Death Chant

by Vella Munn

  “That’s what I hope you can help me with. The timing for this conversation sucks, but I have to do my job. Can you think of anyone who hated Floyd enough to do that to him?”

  Barely aware of what he was saying, Jay admitted he couldn’t. He needed time to process what he’d just learned but would call back. After offering another apology and sympathy, the chief said goodbye.

  Uncle Talio and he seldom used the back door, but he went there because he didn’t want anyone to see him walking into the woods. He still didn’t trust his stomach to hold onto its contents. He could see a few stars but not the moon, because it was behind the treetops.

  Neither Floyd nor he had ever been afraid of the dark. Even when he’d snuck up on his kid brother, Floyd had laughed. Floyd, a sober Floyd, would enjoy being out here.

  He didn’t deserve what had been done to him.

  Nightmare!

  Jay stopped and pressed his back against a tree trunk, taking strength from the solid growth. His eyes had adjusted to being outside, and he could now make out the faint shapes of his childhood world. Instead of trying to come up with the names the police chief had asked for, he mentally replayed his three-day-and-night solitary trek while searching for his spirit. He’d focused on the stories his uncle and other elders had told him about fishermen whose boats capsized or hunters who fell through frozen lakes. Instead of dying, those people entered the land of the salmon or seals. His favorite had been the story of how K’wati, the shape-shifting Changer, had killed the chief of the wolves and escaped the rest of the pack by striking the ground with his carved comb and creating a cliff the wolves had to run around. Later, K’wati had poured oil on the rocks. The oil had morphed into a river, again slowing the wolves.

  Wolf?

  Wolf mask.

  Jay’s mouth dried. He suddenly wanted nothing more than to return to the house, but his mind kept whirling. Processing.

  He had no doubt where the ceremonial mask had come from. For reasons he might never understand, Floyd had taken it from Grandparents Cave and given it to Dr. Gilsdorf. The anthropologist had then sent it to Winter. That, more than what she felt for the man she called Doc, was what had brought her here.

  Floyd and Dr. Gilsdorf were dead. Murdered in essentially the same way. The only other person to have recently handled the mask was still alive.

  A primitive growl slipped past his lips as he hauled out his phone and punched in her number. It went straight to voicemail.

  “Call me,” he ground out. “Now. You’re in danger.”

  * * * *

  Winter’s head ached, and her vision kept blurring. She hadn’t been at the computer for long, but the day had caught up to her. Exercise in the form of packing up and leaving the cabin made more sense than looking for something when she wasn’t sure what that something was. One good thing about being brain dead, the idea of driving away from Olympic wasn’t as painful as earlier. She’d take this one day at a time, one step followed by another.

  As for being alone, she knew how to do that. Besides, her solitude wasn’t total, because she had Wolf.

  Not Jay but Wolf. She’d make that enough.

  After repacking her groceries, she stepped outside. Because her hands were full, she kicked the door closed instead of putting things down and locking it. Leaving the laptop in there made her uneasy, but she’d be back in about fifteen minutes. She wished she’d thought to put on her headlamp, but the moon helped some. As she made her way down the dirt patch, she thought back to when a foster father had locked her in a closet because she hadn’t done her homework to his standards. She’d spent that night and too many others curled up in the dark, but not once had she cried or begged.

  That child was a woman now, resourceful and unemployed, independent and confused. Embracing what Wolf and the mask represented while struggling to strip Jay from her mind and heart. She started to shake her head at the contrasts when an unexpected sound to her right caught her attention.

  The sound again. Something brushing against vegetation. “Wolf?”

  The figure wasn’t four-legged. She had a good second in which to comprehend she was being attacked before intense light blinded her. Someone slammed into her, knocking her backward onto the ground. Her head slammed against something. Woozy, she let go of her groceries and attempted to roll over so she could get onto her hands and knees. Masculine strength forced her onto her back again. The heavier body straddled her at the waist. Powerful hands circled her throat. Thumbs pressed against her windpipe. Robbed of oxygen, she thrashed, scratched, kicked.

  Pain filled her. And terror. She couldn’t breathe! Someone was killing her! Taking her into darkness. Turning off the light.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Rope circled Winter’s wrists, keeping her arms behind her. A gag had been shoved into her mouth and tied around her head. Her ankles were lashed together. Despite her restraints, the realization that she wasn’t dead and could again breathe kept panic from winning. As she became more clearheaded, she concentrated on making sense of what had happened. Cool dampness from the ground was seeping through her clothes and making her shiver. Swallowing brought tears of pain. In contrast to the disbelief she’d felt when she found Doc’s body, tonight became crystal clear. She’d been captured.

  “I did it,” a male voice muttered, making identifying him impossible.

  She had to be patient, because her survival might depend on it. One thing, the intense light she’d seen earlier had come from the headlamp her attacker wore.

  He clamped gloved hands over her shoulders and pulled her into a sitting position. Hard as it was, she kept from fighting him. She had to lean forward to keep from falling back.

  “You’re going to stay right here while I put those groceries back and get what I need.” He slapped her shoulder. “You aren’t going anywhere. I’ve made damn sure of that.”

  Booth!

  He scooped up her groceries and walked away, heading back toward the cabin. She started pulling on the ropes. No matter how much she twisted and strained, however, all she accomplished was to tighten her bonds. Helplessness settled around her, threatening her sanity when she needed to say in control if she stood a chance of living.

  All too soon, Booth returned, carrying her backpack and the laptop. He was still wearing gloves, which meant he hadn’t left fingerprints. “These are going in my vehicle.” He held up the pack and computer. “By the time anyone realizes you’re gone, I’ll have moved them to where they’ll never be found.”

  But her car would still be in the parking lot.

  Booth left her again. Knowing he was taking the laptop with the flash drive in it to the parking lot where, undoubtedly, his vehicle was made her sick. Eventually, unless she stopped him, he’d find Doc’s letter.

  Did it matter anymore? Did anything matter except staying alive?

  When he rejoined her, he didn’t say anything as he untied her legs. Judging by his grunts as he hauled her to her feet, she wasn’t making it easy for him, but fighting fear taxed her. Hating what she had to do, she didn’t resist when he grabbed her elbow and steered her deeper into the wilderness. The headlamp made it easy for him to guide them around one obstacle after another. His breathing was as ragged as hers.

  Alone. In ways she’d never fathomed or experienced.

  No, she wasn’t alone, because her captor was with her. Booth hadn’t explained why he was doing this, but there could be only one reason—he’d killed Doc and probably Floyd and intended to do the same to her.

  But not right away. Maybe not before explaining what had led him to this point.

  Attempting to comprehend Booth’s motivation made it nearly impossible for her to concentrate on where she was going. She tripped on a tree root and started to fall. He jerked her upright.

  “Don’t play stupid games with me, Winter. You don’t want to make me mad.”

  Wasn’t he already? Didn’t anger drive his actions?

  Maybe not. He must want somethin
g from her. Until he’d gotten whatever it was, he’d keep her alive.

  Then—

  Wolf? Are you out there? Do you see what’s happening? Can you stop him? Angry at herself for capitulating with Booth, she dug in her heels. Booth punched the back of her head. She lurched forward.

  “You want another lesson? Believe me, I’ll do it.” He paused. “I’ve had practice. Be patient. We’ll get there.”

  She couldn’t fathom what he meant by there any more than she could make sense of anything else tonight. Some twenty-four hours ago, she’d been taking off her clothes for Jay, and now this.

  Jay. Dealing with his brother’s murder. Nowhere near Potlatch. Unaware of what had happened to her. Wanting her out of his life.

  Hating her for keeping part of his legacy from him.

  * * * *

  Night lurked behind Jay as he opened the door to Winter’s cabin. When he’d seen her car in the parking lot, he’d been torn between anger and concern. It didn’t matter whether she returned his call, as long as she understood she was in danger and did something about it. Her fascination with Olympic could wait until the area was safe. He’d parked near her vehicle and jogged to her cabin as different scenarios played out in his mind. She might have fallen asleep without hearing his message or been too upset to listen to it. He could handle either of those possibilities. What he couldn’t handle was finding her dead.

  He switched on the light and stared at the lifeless space. This wasn’t right. She should be in here.

  Holding on to his nerves as best he could, he took inventory of what was inside. It looked as if she’d been in the process of moving out, so where was she?

  Even though it was the last thing he wanted to do, he made a mental journey back to Ghost Totem and the sight of Dr. Gilsdorf’s body. If Winter hadn’t been looking for her friend, he might have never been found.

  “Winter.” His voice echoed in the claustrophobic space, and he stepped outside. “Winter! Where are you?”

  No matter how much he strained to hear, his pounding heart was making too much noise. There was only one explanation—someone had her.

  The same person who’d killed Dr. Gilsdorf and maybe his brother.

  “Winter! Answer me.” Please.

  Even with the familiar night sounds, silence pressed around him. She could be anywhere. Unable to respond. Maybe so far away she couldn’t hear him.

  Maybe dead.

  “No.” The sound of his voice surprised him. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this desperate. Fighting a fear that made breathing difficult, he called her name once more. He knew this part of Olympic as well as anyone, not that it made any difference, because the forest was a tangled maze of primal growth.

  “Raven,” he whispered. “Please, I can’t do this on my own.”

  His body felt as if it might snap as he waited and then waited some more. Until the last few days, he’d relegated his spirit to an untouched corner of his mind. Like someone who never prayed until hit with a crisis, he had no right to expect Raven to acknowledge him.

  But he had nothing else. He needed Raven.

  “Please.” He worked to make his voice sound stronger. “I’m sorry. So sorry. I shouldn’t have given up on you. Raven? Are you out there?”

  A gentle wind rattled the treetops to his left.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Winter and Booth had walked for what felt like at least a mile when light from his headlamp revealed a grove of big-leafed maples. The thick trunks were partly covered in moss. More moss clung to exposed roots while lacy leaves served as a stark contrast to the aged trees. He shoved her toward one of the huge maples with a hollow at the base. Only a few hours ago, she would have loved the site. Now the thought that she might die here chilled her veins. She didn’t want to die!

  “On your knees.” He didn’t give her time to decide whether to obey but again hit the back of her head. She barely had time to turn her face to the side before she slammed into the tree. Booth kicked her feet out from under her, and she landed chest-down half inside the opening. The smell of damp age filled her senses.

  Booth snaked a rope around her ankles, and, despite her struggles, jerked it tight. That done, he rolled her over so she looked up at him with her arms bowing her back. No locked or barred door had been this confining.

  “There. I can’t believe— Damn, I really did it.”

  Desperate for an explanation, she chewed on her gag. Another wave of fear threatened to overwhelm her, but she fought it as she’d fought parts of her childhood, by separating herself from her body.

  She wasn’t Booth’s prisoner after all. Instead, she’d gone hiking with Jay. When they were sure no one was around, they’d stop where the ground was soft and no insects lived. Hungry for each other, they’d sink to their knees and reach out. First one of them and then the other would whisper of need and commitment. He’d forgiven her. Doc and Floyd were alive. Olympic embraced her.

  “Where is it?” Booth demanded.

  Confused, she shook her head. The headlamp half-blinded her, preventing her from seeing his expression.

  “You have it. I have no doubt you do.”

  Despite her turmoil, she put one and one together. It was Booth who’d broken into Doc’s cabin, but he hadn’t found what he was looking for.

  Again, she shook her head.

  He loomed over her. “Let me explain something. I’m good at planning what I need to do. It’s vital. No one will be coming in or out of Potlatch until morning, so I have plenty of time. More than you do.” He grunted. “I found your car keys in your pocket while you were unconscious. My vehicle’s at the Sol Duc campground. It was a hell of a walk to Potlatch, but I don’t want anyone knowing I’m here. That way, I won’t get caught. I cover all my bases. When I’m done with you, I’ll take your car. Make it disappear.”

  Like I will.

  She had no idea how long it would take him to reach Sol Duc after, she assumed, hiding her car somewhere in the forest, but it didn’t matter, because, by then, she’d be dead.

  Dead. Her life over.

  He positioned himself near her head and stared at her. If only she knew what he intended to do with her.

  “I’m going to remove the gag, but you’d better not yell.” He held up a knife so the light glinted off it.

  Had this weapon killed Doc—and Floyd?

  Jay!

  “There’s no one back here, and the forest swallows sound.” He placed the knife on the ground and reached behind her head. The gag loosened. “You and I are going to talk. We have to.”

  And then you’ll treat me like you did Doc and Floyd.

  “All right,” he said as he pulled the cloth out of her mouth. When he picked up the knife, she noted that his hand was shaking. “I ask questions. You answer.”

  She moved her mouth about and licked her lips. “I hear you.”

  “But you’re telling yourself there’s no way you’ll give me what I want or that I’m really going to kill you. Go on, lie to yourself.”

  Keeping her head off the ground took effort, but otherwise she’d look defeated. “Why did you kill them?”

  “Them?” He wiped his mouth with his free hand. “So you figured out at least some of it. I gave Floyd every chance to tell me what was going on between him and Gilsdorf, spell out what had gotten Gilsdorf so damn excited. He kept praying to—hell, I don’t know what he was praying to.”

  His spirit.

  “I told him he didn’t have to die, that one secret wasn’t worth his life.” Booth sighed. “Maybe I meant it. I shouldn’t have tried to get him to work with me, but I had no idea he was such a damn mess.” He grabbed her hair and forced her head up. “You aren’t a mess. You want to live. You’ll do whatever it takes to stay alive. The thing is, I can break down your defenses. Unfortunately, I’ve gotten good at it.” He touched the knife tip to her throat. “I need some information from you. I couldn’t get it from Gilsdorf or Floyd, but it’ll be different this time
. It has to be.”

  Much as she hated the idea of doing anything Booth wanted, in the end, she might not have a choice. Maybe, if she kept him from losing his temper, he’d let her live.

  No, he won’t.

  Mentally recoiling at the thought, she kept her attention on his nearly indiscernible form.

  “You didn’t come to Olympic because you had nothing better to do.” Booth sounded tired. “Gilsdorf confided in you about something. I have no doubt he did. What was it?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Liar.” He struck her cheek, knocking her flat. “Judging by the methods I used on Gilsdorf and Floyd, you’re thinking I can’t control myself, but I know what I’m doing.”

  “How can you say that? There’s no excuse for—”

  He slapped her again. “You have no idea what I’ve gone through, what I’ve had to put up with. I believe in being rewarded for my efforts. Not being taken for granted.”

  “Why would someone do that?”

  “What a stupid question. Because they’re selfish. When I asked Gilsdorf what he thought of the material I generously gave him access to, he said it was useful. Damn it, it…” He sobbed. “My turn! Finally my turn.”

  * * * *

  Night had become his enemy. So had his surroundings.

  Nothing was right, everything he needed gone.

  Abandoned by Raven.

  Jay caught his toe on something and went sprawling. Cursing, he threw out his hands in an attempt to cushion his fall, but his forehead hit the ground. He heard a cracking sound followed by sudden, intense darkness.

  Abandoned.

  As he got to his knees, he realized the fall had broken his headlamp. He pulled it off and fiddled with it but couldn’t get it to turn back on.

  Where was he? Did he belong here? More important, where was Winter?

  “Raven,” he whispered. “Please. I need you as I’ve never needed anything in my life.”