“Lisa,” began the man, “he just barged—”
“Give us a minute. Ben, come in.”
The man released him and Ben pitched forward. Ben turned around and held his hands up in front of him. “I’m sorry.” After a moment of hard staring, the man retreated back down the stairs.
Ben closed the bedroom door behind him. The room was dark, but he could see the silhouette of Lisa’s upper body propped against the headboard, the lower half lost beneath a comforter and a sea of blankets.
“I’m sorry, Lisa. So, so sorry.”
Her voice was thick. “Did you know we were going to start a family? Jim ran all the numbers; I was going to cut my hours. He had it all worked out. He always had everything worked out.”
“Lisa, listen—”
“Except who can run the numbers for something that random? That ridiculous? Who can possibly plan for that?” she asked, her voice rising, angry. “A wolf attack!” She said the word wolf as if she had retched it. “Are you kidding me, Ben?” she asked, as if he were responsible, which, he supposed, he was. “It’s utterly fucking senseless!”
She laid her head back against the headboard, wrung out now after her burst of anger.
“Unless it’s not,” she said. “Senseless.”
There was just enough light from the streetlamps outside to see she was looking him in the eye.
“It’s not, no,” whispered Ben.
“I had a feeling. This many people, these specific people.” She leaned toward Ben. “It’s that house, isn’t it? It’s Madeleine.”
Ben nodded. “More or less.”
She exhaled, as if relieved, then seemed to deflate in front of him. “I knew I wasn’t crazy.”
“You’re not.” He heard three sharp blasts of a car horn, not his own. Ben walked over to the window and looked down. His car was idling, Lindsay still inside. Severance’s car was parked behind it now, idling as well. “I’m sorry I don’t have time to explain it all right now—I don’t even know if I can explain it—but I’m going to take care of it. Or try to, anyway.”
“What am I supposed to do now, Ben?”
“Keep your doors locked tonight and don’t go outside no matter what you see or hear.”
When he walked back to her bed, he saw fresh tears in her eyes.
“That’s not what I meant,” she said.
“I know. And I’m sorry, but I have to go.”
She called his name. He stopped and turned in the doorway.
“Be careful,” she said.
“I will.”
“And, Ben,” she said, leveling a finger at him. “You make her pay.”
He nodded and bounded down the stairs, past the group of bewildered relatives, and out the front door. He paused on the stoop to look in every direction, then ran for the car. When he climbed inside and slammed the door, Lindsay stared at him.
“What the fuck?”
“Jim’s wife,” he said, pulling the car away from the curb and resuming his scan of the street.
“Now?” asked Lindsay, gobsmacked.
“There might not be a later.”
Across the street from his house sat Lindsay’s car with a crumpled quarter panel and shattered headlight. He pulled up behind a car he did not recognize. He cut the ignition and sat behind the wheel. Richard had instructed them to wait.
Richard pulled in behind them. He was dressed in slacks and a blazer as if it were casual Friday at a particularly posh office and not a skinwalker hunt, though Ben had no idea what clothing that would entail.
“You don’t have to be here, Lindsay,” said Ben. “It’s not after you.”
“After everything I’ve seen, you’re going to bring that macho bullshit now?”
“It’s just what I’m supposed to say,” he said, smiling. “I’m glad you’re here.”
A tapping at the window startled both of them.
“Come on, lovebirds,” said Richard. “My man is waiting inside.”
The sun was below the trees now and the light was fading. They all strode quickly up the walkway to the front door. Ben stepped over a line of white powder at the landing. He looked to the windows and saw the same on the sills. Lindsay tapped his shoulder and pointed at Madeleine’s house. It was ringed with the powder too.
“White ash,” said Richard.
“Right,” said Ben.
“Of course,” quipped Lindsay.
“Now, now,” said Richard.
Inside, a Native American man was crouched by the hearth, pouring an even line of the same powder from a canvas bag in front of the fireplace. When he finished his task, he cinched and pitched the powder bag to Richard. The man straightened, and he stood over six feet tall. He had sable hair pulled back into a ponytail. He was dressed in black boots, black cargo pants lined with pockets, and a black shirt with a white bird in the center. The bird’s wings were spread and in the center of the bird’s chest was an inverted triangle. The man was imposing enough without the leather shoulder holster crisscrossing his chest and bearing an enormous beaded scabbard, which Ben could only assume held an equally enormous knife. Ben hoped the man looked as imposing to a skinwalker as he did to him.
“Your cat likes to pee in the house,” he said and extended his hand. The Maine coon threaded between the big man’s feet.
Ben shook it. “He hasn’t learned the ropes yet.”
“I think it’s a bit more than that,” he said and smiled. He stooped to pet the cat. It purred and rubbed against him. “Animals are sensitive to a great many things.” Despite his stature, the black clothes, and the weapons, Ben noticed the man’s eyes then, hazel and kind. For the first time that day, he felt a moment of relief. “Please excuse me for letting myself in. Richard filled me in on the phone. From the sound of it, you didn’t have much chance to lock up last night.”
Richard said, “This is Dr. Alex Standingcloud. An old friend of mine and a professor of Native American indigenous studies at George Mason University.”
“Please,” said Standingcloud. “Call me Alex.”
“Among Alex’s many talents,” continued Richard, “he’s a medicine man of the Ojibwe, better known as the Chippewa. He helps me out in…instances like this.”
“Exactly how many ‘instances like this’ have there been, Richard?” asked Lindsay.
Richard grinned a devilish grin, but the tall man spoke up.
“Don’t let him fool you. None. But after everything Richard told me, I had to see for myself. If you’re correct, then this is not your average cryptid. A skinwalker is not an animal, it’s human. A human who can mimic any animal it chooses yet retain its intellect. Yee naaldlooshii is an evil creature. Malice given form. Any form it wants. Or so legend has it. Hopefully the white ash will keep it at bay.”
Richard snapped his fingers and hurried into the kitchen. The cat bolted upstairs.
“Yee naaldlooshii?” said Lindsay. The sounds of rummaging could be heard from the kitchen.
“It’s Navajo for ‘With it, he goes on all fours.’ Skinwalker.”
“What are you looking for?” asked Ben. “Garlic or something?”
“Lemons,” called Richard.
“Will lemons stop a skinwalker?”
“I suppose if the thing has a cut and you squeeze some juice into it. I was thinking more of a martini.”
Alex ignored Severance and continued. “If we are dealing with a skinwalker, you can understand why I must verify the intel.”
“How are you going to do that?” asked Ben.
“Richard told me about the squatter. I need to see her setup. If she uses animal pelts to facilitate the transformations, I will destroy them. If there is some other talisman, I will destroy that. She’ll be trapped in whatever form she is in. And easier to deal with.”
“Presumably,” said Lindsay.
“What if she’s at home? What if she’s just a normal woman?” asked Ben.
“Then I will have a chat with her.”
“Woul
dn’t this be wiser to do during the day?” asked Lindsay.
Severance strolled in from the kitchen with a tumbler. “If your neighbors weren’t jumpy before, I’m sure they’re on high alert after two more grisly deaths. I don’t think a six-foot Indian dressed in black crawling through a window in broad daylight would escape notice now. Besides, where’s the fun in that?”
“We could wait until tomorrow, but that’s another night of this creature on the loose, hunting you and who knows who else,” said Standingcloud.
Lindsay turned to Severance. “Aren’t you going with him?”
“Someone has to keep an eye on you crazy kids. And post his bail if he gets caught.”
The large man grinned at this and turned toward the door.
“Wait,” said Ben. “I can’t let you go alone. She’s after me.”
“Alex works better by himself,” said Severence.
“I can’t let you fight my battles for me.”
“This isn’t a bully on the playground,” said Severance, serious now.
“I appreciate your offer, but this is an evil being with powers beyond man,” said Standingcloud. “Allegedly.”
“I was in the house before, I know the layout. She nearly killed me without any magic, with just the element of surprise. If she gets the drop on you too, then we’re all screwed.”
“Young McKelvie has a point,” said Severence, then added, “And Ojibwe medicine men are hard to come by.”
Alex contemplated this for a moment, then nodded. A moment later, Ben followed him out the front door. Outside, the medicine man bent to freshen the line of white ash before they proceeded to Madeleine’s house.
“Her layout is identical to mine,” said Ben. “The woman was hidden in the kitchen the last time, but she heard me coming. Otherwise, I think she’ll be in the basement.”
“Just stay behind me once we’re inside.”
It was fully dark now and the streetlights and porch lights were doing their best to illuminate the street, but they only succeeded in making the surrounding shadows darker. Stepping off his landing felt like stepping out of an airplane, but Ben ignored his weak legs and kept pace with Standingcloud down his walkway and over to Madeleine’s gate. He looked over his shoulder frantically. Squirrels scurried in the trees. Their branches shook and their leaves whispered.
In a moment, they were through Madeleine’s gate. Once inside the yard and the canopy of untrimmed trees and undergrowth shooting up to his knees, he noticed a faint, flickering glow from the basement window opposite his house. He had never seen this vantage before, during this time of night.
“She’s here,” he whispered.
Alex Standingcloud did not break stride to the front door.
“Hey, I thought we were going to sneak through a window…”
“I don’t do windows.” Standingcloud lifted his heavy boot and caved in the lock of the front door. Before Ben could even prepare himself, they plunged into the dark house.
Chapter 20
FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 21
Lindsay’s gaze shifted back and forth from the window to her watch.
“So, when are you going to come work for me?” asked Richard.
“And be sexually harassed full-time?”
“Well, since we’re talking benefits, there’s also dental.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this stuff was real?”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were gay?”
She stared at him. There was no way he could have known.
“That’s none of your business.”
“Come on,” he said, “I debunk myths for a living. You should tell your friend though. He’s in love with you.”
“Why are we talking about this? Ben is over there with some Native American ninja who shows up out of nowhere and now I’m an accessory to breaking into a house and God knows what else…”
“Lindsay.” Richard’s lopsided grin softened into something less predatory. “There are not many people I have a great deal of respect for. The number of people I respect and trust, that’s an even smaller number. And even then, I take no chances. I ran a background check.”
“That is a complete invasion of my privacy, Richard.”
He waved her off. “It only confirmed that you are someone I respect and trust. You volunteer with children, for God’s sake. I know you’re in a relationship with a woman whose mother tolerates you only because she thinks her daughter is going through a ‘phase.’ And the woman herself? This Faith?” He said her name as if it tasted bitter. He sipped his drink to wash it away. “Really, Clark?”
“What?” said Lindsay defensively.
“Tits on a stick.”
“She’s…she’s…”
“Oh, stop. I’m the last person to judge someone who likes the eye candy, but really, you’d actually have a much better chance of happiness dating young McKelvie than this bim, but I digress…I know about Baltimore too.”
She looked at her feet, her face burning.
“I know all of this because I genuinely want you on my team when situations like this arise.”
Lindsay was speechless. She knew nothing about him and he knew everything about her. Rather than berate him though, she was more curious than infuriated. “What are ‘situations’ like this?”
His grin returned. “Extreme cryptozoology.”
“You just want trophies.”
Richard shook his head. “I am a conservationist, as much as you if we’re talking about your average cryptid. An undiscovered tree frog in the Philippines or even the Loch Ness Monster, I will marvel at them right alongside you. But the things that go bump in the night? The things that drag pretty girls into drainpipes? That’s folklore, my dear. And for the truly malicious specimens, like our skinwalker here, I’d feel much more comfortable if they were mounted on my mantel instead of chewing up neighborhoods. So would you, I’d wager.” He spread his hands as if showing invisible playing cards. “Extreme cryptozoology.”
“Why? Why you?”
“My God, could you imagine my speaker’s fee then?”
Lindsay made a face.
“You showed me yours, true enough. Come work for me and maybe I’ll show you mine.”
“This thing, what will it—” A momentary change in the light distracted her. A shadow overhead, through the skylight, followed immediately by a thump. They both stared at the ceiling.
“What the hell?” asked Lindsay. “What about the ash?”
“Apparently, it doesn’t work for an air approach.”
“It can fly now?”
Richard stepped to the window. “It’s spent time as a cat, yes?” He pointed to the windows and the tree beside the house. “More than likely, it was waiting in that the whole time and jumped over. Or it was already on the roof. I better call the boys and give them a heads-up.”
Lindsay felt a chill. It had gotten the drop on her again. “Shouldn’t we get the hell out of here?”
“I’m not taking my chances running across open ground with that thing. Even though we’re not who it wants, I see no reason to tempt it. Trust me, this is the safest place to be right now.”
A shunting sound came from both overhead and inside the house. Richard looked at Lindsay.
“Window,” she whispered.
Chapter 21
FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 21
Ben, following just behind Alex, called out directions through the house. If the medicine man was repulsed by the reek of urine or if his eyes stung at the wood smoke, his steps did not slow, and though it burned Ben’s eyes and throat he followed. The rats fled before them. Just before the kitchen, where she had surprised him before, Ben yelled “Wait!” and grabbed Alex by the arm. Ben sneaked past him and peered around the corner to find the galley kitchen littered with trash bags but nothing else.
“Clear,” he said.
They turned toward the black opening to the basement. Flashlights in hand, they descended.
As they reached the landing,
they were ankle-deep in refuse. It sounded like they were wading through a pile of leaves, with the occasional hollow crunch of an empty plastic bottle. In the nearest corner, empty cardboard boxes were stuffed inside one another and stacked to the ceiling. It had not been this cluttered when Ben had last been here. Judging by the volume of wrappers and trash, the woman had reached the dregs of whatever supplies she had. They rounded the corner at the landing and entered the full basement.
They found a small, dying fire in the center of the room, smoldering outside of a fireplace. It looked alien to Ben, a signal of something terribly wrong. Of desperation. Hungry, freezing men crossing wintry plains and burning carriage wheels to survive one more night. Cauldrons tended by blind witches in caves warning of ill fortunes and exacting a horrible price for the privilege.
Dozens of glowing points dotted the leaning boxes and broken furniture and scattered chaos, like the twinkling skyline of a dilapidated city—rats just beyond the firelight.
Ben’s eyes adjusted to the objects surrounding the fire. The basement had been a cluttered mess before, but now it looked as if anything in the house that was flammable had been dragged down to keep the fire going. The basement had its own gravity. Like a black hole, it was devouring everything around it. Even he had been drawn back down here after that morning when he promised himself if he was ever able to see the sunlight again he would never return.
Despite the junk, the immediate area around the fire was pristine, dotted with small objects. Ben and Alex swept their flashlights around them. Apparently not all of the wood was used to feed the fire. Small, wooden carvings formed a perfect ring around the flames. Turtles, whales, ravens, and more.
“What the hell is this?” whispered Ben.
“It appears to be an altar of some sort.”
Ben approached the fire. He picked up a wooden turtle. “So these are supposed to be what, exactly?”
“Offerings.”
He looked at Alex. In the firelight, he could see the Ojibwe looking back at him. Of all the horrors in the basement, it was the medicine man’s expression he liked least in that moment.
“Who is she making offerings to?”
The Beast of Barcroft Page 14
