“The same,” Margie answered. “She won’t eat anything. I’m going to put the most tempting things I can think of on this tray and take it into her. I’m quite irritated with that doctor. We wait half an hour to see him, then he has no idea what’s wrong with her.”
“Did you find a bite on her?” Deem asked.
“I haven’t looked,” Margie said, arranging a vase with a flower for the tray.
“Will you please?” Deem asked. “It’s important.”
“The doctor didn’t say it was a bite,” Margie said.
“I’ll check her myself if you don’t,” Deem said.
“Really, dear, what makes you think you know more than the doctor?”
Deem turned and left the kitchen, walking down to the guest bedroom. She knocked lightly, then entered.
Virginia looked worse. Her eyes had dark circles around them and her breathing seemed more labored.
“Aunt Virginia?” Deem asked, trying to wake her. “Aunt Virginia?” She shook her gently.
Margie came into the room behind her. “Leave her alone!” she said. “Let her sleep.”
Virginia’s eyes opened and she smiled when she saw Deem. “Oh dear, it’s you!”
“Aunt Virginia,” Deem said, “I need to check you for bites. I’m worried that what you have might have been caused by a spider bite or something like that. Have you felt any bumps on your skin? Anything like a bite?”
“No dear,” she said weakly. “But I haven’t checked. I feel too weak.”
Virginia’s arms were over the bedspread. Deem glanced them over, not seeing anything.
“Do you mind if I check you?” Deem asked.
“Oh, stop,” Margie said.
“Well, if you think it would help, of course,” Virginia said.
Deem moved closer to her and ran her hands under Virginia’s arms, not feeling anything. Then she raised her hands to Virginia’s neck and reached behind it.
“What’s this?” Deem asked, feeling something strange.
“I don’t know,” Virginia replied, suddenly alarmed. “I don’t feel anything.”
“Would you roll to your left?” Deem asked. Virginia slowly rolled, exposing the back of her head.
Deem lifted Virginia’s hair, and at the base of her hairline was a large red welt, about the size of a quarter.
“Oh!” Margie said, moving closer to see the welt.
Deem poked at it with her finger. It looked red and swollen. “This doesn’t hurt at all, when I poke it?” she asked Virginia.
“Can’t feel a thing,” Virginia answered.
It was twice as big as the two blisters Deem had cut open earlier. She could feel something hard inside, just like the others.
“Mom,” Deem said, “would you find me a small, sharp blade? Sterilize it and bring it to me?”
“What are you going to do?” Margie asked.
“And bring some tissues and bandages,” Deem said. “We’re going to drain this.”
Margie didn’t move. Deem turned to look at her, and she could see Margie wanted to argue.
“Mom?” Deem said. “Please?”
Margie gave in. She turned and left the room.
“Is it big?” Virginia asked.
“Not too,” Deem said. “I think once we drain it you might feel a little better.”
“I can’t believe the doctor didn’t find it,” Virginia said.
“He must not have looked you over very thoroughly.
“I doubt he spent five minutes with us. Wrote a prescription and left.”
Deem looked at the nightstand next to the bed. There was a yellow bottle with a prescription label. Deem picked it up and read it – it was for an antidepressant. That’s all these doctors down here know to give women, Deem thought.
“Have you taken any of these yet?” Deem asked Virginia, who was still lying on her left side.
“No,” Virginia said. “I was sleeping.”
“Well, don’t,” Deem said.
Margie returned and handed Deem a paring knife from the kitchen.
“You sterilized it?” Deem asked.
“With rubbing alcohol,” Margie said.
“Alright,” Deem said. “Don’t move, Aunt Virginia.”
Deem placed the knife at the welt and pressed in. Immediately grey smoke rose from the welt as though it had been under pressure. The skin deflated, and Deem used the knife to widen the slit. Then she removed the white bone from the flesh. It was twice as large as the one she’d removed from herself the previous night. She held it up for Margie to see.
“Oh my!” Margie said, examining the white lump. “Those edges look sharp! I can’t believe you couldn’t feel that, Virginia!”
“Can’t feel a thing,” Virginia said, still on her side.
There was no blood, so Deem used a couple of bandages to cover over the incision, and she allowed Virginia to roll back.
“What was it?” Virginia asked.
“We don’t really know,” Margie said. Deem held the knife up for Virginia to see the bone fragment, still perched on its tip.
“Oh my god!” Virginia said.
“Language!” Margie chided Virginia.
“That doctor oughta be sacked!” Virginia said. “Thank you, dear,” she said, looking at Deem. “I feel better already!”
“Would you like something to eat?” Margie offered. “I was making a tray for you.”
“I’ll get up,” Virginia said. “Let me walk around for a bit and see how I feel.”
Deem turned to Margie, and her mother gave her an appreciative smile. “I think you may have a future in medicine!” Margie said.
Chapter Three
Deem sipped her hot chocolate while Winn drank a coffee at Pete’s.
“What’s his name again?” Deem asked.
“Awan,” Winn said. “Awan Agai.”
“Strange name,” Deem said.
“You’re one to talk,” Winn replied.
“Did he say anything about it?” Deem asked.
“Nope,” Winn said. “Just wrote that he knew what it was, and wanted to meet up.”
“Indian Springs is a good hour and a half away,” Deem said. “He must think it’s serious.”
“We’ll see,” Winn said. The waitress brought him a plate of French fries covered in brown gravy.
“That looks disgusting,” Deem said.
“Deliciously disgusting,” Winn said, smiling. “Want some?”
“No,” Deem said, scrunching up her nose. “By the way, I cut a piece of bone out of my aunt just before I came here. Same thing I had, but twice as big.”
“No shit!” Winn said. “That must be why she was sick.”
“I’m guessing if I hadn’t cut mine out, I’d be sick too.”
“That’s a good bet.”
The chimes attached to the diner’s door rang as a tall man walked into the room. He was wearing cowboy boots, tight fitting Wranglers, and a Yankees baseball cap on his head – dark black hair sticking out from under it. He had on a tight white t-shirt, tucked into his jeans. He looked lean and fit, and a few years older than Winn. He walked over to Deem and Winn’s booth and stood next to them.
“Winn?” he asked.
“That’s me,” Winn answered.
“Awan,” he said.
Both Winn and Deem slid further into the booth to allow Awan a place to sit. Awan looked at both open spots on either side of the booth and chuckled. He sat next to Deem.
“I’m Deem,” she said, extending her hand.
“Nice to meet you,” Awan said, taking her hand.
Deem felt a little flustered, which wasn’t normal for her. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but it wasn’t this. Awan was disarmingly handsome. And now that he was sitting next to her, she noticed he smelled fantastic.
“So I read your post,” Awan said, looking down at Winn’s fries. “Can I have some of those?”
“Help yourself!” Winn said, shoving the plate closer to Awa
n, who grabbed several fries that were covered in gravy and stuffed them into his mouth.
Deem noticed that his teeth were perfect. Not something you usually see around here, she thought.
“Damn, those are good,” Awan said. “I think I’ll order a plate myself.”
“So you think you know what we’ve run into?” Deem asked.
“I’m pretty sure,” Awan said. “But tell me the whole thing, from start to finish.”
Deem and Winn alternated telling Awan the story. They started with the bus trip and Deem ended with the removal of the bone from her aunt’s neck.
“I’m pretty sure I know,” Awan said. “The combination of it being on your roof and your aunt having a black tongue is what makes me think it’s a mutated naagloshii.”
“Skinwalker?” Winn asked.
“Not like any skinwalker you’ve heard of,” Awan said. “This bunch has changed due to downwind radiation. They’re different. Friends I know have been calling them skinrunners because they’re not like regular skinwalkers.”
“Bunch?” Winn asked. “You’ve seen more of them?”
“Lots of them in the past few months,” Awan said, eating more fries. “They function only at night. Their ability to transform into animals is limited, but they gain the attributes of some animals without transforming.”
“Like being able to run as fast as a bus?” Deem said.
“Exactly,” Awan said. “The glowing eyes are another sign. And they target people, especially people who’ve seen their face.”
“That would be me,” Deem said. “And my aunt, too.”
“What do you do to stop them?” Winn asked.
“That goes back to how they became skinrunners in the first place,” Awan said. “The man who attacked you became a skinrunner by performing a ritual with the aid of a shaman. The ritual has changed from the traditional, in part because of a rogue shaman who is using downwind mutations to create more naagloshii than usual. Normally it’s the shaman who decides to become a skinwalker, but this guy is spinning out skinrunners by the dozens, for a fee. Anybody can become one with his help, as long as they complete the requirements and pay his price. It’s become a business to him.”
“What are the requirements?” Deem asked.
“There’s a ritual the shaman performs,” Awan said. “It stops, halfway though. The person has to leave, and kill someone he loves. Then he returns to the shaman, and the ritual completes, and they become naagloshii. Skinrunners.”
“Navajo?” Winn asked.
“He was Navajo until they kicked him out,” Awan said. “Now he’s practicing a blend of Navajo and Hopi medicine. I’m guessing the Navajos probably wish they’d put him down rather than exiled him.”
“How’d you find all this out?” Winn asked. “Normally the Navajos won’t talk about skinwalkers.”
“I’m Paiute,” Awan said, “and I’ve got some gifted friends who are Navajo. They know I specialize in tracking bad medicine, so they’ve been keeping me informed. It’s nothing they’d tell a white man. And they’re always cautious about saying too much. I think they’re hoping I’ll track this shaman down and take care of him for them. He was experimenting with things that bothered them, mutations especially. They exiled him years ago, but it’s only been in the last few months that he figured out how to mass-produce these skinrunners. They know it’s him, but for some reason they’re not taking action to stop him.”
“Are you going to track him down?” Deem asked.
“Wasn’t my plan,” Awan said. “I’ve got some trouble back home at the moment. I saw your post about the black tongue and thought I’d better warn you.”
“Thanks for that,” Winn said. “Any suggestions as to what we should try?”
“Well, he’ll keep coming back,” Awan said. “Stay up and watch tonight, get a spot where you can see the roof of the house clearly. I’ll bet you see him up there, blowing corpse poison down your chimney.”
“Corpse poison?” Deem asked.
“It’s made from the bones of dead babies,” Awan said. “Extra potent if they’re twins. It’s what’s causing the blisters on your skin with the bone fragments inside. You can keep cutting them out, but he’ll keep doing it, and you’ll just keep getting them. And eventually you’ll succumb, because the blisters will stop appearing on your skin and develop on the inside of your body instead. You’ve got three days after you develop black tongue to get it resolved, or you’ll die.”
“Great,” Deem said sarcastically. “Any idea how to stop him?”
“Well, there’s stopping the attack and there’s stopping him,” Awan said. “Two different things. If you want to stop the attack, there used to be a device that would remove the black tongue and permanently protect you from another infection. My grandfather used to have one, but it’s long gone. He said it was stolen. Other than something like that, you can only keep cutting out the bones, until you can’t find them anymore.”
“Can you tell me more about this device, Awan?” Deem asked. “The object your grandfather said was stolen?”
“I never saw it,” Awan said. “But I know he used it a lot. There’s always been skinwalkers down here, and people trying to put them down. He’d use it on people with black tongue, and they’d be free of the attack.”
“I wish we could find an object like that,” Deem said. “Did he keep journals?”
“He did,” Awan said, becoming more enthusiastic. “Good journals. He might have sketched it out. When I get home I’ll check. If I find anything I’ll take a picture of it and send it to you.”
“Even if we knew what the object looked like,” Winn said, “how would that help us? Where would we get one? I don’t collect objects, and I don’t know anyone who does.”
“I might know someone who can point us in the right direction,” Deem said. “Eliza. Remember her, when Steven and Roy were down?”
“Sure,” Winn said. “She has objects?”
“I know she uses them in her work,” Deem said. “She might have one, or be able to refer me to someone who would know. I’ll reach out to her and see.”
“I would also suggest,” Awan said, “that you try to find out who this skinrunner is. A name and an address. Might come in handy if you can’t get the object.”
“Any ideas how to find that out?” Deem asked.
“We track him,” Winn said.
“Exactly,” Awan agreed.
“What, from my house?” Deem asked. “Tonight?”
“We’ll never be able to do it ourselves,” Winn said. “He’s too fast. But I know someone who can.”
“A Caller?” Awan asked.
“Yes,” Winn said. “How’d you know?”
“They’re the only ones who can keep up with them,” Awan said. “But hard to use. They always want something in return.”
“What Caller?” Deem asked Winn.
“I know one named Sagan,” Winn said. “Lives in an abandoned house south of Mesquite. He works with a loser named Brett Jones, robbing liquor stores. He’s not the sharpest crayon in the box, so I’ll bet I can get him to track the skinrunner.”
“How?” Deem asked. “Do you have a plan?”
“Kinda,” Winn said, smiling. “It’s a half plan. Might work.”
“I hate half plans,” Deem said.
“His big thing is corpses,” Winn said. “Every time Brett finds some road kill, he scrapes it up and uses it to pay Sagan for his help. So, I’m thinking we offer Sagan something more juicy for his time. Real corpses.”
“How are you going to do that?” Awan asked.
“Devil’s Throat,” Deem said, remembering the dozens of animated corpses they’d trapped inside.
“Exactly,” Winn said. “I’ll offer to tell him where to find them if he tracks the skinrunner and gets us his address.”
Deem nodded her head slowly, in approval. “OK,” she said. “Not a bad half plan.”
“Sounds like we each have an assignment,” Aw
an said. “I’ll get headed back to Indian Springs and I’ll let you know if I find anything in my grandfather’s journals.”
“I’ll contact Eliza,” Deem said.
“And I’ll go see Sagan,” Winn said. “Want to come with?” he asked Deem.
“Sure,” Deem said, “as long as we can stop somewhere on the way back. Won’t take long.”
“And then we’ll set up to watch your roof tonight,” Winn said, “and see if we can spot this fucker.”
▪ ▪ ▪
Winn stopped his Jeep in front of a half dilapidated house several miles south of Mesquite. Deem stepped out of the passenger side and looked around. The nearest neighbor was a speck on the horizon.
The house appeared to have been abandoned for years. The front yard was overgrown with large sagebrush. Part of the roof had collapsed, and not a pane of glass remained in any of the windows.
“What a dump,” Deem said.
“Perfect for a ghost, right?” Winn said.
Deem knew the ghost they’d be encountering wasn’t just a ghost. Callers were more self-aware than most ghosts. They weren’t trapped in some endless cycle, unable to move on. They liked being ghosts, and they made a life of it. They were created by being buried in a cave that housed a spirit in the rocks. The spirit granted them Caller abilities, provided they fed the spirit what it wanted. Most wanted blood.
Winn walked through the brush in front of the house. The door was boarded over. He walked around the side of the house, Deem following.
In the back, there was a set of stone steps descending to a basement. They were covered over by a piece of loose plywood. Winn pushed the plywood aside and descended the steps.
Once they were inside the basement, Deem looked up; there were holes in the ceiling which she could see through to the main floor. She pulled out her flashlight and turned it on. Seeing the structure made her even more nervous that it might collapse.
“Sagan?” Winn called. “Come out. I want to talk to you.”
Deem felt something brush the back of her hair, and she turned quickly. Nothing was there.
“I felt something,” Deem said.
“Sagan?” Winn called. “Don’t fuck around, I’ve got something you want, and you don’t want to piss me off.”
Blood Oath, Blood River (The Downwinders Book 1) Page 4
