Find your own truth s-3

by Robert N. Charrette

  "Janice," he called again, confident that his voice could now be heard.

  The furred mound shifted, enlarging as massive muscles bunched to arch her back. A dark paw whose toes ended in glossy talons appeared briefly before the motion settled once more into stillness. "Janice."

  The mound shifted again and a dark patch appeared, her face. An eye opened, a sullen ember in a deep pit. "I heard you the first time."

  The deep pitch of the words startled him. Subconsciously, he had been expecting the voice of the sister he remembered, not the cavernous tones of her changed voice. While the tonality was different, the intonation and grouchy irritability were familiar from long-ago school mornings. Janice had never liked waking up.

  Her next words were a growl. "Who's the fool who disturbs me?"

  "It's me, Janice. Sam. Your brother." The ember winked out and the dark face disappeared back under a furred arm. "Go away. I have no brother."

  "I won't go away. We're family, Janice. Don't shut me out.''

  The face reappeared, both red eyes visible now. "I have no family. You saw to that. Remember?"

  At first he thought she was blaming him for their being orphans. They had been just kids at the time. His own recollections were vague and blurred by half-remembered pain and anguish. She, being younger, could hardly have clearer memories. The accusation didn't make sense. She couldn't really believe that he had anything to do with the riots. Did she blame him, and herself as well, for surviving when their parents and older siblings had died? Her Renraku psych profile hadn't indicated that kind of grief displacement. What did she mean? "I'm your family, Janice."

  "There's no more Janice. She's kawaruhito, a changeling no more a part of anybody's family than of polite society. What's left found someone to care about her. Someone who didn't run away and hide when he knew what she had become. But that someone is dead now. Remember?" "Whatever face Hyde-White showed…"

  "Dan Shiroi!" she shouted, erupting explosively from her huddle to tower over him.

  Sam looked up into the dark face that twisted with emotion. She still clung to her vision of that wendigo as a protector. As long as she did, his influence over her remained. "Whatever face he showed you, he was evil. He was a killer who sought to enlist others in his villainy. However kindly he seemed to you, he was consumed by his wendigo nature. He was a liar and a deceiver. You know that what I say is true." "You killed him," she said flatly. "I swore once that I would never take an innocent life. And I don't think that I've broken that oath. He was no innocent; he was a murderer, and he would have made you over in his own image. Killing him was the only way to end the threat he posed to you and many true innocents. It was the only way to free you from his influence."

  "I didn't want to be free. Dan loved me." Sam remembered the scene in Hyde-White's retreat where the wendigo that Janice knew as Dan Shiroi had come back from the brink, of death, or perhaps from beyond, to keep her from attacking Sam and Hart as they lay wounded and helpless. "That may be so, but only at the end was he worthy of your love. As a wendigo, he understood the danger to your soul. But it wasn't a wendigo that saved you. It was too late for him, but he knew that you should not be like him. He gave you a chance to change things.

  "You say he loved you. I love you, too. I want to see you saved from this wendigo curse, and IVe come to tell you there's hope. I think we've found a way to change you back. We've built a ritual to save you, but you must come to Mount Rainier."

  "Save me?" Her lip lifted to reveal yellowed tusks, but Sam couldn't tell if it was a sneer or a snarl. "It's too late. Where were you when they sent me to Yomi?''

  "I didn't find out you were going through kawaru until it was too late. Then they wouldn't let me see you. I tried everything to find you."

  "But you didn't succeed, did you? Not until you could take away everything that meant anything to me."

  "I did what had to be done."

  She turned her face away. For minutes she was quiet. Then, she said, "I'm staying here."

  Sam was appalled. "Staying here? What have you got here? I'm offering you a way to get your life back."

  He reached out to take her by the shoulders and shake some sense into her, but his hands couldn't grip her. She turned at his ethereal touch and glared at him.

  "You can't be serious. Nothing could ever be the same. Your precious little sister Janice Verner is dead. She died before you left your cozy corporate cocoon at Raku. She was replaced by ASN1778, who went to Yomi and got a new life, but even that non-person is dead. Abandoned, like the one who had gone before. Why would I want either of those lives back? I had happiness and you took it away."

  "You weren't happy. You were enthralled by the wendigo's false promises."

  "How could you begin to know what I had?"

  "I know the sister I grew up with, I know the parents who raised her. I know what they taught us, and what they would think of anyone who succumbed to the wendigo nature. And because I know all that, I know what you must think of what has happened to you. You can't give in, Janice. Don't let despair win. There's hope."

  "I don't want hope. All I want now is peace."

  "You can't have it as a wendigo."

  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly with a rumble that was half growl and half moan. Her eyes left his face and traveled along the distant horizon. " There is peace here."

  Sam looked around. Astrally, he could feel the emo 62

  Robert N. Charrette tions of the place. The air was filled with despair, hopelessness, sorrow, spite, and hate. There was not a trace that he could identify as peaceful.

  "You're wrong, Janice. There's nothing for you here."

  "No, you're wrong. There is safety here. This was Dan's place, his refuge in the lean days when the magic wasn't strong enough to let him walk among you norms. The hunger is weak here. In the quiet its absence creates, I can sleep the dreamless sleep. As I was doing until you disturbed me. You should be happy that I'm here. As long as I stay hi this place, you and all your kind are safe from me."

  Sam suddenly understood why she refused to leave. "You're afraid."

  She growled, but there was no spirit in the sound. He saw his opening, a way to persuade her to do what must be done.

  "What is your totem, Janice? Mouse?" "I have no totem."

  "That's a lie. Your change into a wendigo has awakened power in you. I can see it. I've learned enough about wendigos to know that their power molds most easily to the shamanic mode. For all his warped vision, your Shiroi was a shaman. I know he taught you because I've seen your magic. You can't do that magic without a totem."

  She growled again, a warning sound. "Leave Dan out of it."

  "What's your totem?" Sam insisted. At last she said, "Wolf."

  "Wolf?" He hoped his voice did not sound falsely incredulous. "Wolf isn't a coward's totem. Are you sure you don't focus through Ostrich? That would be more suitable for someone who ignores what's going on around her. You're a disgrace to the Wolf nature." "Wolf understands," she said sulkily. "Wolf must be appalled at your lack of strength."

  The growling returned, stronger than before. "If you don't want to feel my strength, leave." "Not without you."

  She glared at him, still growling. Her eyes radiated heat but Sam felt chilled, like a mouse under a hawk's stare. Had she gone so far? Had he pushed her too far? Was he no more than meat to her now?

  She shifted suddenly and he took a defensive step backward, having forgotten that his astral body was impervious to physical harm.

  The growling stopped and she laughed, the sound brittle and without humor. "Are you going to take responsibility for me?"

  He sensed that this was the turning point. His answer would decide her. Could he take responsibility for what she might do? Hadn't he already? There was only one answer he could give.

  "I will."

  "That's the fool I once had as a brother. Haven't you learned yet that everyone is responsible for themselves?"

  "Families a
re responsible for each other."

  "Very Japanese. I would have thought you'd given up your fascination with their culture when you ran away from their corporation."

  "I haven't given up on my sister. Are you going to come or not?"

  Janice shrugged. "What have I got to lose? YouVe roused me now. I doubt I could rest here peacefully."

  "I'm telling you there is no peace here."

  "How little you know," she said softly.

  "You'll have peace when the ritual restores you."

  "I certainly won't get it until you dance your dance."

  Tinged with something undefinable, her words echoed strangely in him. He forced the uncomfortable feeling away, concentrating on the matter at hand. Janice had agreed, and it would be to no one's benefit to delay. "Hart has arranged a plane. The course will be laid into the autopilot and die computer will do the flying. All you have to do is board, sit back, and enjoy the ride."

  She bared her teeth in a grin that made him uncomfortable. "No pilot? What's the matter? Afraid I might eat him?"

  Sam tried to tell himself she was just joking, just needling him, but he could see those teeth. "The fewer people who know about your entry into Salish-Shidhe Council, the better. They have a bounty on wendi-gos."

  "And on those who aid and abet wendigos," she said.

  Sam nodded, already well enough aware of that.

  Though Ghost Who Walks Inside was tall for an Indian, his broad shoulders, massive chest, and well-muscled arms made him seem more squat than he was. He was a street samurai, but unlike many others who claimed that title, Ghost showed few obvious signs of cyber-enhancement. Dressed in his tattered jungle fatigue trousers and boots, armored vest, beaded wristlets, and feather-adorned headband, Ghost revealed only the palm-mounted induction pads of his smartgun link. Which was not to say they were his only chrome. He just didn't believe in displaying his advantages, preferring to let others underestimate his abilities. Just one more edge.

  From his vantage point in the shade of a kiosk selling Seattle metroplex memorabilia, Sam spotted Ghost's wild black frizz on the far side of the court.

  As the Indian moved through the Sunday tourist crowds thronging Aurora Village, his swagger and rugged appearance opened a path for him, making his progress swift. With nonchalant ease he sidestepped those too self-absorbed or oblivious to notice him, never breaking his rhythm. Only once was he interrupted, when a fat German suit bumped into him. There was a slight jostling and for the next few steps, a smiling Ghost let deutschmarks, corporate scrip, coins, and credsticks dribble from his fingers. The turmoil in the crowd behind him made his forward progress even easier. The Indian seemed in no hurry. An observer might have thought that he turned in Sam's direction purely by chance. Sam stepped out from behind the kiosk to greet him, but Ghost beat him to it. "Hoi, paleface. Whazappenning?" "Hoi, Ghost. Biz as usual. 'Zappening with you?" "Running hard to stay in place. Wakarimasu-ka? Biz as usual," Ghost said with a laugh. "Not too busy for a little extra, I hope." "Man's too busy for friends, he's too busy to live," Ghost said, grinning.

  Sam grinned back. Ghost's thaw toward him had coincided with the onset of Sally's glacial chill. Sam wished Sally would stop avoiding him so they might have a chance to talk it out, but as long as he was seeing Hart, Sally would never let him get her alone. Ghost, however, seemed to find the situation exactly to his taste, and that was good. Sam much preferred a friendly Ghost to a hostile one.

  Sam checked around for eavesdroppers, then got down to business. "I need your help to find a safe place for my sister to hide. Someplace outside the Seattle metroplex."

  "Why me? Thought you'd have enough grease with Hart. Hear tell, she's got connections in Council lands. I'm just a city boy." Sam had never spoken of Hart's connections, and Ghost rarely worried about people and places outside the plex. If he knew about Hart's connections, somebody was looking into Hart's affairs. Most likely Sally. Sam hoped it didn't bode trouble. If it did, he'd deal with it later. "Got a good net going, Ghost. But not good enough. Hart's connections aren't suitable to the current situation." "So ka. Sister got a feud?" "She's…" Suddenly Sam wasn't sure he should explain. Telling anyone was a danger, and Ghost was a mercenary, always on the lookout for ways to improve his tribe's financial position. Would he be tempted by the bounty? If he turned Sam in as well, might not Ghost also improve his standing with Sally? Or would he even consider such a course of action? Sam wasn't sure. For all the easy camaraderie, Ghost was still a bundle of unknown quantities. But trust was needed. Before Sam had attracted Sally's attention Ghost had treated him well, almost as a younger brother. Aside from the Indian's interest in Sally, Sam could find no reason to distrust Ghost. The other man lived by a code of honor, one that Sam did not always understand, but he was confident that Ghost wouldn't abandon his honor for a few credits. There was, of course, only one way to find out.

  "My sister has goblinized. Hart's contacts won't take her in."

  "So ka. " Ghost nodded sagely. "How illegal is her breed?"

  "How did you figure that?" "Null perspiration, paleface. If her breed wasn't illegal, you would have made arrangements with Cog or Castillano. Fixers are real good at moving merchandise, even live merchandise. But you're asking me, and that means you don't want anybody to know so bad that you're asking a city Indian to find you a place outside the wall. So what is she?"

  "Wendigo." Without waiting for a reaction, he added, "But she's never killed."

  Ghost looked at him strangely. "What's that got to do with it?"

  "If a wendigo hasn't killed, the curse isn't complete. The sins can be forgiven and her soul can still be saved."

  "Sin? Soul? Paleface, you're not talking sense. I don't walk the Jesus road. Found out real early that stuff don't mean drek on the streets. Last time I turned my cheek, I had to get it replaced." Ghost shook his head. "Wendigos eat people. You're talking real bad biz."

  The Indian's reaction was no more than Sam could reasonably expect. "But we're bringing her here to cure her," he said.

  "Now you're talking crazy. Can't be done. Anybody could turn back even an ork, the docs and whitecoats woulda been all over them in millisecs, right after the media hounds. Whole world would know how to do it. Ain't no pills, surgery, or drugs can do it." "We've got a way. We're going to use magic." Ghost spat.

  "I know you don't like magic. I'm not asking you to take part in the ritual. We just need somebody to hide her safely until we can do the magic. She's my sister, Ghost. IVe got to try. I thought you'd understand." Sam was losing track of the argument as his emotions caught up with him. "We can't bring her into the plex; there are too many people. But she's got to be present for the ritual. There's no other way to do it. I didn't know who else to ask."

  "The odds get too bad, a smart man doesn't gamble." Ghost started to walk away.

  "I really thought you might help," Sam muttered, almost to himself. "She's Wolf totem."

  Ghost turned. "You're desperate crazy, white man, but you've got cojones. I might be a little crazy, too.

  You know, Grandfather Wolf don't like cowards, and he really hates people who run out on the pack."

  "You weren't running out. I'm not part of your tribe. Neither is Janice. And I know you're anything but a coward."

  "Not you I'm worried about, paleface." Ghost lowered his voice. "You aren't scamming? She really is Wolf. You swear as a shaman?"

  Sam nodded.

  "Fraggin5 drek, but you don't make it easy," Ghost said, head tilted toward the sky. "You know, paleface, Grandfather Wolf don't like murderers or cannibals either. So maybe there's hope for her. Maybe you really can do something for her. How much nuyen did you say?"

  "I didn't, but it's not much. Fifty K. And favors. I'll owe you big, Ghost."

  "Don't worry, paleface," the Indian said, rubbing his chin reflectively. "If this thing blows up in our faces, it'll be more than you can pay.''

  Janice astrally scouted the area around the aircraft. As promised,
she found only three people waiting for her. One she recognized instantly as Sam. Next to him stood an elven woman who seemed vaguely familiar. The third member of the welcoming committee was some kind of razorguy, his aura darkened in places by cyber-enhancements.

  Had she really expected a trap? Sam was too honest to betray her. At least the Sam she had grown up with was honest. But that Sam wasn't a street shaman and a shadowrunner. He had changed, but how much?

  From her own experiences, she knew some changes were bigger than others.

  She returned to her body and rose from the travel couch. The chair had been tight, not made for someone of her bulk. Her muscles relaxed gratefully. The vanishing aches and pains reminded her how little she belonged in the world of the norms. She thought about tearing the door from its hinges to express her frustration and anger. It would make a flashy entrance, but it wouldn't really reduce the stress left from the trip. She opened the hatch as meekly as any ordinary passenger.

  With the first whiff of the local air, she felt better. The Salish-Shidhe breeze was full of the good scents of a forest much more pleasant than the sterile, machine-purified air of the aircraft.

  Sam and the woman stepped forward to greet her, but the razorguy hung back, watchful. When Janice saw the elf with her mundane eyes, she knew why the woman's aura had seemed familiar. This was the same elf who had helped Sam kill Dan Shiroi. Janice didn't give Sam a chance to even say hello. "Still hanging with the same armful, I see. You two serious, or are you just rubbing my muzzle in it?"

  Sam stopped, open-mouthed. The elf answered for him.

  "My name is Hart, Janice. No one here means to offend you."

  "I know who you are. And you call me Shiroi, elf." "That was the wendigo's name," Hart said. Janice showed her teeth. "I'm a wendigo." The elf shut up. She looked offended and maybe a bit nervous. Good. Janice hoped she made the elf real nervous.

  "So, Mr. Big Time Shaman, where's your ritual team? Are they lost, or are you? This don't look like a volcano."

  Sam looked annoyed. That pleased her. Why should this be easy on anyone?