Blood Oath, Blood River (The Downwinders Book 1)

by Michael Richan

  “I can’t thank you enough,” Deem said. “It was bad enough with him attacking me, but when he went after my aunt and mom, it really pissed me off. If you hadn’t helped us I’d still be digging bones out of them and myself.”

  “You’re welcome,” Awan said.

  “How’s the ghost chalk coming?” Winn asked. “We’re ready to help you tackle the extortion brothers whenever you’re ready.”

  “A couple more days,” Awan said. “Have you ever made it? Ghost chalk?”

  “No,” Deem said. Winn shook his head.

  “You have to bake it in a kiln. It collapses as it dries. Then you add a liquid to it, infused with thistle and alocutis. It bubbles up, so you have to let it settle back down for a day before you bake it again. Takes five or six times before it becomes powdery enough that you can spoon it into the contraption you hold over their kidneys. A couple more days and it’ll be ready. I’ll let you know. How’d things go with your father’s journals?”

  “Not so good,” Deem said. “We followed the guy to Caliente, where they met in an abandoned church. We went inside but the journals weren’t there. Somehow they knew we’d been there, and they found the tracking device. I’ve got it in my car to give back to you.”

  “So you’re back to square one?” Awan asked.

  “Kind of,” Deem said. “I think I’m on their hit list now. I confronted the guy we tracked, and he told me they were planning on the skinrunner taking me down. He knew about the attacks.”

  “That is very troubling,” Awan said, furrowing his brow. “More troubling than the skinrunner.”

  “I don’t know,” Deem said. “They’re a bunch of old white guys, higher-ups in the church, who like to go to a lot of meetings and throw their weight around. They’re not used to someone standing up to them. Especially not a girl.”

  “All the more reason to be concerned,” Awan said.

  “I was thinking we should go back to Claude and see if he’d be willing to share everything he knows with us,” Winn suggested. “He said he had a lot on the secret council in his files.”

  “Who’s Claude?” Awan asked.

  “He’s this guy Deem’s been talking to about the secret council,” Winn said. “I think he knows more than he’s sharing, because he’s unsure if we believe him or not. He’s a little paranoid. He might open up more if we assured him we’re on his side of things.”

  “He’s paranoid with good reason!” Awan said. “Is this the ‘Hour of Truth’ guy?”

  “You’ve heard of him?” Deem asked, surprised.

  “Every non-Mormon has heard of him,” Awan said. “People think he’s a crackpot, like Art Bell, but they listen to him regardless.”

  “Hey, Art Bell’s no crackpot,” Winn said. “I like him.”

  “I’m just saying people know about him,” Awan said.

  “Claude told me everything I know about the secret council at this point,” Deem said. “Without him, I wouldn’t have known what to do.”

  “Maybe you should pay him another visit,” Awan said. “Convince him you’re sincere. He may share more with you.”

  “It’s as good an idea as any,” Deem said. “I need an ally in this cause, and he seems to know the most.”

  “Why don’t we go over to his place when we’re finished?” Winn said. “Awan, you should meet him. He’s a good contact.”

  “Sure, I’d like to meet him,” Awan said. “My brother-in-law listens to his show every night. I’ll bet he’d let me borrow his riding mower if I got him an autograph.”

  “What do you say, Deem?” Winn asked.

  Deem knew Winn was just trying to help. She thought she’d been as honest and sincere with Claude as she could possibly be. Skepticism came naturally to her, and perhaps it showed. But with everything she’d learned about the secret council and Dayton in the past few days, she was no longer skeptical. Things had risen to a new level. Maybe Claude would sense that and share more.

  “Sure,” she said. “He’s gonna get sick of us just dropping in.”

  “We’d call first,” Winn said, “but he doesn’t trust phones.”

  Chapter Twelve

  It was dark when they arrived at Claude’s. Deem walked up to the door to knock, Awan and Winn right behind her.

  She raised her hand but stopped when she noticed the door was ajar.

  “Winn,” she said, whispering. “No way he’d leave it open like this.”

  Winn stepped forward and examined the door. “Whoever it is, they may still be inside.”

  “Who can enter a trance the quickest?” Deem asked. “It takes me about two minutes.”

  “A minute,” Winn said.

  “Twenty seconds,” Awan said.

  “Really?” Deem said, surprised. “OK, you do it.”

  Awan closed his eyes and entered the River. Once he constructed the trance, he drifted into Claude’s house. After a few seconds he left the trance and returned to the others.

  “One man, all in black, face covered, in the living room. He’s holding a knife.”

  “Claude?” Deem asked.

  Awan shook his head.

  “Fuck!” Winn said. “What do we do?”

  Awan pulled a gun from under his shirt and held it up. “We go in.”

  “Where the fuck did that come from?” Deem asked. “You’ve had that the whole time?”

  “Yes,” Awan said.

  “And you know how to use it?” she asked.

  Awan looked hurt. “Of course I do. I’ll go first.”

  Awan pushed the door open and walked inside, following the path he’d seen in the trance. The house was dark, no lights were on. When they had all entered Claude’s living room, Deem could see the man dressed in black, leaning over someone seated in a chair.

  “Stop right there!” Awan shouted. The man whirled around, knife in hand. He immediately bolted into the kitchen, out of sight. Awan ran after him.

  Deem looked at the figure in the chair. It was Claude. At first she thought he might still be alive, but as her eyes adjusted to the dim light, the truth of what had happened to him began to sink in.

  “Oh god,” she said, turning away from the sight. She looked at Winn; he opened his arms and she buried her face in his chest.

  Awan returned from the kitchen. He flipped on a light switch, and the living room illuminated. “He’s gone, out the kitchen door. There’s a dead dog in the back yard.”

  “Could you tell who it was?” Winn asked. “Anything about him?”

  “I don’t even know if it was a ‘him,’” Awan said. “He was completely covered.”

  Winn looked down at Claude. He was tied to the chair. The intruder had used the knife to disembowel him, and had grotesquely pulled his intestines out from the wound and strung them up and over Claude’s shoulder.

  “Look what he did to him,” Winn said, shocked. “It’s sick.”

  Awan stepped over to them and examined Claude. “That’s a message.”

  “A message?” Deem said, turning back to the grisly scene. “What message?”

  “The bowels removed,” Awan said. “A penalty. For violating an oath. A Mormon thing.”

  “The secret council?” Winn asked.

  “This is because of me,” Deem said. “They knew he was talking to me. They killed him because of it.”

  “You don’t know that,” Winn said.

  “They’re watching everything!” Deem said. “They knew we followed them to Caliente. They knew I was being attacked by the skinrunner. They must have known I’d met with him.”

  “Now you’re becoming paranoid, like him,” Winn said.

  “He’d been talking about strange things on the radio for years,” Awan said. “But he never talked about this secret council, at least not on his radio program. I guess speaking to you about it crossed a line.”

  “So they killed him, for talking to me,” Deem said, angry. “They didn’t have to mutilate him like this.”

  “He violated an
oath,” Awan said. “That’s what the disembowelment is about.”

  “What oath?” Deem asked.

  “It used to be a temple oath,” Awan said. “It isn’t anymore. But old timers remember the original oaths, which had penalties for breaking silence. Being cut open and having your bowels removed was one of the penalties.”

  “He left the church long ago,” Deem said. “When you leave, those oaths no longer apply, do they?”

  “To some old timers,” Awan said, “they still apply, whether you leave or not.”

  “Maybe it doesn’t have to do with the temple at all,” Winn said. “If Deem is right, and this is in response to him talking to us, then it’s all about the secret council. Maybe he took an oath with them. Maybe he was part of it, at some point. This has to be their work.”

  Deem left Winn’s side and walked to Claude. “I’m so sorry,” she said to him.

  “We need to get out of here,” Awan said. “This is a crime scene, and I don’t think any of us want to get wrapped up with the cops.”

  “He had a security system,” Winn said. “There might be tapes of us coming in.”

  “I’ll find it,” Awan said. “I know something about security systems.” Awan left them and began searching.

  “Wait,” Deem said, staring at a stack of boxes to the right of Claude. “This stack of boxes wasn’t out when we were here last time.”

  She opened the top box and pulled out some of the paperwork inside, leafing through it.

  “It’s all council stuff,” she said. “Maybe they made him collect it like this before they killed him.”

  “When we startled the killer,” Winn said, “he ran off without them.”

  “We’re taking these,” Deem said.

  “What if someone sees us?” Winn asked.

  “His nearest neighbor is two blocks away,” Deem said, grabbing the first box and walking out. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take. Are you going to help me?”

  Winn grabbed the next box in the stack and followed Deem out of the house. They piled the boxes into the back of Winn’s Jeep, then went back inside for the rest. Once they finished, there were six boxes of documents in Winn’s vehicle.

  They looked for Awan, and found him in a back room. He was reviewing video footage on a small black and white monitor. “This guy was old school, used tapes that he’d rotate. The tapes in the machine go back about a week. When did you first visit him?”

  Deem tried to remember their first visit. “A week ago, maybe?”

  “The date at the beginning of this tape is last Monday,” Awan said, ejecting the tape and placing it in his pocket. “Let’s hope that covers it. It looks to me like he locked his older tapes in that.” Awan pointed to a small safe sitting on a counter behind them.

  “We’ve taken some of his boxes,” Deem said. “I think the intruder made him collect everything he had on the council before he killed him. Intended to take it with him before we interrupted.”

  “That’s a very dangerous move,” Awan said. “They’ll know you took them. They’ll want them. They’ll hunt them down.”

  “Guys, we’ve got to get out of here,” Winn said. “We can talk about this after we’ve left.”

  “Go back through the house,” Awan said. “Wipe fingerprints. Remember everything you may have touched.”

  They methodically walked back through the rooms they’d entered, wiping switches and door handles. Finally they left through the front door.

  “Leave it ajar, just as we found it,” Awan said. Deem pulled the door so that it caught in the door jam, but not until it latched closed. Then they walked to Winn’s Jeep and got inside.

  “Should we call this in, anonymously?” Deem asked.

  “There’s no such thing as anonymous,” Awan said. “You’ll have to leave it be.”

  “He deserves better than being left like that,” Deem said.

  “He does,” Awan said. “But you must not do it. They would track down anyone who called that murder in. Of greater concern are these boxes. If they were willing to kill Claude for them, they will certainly kill you for them.”

  “I need time to go through them,” Deem said. “I need to store them somewhere.”

  “You can’t take them home,” Winn said. “You’d be putting your mother at risk.”

  “Would they really do that?” Deem asked. “Wouldn’t that draw too much attention?”

  “Please don’t be offended, Deem,” Awan said, “but you’ve underestimated these people from the beginning, giving them the benefit of the doubt when they don’t deserve it. I know they were associates of your father’s, but you need to start thinking of them as cold blooded killers and assume the worst, because they’ll do whatever they think they have to, including burying you in a hole in the desert.”

  “How can they justify this?” Deem said. “It goes against everything. I can’t believe they would take it this far. Don’t they have some kind of conscience?”

  “They think God is on their side,” Awan said. “That makes them the most dangerous of all, because it overrides everything else. You cannot take these boxes home. You and your family will be in enough danger as it is.”

  “Well, they’ve got to go somewhere until I can read through them,” Deem said. “Winn? Any ideas?”

  “My trailer is too obvious,” Winn said. “They know I’m with you on this. It’ll probably get searched tomorrow.”

  “And they monitor everything,” Deem said. “I’ve got to store them somewhere they can’t see.”

  “Transfer the boxes to my car when we get back to St. George,” Awan said. “I know a place. I’ll take them there.”

  “Where?” Deem asked.

  “I have an aunt in Leeds,” Awan said. “She lives in an old house, from pioneer days. It’ll offer some protection for the boxes, if we make a deal with Lyman.”

  “Who’s Lyman?” Deem asked.

  “It’s a long story,” Awan said. “But the boxes will be safe. Trust me.”

  “It’s better than taking them home, Deem,” Winn said. “Safer for your mom.”

  “I don’t know,” Deem said. “I can’t afford to lose them. I feel like they’ve fallen into my lap for a reason, and I need to read what’s inside. What if your aunt loses them? Or Dayton tracks them there and intimidates her into giving them up?”

  “Tell you what,” Awan said. “Come with me to Leeds and drop them off yourself. Meet my aunt, and Lyman. See if you’re comfortable leaving them there.”

  “What if we’re being followed?” Deem asked. “They’ll know where the boxes are.”

  “It won’t matter if they know they’re at my aunt’s,” Awan said. “If Lyman agrees to watch over them, there’s nothing they can do.”

  “They could kill him,” Deem said, “like they killed Claude.”

  “He’s already dead,” Awan said.

  “Oh,” Deem said. “Well then. Alright. But I want to talk to him, to be sure.”

  “Of course,” Awan said, smiling. He turned to Winn. “She can be very insistent.”

  “You have no idea,” Winn said.

  “Then we don’t need to go to your car, Awan,” Deem said. “Let’s just go straight out to Leeds now, and we’ll bring you back to St. George after. Alright, Winn?”

  “Yes,” Winn said. “Let’s do it.”

  “I’ll call her,” Awan said, pulling his phone from his pocket, “to tell her we’re coming.”

  ▪ ▪ ▪

  Winn pulled up to the old home situated at the dead end of a flat street in Leeds. Newer homes lined the street that led to the house, but there was a comfortable distance between the last houses on the street and the old one at the end. It was surrounded by a white two beam fence and had a large front lawn. A hill rose up steeply behind it, the reason for the dead end. Winn drove into the driveway. Deem noticed a large sign that said “No Visitors – No Trespassers – No Solicitors – No Missionaries” posted on a stake just inside the fence. Winn parke
d next to an old green Ford station wagon that had wood paneling on the side.

  “Carma is gifted,” Awan said as they walked to the door, “but her practice is a little different.” Awan knocked on the door. It flew open and Carma rushed out, extending her arms to Awan, who allowed her to wrap him in them. Carma was thin and tall, just over six feet, and had perfectly manicured hair – she looked as though she’d just left a beauty parlor. A thin cigarette dangled from one hand.

  “You don’t visit enough,” she said in a slightly raspy voice, which Deem assumed was due to the smoking. She hugged Awan until Deem thought he would pop. Then she abruptly released him and turned to Winn and Deem.

  “Your companions?” she said.

  “Deem and Winn,” Awan said. “Good friends.”

  “I am so pleased to meet good friends of Awan’s,” she said, transferring her cigarette from her right to her left hand, then extending the right to each of them. When Deem shook Carma’s hand she thought she could feel every bone in it, and she was afraid of using too much pressure and breaking it.

  “It won’t break,” Carma said, smiling at her. “I take calcium pills. They do a number on my stomach, but my doctor insists. Didn’t drink enough milk as a child apparently.”

  She whirled around in a perfect one-eighty and walked back into the house, motioning for them to follow her.

  Deem looked at Winn. He smiled at her, and she smiled back. They both seemed to approve of Carma.

  “Now, this house is over a hundred and forty years old!” Carma said as they walked into a hallway and down it to a back room. The hallway was lined with pictures of the house from different eras and the surrounding area. Deem recognized pictures of abandoned buildings at the nearby ghost town, Silver Reef.

  “Built by a Mormon pioneer named Hosea Hamblin, a revered name in these parts. He was a favorite of Brigham Young until he sided with John D. Lee and apostatized. They killed apostates in those days, but Hosea had built himself a nice homestead here and he had some resources as well as friends, so the local church decided to leave him alone rather than slit his throat. Anyone like some iced tea?”