanted you to go there.”

  “Okay. We’ll find it.” Garrett joined her. “If he’s human, how does he leave his body and take over someone else’s?”

  “You’re asking me? What the hell do I know? Until yesterday, I didn’t believe in the Easter Bunny or Santa Claus.”

  Rachel choked on a laugh. “I know what you mean. If you learn anything else, call me.” She disconnected and turned to Garrett. “His name has to be here. The Navajo elders say he has to carve his name into stone.”

  “We’ve checked every inch of this plateau. There’s nothing here.” Garrett shook his head. “It could be anywhere on this mountain.”

  Rachel took a step closer to the Falls.

  “Hey, not too close. The water is running hard. It could wash you right over the side.”

  Gunfire and a shout from Crack made them both jerk to attention. The skinwalker jumped with superhuman speed from boulder to boulder on the other side of the ledge. Booker and Crack’s bullets ricocheted off the granite, but missed him every time.

  “Keep him busy,” she said, carefully running on the slick stone toward the water thundering down the mountain.

  She approached the side of the Falls, slipped once, and fell to her knees. A shot of pain streaked up her right leg. With a grunt, she got to her feet as Garrett gripped her around the waist.

  “I need to investigate the Falls!” she yelled over the roar of water.

  “It’s too dangerous, Rachel!” he shouted back.

  Her idea could be a wild goose chase with nothing of value on the other side of the waterfall. She risked death if she slipped, landing in a pool imbedded with rocks hundreds of feet below. “Stay here.”

  He gripped her hand and took the lead. As they neared the Falls, the spray stung as it struck her face. Garrett surveyed the water and then pulled her behind him, heading for a sectio
n where the force was interrupted by a small ledge.

  “Keep your head down,” he yelled, and walked through the torrent.

  The rush of water nearly knocked her off her feet like a heavy sandbag landing on her shoulders. Garrett locked his grip on her wrist and yarded her through. She swept the water from her eyes to see a small ledge across the rock face. Carefully, they maneuvered their way along the narrow surface.

  “There’s an opening,” Garrett announced.

  Near the middle of the outcropping, Garrett stepped inside first. Following close behind, Rachel unhooked the flashlight from her belt and the beam of light helped navigate the narrow passage. They reached a small inner sanctuary with a ceiling not more than ten feet high and an oval shaped cavern approximately fifteen feet across. A small stream of sunshine came through a hole above their heads, but not enough to lighten the dark perimeters.

  With scrolling movements, she scanned the cave wall. Gunfire erupted outside, setting her nerves on edge. “Come on,” she growled with impatience.

  “Shine your light over here, Rachel.”

  Following Garrett’s voice, she directed the beam toward the opposite wall. She stepped closer to see the etching. “What is that?”

  “Did you expect to find Henry Smith in felt tip pen?”

  She whirled to face the unknown voice. Garrett leveled his weapon.

  In his human form, the skinwalker stared at them. “You can’t kill me, white man.”

  “You’re not welcome here,” she stated.

  His brow rose. “I hear doubt in your words.”

  “You murdered a man in my park. You terrorized the local residents. There is no doubt.”

  He stepped closer. Paul Meadows was a man in the prime of his life with a carved torso and sharp, alluring masculine features. She glanced into his deep, obsidian eyes and quickly away, reminding herself of the danger.

  “You have nothing to fear from me, Rachel Crossing.” He paused. “Or is it, Young Raven?” He stepped closer as if testing the waters. “She’s as much horrified as she is intrigued by me.”

  Garrett moved to intercept. “Like a dead frog pinned to a petri dish.” He jerked the barrel of his weapon in warning.

  “Her inquisitive mind wants to know how I came here. Why my tribe exiled me. And why I follow my chosen path.”

  She glanced at the markings on the wall again. A native warrior in battle against other men. “What is your name? Your Navajo name?”

  When the skinwalker took another step, Garrett warned, “Close enough.”

  “And if I told you, what would you do? I just want to live in peace.”

  “In peace? You slaughtered your uncle.”

  The skinwalker lowered his head in a distinctly animal-like movement. “A necessary evil to complete my transition.”

  A weighted pause stilled the air before Crack, Booker and Cork entered the sanctuary. Soaking wet, they didn’t look happy as they stood abreast of each other. Even with their weapons aimed, the skinwalker didn’t seem concerned.

  “You’re human,” Garrett stated.

  “Maybe once, but not anymore.”

  Garrett stepped between her and the skinwalker. “I don’t believe in magic.” Garrett fired his weapon at point blank range.

  Within the blink of her eye, a squawk and the flap of wings were all that was left as the bird escaped out the hole in the rock ceiling.

  Booker took an extra shot, but missed.

  Rachel ignored the colorful metaphors from the men and stepped closer to the wall where the rough scrapings had been carved into granite. “This has to be his name.”

  She raised her phone and took a photo, then stared at the image she’d taken. Her knowledge of Navajo was slim. How many names could there be for this? They just had to think it out. A pair of thick arms wrapped her from behind.

  “Any ideas?” Garrett asked, staring at the markings.

  “No.” Suddenly she realized they were one man short. “Where’s—”

  Gunfire from outside had them scrambling for the opening. They quickly ran across the outer ledge and through the wall of thundering water to find Tigg grinning. A large raven limped and flapped one wing but couldn’t take flight.

  Tigg put his booted foot out and the raven pecked at it. “I missed,” he said, then pointed behind them, “but he didn’t.”

  On a rocky outcropping above their heads, she caught sight of a furry arm before it disappeared.

  Tigg corralled the bird. “Sasquatch knocked him right out of the sky. Everything has a weakness. We should have figured it out before. As a man, he’s fast, but in animal form the magic can’t protect him.”

  The bird couldn’t fly and dragged its wing.

  “You think that’s him?” Garrett asked.

  “Only one way to find out.” Rachel had already texted the markings to Sarah.

  Booker looked suspiciously at the bird. “Why hasn’t he changed back? Maybe this is just a regular raven.”

  Garrett hunched down in front of the bird and it seemed to glare back with shiny black eyes. “It’s him.”

  Rachel answered her phone after several tenuous heartbeats and listened to Sarah. “Thanks,” she said, then joined the men who circled the bird. “You’re right. I am intrigued to know why a man thinks a heinous deed is worth even an ounce of supernatural power. But I already know the answer.” The bird jerked its head, eyeing her. “It’s because he’s evil already. Isn’t it, Ahiga?”

  As the sun sank below the majestic mountains to the west, throwing a glorious orange hue across the sky, they watched as a raven became a man in front of their eyes. The hate in the skinwalker’s stare glistened. His arm was definitely broken, with white bone protruding above his elbow. As the magic weakened, Paul Meadows laying on his side, yelled out in pain.

  Tigg shouldered his weapon. “I’ll call Sergeant McCaffry for a MEDEVAC.”

  Rachel hunched in front of Paul with Garrett standing by her side. “You wanted revenge, didn’t you? Revenge for being exiled from your tribe. You weren’t going to stay here at all, just long enough to become a skinwalker, then return to raise hell with your people.”

  Paul looked in her eyes, his rugged features creased with pain. “The magic is here for the taking,” he said with gritted teeth.

  Above the treeline a helicopter approached, the whip of blades reaching her ears.

  “You’re wrong.” She stood and looked over the spiralling cedars and immensity of her park. “It’s to be respected. Appreciated. Whatever magic exists here, it’s as old as the Earth itself, and no man can wield that.”

  The RCMP chopper hovered above them as a carry crate slowly lowered. Two Search and Rescue techs followed.

  Garrett and the team watched as they carefully loaded Paul Meadows and strapped him down.

  “Need a ride?” the SAR tech asked as he signaled for the crate to be lifted.

  They all nodded. Once they’d all been loaded into the helo, it rose above the Falls. Rachel looked out the window as it became smaller with each passing second, and then chuckled at the pilot’s comment to his co-pilot.

  “Did you see that?”

  The co-pilot was so stunned, he didn’t speak. Garrett’s team looked at her, then each other and grinned. Barely visible below the rising chopper stood a clan of Sasquatch. Big ones. Little ones. Maybe twenty in all. Within a few seconds, they vanished under the canopy of the trees.

  Garrett, sitting beside her on the deck of the aircraft, squeezed her hand. Rachel gazed into his eyes. Tired, but happy her park was safe again.

  He leaned closer and his warm breath tickled her ear. “I’ll make the hotel reservation in Whistler when we land.”

  Epilogue

  Four days after Rachel, Garrett and the team climbed Emerald Falls and captured the skinwalker, the RCMP cleared Spiralling Cedars to reopen. The line of TV vans and reporters camped out on the edge of the road was at least a half mile long. The media had been crawling through the bushes fo
r the last four days trying to catch a money shot. They could smell a story, and even though no details had been released, it didn’t stop their determination to find out what had occurred in the park

  Through loose lips and probably a few dollars changing hands, the front page on every newspaper and online network reported that several RCMP officers and one civilian had been murdered in the park. A full investigation was underway and a prime suspect had been apprehended.

  Paul Meadows would be remembered, but not for the truth.

  Rachel leaned on the crossbeam of the porch at the park’s headquarters with a steaming mug of coffee between her hands. When Marla opened the gates this morning, the sideshow would begin.

  A vehicle came to a quick stop in front of the wood stairs leading into HQ. These visitors, however, were welcome.

  “Morning, Ranger Crossing!” Tigg shouted.

  Rachel grinned to see Garrett and his team hop out of the rented SUV. After the helo had dropped them off, they’d packed up their gear and found hotel rooms. Good to his word, Garrett did as well. She didn’t argue when he opened the door to the luxurious suite he’d rented in Whistler. The two days following included a lot of room service.

  “Obviously JTF has an inhuman ability to smell coffee from miles away,” she teased.

  Tigg and the team bounded up the front steps. “Damn straight. You’ve never had the coffee in an MRE. Tastes like boiled dirt,” Cork said over his shoulder, as the team of Canada’s finest warriors entered the log cabin to shouts of welcome from her staff.

  Garrett lagged behind and took the steps slowly, his gaze burning into hers. “Thought we’d make a pit stop before heading to the airport.”

  “Come on in.” She led the way to her office, followed by Garrett and his friends. “Have a seat,” she said, dropping into the chair behind her desk. Garrett and Cork took the guest chairs and the others leaned against the wall to her right. She gazed at each of them for a moment. “It’s going to be busy around here until the reporters are satisfied they’ve squeezed every detail they can from this story.”