by Sara Clancy
“Not a one,” she nodded.
A smile crept across his face. Logically, he knew that the nice thing to do would be to let this drop. But the opening was just too tempting. Pulling his legs together, he coaxed her closer. He waited until she knelt down to say.
“Yeah, there are tapes. I was really good. Only problem was I couldn’t do the lifts.”
Despite the eagerness on her face, she restricted her response to, “Oh. That’s nice.”
“You know how my teacher got around that?”
“If that is information you’d like to share, I’ll listen. Of course, I’m not going to pry.”
Don’t be cruel, he told himself even while he knew he was going to. “I did the girl parts.”
She held her breath until her face went red, her gaze locked on the far wall. It was as if she were afraid to move. Like she would break, and all the questions would come tumbling out. It was endlessly amusing to watch her fight her true nature.
“Nicole?” He grinned. “You don’t have any follow-up questions for me?”
She shook her head, lips pressed into a tight line.
“Nothing you might want me to elaborate on?”
Again, a rapid shake.
“Oh, good. Well, in that case, let’s never discuss this again. I’ll get mom to destroy the tapes.”
In about ten seconds, she looked ready to burst. She was vibrating with the need to learn every little aspect of what was happening around her.
“Nic? Are you breathing?”
“You’re evil!”
Benton didn’t even try to stifle his laughter.
She thumped him playfully in the shoulder. “What is wrong with you?”
“You really have issues,” he said between gasped breaths. “I’m starting to worry that you’re legitimately stalking me.”
“What I do in my free time is my business.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
Each attempt to get him to stop chuckling only made him laugh harder. His sides hurt by the time the teepee flap pulled back and Dorothy stuck her head in.
“Do you two always have to be so loud?” she asked.
Nicole and Benton shared a glance, each clearly recalling Benton’s banshee screams. A sound that could knock aside a Mac truck like it was nothing and rise louder than the noise of a storm. They both started giggling again.
Dorothy rolled her eyes. “Hurry up. The Elders are waiting.”
Chirping a ‘right,’ Nicole burst into action, swiftly primping herself into something ‘presentable.’ Not that she ever wasn’t. High cheekbones, rich brown eyes, and a pretty face made up for a lot. He’d even seen her covered in Leana Sidhe’s brain matter, and she was still kind of stunning. Benton, on the other hand, always took a while to get ready. At seventeen, he wasn’t all too keen that his blonde hair was already starting to gray. It took a while for him to spike it up just right.
“Who are the ‘elders’?” he asked as he pulled a jar of hair jell out of his backpack.
“The Tribal elders.” Nicole said it like he should have known from the start. “The leaders from the local tribes gathered together for the powwow.”
There were only three people in all of Fort Wayward that weren’t tied to the Siksika tribe by blood or marriage; Benton and his parents. It meant that a lot of things went over his head. And, most of the time, people forgot that.
“So, they’re important people?” he asked.
Nicole paused for a moment, brush halfway through her hip-long hair, and shot him a confused look. “Duh.”
“Why would anyone important want to see me?”
“Wow. Humble,” Nicole teased.
“You know what I mean.”
“We’ve told them a bit about you,” Dorothy said.
He snapped his head around to face her. “Like my love for the Chicago Cubs?”
“Obviously not,” Dorothy deadpanned.
Rage flashed through him. “You told them I was a banshee? I never said you could do that.”
“I never used that word,” Dorothy said.
“Oh, good. Because definitions were the problem!”
Dorothy’s eyes narrowed. “Keep your voice down.”
“I told you about this,” Nicole said.
“No, you didn’t.”
“I did. I said that we’ve organized for you to have some traditional healing sessions.”
“What’s that got to do with elders?”
“Obviously they wanted to know why an Irish boy was doing this.”
He cocked his head to the side, still twisting peaks into his hair. “Irish boy?”
“Banshees are an Irish legend. I just assumed that you must have some Irish lineage somewhere in your family tree.” A thought made her brush pause again. “Huh. I actually don’t know much about your family. You never talk about your grandparents or cousins.”
A small frown formed on his face. “I don’t think I have any.”
“Biology dictates that you have to have grandparents,” Nicole pressed.
“Mom and dad never mention them. It’s always just been the three of us.”
“They’re waiting,” Dorothy cut in, holding up her watch to emphasize the time.
It worked far more on Nicole then it did on him. But, just to be respectful, he did hurry himself along. Keeping his sweatpants, he pulled a hoodie over his t-shirt and shoved his feet into well-worn sneakers. Not the best outfit for first impressions, he thought to himself. But there weren’t any other options, so it would have to do. It’s not like I expected to meet anyone. His social skills had narrowed over the months to the point that he just stood behind Nicole and let her Care-Bear levels of cheery energy handle things. If he stood still long enough, people often forgot he was there. It was the perfect set up.
“How do I look?” Nicole asked while smoothing down her skirt.
It was one she had picked up the day before. Bright red with traditional patterns. She kept her RCMP boots, however. That had quickly become her trademark.
“You look great, sweetie.” The sweetness that filled Dorothy’s voice died when she turned to Benton. “Are you ready?”
He flopped his hands to the side, the baggy sleeves of his hoodie feeling like wings.
“Yeah.”
Chapter 4
The sun was already rising up over the long sea of grass. Its glow turned the swaying strands a brilliant gold. A few people were bustling around, chatting happily in ever increasing groups as children raced around their legs. Most of them were new to the area; tourists or family members. He had forgotten what it was like to be surrounded by unfamiliar faces. Small town living had that going for it at least.
Hunching his shoulders against the chill, he followed behind the Riders as they waved through the crowd. No one paid him much attention.
The number of people thinned at last, and he looked up. Honestly, he had thought they’d be headed towards the larger, more beautifully decorated campsite. Not to a cluster of recreational vehicles. He supposed it made more sense since people would be coming from quite a distance around. They headed to one that had an array of wind chimes dangling from the small pull-out porch hanging. The array of metal and stained glass tinkled together in the cool breeze. Drawing his attention, he glanced up to notice the horned owl that fluttered down to sit upon the roof.
“What are you doing up at this hour?” Nicole cooed sweetly at it. Pushing up onto her toes, she craned her neck to get a better look at its coloring. “Is that Bird?”Benton shook his head. “Nah. Too big.”
“You need to get some sleep, young lady,” Nicole said with a jab of her finger.
A smirk crossed his face as he watched his best friend try and chastise a bird. It took a little bit of the awkwardness out of the situation, an edge that became razor sharp again the moment Dorothy knocked on the metal door. He wasn’t the only one to feel it. Nicole practically snapped to attention. Her brightest, cheeriest smile locked into place on her face.
This means a lot to her. Damn it. I’m gonna screw this up.
He was already anticipating the lectures that were going to take place in his future. The air stirred. He thought it was the wind until he heard the loud squawk. One owl had turned into dozens. Talon tips scraped across the metal top as they restlessly fluttered and settled. Nicole looked at him from the corner of her eyes.
“Nervous?” she teased.
“I’m not doing this,” he hissed under his breath.
Both Dorothy and Nicole looked at him, their silent judgment making the air as thick as tar.
“I’ll just keep my mouth shut and let you guys do the talking,” he said.
It was a little offensive that both women gave a long sigh of relief. He shoved his hands deep into the front pockets of his hoodie and clenched his jaw. The RV’s door opened, revealing a woman who had only just begun to hunch over with age. Large circular glasses took up much of her face, balancing more on her high cheekbones than the bridge of her nose. Her hair was a wispy sheet of snow white that made her tawny skin seem darker. Her gaze cut him open as she slowly looked him up and down. Every inch of the journey was almost painful, and he squirmed under the scrutiny.
“Hi, Great-Auntie,” Dorothy said.
Nicole waved. “Hi, Great-Great-Auntie. This is Benton.”
Of course, they’re bloody related, Benton thought. The Elder adjusted her glasses and continued to shred him with her gaze.
“Benton, this is Wapun Rider.” Nicole swept her hand out to gesture between them, like they might have been confused who she was introducing to whom.
Benton forced a smile and nodded in greeting. The awkward silence was broken only by the distant chatter and the far nearer cry of the flock covering the RV.
“So you’re the one Nicole keeps talking about,” Wapun said, her voice a rough whisper, but still somehow warm.
“Yeah. Probably,” Benton said.
Wapun chuckled, the sound dying quickly, and she leaned out again, this time tipping her face up to watch the birds.
“Owls during the day. Well, doesn’t that seem like a bad omen?”
“They’re just here because of Benton,” Nicole rushed to soothe.
Benton glared at her.
“What? They are,” she whispered to him. Turning back to her Auntie, she continued. “They tend to flock around him when he’s sick or anxious.”
“I haven’t been sick since I got to Fort Wayward.”
“Because every time you get the sniffles, I make you chicken soup and herbal tea. You’re welcome.”
Benton rolled his eyes. He wasn’t prepared for the elderly woman to grab him by his chin and jerk his face back around to her.
“Yeah, I’m not a fan of being touched,” Benton noted.
Wapun ignored the comment. “My, what a pretty boy you are.”
The grip on his jaw kept him from shooting Nicole a ‘what the hell’ look. “Not partially.”
“I’m not saying you’re attractive,” Wapun dismissed.
His brow furrowed. “Okay.”
“But pretty.” She jerked his head around to view him from different angles. “I don’t know how to describe it.”
Benton heaved a sigh. Really, he’d had a good run. It hadn’t come up in months. “I have androgynous features.”
In the corner of his eyes, he noticed Nicole instantly twist around to face him.
“It’s why I keep my hair short and wear tighter shirts. People get really annoyed when they confuse me for a girl.”
Wapun seemed delighted to find the answer and continued to study him, holding him in place as Nicole and Dorothy inched in for a closer look.
“Huh,” Nicole said. “How did I never notice that?”
“I can’t un-see it,” Dorothy noted.
Benton smacked Wapun’s hand aside with a bit more force than necessary. Staring her down, he ignored Dorothy’s hissed warning. Wapun smiled softly and nodded once.
“Well, let’s get you inside. We have a few things to discuss.”
She headed in first. After sharing a few glares at each other, the others followed. It was easier to endure Dorothy’s glare than Nicole’s analytical stare. She didn’t even let up as they sat down on the little table set against the wall. There was hardly enough room for all of them to fit two aside, and Nicole was quick to push in beside him. She had yet to give up the staring. This is going to be a long day.
“Hot chocolate?” Wapun asked with a grandmotherly smile.
Benton shook his head. Wapun poured him one anyway and placed it before him. Wanting the warmth, he pulled his hands out of his pockets and wrapped them around the mug.
“The hoodie,” Wapun began. “Is that to make yourself look bigger?”
What is your obsession with my appearance? “I just like baggy sweaters.”
“Are you malnourished?”
“Sorry?”
“Your legs are almost as thin as your wrists,” she almost chuckled. “Not to mention that slender neck of yours.”
Benton returned his hands to his pockets.
“He is under his body mass index,” Nicole said. “But only a little bit. I’m fattening him up.”
“So many questions,” Benton snapped.
“I think my math is right.” Pulling out her phone, she brought up a BMI calculator. “You’re five-foot-seven and 115.5 pounds, right?”
“When did you weigh me?”
“That puts you at 18.1,” she continued. “You’re supposed to be 18.5 for your height. So, you’re underweight by 2.62 pounds.”
“We have to repeat our talk about personal boundaries,” Benton said.
“Are you anorexic?” Wapun asked.
Quickly losing his patience, he narrowed his eyes at the woman. “No. I just don’t have an appetite.”
“He likes spicy food,” Nicole said.
“Will you stop it?” Benton snapped. “Wapun, if you’ve got a damn point, get to it.”
The outburst had no effect on the woman. She watched him patiently, sipping from her mug before responding.
“I need to know your physical and mental state before we begin.”
He arched his eyebrow skeptically. “For a spiritual cleanse?”
Wapun smirked. “Are you under the impression that this is going to be painless for you?”
That caught him off guard. Before he could think of anything to say, she continued, “we have to break you down physically to get to your mind. And that’s where the real work begins. There is no greater torture in this world than confronting yourself.”
“I know a few things that might be worse,” Benton scoffed.
Her smile didn’t fade. “The spirit world doesn’t care about your feelings or self-esteem. Like nature, it’s not always rainbows and sunshine. There is a cold, brutal side. It will break you down. Force you to become intimately aware of the darkest parts of yourself, reveal to you the raw truth, whether you can take it or not. How well do you truly know yourself, Benton?”
“Well enough. I’m not all that interesting.”
“Do you always act like a jackass to keep from answering questions?”
“No. That’s just the raw truth of my personality.”
“Benton,” Nicole whispered sharply. “Sorry, Auntie. He had a rough night and tends to be a bit grouchy in the mornings.”
“It’s alright, dear. I’m trying to push his buttons.”
“You’re succeeding,” Benton muttered.
“One last question, little pixie.” She smiled in the face of his growing anger. “What’s your greatest fear?”
Benton kept his mouth closed.
Wapun sighed heavily. “If you can’t even answer that, I’m not sure what I can do to help you.”
Nicole sputtered as she grappled for a response. It was enough to spur Benton into answering.
“That I’ll forget who I am.”
Holding the cup between both hands, she hummed softly. “Interesting. Elab
orate for me.”
“You need me to elaborate on why I don’t want to be a homicidal maniac? If you don’t find it self-explanatory, I’m worried about you.”
A smirk crossed the older woman’s face. She hid it by taking a long sip of her drink. “Do you think this will happen?”
Benton could only shrug and swallow down the bile rising up his throat. The idea that he couldn’t stand against the monsters in his head chilled his bones. Wapun took a moment to contemplate his response. At last, after another sip of the hot chocolate, she came to her conclusion.
“I’ll help you.”
“Thank you, Auntie,” Nicole just about squealed in delight.
Whatever Wapun was going to say next, the words were lost under the wild cry of the owls. Within an instant, the air was filled with the scraping of their nails slashing across the metal roof. They all jumped at the sudden onslaught. Nicole leaned across him to peek out the window. Birds whirled around the RV, their numbers growing as the seconds passed.
“So, are you sick or anxious?” Wapun asked.
Benton pressed in near Nicole to catch a glimpse outside. A single figure stood amongst the chaos, the majority of its body frozen in time while its lower body curled and faded into the air. Somehow like both oil in water and fading smoke at the same time. The deep ebony figure watched them with a bone white face.
Benton nudged Nicole with his elbow.
“Death’s here.”
Chapter 5
“I still can’t believe you said that,” Nicole mumbled, her arms folded tightly over her chest.
It hadn’t taken long for the birds to calm down once more and scatter off into the clear Alberta sky. The impression had remained. Wapun hadn’t given Benton her back ever since, and it seemed that most people in the camp were on edge.
“What? She is. Mic, your biggest fan.” He gestured to a vacant space off to their left.
She knew she wouldn’t see anything but couldn’t stop herself from looking.
“Hey, Mic,” she said, because annoyance was no reason to be rude. “Anyway, my point remains.”
“I must have missed it.”
Crossing his arms in what might have been a mockery of her, he shifted to stand shoulder to shoulder. The slight nudge made them both realize how much she had grown since he had arrived in town. She was almost matching him in height.
