by Dana Davis
He glanced in the rearview mirror then said, “I’ll get off and take Pima until it clears up. Shouldn’t be backed up more than a couple of exits.”
They got off the freeway, drove down Pima Road for about three miles and slipped back on.
Daisy glanced at the lighted signs telling them about local street closures. “They’ve put in a rail line if you can believe that.”
“I’ll never give up my car,” Bridgette said.
Noah grinned, “That’s why I drive a hybrid. Great gas mileage. And I don’t even need smog inspections.”
“Really? That’s interesting.”
“Forget it, Bridge,” Daisy told her. “Until they offer flashy convertibles with hybrid technology, you’ll never get one.”
Her cousin laughed. “Damn right. But at least this thing is better than your hippy-shit van.”
Daisy chose to ignore that remark and focused out the front.
Another fifteen minutes and one freeway change later, they were finally at their exit. The museum sat only four blocks from the freeway.
Daisy glanced at the clock. It had taken over forty-five minutes to get here.
“About time,” Bridgette uttered.
Noah pulled into the parking lot and took a spot under a palo verde tree. No way would this space be available in summer. Winter visitors might laugh at the scrawny things Phoenicians called trees, but any shade, no matter how little, became a prime spot in desert summers.
Two school buses monopolized the west side of the parking lot and two adult males, probably the drivers, looked bored as they sat on nearby folding chairs, drinking what was probably coffee. Once inside, Noah told the girl at the front counter about their meeting and she got on the phone.
A few minutes later, a tall Native man, dressed in a plaid shirt and overalls with a badge dangling from the pocket, greeted them. “Noah Kavanaugh?”
“That’s right.”
“I’m Paul Manny.” The two men shook hands and Noah introduced Daisy and Bridgette. “Nice to meet you.” Brown eyes glistened in their sockets above a slender nose, and caramel colored skin held lines around his eyes and mouth. He looked like he came from other ancestry in addition to Indian, possibly white or Hispanic. Paul Manny also appeared as though he’d laughed a lot in his years, a thought Daisy found comforting. “Follow me. We can talk privately in my office.”
She’d hoped to get a look at the Kachina but they didn’t pass that exhibit. Bridgette seemed to have the same idea and her head flipped back and forth as they moved from polished concrete floor to stairs to carpeting and back to concrete again. Paul’s office reminded Daisy of some of the closet-like spaces a few of her professors had back at ASU. With the four of them inside, the place became very crowded.
Several boxes lay here and there, bulging with papers, while another held something that looked suspiciously like a mannequin’s head cradled next to a plastic foot. Paul took boxes from metal folding chairs and stacked them against the far wall with several others.
“Please, sit. Sorry about the mess. We’re putting up a new exhibit.” He smiled, sat at the computer desk and swiveled his chair around toward them.
Daisy and Bridgette took seats to Noah’s right.
“Your father was a well-respected man,” Paul said to Noah. “I’m sorry he’s not still around.”
“Thank you.”
“He’s the only reason I agreed to meet with you. Did some work for us a few years back. You said on the phone this was urgent.”
Here goes nothing, Daisy thought. Paul would either believe them or toss them out as loons.
She, Noah and Bridgette proceeded to tell the story. Paul sat silently, hands clasped in his lap, eyes narrowing or widening, depending on what they said, until they finished. They let him know they were paranormals but tried to keep additional information about their heritages as benign as possible. Indian or not, he was still a stranger. And Daisy didn’t trust anyone beyond family just now.
Afterward, Paul Manny leaned back in his chair and ran eyes over the three of them.
Here it comes, Daisy told herself. He’ll call security and we’ll be banned from the museum so long even our grandchildren won’t get in.
“Skinwalkers are men in animal skins. They don’t change forms.”
“This one does,” Daisy said. “He has. I’ve seen him. I’ve felt him.” She fought a shiver.
“If that’s true,” Paul said, eyes intent on her, “he must be pulling from some ancient energy source. A skinwalker is from the Dineh legends. Kachinas come from the Hopi. You believe the Buffalo Kachina will help rid this evil?”
“Or at least help us find a way. Yes. And Joe Running Bear agrees with us.”
“I know Joe. He’s a respectable man.” Paul smiled. “Indian communities aren’t that large.” Then they heard what they suspected they would. “Even if Joe’s right and this really is a skinwalker, I can’t loan any artifacts to you. Sorry.”
Daisy shifted in her chair and the metal creaked. “Not even if you put us down in your books as a museum? You do that all the time, don’t you? Loan to other museums?”
“Yes. But you’re not a museum.”
“Any plans to send the Kachina someplace in the near future?”
“I’m afraid not. That’s one of our permanent displays.”
“What about ASU?” Noah said. “My father had tenure there. Any way we can do paperwork to loan it to them for a few days?” He glanced at Daisy.
“Yes. We should only need it a few days. We’d take very good care of it. I have books dating to the 17th century in excellent condition and I deal in antiques.” She could see the unwelcome answer coming and quickly added, “Maybe we could do the spells here. Then the Kachina wouldn’t leave the premises. You could be here. And anyone you think you need to ensure it stays safe.”
Paul narrowed eyes on her and rubbed his hairless chin. “I can look into that. But from what you’ve told me, I doubt it will work here. You said the attacks happened in or near your home.”
“And an auto dealership.”
“Yes. But that’s on your side of town. Noticed anything unusual since you’ve been here? In this area?”
“No,” Bridgette said. “But he seems to be connected to Daisy. Feeding off her strength.”
Paul studied Daisy again. “That may be. Do you live near one of the mountains?”
“The McDowells,” she told him.
“Ah. Just as I thought. Elemental power is concentrated in mountain ranges. This museum isn’t that close to one.”
Daisy felt Bridgette’s eyes on her and she looked over at her cousin. “You sense anything here?”
“Nothing malignant. I’ve been open since we arrived.” Green eyes gazed at Paul and she smiled. “I’m a telepath.”
Paul gave a slight twitch of his mouth. “My great-grandmother had that ability.”
Daisy couldn’t tell if he was pleased about that or not. “Looks like we’re not so different after all,” she said.
Bridgette leaned forward. “You really want a dangerous skinwalker on the loose in Arizona, Paul? I wonder what your tribe would say if they knew you let the bastard run free instead of helping us get rid of him?”
“Bridgette,” Daisy reprimanded.
Paul chuckled and waved a dismissive hand. “That’s all right. I’ve used scare tactics to get a few things myself. The council has final say on artifacts we house here.” He shook his head. “I’ll speak to them, but I don’t think they’ll consider this our business. A skinwalker isn’t something anyone wants to tangle with, even if some in our society don’t believe in them anymore. And I won’t go against the council.”
He sounded as though he didn’t quite believe. Is he just humoring me?
“You Navajo?” Bridgette said.
Paul shook his head. “Half Pima.”
“Ah. Peaceful tribe. Hohokam descended.”
“Very good, Miss McDougal.”
Daisy gave her c
ousin an I can’t believe you knew that look, in which Bridgette simply shrugged. She let her mental guard down. Guess some of your mother’s teachings rubbed off. Her cousin narrowed eyes and she wondered if the redhead picked those thoughts from her brain.
“I was raised off the reservation. Only recently moved back.”
Daisy shifted in her chair, causing it to squeak.
That’s when Noah said, “Can skinwalkers really change into animals?”
Paul took in a long breath. “Some believe they can. Others believe they take on the animal’s powers when they wear the skin but don’t actually change forms. Thus the skinwalker name. They’ve been known to kill and to possess a victim’s soul through dreams.”
Daisy fought a shiver at that but said nothing.
“I’ve never seen one myself. But I’m not Navajo. I’ve met several Dineh who swear they look just like animals.”
A knock at Paul’s door caused Daisy to jump and brought everyone’s heads around. “Yes?” he said.
A pretty women, with features that revealed she might have a smidgen of Native blood in her, cracked the door open and stuck her head in. She gave an apologetic smile. “Sorry to disturb you but that hogan is collapsing again.”
“Be right there, Becky.” The woman left and Paul stood. “Sorry. We’ve had nothing but trouble with this latest display. These college kids today don’t know a damn thing about hogan construction.”
Daisy, Noah and Bridgette stood.
“Thanks for seeing us, Paul,” Noah said. The two shook hands.
“My pleasure. I’ll see what I can do about your request.” Dark eyes moved to Daisy. “But I wouldn’t hold my breath.”
She nodded, smiled and shook his hand. “I appreciate anything you can do.”
“I’ll give you a call as soon as I know something.”
“Do you suppose we could at least see the Kachina? So we know exactly what we’re looking for if we have to go someplace else?” They hadn’t paid the entrance fee so she added, “We’ll be happy to make a donation to the museum. It’s the least we can do after you agreed to speak with us.”
“Sure. Wait here, please.” He disappeared down the hall and through another door.
“Well this was a bust,” Daisy uttered.
Noah placed an arm on her shoulders. “We’ll figure it out, babe.”
“Sure,” Bridgette added with a smirk. “Some guy’ll give in. They didn’t call me Burgeoning Bridgette in school for nothing, you know.”
Daisy had forgotten all about that nickname. She let out a hardy laugh and shook her head at the vision of some unsuspecting male giving in to her cousin’s wiles. Bridgette wouldn’t have sex just to get her hands on a Kachina, but the woman could be a tremendous tease. Though she doubted it would work on Paul. She’d noticed a ring on his left hand. Married?
The woman they saw earlier appeared and waved them to her. “Paul’s busy with the volunteers. I’m Becky Miller-Greenly. Nice to meet you.”
Daisy, Noah and Bridgette introduced themselves.
“Paul said you’re interested in the Buffalo Kachina.”
“Yes,” Daisy said.
“Come with me.”
They left the office area, passing through a workshop filled with volunteers and noisy machinery doing whatever it is they do in a museum. A pungent odor filled the air too, like some sort of paint primer.
Daisy caught sight of a half-painted saber tooth tiger with only one tooth and she smiled. “Kinda takes the scary out of him.”
Noah and Bridgette chuckled.
Becky was shorter than Daisy but those little legs sure could move. Even Noah took longer strides to keep up with her. They wound around several displays of jewelry, pottery and clothing, up a carpeted ramp that led them past a glass pond with ancient Native fishermen, and through the children’s area where hands-on displays and colorful teepees dominated several school kid’s attention, until they reached a dimly lit room. They were the only visitors in this room and the place seemed eerily quiet after the noise in the children’s area.
“Here he is,” Becky said. She pointed to a locked glass case lit by a single overhead spotlight.
There he was indeed. Daisy stared at the Kachina. Skins decorated his wooden body and the faded paint created features on an angry mask-like face with bared teeth. He held ancient spear weapons in his hands and looked as though he danced to some long-forgotten music.
My protector. “He’s magnificent,” she uttered.
Becky agreed. Then she said, “Feel free to stay and look around. Paul said you’d leave a donation with the front desk.”
“Yes, we will. Thank you.” She watched the woman go then turned her gaze back to the Kachina. She glanced at Bridgette, who had eyes narrowed on the Kachina. “You reading his thoughts, Cousin?”
Bridgette grunted. “He has power.”
“How do you—” Her cousin cut her off with a wave and drew something from her jacket pocket. “When did you start using amulets, Bridge?”
Inherents didn’t need charms infused with power. They could spell just about anything, even an enemy. She studied the Kachina and her thoughts turned to her attacker. Well, usually they could spell the enemy. Amulets were normally sold to human witches or other curious souls in magick shops across the world. Some were spelled with luck. Or cursed, depending on what the recipient wanted to buy, but never with anything more dangerous than a zit or a mild rash. A great way to make money and ensure return business.
Bridgette said in a low voice, “Aunt Sally uses them more than you think.” She let the silver lion’s head dangle from her hand, its leather lace entwined in her slender fingers. “This one lets me sense power from inanimate objects without having to go through the entire spell. It’s not as accurate but I get a general idea. I made one for you too, Daisy. Just like I promised. A protection charm. Now’s as good a time as any to give it to you.” She produced another silver amulet on a leather lace from her pocket and pressed it into Daisy’s palm.
This one was a tree, a Rowan tree to be exact. A tree known for its power of protection, as well as its red-berries. “Thanks,” Daisy said, still amazed any of her relatives enchanted amulets with strong magick, much less used them.
“Don’t mention it.” Bridgette’s gaze drifted all around the protective case that held the Kachina, up to the ceiling, and across the walls. No doubt looking for cameras, alarms, anything that kept a thief from running off with the artifact. An emergency door with a red bar disclaiming the alarm would sound if opened was several feet away. “Doesn’t look that hard,” Bridgette uttered.
“Let’s give Paul a chance first. I like the guy. And the last thing I want is to be known as a thieving witch to the entire Indian community.”
Her cousin shrugged. “Your call. But if he can’t get permission for us to use this Kachina, I’ll get the damn thing myself.” Bridgette held up her cell phone and clicked a photo of their target.
Her look told Daisy that no amount of cajoling, whining or begging would change her cousin’s mind.
Please, let Paul get authorization, she silently said to the Kachina.
Chapter 16
Enemy Mine
Bridgette talked Daisy into doing another séance. This time they decided to call on Grandpa Owen, Daisy’s great-great-grandfather and the strongest of her more recent ancestors, see if he knew anything. Again, Noah insisted on being present. They’d left Perky safely in the master suite with protection spells around the room. They definitely didn’t want any undesirables coming through after what had happened recently. The last thing Daisy needed was another enemy on the loose.
“He’s here,” Bridgette said.
“I don’t see anything,” Noah uttered.
“Wait for it.”
Just as Bridgette finished that comment, a short man with white hair, what was left of it, and a face of deep wrinkles appeared. He looked tired, worn out, but his gray eyes held fire. Many people probably underestima
ted him during his later years. Just an old man. Harmless. Yeah, right. He wore cowboy boots, a brown cowboy hat and a steer head bolo tie. Quite a contrast to his pleated brown slacks and starched white shirt. He was born in Arizona during the mid 1800s. Probably knew how to ride a horse too, despite being a shrewd businessman.
“Hi, Grandpa Owen,” Daisy said, when he simply stared at her with hands tucked into his pants pockets. He wouldn’t know her from his life, of course, and ethereal memories weren’t always passed along to everyone on the other side.
Those eyes narrowed and he cocked his head much the way Bridgette did on occasion. “You’re Penny’s kid.”
“Yes.” Guess he got his ethereal memories after all. Or else someone kept him apprised of his progeny. Maybe Gran had spoken to him. Daisy had no idea what went on in the afterlife. And she certainly was in no hurry to find out first-hand.
Owen focused on Bridgette and stepped close, leaning toward her face. Daisy fought a laugh when her cousin’s expression grew sour.
“What’re you gawking at, you old spook?” Bridgette said, sounding very much like Gran.
Owen’s eyes grew wide and his mouth opened to let out a belly laugh. “You’re Margie’s spawn. I’d know that temperament and red hair anyplace.” He glanced around and laughed again. “Good thing she’s not here. She hated when I called her Margie. And who’s this handsome fellow? I don’t see a family resemblance.”
“This is Noah, Grandpa Owen. My husband.”
“Well, now. That’s my girl. Where’s your husband?”
Bridgette quirked an eyebrow. “I’m single.”
“Good-looking girl like you? I’m shocked.” Another belly laugh. “Scare the dickens out of men, don’t you?”
Daisy couldn’t help herself and she chuckled. She could see why Grandpa Owen fooled so many people in his day.
“Crash any stock markets lately, old fart?” Bridgette said. “They must love you on the other side. Bet you got a nice warm reception.”
Owen gave her a thoughtful gaze. “Jury’s still out, I’m afraid. But that was one of my best spell-castings. Took me nearly a month to get the cadence right. Not something I recommend to the squeamish, though.” He pulled his right hand from his pocket to reveal a missing thumb.
