Blood Oath, Blood River (The Downwinders Book 1)

by Michael Richan

  “Look,” he said.

  “So?” she said, seeing nothing.

  “The backing,” Winn said. “This set of shelves has a back on it.”

  Deem looked inside again and saw the wood that lined the back of the shelves. She walked to the set of shelves to the left and pulled out a box. She shined her flashlight into the hole and saw the wall behind the shelves. “No backing on this one.”

  Winn did the same with the set of shelves on the right. “None here, either.”

  “So just this one set of shelves has it?” Deem asked. She pulled more boxes from the shelves, exposing more of the wooden backing. Once they’d removed all of the boxes, the backing was obvious.

  “Help me,” Winn said, grabbing the shelving on one side. Deem went to the other side and lifted. With the boxes removed, the shelving slid easily. They pulled the shelves back until they could easily get around it.

  “Ha!” Winn said, seeing the door in the wall behind the shelves.

  “It doesn’t even have a handle,” Deem said. “Just a lock.”

  “A handle would have kept the shelves from sitting flush against it,” Winn said, bending over to examine the dead bolt lock. He removed his tools and began to pick it.

  Within moments he had the door open, and they looked inside. It was a wooden stairwell leading down.

  “A basement!” Deem said. “Something tells me we’ve found it!”

  She started down and was at the bottom of the stairs within moments, searching for a light switch. She found one, and a hanging fixture suspended in the middle of the room popped on. It was hanging directly over a large round table that had a dozen chairs around it.

  “This is where they meet,” Deem said, stepping off the stairwell landing and onto the floor of the basement. Winn was right behind her.

  She walked to the table and touched it. It was made of exquisite wood and inlaid with a fine pattern. It looked very old. She touched one of the chairs, letting her hand run over the headrest. It was leather. It was slightly worn. It, too, looked old.

  “Deem,” Winn said. “There’s something down here. With us.”

  Deem dropped into the River immediately. She saw the figure looking up at her from a side table against the wall. It was a man, dressed in a suit and tie. The style of his clothes looked very old. He stared at Deem over a set of small glasses. As she watched, he placed a pen down on top of some papers at his table, and stood.

  You’re not supposed to be in here, he said.

  Deem thought quickly. The man had been writing – perhaps he was keeping minutes? Were all those writings upstairs his?

  I’d report you to Brother Dayton right now, except I can tell you both have the gift, he said. He drifted closer to Deem without walking. He seemed to be examining her.

  And I know you, don’t I? he asked.

  You probably knew my father, Deem said. President Hinton.

  You’re his daughter! the man said, circling her. How nice it is to meet you.

  Likewise, Deem said. But I didn’t get your name?

  Brother Hester, he said, extending his hand. She shook it, feeling nothing. I’m the ward clerk for the third ward.

  Well, you’re doing an excellent job, Deem said. Your record keeping is exemplary. And well organized.

  He beamed. There was no higher praise for a ward clerk, Deem knew.

  Thank you, he said, continuing to drift around her. I’m supposed to report anyone coming in here to Brother Dayton, but you’re President Hinton’s daughter. So I suppose it’s alright. And who’s this? Hester said, drifting over to Winn. He’s not righteous. He’s a backslider.

  Deem suppressed a smile. He’s an investigator, Deem said, using the common Mormon term for someone who wasn’t a member of the church but was trying to find out more about it, to see if they’d like to join. Mormons were always on their best behavior when an “investigator” was around, hoping to set a good example and not give the potential convert any reason to think negatively about the church.

  Oh, that’s wonderful, Brother Hester said, drifting back from Winn and facing him head on. I’m Brother Hester, he said, extending his hand. Winn reached out to shake it, unnerved by the lack of feeling when he attempted to grab it.

  The third ward is a wonderful ward with outstanding members. I know you’ll enjoy it, Hester said, trying to impress Winn.

  Winn looked at Deem. He was completely flustered. He saw Deem mouth the words “go with it!”

  I’m sure I will, Winn stammered.

  Brother Hester smiled and drifted back to Deem. I have a great deal of respect for President Hinton, Hester said. A better leader the Lord couldn’t have selected. Under his leadership attendance increased by sixteen percent!

  Deem smiled. She knew her father had been well liked in the community, but she had no idea he’d been popular with the ghosts, too. She decided to try and use this to her advantage.

  My father used to tell me about your good work, Deem said. He told me you were the best ward clerk he’d ever known.

  Hester seemed shocked by Deem’s words. Oh! he said. Did he, really?

  Yes, Deem said, and he told me if I ever needed help, Brother Hester was the person to talk to.

  He did? Hester asked. Me?

  Yes, Deem said. She decided to pull out all of the stops. And I just knew he was full of the spirit of the Lord when he told me that. I felt it, right in here, she said, placing her hand over her heart, right out of Moroni.

  Any remaining doubts Hester might have had about Deem’s presence in the room seemed to vanish. He beamed at her with adoration.

  And such a pretty daughter, too, Hester said. I imagine you’ll be married soon. Perhaps to this young gentleman? Is that why he’s investigating the church? So he can convert, and you two get a temple marriage?

  Deem did her best to not spit up. She needed to keep Hester on her side for as long as possible.

  Maybe, she said, smiling, holding back a strong desire to laugh. We’ll have to see how things go. You know, if he converts and all.

  Oh, yes, well, I’m sure he will, Hester said.

  I was explaining genealogy to him the other day, which is why I’m here, Deem said to Hester. He seemed interested in it, so I thought I’d show him my father’s journals. You know how important it is that we follow the Lord’s instructions and keep journals.

  Indeed, Hester said. People don’t always do it like they should, and they thereby miss out on the blessings. I write in mine every night. Er, well, I used to.

  Deem began walking around the room, looking for more boxes. Since my father came here so often, I was hoping my father’s journals might be here, somewhere, she said. Do you know if they are?

  I don’t think so, Hester said. Most people keep their journals at home.

  But my father, he was part of this council, Deem said. I just assumed they kept their journals here.

  I’ve never seen any, Hester said. He began following her as she rounded the table and walked to the back of the room.

  What do they do down here? Deem asked Hester.

  Well, they meet, of course, Hester said. I offered to keep minutes, but they don’t want minutes.

  But they want you to guard the place, Deem said. To alert them if anyone shows up.

  Yes. Otherwise, I just work on the ward’s business. There’s a lot to do.

  Are they all gifted? Deem asked.

  The council? Yes, I think so, Hester said.

  Are you gifted? Were you gifted? Deem asked.

  No, Hester said. I was not so blessed. But these men of God who were chosen by the Lord called me to stay here, and keep the ward minutes, and let them know if anyone came in. That’s reward in itself for me.

  Has anyone ever come in? Deem asked. People without the gift?

  No, no one’s ever come down here outside of the council, other than you. You’re the first.

  No one’s ever broken in upstairs? Deem asked.

  I don’t know, Hester
said. I don’t go up there. Well, I do go up to the filing room. That’s where all my minutes are kept. But that’s as far as I go. Since they called me to serve in this position, I’ve tried to follow their instructions precisely.

  I remember my father telling me how impressed he was with you and how you performed your calling, Deem said, knowing she needed to keep the ruse going. How long have you been in this calling, Brother Hester?

  How long? He asked. I’m not sure. It seems like a long time.

  Well, I’m sure the Lord will release you, soon, Deem said. That is, unless you’re doing such a good job they just can’t do without you! She turned to look at Hester and smiled.

  That is the burden of those of us who take our work seriously, Hester said. We’re sometimes too good at it, and it goes on forever as a result.

  The council met today, didn’t they? Deem asked. They meet around this table, don’t they?

  They do, Hester said. Once a month.

  Do you attend the meeting? Deem asked.

  No, I’m not a member of the council, Hester said. I just sit over at my ward clerk’s table. I’ve got minutes from last Sunday’s meeting I’ve got to transcribe so I can file them. It’s important that they get done on schedule; otherwise I’ll have a backlog.

  Do you ever listen to their meeting? Deem asked. You’re sitting so close to them, you must overhear what they’re talking about.

  Sometimes, Hester said. I try not to, because it ruins my concentration and I make a mistake on the transcription. Then I have to start all over. I don’t like mistakes of any kind on the page.

  My father always appreciated that, Deem said. He said your minutes were always the cleanest, well-written minutes.

  I just loved your father, Hester said. A man of God.

  Did the council distract you at all, today? Deem asked. Did you happen to hear anything they said?

  Yes, they kept talking about the problem in Ivins, Hester said. I have an uncle who lives in Ivins. He’s an apostate and a drunk, and I assumed they were talking about him. So it distracted me, and ruined my transcribing.

  Did they say your uncles name, specifically? Deem asked. Did they say what the problem in Ivins was, exactly?

  No, Hester said, they just referred to it several times as ‘the problem in Ivins.’ I just assumed it was about my uncle.

  What else did they talk about? Deem asked.

  Oh, there was some new directive from Salt Lake, Hester said. They didn’t agree with it. They took a vote to reject it, which passed with ten in favor of rejecting, and two abstaining.

  Sounds like you really got distracted on that one! Deem said, smiling at Hester.

  I supposed I did, Hester said. You’re not supposed to reject things from Salt Lake. I don’t think you’re even supposed to vote on them. You just accept the counsel, and follow the brethren.

  Do you know what the directive was? Deem asked.

  Something about all councils following a new set of guidelines. They felt the directive wasn’t practical, since they’re dealing with the downwind River, and things are different here as a result. You can’t correlate and standardize this area. Too many oddities for that. Or so they were inspired to feel.

  Anything else? Deem asked.

  There was a new initiate from Toquerville. He’ll be taking his oaths at the next meeting.

  So they add new members? Deem asked.

  Occasionally, Hester said, whenever there’s a new gifted in a position of authority within the church.

  Do people leave the council if they’re released from their church calling? Deem asked.

  Depends, Hester said, on how high up they are. If they’re Stake Presidency or higher, they usually stay on. But anything lower than that they kick out. They don’t usually admit Bishops in the first place, unless they really like them.

  Are they following bylaws? Deem asked. Who makes the rules?

  Well, I suppose they do, as a group, Hester replied. There’s no rulebook that I know of. You know, you have your father’s eyes and nose. Did I mention how much I admired your father? Hester drifted very close to Deem, and it made her take a step back.

  You’re very kind to say so, Deem said. So, just to be sure, there are no documents of any kind here? Other than your minutes, upstairs?

  No, Hester said. Just my minutes for the third ward.

  And you don’t keep minutes for the council?

  No, I don’t. They don’t allow minutes.

  That’s it then, Deem thought to herself. Dead end.

  My father would be very appreciative for the help you’ve given me, Deem said to Hester.

  If you see him, please pass along my best wishes, Hester said. And to Sister Hinton. I imagine his passing has been hard on her. And you.

  Yes, Deem said. It has been hard. We really miss him.

  I do too, Hester said. He was truly chosen of the Lord.

  Deem turned to leave the room.

  I just think it’s a shame, Hester said, half to himself.

  What’s that? Deem asked, turning back around. What’s a shame?

  What they’re going to do to you, Hester said, returning to his desk.

  Deem felt anxiety suddenly materialize within her, and become so pronounced it shot up her body and out the top of her head. She took a step toward Hester, wanting to be sure she heard what the man was saying.

  What they’re going to do to me? Deem asked, trying to mask the fear in her voice. What are they going to do to me?

  They’re going to destroy you, Hester said, picking up his pen and beginning to write. It’s a terrible, terrible shame.

  And with that, Brother Hester vanished.

  Brother Hester? Deem called. Brother Hester!

  The basement room was silent. She turned to Winn and dropped out of the River.

  “Did you hear that?” Deem asked.

  “Yes,” Winn said. “He said they were going to destroy you.”

  “That’s what I thought he said.”

  “He must have heard them discussing it.”

  “But kill me?” Deem asked. “Seems a bit extreme. What have I done to them?”

  “Broken into their inner sanctum for starters,” Winn said. “It’s like Claude said – they’re all about the secrets. You’re uncovering too many of them.”

  “Yes, but kill me? I’m twenty, and I’m a girl. To them I’m just marriage bait. I can’t possibly be a threat to them.”

  “There’s nothing down here,” Winn said. “Let’s get out.”

  Deem walked to the stairwell and turned off the light. They walked back through the storage room, sliding the shelves back into place and replacing the boxes. Then they left the church and returned to Winn’s Jeep.

  Winn pulled out and began weaving through the streets of Caliente, back to the main road. The light from the tracking panel lit up the inside of the Jeep, bothering Winn’s eyes.

  “Can we disconnect that thing now?” he asked Deem, who was sitting silently, staring out the window. “We don’t need it anymore, do we?”

  Deem turned and picked up the screen. She reached for the cigarette lighter adapter and pulled. Just as the screen faded out, she saw the blue dot, moving. Then it was blank.

  “Wait a minute,” she said, plugging the adapter back in. The unit took a moment to come back on.

  “Come on, come on!” Deem said, shaking the screen.

  “What did you see?” Winn asked.

  “I can’t be sure but…” she said as the screen lit up once again. She studied it for a moment. “It’s behind us.”

  “What’s behind us?” Winn asked.

  “The blue dot. Dayton. He’s following us.”

  Winn looked in the rear view mirror. There were headlights in the distance. “How far back, can you tell?”

  “A quarter mile or so,” Deem said. “What if he’s following us so he can…”

  Winn looked at Deem. She looked sick to her stomach. Winn turned back and pressed his foot on the ac
celerator, increasing the speed of the Jeep to twenty miles per hour over the speed limit.

  “When we get to Beryl Junction,” Winn said, “I’m going to keep going straight. He should turn to go back to St. George. If he doesn’t, we’ll have reason to worry. Until then, let’s not assume the worst.”

  “He obviously waited for us to leave the church before following us,” Deem said. “He knows. Maybe Brother Hester turned me in somehow.”

  They sped through the hills east of Caliente, back toward the Utah state line. They covered the distance in half the normal time.

  “How far behind us, now?” Winn asked.

  “Same as before,” Deem answered. “He’s keeping right with us. There’s too many turns in this road for you to see him back there.”

  “I could slow down and let him catch up,” Winn said. “Make him go around us. We’d see him then.”

  “Too risky,” Deem said. “I like your Beryl Junction idea better. How far to it?”

  “Another twenty minutes,” Winn said.

  “Alright,” Deem said. “Let’s keep going, full speed.”

  Once or twice the road straightened out long enough for Winn to get a glimpse of car headlights behind them, in the distance.

  “Even if he turns,” Deem said, “it’s too much of a coincidence. We were in that church for half an hour, at least. I can’t believe he just happened to wait in his car for exactly that long before he started home. And he’s carpooling! No way. They were waiting for us to leave.”

  “To what, trail you?” Winn asked. “Why bother? He knows where you live. He doesn’t need to trail you.”

  “You’re right, it doesn’t make sense,” Deem said, “unless he intends to kill me now, on the way home. A lot less people around, out here, than in Mesquite.”

  Winn could tell Deem was really getting worked up. He could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen her this panicked. “Or maybe it’s just to scare you,” he said, trying to calm her. “We don’t know if Hester knew what he was talking about or not. He just drops this comment and blips out. He didn’t stick around for us to clarify what he meant. Let’s see what happens at Beryl Junction.”

  Deem watched the blue dot on her screen as they approached the junction. It remained constant behind them, never varying in distance.