Soul Scent: A Zackie Story (The Zackie Stories Book 2)

by Reyna Favis

  Peyton stared at me, the whites of her eyes exposed. “What the hell did you people just do?”

  Lenora made a disparaging grunt. “It’s not what they did, it’s what they didn’t do. He-Who-Counseled-the-Chief is still out there.” She grimaced and patted her chest over her heart. I hoped we wouldn’t have to perform CPR.

  “And more riled up than when we started.” Peyton shook her head, definitely freaked out by what she’d experienced. “He’s gonna pound on that trailer night and day until I die of sleep deprivation.” Staring at the cameraman in the distance, she watched as he blotted blood from his head on to a wad of tissues. “Or maybe he’ll do something worse.”

  “Look, these things can take time to resolve.” I wanted to offer comfort, to give her some hope. “We didn’t know what his triggers were and we managed to hit a bunch of them right off the bat. That was just bad luck. But now we know.” I looked to Cam for help.

  “He’s already given us some information that will help us next time.” Cam raised a finger as he made his point. “The way he died did not disturb him –”

  “It disturbed me!” I shook off a chill as I remembered the cracking sound.

  “As I was saying, his manner of death is not the cause for why he walks. He was deeply disturbed when we mentioned Maggie and the other woman. Something extremely traUmatic connects these two. I think we need to think harder about this and try to understand the connection.”

  I started thinking harder about it before Cam finished speaking, but my thoughts were interrupted by Peyton. “I’m going to check on the camera guy, see if he wants to sue me.” Squaring her shoulders, she shook off her unease and marched out. The rest of us followed her example and trailed after her.

  While the head wound oozed and dripped, the cameraman insisted that it wasn’t serious and Lucas assured Peyton that the company’s workmans’ comp insurance would take care of any expenses related to the accident. Relieved that she bore no financial responsibility for the wounded cameraman, Peyton remembered her manners and offered her guests hot beverages. Hoping to put as much physical distance between themselves and the distressing incident as soon as possible, everyone except Lenora declined. After gathering up the discarded equipment, Lucas sent his crew off and then joined Cam, Ron and me in Peyton’s cheerful yellow kitchen, where we kept Lenora company as she sipped her coffee. Feeling a bit peaked, I took the opportunity to visit my car, so I could right my teetering electrolyte balance with some coconut water. No one else except Cam accepted my offer for a bottle. Their loss. When I returned, Peyton tried to carry on with polite conversation, but she sat rigid on the edge of her seat. It seemed like she was exerting all of her military discipline to not look at her watch or beat out a tattoo with an impatient foot. She probably needed time alone to process current events.

  Unbidden, my brain obsessed on the random bits of information I’d accumulated. I no longer thought that the Lenape spirit somehow killed Maggie because of the anguish he displayed when we brought it up. But he was there when she died, there was no disputing that fact. He told her Apëwi këlukahëla – you give up easily. I repeated the words to myself, trying to puzzle it out.

  “Who gives up easily?” Ron asked, overhearing me as I mumbled to myself. Unlike the others, Ron appeared calm and capable of taking on the next thing. Maybe because of his difficult childhood, he was like me, schooled in the art of quick recovery. You never knew when the next blow would land, so it did not serve your purposes to freeze up or panic.

  “What? Oh, yeah, that was the other spirit, Maggie, the one we asked him about. She said he spoke to her either before she died or while she was dying. I can’t be sure. Her mind is kind of messed up, so it’s hard to make sense of what she says.” I gave my head a slight shake to clear Maggie’s scrambled thought processes. “Anyway, he told her that she gives up too easily.”

  “Why would he taunt her when she was so vulnerable?” Ron’s eyes were a molten chocolate, soft with concern for a dead woman he didn’t know. It made me think about why we became friends.

  “I don’t know that it was a taunt. It really upset him when I asked him about Maggie. Her death bothered him.” My mouth formed a grim line while I pondered the contradictions.

  “Do you hear that?” Peyton pointed vaguely in the direction of the trailer, her eyes wide.

  Lenora shook her head. “Hear what? I don’t hear nothing and my ears still work good.”

  “Exactly. It’s been about a half hour now and I haven’t heard any booming. Maybe something good came out of today after all.” A smile lit up her face and her posture relaxed. Watching this change, it occurred to me that she hadn’t been impatient for us all to leave. She was waiting for the situation to relapse and for the booming to start up again.

  “You thought it would be worse after confronting him?” Cam ventured.

  Peyton nodded. “I was pretty sure he’d start in again with a vengeance and you’d all go to your nice quiet homes and leave me to deal with it.” Her smile trembled and she had a sickly pallor that made the dark circles under eyes dominate her face. Peyton was the classic image of a haunted woman. That same face looked back at me in the mirror for years and I knew better than most how the stress of living like this could eat you like a cancer. Because Peyton had a low degree of sensitivity to the unseen world, I thought she would have some protection. I was wrong. My cheeks burned and I hung my head, unable to look Peyton or anyone else in the eye. I had been so concerned with freeing the dead that I neglected to protect the living.

  A cold, wet nose nudged my hand. Looking up from my guilt-induced stoop, the tawny silver face of Simber stared back at me, a somber look in her eyes. In addition to searching for the missing, Simber was also a certified therapy dog and my morose attitude had activated her instinct to comfort. She put a paw on my knee and I tousled her ears, immediately feeling better for it. Some people saw wolf when they looked at her, but to me, she had the appearance of a teddy bear. After a few more minutes spent stroking her, Simber determined that I was sufficiently revived and with a final lick to my hand, she sauntered off to rest beneath the table. Zackie had stationed herself in front of the door and dozed with one eye now fixed on me. I sensed a slight disapproval and the words ‘Suck it up, buttercup’ echoed softly on the edges of my awareness.

  Always tuned in to Zackie, Cam caught the exchange. “Remember, the best you can hope for is a clear conscience.” He murmured just loud enough for me to hear and I nodded in response, silently resolving to do better for Peyton and others like her down the road.

  I was startled out of my reverie when Lenora stood up and took her mug to the sink. “Okay, I’m done now. Let’s go.” With a nod towards Peyton, she opened the door. “Thank you for the coffee.”

  Shrugging, the rest of also got up to leave and Peyton followed us to the door to say good-bye. Taking her by the elbow, I steered her to the side as the others exited. “If the Lenape man does anything weird, give me a call. Even if it’s just thumping on the trailer again, let me know.”

  “Count on it.” Peyton took off her glasses and rubbed her bloodshot eyes. “I’m going to get some shut-eye while the peace lasts.”

  I patted her arm and stepped through the door, shutting it behind me. Walking quickly, I caught up with the group near the parked cars. Cam was opening the tailgate of his truck for Zackie when she froze and put her nose in the air. Re-orienting her body towards the woods behind the trailer, she continued to sample the scents. With a bay worthy of a pack of hounds, she shot across Peyton’s property at full speed. All I saw was a red streak and brush swaying as she entered the woods.

  “Your dog’s gone,” Ron said unnecessarily. He shielded his eyes as he tracked her progress and then shook his head.

  Cam sat heavily on the tailgate. “I guess we wait. She’ll come back here when she’s done.” I sighed deeply. Cam was playing out the charade for the sake of our companions. Zackie could materialize in the truck, at home, on a plane
in mid flight, heck, pretty much anywhere she felt like it, and at the time of her choosing. She wasn’t some lost dog that we needed to wait for.

  I opened my trunk to deposit the empty coconut water bottles and then pulled out a folded camp chair for Lenora. She sat down without commenting, drew a multi-colored knitting project from her voluminous handbag and set to work. I wondered if she was still carrying a supply of flour with her.

  “How long does she usually disappear for when she runs off?” Lucas fingered the knitted yarn and murmured something appreciative to Lenora, who smiled in response.

  Cam shrugged. “It varies. I guess it depends on whatever it is she was chasing.” Looking at his watch, Cam then glanced toward Peyton’s house. “I suppose we could ask Peyton to keep an eye out for Zackie if she’s not back soon.”

  Ron clucked his tongue in disapproval. “Maybe you should go into the woods and yell for her. She ought to come when you call.”

  I snorted, but then decided to play along. “Yeah, well, hounds are not a pliant breed. They’re kind of independent-minded. But it might not hurt to go yell for her, Cam.” I kept a straight face as I thought about Cam fruitlessly crawling through the brambles, calling for Zackie.

  “Er, right… Zackie is not the best trained dog. I doubt it would do any good.” Cam left it at that, his eyes straying towards the prickly flora lining the perimeter of the woods. There were limits to how far he was willing to go to maintain the pretense that Zackie was a normal dog. There were no limits to how much amusement I might derive from continuing to test his limits.

  “But she might be lost and scared, Cam. I think the least you could do – ”

  My entertainment was interrupted by a loud rustling as Zackie pushed through the vegetation near the trailer. She gazed at Cam and then turned and glanced over her shoulder as if she expected him to follow.

  “Oh, no you don’t.” Cam jumped off the tailgate and reached into the truck bed for a box of assorted junk. Pulling out a handheld device and a dog collar with an antenna, he turned back towards Zackie and motioned for her to come to the truck. Chuffing and grumbling, Zackie approached the vehicle and leaped onto the tailgate.

  “What’s that thingie?” Lenora stopped knitting and stared at the devices.

  Cam turned on both pieces of equipment, clicked a button on the handheld device and held the collar up against it. “These thingies are an Astro collar and GPS – I am linking the two at the moment. They will allow me to see where Zackie is when she goes back into the woods.” Cam fitted the collar around Zackie’s neck and told her to be off.

  As Zackie sped off through the brush, Lenora pulled a face. “Damn it, I thought we wouldn’t have to bushwhack. I told you I’m too old for that shit.”

  Cam raised an eyebrow and tilted his head. “Exactly why I tagged Zackie with the collar. We’ll try to find an easier way to reach her destination.”

  # # #

  I rode shotgun, calling out directions to Cam as he drove and I studied the GPS. Lucas, Ron and Lenora sat in cozy proximity in the back seat. The blip that was Zackie had stopped moving and the GPS told me that she had treed something. Right, because she was really out hunting raccoon.

  “She’s stopped moving.” I glanced back down at the GPS and then checked the road in front of us. “Turn right up ahead. I think there’s a trail head we can use to get to her.”

  Cam swung the truck in the direction I indicated and parked it on the side of the road near an opening in the dense foliage. “How far in do we need to go?”

  “Hold on a sec.” I fiddled with the GPS and got it to set a course for Zackie. “Looks like it’s only a few hundred yards. And we’re in luck – we can stay on the trail most of the way.” If we had cut through the woods, we would have had to hike about five miles from Peyton’s house to make it to Zackie. Luck was with us because Zackie could have stopped somewhere inconvenient in the middle of the expanse of forest, and it would have been a few miles in no matter how we tried to get to her.

  Cam dug around in his truck bed and came out with two hiking sticks that he handed to Lenora. “The trail is fairly gentle, but use these. They’ll do you better than the cane.” Lenora stared dubiously at the sticks, but then put her cane in the truck and started down the trail with the rest of us following her. Just as well that she was in the lead, since we could not go faster than our slowest hiker and I’d rather have her where I could see her. The trail was flat and covered with soft mulch, so the going was easy.

  When we reached a point where we were parallel to Zackie’s location, I told the crew that we needed to cut into the woods. Ron held the brush back to allow Lenora to enter, and to her credit, she didn’t swear once. But keeping her balance was tricky as every step forward caused her to become snagged on brush and there were now rocks and other forest debris to make her lose her footing.

  Ron caught her arm as she wobbled. “Uma, stop. This isn’t safe for you.”

  “We can’t leave her here alone. That’s not safe either.” Cam frowned and then looked my way. “Maybe you should stay with her.”

  I bit my lip. “I’m okay with that, but what if you need me? You don’t know what Zackie has going on.”

  Cam expelled a noisy breath and rubbed his face. “And I might need Ron to translate.”

  “I’ll be fine. You people go on. I can wait here.” Lenora thrust her chin out defiantly and dug the sticks into the ground to steady herself.

  “No, Uma. We are not leaving you here. There could be bear or coyote in these woods.” Ron pointed to the GPS in my hand. “How much farther does it say?”

  “About another two, three hundred yards.”

  Ron stepped in front of Lenora and faced away from her. “Come on. Get on my back. I can carry you the rest of the way.”

  Grumbling, Lenora handed me her purse and then the sticks. “Making me look like a useless old woman, Ron Falling-Leaf.”

  Ron bent his knees and she clambered on top of him. He clasped her knees in the crook of his arm and straightened. “Okay, lead on.”

  I stepped forward and oriented myself by the GPS before striking out. Ron followed me, while Cam and Lucas took up the rear guard, keeping a watchful eye in case Ron slipped in the uneven terrain. I shifted the purse to my other shoulder and decided that yes, Lenora was carrying a supply of flour. We made slow progress and I’d occasionally risk a backward glance to see how Ron was doing. That dude was not even breathing hard and somehow managed not to stumble. I wondered if they did this often, since Ron and Lenora seemed so practiced at it. This was not something you saw every day. Watching an old lady being carried piggyback through the woods was definitely worth the price of admission.

  My feelings of amusement bled out of me as we got closer to Zackie. The sound of flowing water and feelings of dread flooded my senses. “Cam…” I left the alert hanging as I concentrated on fleshing out the details of what we approached.

  “Go slow, Fia. This isn’t good.” Cam’s voice was level, but there was tension when he spoke. I swallowed and put one foot in front of the other, sweeping my eyes and other faculties in a deep arc before taking another step.

  The ground became spongy as we neared the water and blood seeped up from the earth fouling my boots. I shot a quick look behind me, but neither Lucas nor Ron reacted in any way to this horror. Casting my eyes forward, I took another hesitant step, whimpering a little as the stench of blood grew stronger. Fog condensed around me, obscuring my vision and the metallic smell of blood now left me close to gagging. I came to a full stop and everything in me said not to move forward, to go back to the truck and get the hell out of here. Zackie appeared out of the heavy mist and walked at heel beside me, guiding me closer to the water. I dug my fingers into the red fur on her back and was calmed, despite feeling the raised hackles erupting at her shoulders and along her spine. Her feet were mired in thick, bloody clots and it gave me pause to think that she was leading me to the source of this gore.

  By the ti
me we reached the water’s edge, I was ankle deep in blood and something rubbery slithered beneath my feet making it hard to step normally. Bits of skull with long strands of black hair floated in the muck and my hand flew to my mouth, whether to stifle a moan or control the reflex to vomit, I didn’t know. I dropped the purse and the GPS, gasping and forcing air in and out of my lungs as shock and raw terror tore through me. The emotions shattered me and my knees buckled.

  “Oh my God…what happened here?” Cam appeared at my side and his eyes were filled with unshed tears. He wrapped an arm around me and told me to breathe normally and let the emotions wash through me. I hunched and closed my eyes, trying not to see the butchered remains that floated around us. My breathing slowed as I focused on trying to get my control back. I wasn’t even close when I heard splashing and a cry of deep anguish.

  “Nènhìlëwèt!” The word was laced with torment and grief. I couldn’t understand. My mind would not translate and I stood shaking my head, trapped in the fog and desperately trying to comprehend. I repeated the word as I heard it – nen-hill-u-wet, nen-hill-u-wet – struggling to force meaning from the sound.

  “Ron, Lenora – what does it mean?” Cam turned and I felt my body turn with him as his arm wrapped around me and kept me on my feet. Lenora stood next to Ron, his hand on her arm keeping her steady.

  “It means murderer.” Ron spoke at a normal volume, but his voice had a dangerous edge.

  Lenora heard it too and she turned sharply to look at him. She lunged for her fallen purse and kneeled next to it, pawing through the contents. “Boy, you help me here.” She pulled two things out of the bag and held one up to Ron. “Light a fire. Do it now.” Ron had a wild look in his eyes and his fists were clenched. Lenora grabbed one of his hands and forced him to take the lighter she held and to look at her. “Now, boy. Light a fire.”

  Ron shook his head slightly and briefly closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and helped Lenora stand. “Yes, Uma.”