Dark Side of Noon (Wind Dancer Book 2)

by Tierney James

  “There was a time I would have thought someone like Wind Dancer had a screw loose if he talked about parallel universes, sapapu holes, and monsters,” Farrentino said while he checked his weapon.

  “Ain’t that the truth? I have gotten more of an education since I met him and Cleo than I ever had in school.”

  “You’re pretty fond of those two.”

  At the risk of showing emotion, Jacque picked up the pace. “They’re my family. I don’t have anyone else.”

  They’d made it to where the trail leveled off again when they spotted something stomp through the area with plenty of tall brush.

  “There.” Farrentino raised his chin as they eased off the trail against a gray boulder. “Something big. Different than what we saw earlier,” he said incredulously.

  Jacque chilled at this new creature as it moved out onto the trail ahead of them, his strides long and hard. “It’s another Chaveyo. He’s following Wind Dancer.”

  Chapter 36

  Perez tried to make mental notes as her captor moved throughout what resembled a workshop. It smelled of grease and metal. Light streaming through an unwashed upper window revealed dust floating in the air. A squeaky ceiling fan wobbled, giving her the sense it could fall at any minute. Half-opened boxes of clutter, consisting of tools, car parts, and hoses, were stacked haphazardly against the walls and workbenches. A refrigerator with a retro-style door had a few rust spots and generated a loud noise when it kicked on. All these things she tried to observe to bring this sick SOB to justice.

  Her eyes followed his determined movements. He activated a fluorescent fixture over the workbench by jerking on a dangling cord. The clutter prevented the light from traveling far. Once her eyes adjusted to the dimness, she recognized a late-model truck parked next to the car he’d driven to their location.

  No maybes about it, she should have gone with her gut and shot the jerk when she had a chance. You never really expect a person you’ve seen off and on for years to be capable of committing a crime. Then again, in this day and age, with the Internet, people were able to explore a plethora of macabre activities without having to answer to anyone. Sometimes a once upstanding member of the community acted on those illicit fantasies, gambling he would never be discovered. Was this such a case?

  She sat on a wobbly metal chair and, every time she moved, one leg scraped the floor, drawing his attention momentarily. With her hands tied behind her and his dirty handkerchief tied into a gag, all she could do was keep twisting her hands to stretch out the cord. Grabbing her didn’t seem like a well-thought-out decision. Maybe it was a spur-of-the-moment action. She remembered him chuckling when he slammed the trunk shut on his car.

  When he picked up a hammer and turned her way, his eyes narrowed as if he were deep in thought. Was he trying to talk himself into killing her? She tried her best to calm her rapid heartbeat. Being terrified wouldn’t get her out of this situation. It might even excite him. Tilting her head, she batted her eyes and tried to appear vulnerable.

  What did he want with her? It had been such a risk to take her. Didn’t he understand people would be searching for her? Miss her?

  She regretted cutting Jacque off like she did when he showed concern. His macho, I-know-best attitude irritated her, in spite of her being mildly attracted to that very trait. The FBI agent liked flaunting his importance, just like every other Fed she’d met. Threatening to replace her did not endear him to her.

  Lesson learned. Don’t burn important bridges you might need to cross later. They were out searching for the perky Cleopatra Sommers, thinking a serial killer roamed the woods. And here she was, a victim of the real culprit. If he’d been the one to take Cleo the night before, she most likely was dead. But why? There was always a reason.

  He slammed the hammer down, making her flinch. The cap pulled low on his forehead formed shadows on his face. She could still see the grin on his face as he approached. Bending, he tapped her nose playfully then directed the strands of hair away from her cheeks.

  “You’re a real pretty woman. Why would you want this job? Maybe you want to boss everyone around?”

  She tried to talk through the gag but only managed to get it wet with her saliva.

  “Talk. Talk. Talk. You women sure can run on about things.” He traced his finger down her jawline then her neck. Instinct forced her to lean away. This managed to make him laugh softly. “Let me fix that.” Carefully, he pulled down the gag and ran a dirty finger across her lips. “Better?”

  She nodded. “People will be looking for me.”

  “I know. Doesn’t matter. They won’t come here. Nobody will guess it’s me. I’m a pillar of the community.” With a heavier hand, he stroked her head. “Beautiful hair. Like silk. Why do you keep it tied up? Makes you look like a man.”

  Perez took several breaths to hide her fear. “Most men don’t think I’m good enough,” she lied. Her cops knew she had their back and supported her 100 percent.

  “What?” he said in mock astonishment. “Well, I think you do a good job.”

  She widened her eyes. “Really? I wish you’d tell the mayor that. He’s always on my case about something. Wants me to give out more speeding tickets to tourists and even the locals so we can add to the city coffers.”

  “Shocking,” he said drily as he let his hand rest on her shoulder.

  “I know, right?” She didn’t like the position of his hand so close to her throat. “So, why me? What have you got against me?”

  His smile widened. “Nothing. Just thought you were pretty. Kind of remind me of my wife. Well, and wondered if you were softer without that gun and badge. You stopped me a couple of weeks ago, remember?”

  “Busted taillight.”

  “Yep. Let me off with a warning. One of those lame-brain deputies of yours would have given me a ticket. But you were polite and ask me about my wife and business. I thought, now that is really nice. I admit, I’ve had a crush on you, ever since.”

  “Maybe you could let me go, then.”

  “Or maybe I could keep you here to see how things play out.”

  “Are you going to kill me?”

  “Depends.” He grinned as he pulled the gag up and tapped her on the nose again. “Better get used to that.”

  Her reflex was to jerk away and yell threats even though they’d be muffled. There was a gut feeling, again, that would lead to more trouble. It might set him off in a way she’d be the subject of a Dateline episode in the future. So, she sat frozen and quiet until he turned to shut off the ceiling fan.

  She made pleading and whining sounds. He paused and listened, as if he were enjoying the situation. Strolling to the workbench nonchalantly, he pulled the string for the fluorescent light, bathing the room in darkness. He returned to the door and left the building. The door rattled a bit when he slammed it shut. There was a jerky sound on the door once or twice, checking to see if the door locked, she guessed.

  Now. How was she going to escape?

  Chapter 37

  Cleo experienced both curiosity and trepidation at the Chaveyo’s willingness to follow her earlier in the ravine. His guttural growl mixed with that raspy breathing and the snap of his jaws continued to keep her fixated on those razor-sharp teeth. When she slowed and grabbed at large rocks to steady herself, he stopped and took stock of their surroundings. It only took a few minutes for him to be ready to keep moving.

  The area grew familiar since she’d escaped this way earlier. How far was the kiva? She wasn’t sure, but it couldn’t be far. She had to keep him slowed down for help to come. How would she be able to keep from going into the kiva once more? All she wanted was for the beast not to hurt Wind Dancer. She couldn’t imagine his powerful body being able to match this supernatural creature.

  “I have to stop. Tired.” She took big exaggerated breaths and bent over to hold her knees. It was yet another tactic to give the three men a chance to figure things out and rescue her. If she had stayed behind, they would have run th
e risk of being killed. Whatever oozed from his chest wasn’t blood, but the holes did resemble gunshot wounds. She’d seen plenty of those as a trauma doctor in the ER in Chicago.

  She patted her chest then pointed to his. “Hurt?” Creating a gun with her finger and thumb then pretending to shoot drew a growl from his chomping mouth. “Hurt?” she said softly then winced and touched her chest again. Slowly, she stepped closer to him, keeping an eye on his flexing muscles and chomping mouth. “Let me look.”

  He let her peel away his chest covering to examine the problem. She gasped.

  She moved closer and spread the fabric wider to see multiple gunshot wounds, no doubt, from Jacque and Farrentino’s guns. A white gravy-like substance oozed out, carrying a smell resembling smoke. A kind of ash appeared to grow around each wound.

  “Are you in pain?”

  He stared down at her but shifted on his feet while his head tilted from side to side. She gently closed the fabric, which was remarkably clean, except for the ooze. She laid a hand on his forearm. With each second, he grew more restless.

  Closing her eyes, Cleo raised her chin toward the darkening sky and prayed in a loud voice. It was something she’d seen tribal medicine men do when she traveled with her father. In awe, she’d watched as children thought dead would be raised to live another day. Women in the throes of childbirth relaxed, soothed by a healer’s words. Bloody wounds that shouted impending death miraculously failed to rob a person of life with the care of a medicine man. That was the whole reason she’d gone into medicine. She wanted to heal people.

  So, she chanted in the darkness that fell around them as the moon crossed the face of the sun and turned the day to night. The sound of the chanted prayer gave her strength. Words thought forgotten now rushed back to her tongue. A strong breeze, refreshing and cool, stirred up the pine needles. Tiny leaves floated across the path and spun around them like magical dancers. In seconds, she was lost in the power of many healers that came before her, encouraging her to continue.

  She laid her hands on both his arms and took a chance to observe him. He stood close enough for her to be startled by the grotesque head covered in black fur that caused her to stutter her words. The Chaveyo rolled his eyes down to watch her but finally stopped chomping his jagged teeth. She swallowed hard then slowly withdrew her hands and let them hover over his arms for a few seconds.

  “Taawa. Muuyaw.” Sun. Moon. Using her hands, Cleo pantomimed what was happening in the sky. A Hopi Proverb swam up from her memories with her father who’d taught her so much concerning the Southwest tribes. She didn’t know the Hopi words for this and prayed he’d understand the English version. “Inside your heart is a tiny place where all knowledge and wisdom reside.”

  He nodded. His mouth moving side to side, he gritted his teeth as he turned his eyes skyward. Cleo knew staring at the eclipse was dangerous, but she pretended to follow his example, closing her eyes tightly. When she felt him shift his body, she opened one eye to see him staring at her. He used his saber to direct her attention down the trail, followed by a loud, demanding grunt for her to get going.

  “No. It is not my time. I have done nothing wrong, Chaveyo. I am not the one you desire for today. Release me now.”

  She realized that idea wasn’t going to work when he took his free hand and shoved her backward then touched her chest with the point of the saber.

  “Okay. Okay. Can’t blame a girl for trying,” she mumbled. She slapped the saber away, hoping an attempt at bravery would make a better impression. “Naki!” She pointed to herself and prayed she’d pronounced the correct word for friend. She had a fleeting thought about the cartoon version of Beauty and the Beast and wondered if she broke out into song, this whole scenario might change. Considering her singing voice resembled a frog croaking, she quickly put the idea on the back burner of just-in-case-this-doesn’t-work-I’ll-try-it. Either way, she had a whole new respect for the girl, Belle, in the movie version. That chick was tough.

  In that split second of indecision, Cleo ducked so fast, she fell to the ground as Chaveyo swiped the saber at her throat. She crab-crawled away from his giant steps but couldn’t avoid him when he grabbed the front of her shirt and yanked her to her feet. This time, he took her arm and pulled her after him toward their ultimate destination. When she twisted and resisted, he would only go faster. Once, she tripped and fell to her knees. It didn’t slow him down. It wasn’t until sounds of dry branches breaking that he stopped and released her, allowing her to claw her way to a standing position.

  The darkness lifted, and the forest trail brightened to its normal color. A breeze swept through, as if offering a moment of much-needed refreshment. Fortunately, she’d managed to protect her injured arm. Whether the ogre purposely grabbed the good one was unknown. The damaged wrist throbbed as she gently lifted it in hopes the adjustment would free her of some of the pain. Closing her eyes, she raised her face to the breeze and sun, drawing strength from the chance to rest.

  The grunt forced her to open her eyes and gaze into the face of the ogre. He pointed to her wrist.

  “Hurt,” she whispered. She stroked the bandage and let her lip tremble for effect.

  Chaveyo slipped the leather strap attached to the saber around his neck and reached into what might have been a medicine bag. He pulled out greenish-brown leaves torn in small pieces then offered it to her in the palm of his grotesque hand. When she tried to decide if it might have a paralyzing effect so she could no longer resist, he grew impatient and shoved it into her mouth. Even though she tried to spit it out, he just jammed more in, holding her head steady. When it was all gone, he stepped away. There was nothing to do but swallow.

  Her tongue felt a little numb, but the remarkable thing was that in less than a minute, her wrist stopped hurting. Dragging her sleeve across her mouth, she frowned up at the ogre.

  “Thank you.” Nothing. She switched to Hopi to express her gratitude. “Askwali.”

  Touching his chest where she’d examined the wounds, he then pointed to her wrist. She understood he was returning the favor. Had he also taken the strange leaves earlier to reduce his own pain?

  This wasn’t a crazy, unhinged beast, but something capable of understanding and reason. Was he lonely? Could this be why he hunted for humans? The stories she had been told were of the Hopi oral tradition where when the people of the village behave improperly, their chief sought help to end their evil ways. The Chaveyo took care of those kinds of problems.

  The problem today was that people found it difficult to believe anything beyond themselves. What would the world say about Wind Dancer and the love between them that crossed time and space? She’d believed from an early age that Native People knew and experienced things the rest of civilization discounted as belonging to backward people. Many times, her father had led her to spiritual and tribal elders who taught and nurtured her beliefs and soul.

  Chaveyo’s days were numbered in this time. Did he have the power to unleash a kind of chaos no man could survive? Or was he the definition of one of the FBI’s most wanted and now had been exposed? She envisioned him ending up with other strange artifacts at Area 51, studied, dissected, and preserved in a macabre test tube then stored away from the world of unbelievers.

  Once more, she expressed her gratitude. “Askwali.” And laid her hand on her heart and smiled. “Askwali.” She pointed to him then to herself. “Naki?” Friend?

  “Naki,” he finally said. It sounded like he spoke through a tin pitcher, but the feeling of elation washed over her that she’d been able to communicate with him. The idea of learning from him sparked excitement rather than fear. Could she save him?

  Chapter 38

  Jacque and Agent Farrentino caught up with Wind Dancer, who hunkered down behind some rocks. He was keenly aware the Pawnee was focused on something they couldn’t see. They had lost sight of the second Chaveyo, forcing both men to constantly check over their shoulders in case the thing circled back for them. How could he
disappear like that? Was it joining the other one to help with Cleo or maybe take her for himself?

  As they neared Wind Dancer, he motioned for them to get down and be quiet. When they dared sneak a peek over the top of the boulder, they could see Cleo talking to the Chaveyo.

  “I caught up with them because Cleo slowed him down,” Wind Dancer whispered. “She very tired.”

  “Doesn’t look like he’s hurt her. Wait. What is he feeding her?” Jacque asked in alarm. “Poison?”

  “No. He take from his medicine bag.”

  Jacque watched, ready to limp toward the ogre with the speed of a wounded turtle, if need be, but Wind Dancer placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

  “I got news for you, buddy, the stuff people use today in their medicine bags is most likely illegal and will trip you to kingdom come.”

  Wind Dancer turned to check on Cleo and the Chaveyo. “I do not know this kingdom come place. Maybe, when this is over, we can all go.”

  “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that, and I’m certainly not going to try explain,” Agent Farrentino moaned. “What’s the plan, Wind Dancer?”

  “We wait to see. She is making friends. I hear her speak a language I do not know. She knows many words from these tribes. Her father teach her their ways. If we go now, the Chaveyo might force her into the sapapu.”

  “The what?” asked Farrentino.

  “It’s a hole in the floor of the kiva.” Jacque recognized bewilderment on the agent’s face. How many times had he himself taken on that pinched brow gaze of unbelief? “Never mind. Cleo can explain after we rescue her.” He elbowed his partner. “Let’s hear your idea. We already know that bullets don’t do squat.”

  “Why would you squat? That will not help, Jacque.”

  With a heavy sigh, Jacque noticed the FBI agent cover his mouth, most likely to suppress a chuckle. He felt his nostrils flare in irritation as he narrowed his eyes at the agent. “Don’t start with me. This is what I deal with all the freakin’ time. One of these days you’re going to find me a slobbering mess on the floor from everything he puts me through.”