Blood Oath, Blood River (The Downwinders Book 1)

by Michael Richan

  “Look,” Winn said, putting his coffee cup in the Jeep’s cup holder.

  Deem looked up, searching. She saw the figure as it crested the skyline of the house, a dark, crouched shape that was quickly moving along the top of the roof. It ran up to the brick chimney and placed its head into it.

  “It’s blowing the corpse poison,” Winn said. “Virginia’s gonna have another blister to take care of.”

  It pulled its head out of the chimney and looked around. Deem could see its glowing eyes as its head turned.

  “Maybe it knows I’m not in the house?” Deem said.

  “Maybe,” Winn said, watching the figure.

  They watched as the figure lifted off the roof. It hovered five feet above the chimney.

  “It looks so creepy,” Deem said, “a man just hovering in air like that. No flapping of wings, no jet pack strapped on his back.”

  “Yeah, very unnatural,” Winn said.

  Deem saw the man’s eyes. They’d been centered in her direction for several seconds now, and she had the impression that he’d seen her, sitting in the car.

  “I think it knows we’re watching it,” Deem said.

  The figure above the roof drifted higher and began moving away from them. It flew rapidly, rising up and out of their field of vision.

  “There’s no way you or I could track that,” Winn said. “Awan has pointed us in the right direction.”

  “As long as Sagan saw it,” Deem said. “For all we know he’s sleeping under a tree.”

  “He’s a greedy little fuck,” Winn said. “I don’t think he’d want to risk me taking my business elsewhere.”

  “We’ll see,” Deem said, grabbing her Big Gulp and reaching for the door handle. “I’d better go check Virginia. Let’s talk in the morning.”

  “Alright,” Winn said, starting up his car. Deem jumped out of the passenger side, turned to wave at Winn, and began walking to her house. She heard Winn turn the car around behind her and leave.

  As she walked back to the house, she thought about Winn’s suggestion that she go see Claude Peterson. She hated the idea. Claude was known far and wide as a crazy, a constitutionalist gun nut who kept himself barricaded in his home in Ivins. She knew he’d been raided multiple times by Feds looking for illegal firearms and weapons. There was a rumor he’d laminated his permits and had them nailed to the side of his house.

  Maybe I should see him, Deem thought as she walked into the house. At least, rule him out.

  She walked to Virginia’s room, and knocked quietly on the door. Her mother was sleeping in the master bedroom upstairs, and she didn’t want to wake her.

  “Virginia,” she said, “it’s me. I need to come in.”

  ▪ ▪ ▪

  Deem called Winn early the next morning, asking him to meet her for breakfast in Mesquite.

  “I’ve decided to go see Claude,” Deem said, sliding into the booth where Winn was waiting. “And I’d like you to come along.”

  “Alright,” Winn said.

  “I’d go myself, but I’m afraid I might get shot,” Deem said. “You can at least talk to him, if he has a problem with females and won’t talk to me.”

  “You’re assuming the worst,” Winn said.

  “Always the best approach,” Deem said.

  They ordered breakfast. Deem ordered a hot chocolate, which came with a large spray of whipped cream on top.

  “See, more sugar,” Winn said. “Are you noticing a pattern here?”

  “Shut up and let me drink what I want,” Deem said. “You’re like my mother.”

  “I’m nothing like your mother,” Winn said. “I can guarantee that.”

  “I cut open a blister on Virginia last night,” Deem said. “A small one. Bone inside, like the others. She’s beginning to freak out.”

  “Any word from Eliza yet?” Winn asked.

  “She emailed me to say that some friends of hers are looking for an object like Awan’s.”

  “I wonder if those friends are Roy and Steven,” Winn said.

  “She didn’t say,” Deem said. “I assume if it was them she’d have mentioned it.”

  “Unless there was a reason not to,” Winn said.

  “All I care about is getting the object,” Deem said. “I don’t care where it comes from.”

  “Well, you should,” Winn said. “The history of the object matters. Tells you a lot about where it came from, and what it might do. Some of that shit is dangerous.”

  “You’ve had some experience with it?” Deem asked.

  “My mom,” Winn said. “She had a couple of items. She didn’t do a good job of locking them up. One day when I was eight or nine I found this magnifying glass. Had a wooden handle and I remember the metal surrounding the glass had these little markings on it. So I’m thinking, great, let’s take it outside and burn up bugs.”

  “Gross,” Deem interjected.

  “So I’m frying ants, and they’re popping like normal, and then I see a lizard. It was about six inches long. I trapped it and put a brick on its tail so it couldn’t move. Then I used the magnifying glass on it.”

  “That’s cruel,” Deem said.

  “I know, I was stupid,” Winn said. “And I was eight. So anyway, the lizard doesn’t burn. There was no smoke like with the ants. It just sat there, and I remember thinking that maybe it was dead, or the magnifying glass was broken. Then it began to cough up its insides. I felt bad, so I took the magnifying glass off it, but it kept puking. Then all of it came out. Its tail pulled up into its body and came out its mouth. It literally flipped inside-out. Freaked me out. I put the magnifying glass back and didn’t touch it again.”

  “That’s a horrible story,” Deem said as their food arrived.

  “I asked my mom about the magnifying glass a couple of years later,” Winn said, “and she wigged out on me, asking how I knew about it, if I’d been snooping. She told me never to touch it. Next time I looked for it, she’d moved it. I never saw it again, until she died and I went through her things.”

  “So you still have it?” Deem asked.

  “Yes, but what am I going to do with it?” Winn asked.

  “I wonder if it would work on something larger,” Deem said.

  “Like what?” Winn asked.

  “Like a dog, or a person,” Deem said.

  “Now you’re being gross,” Winn said. “I have no interest in finding out. It was disgusting. I never tortured another living creature after that. I don’t even kill spiders. Everything’s got a purpose on this Earth.”

  “She had other objects?” Deem asked.

  “Two others,” Winn said. “I know they’re special, because they change shape when I’m in the River. But I have no idea what they do.”

  “And she never said anything about them?” Deem asked.

  “Are you kidding?” Winn asked. “She was completely freaked out that I knew about the magnifying glass. She didn’t trust me with that kind of stuff.”

  “Because you were a juvenile delinquent,” Deem said.

  “That was a very brief part of my life that is long over,” Winn said.

  “But she didn’t trust you?” Deem asked.

  “No, not really,” Winn said. “I mean, she was far from perfect. A bad mother by most standards. She changed when I got taken to juvie. She never really trusted me after that, scaled way back on the training.”

  “How old were you?” Deem asked.

  “Sixteen,” Winn said. “Just started driving.”

  “So she trained you before that?” Deem asked.

  “Yes, from when I was ten,” Winn said. “Probably not like most, though. She was drunk most of the time. Occasionally she’d show me things in the River. After sixteen, nothing. It was like a switch. My being in juvie really pissed her off.”

  “Sorry to hear that,” Deem said. “At least you’re a straight arrow now. Well, kinda straight.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Winn asked.

  “You can�
�t really call yourself straight if you have sex with men,” Deem said.

  “Everyone’s got their vices,” Winn said. “You like to drink liquid candy and swear, and I like to have sex with both men and women. And why shouldn’t I, I’m damn good at it.”

  “So you keep telling me,” Deem said.

  “I can get you some testimonials if you want,” Winn said.

  “No need. I believe you.”

  “Wow, next thing you know, you’ll be drinking coffee.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “When did you want to go see Claude?” Winn asked.

  “Right now, if you’re up for it,” Deem said.

  “I suppose we could try to call him,” Winn said, “but I don’t think he has a phone.”

  “Probably figures they’d bug it anyway,” Deem said, finishing up her breakfast. She stood up and threw money down on the table. “I’m buying, and I’ll drive.”

  “Love it when a woman takes charge,” Winn said smiling.

  ▪ ▪ ▪

  Deem walked up to the gate in the chain link fence surrounding the small house on the outskirts of Ivins. There were three signs on the gate: “No Solicitors,” “Beware Of The Dog,” and “This House Insured By Smith and Wesson.”

  “Do you think he really has a dog?” Deem asked Winn, who was right behind her.

  “Probably,” Winn said. “I would if I was him. I think it’s the Smith and Wesson sign you should worry about most.”

  Deem opened the gate and walked into the yard. A short cement path led to the front door. In the yard was a large board with papers stapled to it. It was covered in plastic to protect the papers from the elements. The writing on the papers had faded in the sun. Deem peered at the board, trying to read the documents.

  “It’s a copy of the Constitution,” Winn said.

  “Oh,” Deem said. She noticed that under the Constitution board were two more signs, “This is Private Property” and “Keep Out.”

  “He likes signs,” Deem said. She looked at the house; it had large antennas on the roof. They were much taller and larger than television antennas. “Do you see those?” she asked Winn, motioning to the roof.

  “Looks like he’s into shortwave radio,” Winn said. “Lots of people on the fringe are.”

  Deem walked up to the door and knocked. A dog started barking loudly, and she could hear it jumping up against the door on the other side. As she waited she read more signs on the front door:

  “I have spent over $3,512 fixing this door due to no-knock warrants. I have yet to be reimbursed.”

  “If you are selling or promoting something and you’ve ignored my ‘No Soliciting’ sign, don’t expect a warm welcome.”

  “Jesus,” Deem said. “I don’t know if this was a good idea.”

  “We’ll soon find out,” Winn said. “I hear someone coming.”

  The door opened. Deem wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but she was surprised to see a short man, thin, wearing a button down shirt and knee-length shorts. He was wearing sandals. He looked like he might be in his early sixties. He had his hand wrapped around the collar of a large pit bull which was barking and trying to leap out of his control.

  “Stop!” the man said to the dog. The dog quit barking, but continued to strain against his hold. He turned to the visitors.

  “Whatcha want?” he said, looking them both in the eye.

  Deem stammered. She wasn’t sure where to start. The man obviously wanted a quick explanation of why she was there, and she wasn’t quite prepared to sum it all up in a short sentence.

  “I urged my friend to come see you,” Winn said, jumping in, “because I believe you may know some things that would help her.”

  “Help her how?” Claude asked, pulling back on the dog.

  Winn waited for Deem to offer up the next answer, but Deem still seemed frozen. Winn elbowed her.

  “I’m sorry,” Deem said. “I was hoping to talk with you, but I’m really intimidated by your dog.”

  “That’s why he’s here,” Claude said. “You selling anything?”

  “No,” Deem said, trying to hide her nervousness. “Was just hoping you might know something about people who have ‘the gift.’ Mormons, in particular.”

  “You a journalist?” Claude asked. “What do you do for a living?”

  “I’m a student,” she said. She knew this was half true; she was sitting out the current semester.

  “I work in construction,” Winn said, which was true – when he had a job.

  “Anybody send you?” Claude asked.

  “Nope,” Winn said. “All my idea.”

  “Hold on a second,” Claude said, and closed the door. The dog started barking again, and they heard him pulling it deeper into the house.

  “This was a bad idea,” Deem said, looking at the ground.

  “Just breathe,” Winn said. “He’s putting the dog away. That’s a good sign.”

  Within a minute Claude returned and opened the door. They could hear the dog barking in the distance. “I put Kimo in the back yard,” Claude said. “He’s very protective.”

  “Yes, he seems…protective,” Deem said, feeling embarrassed.

  “Why don’t you two come inside before someone spots you on my doorstep,” Claude said, stepping back and allowing them inside. “If I’d known you were coming, I’d have had you park further down the block, but no matter.”

  He escorted them into his living room, which was small and crammed with stacks of magazine and papers. In one corner of the room was a table filled with electronics. There was a large microphone on a stand. Deem assumed it was his radio station.

  “Do you broadcast?” Deem said.

  “KBUH, the Hour of Truth,” Claude said. “Every night at seven p.m. Ever heard it?”

  “No, I haven’t,” Deem said. “I’ve never heard that station.”

  “That’s because you need a special radio to get the signal,” Claude said, sitting in a large overstuffed chair. “Please, sit,” he said, motioning them to a brown cloth couch. The tables on each end of the couch were piled high with stacks of magazines and papers.

  “I am planning on putting the program on the internet if I can ever figure out how to do it,” Claude said. “I’ve been broadcasting the Hour for more than thirty years. Lots of people listen to it, from all over the world.”

  “Sounds interesting,” Deem said.

  “How would you know?” Claude asked. “You’ve never heard it.”

  “You’re right,” Deem said. “But I suppose I’d be willing to give it a shot.”

  “Get yourself a shortwave radio,” Claude said. “You’ll be surprised what’s on it.”

  “I’m Winn,” Winn said to Claude, “and this is Deem. I suggested she come see you, since she’s been trying to get some information on her father, and she’s being stonewalled.”

  “By whom?” Claude asked.

  “Joseph Dayton,” Deem said.

  “Counselor in the Mesquite Nevada Stake Presidency,” Claude said.

  “You know him?” Deem asked.

  “I do,” Claude said. “But what are you trying to get from him?”

  “Information about my father,” Deem said. “Robert Hinton.”

  “Oh,” Claude said. “You’re President Hinton’s daughter?”

  “Yes,” Deem said, surprised that Claude was using the Mormon title her father had before he died.

  “My condolences,” Claude said.

  “Thank you,” Deem replied.

  “I have to tell you,” Claude said, “most families of prominent Mormons wouldn’t be caught dead anywhere near me. I’m persona non grata to them. To most people around here.”

  “I’m aware of that,” Deem said.

  “So I’m right to be suspicious when one shows up at my door step,” Claude said.

  “I suppose so,” Deem said.

  “Before we go any further,” Claude said, “I have to know if you’re carrying anything that might
record me. A phone, a wire, a tape recorder, anything like that.”

  “No, I’m not,” Deem said.

  He turned to Winn.

  “Me either,” Winn said.

  “I’ll have to check,” Claude said. He stood and walked to a metal filing cabinet and opened it. He removed an electronic wand with small LED lights on the handle. Deem recognized it as a metal detector, the hand-held kind they used at airports.

  “You’re going to scan us?” Deem asked, a little surprised.

  “I can’t take any chances,” Claude said. “If you want to talk, I insist.”

  “Alright,” Deem said.

  “Please stand up, if you would,” Claude said, turning on the device. He waved it over Deem, and it screeched as it passed over her front pants pocket.

  “My phone,” Deem said.

  “Would you take it out please?” Claude asked.

  Deem removed the phone as Claude proceeded to check Winn. His pockets set off another alarm from the device. Winn dug into them and removed his phone and his car keys.

  “I have a box I’ll put these in until we’re done,” Claude said, extending his hand to collect their phones. “It blocks all transmissions, and is soundproof. I promise you’ll get them back when you leave.”

  Deem looked at Winn. He passed his phone to Claude, and Deem followed suit. Claude went back to his filing cabinets and replaced the metal detector, then opened another drawer and lifted the lid from a box inside. He placed the phones in the box, replaced the lid, and closed the drawer.

  “Well, this is a first for me,” Deem said. “I’ve never had my phone taken away before. Except once in school.”

  “You should try living without it for a day,” Claude said. “The convenience is far outstripped by the loss of privacy. Now, tell me what you wanted from Brother Dayton that you didn’t get.”

  Deem relayed the story of suspecting her father kept a journal, and confronting Dayton about it. Winn jumped in to mention he’d heard of Claude’s stories about Mormon gifteds.

  “So you’re both gifted?” Claude asked.

  “Yes,” Deem said. “Are you?”

  “No,” Claude asked. “I’ve just been blessed with an ability to cut through bullpucky and see what’s really going on.”