Skin Walk (A Lacey Fitzpatrick and Sam Firecloud Mystery Book 2)

by Melissa Bowersock

  She gaped at the body, not trusting what her eyes were showing her. Just a moment ago, that had been a coyote. Now it was a human. Stuff like that happened in movies, not in real life. She couldn’t wrap her head around it.

  Instead, her cop mode kicked in. She examined the body with her eyes—cop’s eyes. This was no time to launch into psychology, spirituality or philosophy. Sylvia was dead.

  “That’s evidence of a heart attack,” Lacey said, pointing. “That bright flush of the face and neck.” As they watched, the flush dulled slightly, turning a mottled purple. It was disconcerting to see the color of the skin change so, while the body remained inert.

  “I’ve heard that when witches die from being called out, it’s usually by a heart attack,” Sam said. “That’s what the police report will say, at least.”

  They exchanged wary glances. “Should we call them?” she asked.

  He exhaled heavily. “Yeah. I’ll do it.”

  As he talked, Lacey was grateful it was him making the report. He gave the address, which she wouldn’t have known, and background information she wouldn’t have thought of.

  “She’s my cousin,” Sam said. “I’ve been here visiting from out of town, but I’m getting ready to leave, so I came to say goodbye. We found her lying in the yard. Looks like it might have been a massive heart attack.”

  Lacey wandered down the driveway. She’d never be perfectly comfortable with lying, but she understood the expediency of it. The police wouldn’t want to know about witchcraft, about spells and shapeshifters and curses. They wanted facts—undisputed physical facts, proven facts.

  Like she used to. She stopped and turned to look back at Sam. He was still on the phone, head down, the body before him on the ground. A dead witch, killed by a man simply because he spoke words.

  Definitely not in Kansas anymore, she thought.

  She walked slowly up the driveway. Just as she reached him, Sam closed his phone and slid it in his pocket.

  “They’re coming,” he said. He stooped down over the body and worked on something at Sylvia’s throat. As Lacey watched, he untied a rawhide thong and pulled it loose. With it came a coyote pelt that had lain along Sylvia’s back.

  “What’s that?” Lacey asked, trying not to gag at the limp, mangy pelt.

  “That’s how she changed. Remember I told you they need a piece of the animal to shapeshift? This was the tool that effected the change.” He balled it up and took it to the car, tossing it in the trunk. “We’ll burn it later. The police don’t need to see that.” He shoved the trunk lid back down. “By the way, can you find the shell casing of the shot you fired? They don’t need that, either. It’ll just muddy the water.”

  Lacey agreed. She hunted around and found the casing, then shoved it into her pocket.

  “I’m glad you missed,” Sam said. “If she died with a bullet wound, we’d have some real explaining to do.”

  Lacey snorted. “I couldn’t help but miss, the way you shoved me to the ground.” A light bulb went on. “Is that why you told me to wait? You didn’t want me to shoot her?”

  He nodded. “That, and I could tell she was already dying. We just had to hope her strength gave out before she reached us.”

  Lacey felt a chill up her spine. That was a pretty chancy bet, she thought. If he’d been wrong…

  “Why don’t you sit in the car?” he said. “It’ll be a bit before the police arrive. I need to make some calls. I, uh, need to let Mike know.”

  For the first time, Lacey realized the impact of what they’d done. She sat heavily in the car, her mind awhirl. Mike—his wife dead. The kids—motherless. She didn’t remember how many kids there were, or any names except Rachel—the twelve-year-old. Now Sylvia, reacting to her own childhood trauma, and trying to shield her daughter in her own delusional way, had instead brought about a different sort of trauma. But if Sam was right, Rachel had already lost her mother—to witchcraft. The Dark Side.

  By the time the tribal police showed up, Lacey didn’t have to fake her sorrow. She answered all their questions in a quiet voice, provided her ID and car registration with unsmiling cooperation. She corroborated Sam’s story without even a twinge of guilt. Yes, they’d been visiting. Yes, going back to L.A. tomorrow. No, not aware of any health issues of the deceased. She gave them her contact information in case they had further questions.

  By the time the medical examiner arrived and Sam and Lacey had been dismissed, she felt bone tired. He drove them back to Gabe’s in silence. Inside, she shed her jacket and headed up the hall.

  “Hey,” Sam called softly. “You okay?”

  She nodded. “I’m going back to bed.”

  “You don’t want anything to eat first?”

  “No. I just need sleep.” She closed herself in the bedroom and crawled into bed, sneakers and all. Only when she felt her gun poking her in the side did she pull it out of the holster and lay it on the floor.

  Then she slept.

  ~~~

  When she awoke, the room was dim. She’d completely crashed, not even moving for as many hours as she’d slept. Now it looked to be late afternoon. She crawled out of bed and stretched.

  Voices in the front room. She opened her door and padded down the hall.

  Gabe, Roxanne and Sam sat at the table, each with a cup of coffee. As soon as Lacey emerged from the hall and came to join them, Sam got up and went to the kitchen. When he returned, he set a bowl of soup and a cup of coffee in front of her. As he passed her to retake his seat, his arm trailed across her shoulders.

  She glanced at the soup and looked up at him. “Chicken noodle?”

  “Yeah.” His mouth curved up in a wry smile. “Didn’t think I was paying attention, did you?”

  She laughed softly and took a spoonful of the warm liquid. Comfort food indeed.

  “How are you?” Roxanne asked. She watched Lacey intently.

  “I’m okay,” she said. “I was just completely thrashed, had to get some sleep.” She glanced from Roxanne to Gabe. “How about you two?”

  Roxanne sighed. “We’re fine. It’s a shock, but…” She trailed off.

  “Yeah,” Lacey said. “I’m sorry.”

  “We’re going to take some dinner down to Mike and the kids in a bit,” Roxanne said. “You’re welcome to come.”

  Lacey thought about that. Facing those motherless children. The wifeless man. “I think not,” she said. “But thanks.”

  Roxanne nodded. “I understand.”

  “Anyway,” Sam said, “I’m going out to Grampa’s later. Need to tie up some loose ends out there. Can I take a couple of smudge sticks?”

  “Sure,” Gabe said quickly. “Help yourself.”

  Sam looked to Lacey. “Will you come with me?”

  She glanced up in surprise. “Absolutely.”

  “Good. Now finish your soup.”

  ~~~

  SEVENTEEN

  They took Roxanne’s truck. The sun had already set beyond the horizon in front of them, but an orange glow remained. A few clouds had begun to drift in from the south.

  “Driving back tomorrow, we should get home before the worst of the storm hits,” Sam said.

  “That’ll be good.” Lacey didn’t relish the idea of driving all day in rain.

  He topped the first rise and guided the truck down into the wash. Lacey braced an arm against the dash so she didn’t get tossed around too much.

  “I just want you to know,” he said, “this was not easy today. As much as I knew it had to be done, it still wasn’t easy.”

  She looked over at him, but he kept his eyes on the road—the trail. When he did finally hazard a glance her way, she smiled grimly. “I know. Believe me, I know. If you had proposed this to me a week ago, I would have said not just no but hell no. But today… Well, we both did something we didn’t want to do, but that needed to be done. We both chose that. And I’m okay with it.”

  Sam steered the truck across the wash and up the far side. Once he gained the
higher, level ground again, he took Lacey’s hand and squeezed it.

  “You’re the best,” he said.

  Lacey laughed. “We are,” she said, squeezing back. “We are.”

  When they pulled up to the hogan, Ben was just coming out through the low doorway. He raised a hand in greeting. The faded jeans and ragged flannel shirt were becoming very familiar to Lacey.

  She climbed out of the truck and went to hug him. She was amazed all over again at the frailty of him, but he hugged back with surprising strength. When Sam walked up, he stuck out a hand and they shook.

  Rather than go inside, Ben motioned them both to walk with him. He spoke to Sam in Navajo and Sam answered in kind. “I’m going to tell him in our language,” he said to Lacey.

  “Fine,” she nodded. “I’ll just listen.” She walked slightly behind them, the strange sounds drifting back to her on the breeze. She didn’t need to know the words to understand the exchange between the two men, the questions, the answers, the emotions. The connection.

  They stopped near the structure where Ben fired his pots. Lacey noticed that there was a low fire burning in the pit, but without the mound of wood around it. Ben motioned out toward the desert, speaking softly, and Sam nodded. Lacey saw the first star of evening shining in that general direction.

  They turned and started back toward the truck.

  “We’re going out to the death place,” Sam told her. “We’re going to do a purifying ceremony.”

  That made sense to Lacey. She climbed into the middle seat of the truck, giving Ben room beside her. They jounced along in silence until Ben signaled Sam to stop.

  It was full dark now. Lacey pulled her jacket closer around her. While she and Ben stood together, Sam lit one smudge stick and handed it to Ben. Then he lit the other one.

  “Will you stay with him?” he asked her.

  She put her arm through Ben’s. “Of course.”

  Sam moved off into the darkness. Lacey could barely make him out, his dark clothes rendering him almost invisible. She could see just the most subtle movement, the faint glow of the smudge stick. He walked, but whether in a pattern or haphazardly, she could not tell.

  Occasionally Ben held up his smudge stick and waved it at the stars. Lacey could hear him murmur softly.

  She let her mind drift. The pleasing scent of cedar enveloped her. Although the air was cold, she felt warm. She marveled at these two men, the intense medium and the wiry old man. The keepers of the old traditions. Living bridges between the past and the future. The heart of the Navajo people.

  Lost in her thoughts, she was startled when Sam materialized out of the dark. He walked toward them slowly, silently, head down. As he approached, he knocked the ember off the smudge stick. The blue smoke spiraled upward and away.

  Ben asked a quiet question and Sam answered. Then he turned to Lacey.

  “He’s gone,” he told her. “He’s gone on. We were able to help him let go.”

  Lacey burrowed deeper into her jacket as a chill ghosted up her spine. “Good,” she said. “I’m glad.” Then she sighed. “It’s strange, isn’t it, the mistakes people make, the events they start into motion? I’m sure neither of your cousins was evil. They both just… got lost somewhere along the way.” She looked up at the myriad stars now glittering in the sky, the Milky Way flung from horizon to horizon. “I hope they both find their balance now, their harmony. I hope their souls find peace.”

  “Me, too,” Sam said quietly.

  They drove back to the hogan in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Lacey certainly felt some peace within her, although she wasn’t quite sure if it was really that, or if she was just easing out of the tension that had held her for so long. Whichever it was, it felt comforting. She didn’t question it.

  Sam pulled the truck up beside the hogan and parked it. “We’ve got one more thing to do,” he said.

  They all climbed out of the truck, but rather than going into the hogan as Lacey expected, Ben walked out toward the open hut with the fire pit. He knelt down carefully and stirred up the fire, adding a few sticks and turning the embers so they flared up around the new fuel. In only a moment, he had a good blaze going, the flames claiming the wood greedily.

  Sam stepped forward and handed Ben a small bundle. Lacey didn’t wonder what it was; she knew. Ben took the pelt and unfurled it, saying a few words over it, holding it up to the sky, down to the ground. When the words ran out, he held the skin over the fire so the flames reached for it. He let the fire grab hold of it, and when it began to climb toward his hand, he let go. The pelt dropped into the pit and began to sizzle. Lacey wrinkled her nose at the disagreeable odor of burning hair.

  “And one more thing,” Sam said quietly. He pulled some folded papers from his pocket and handed them to his grandfather with a few words of explanation. The police report. Ben took the papers and carefully laid them atop the burning pelt. They caught quickly, flaring up blue amid the orange flames. The two artifacts burned brightly together, their charred remains disintegrating into each other. The beginning… and the end. The circle was complete. The flames brought everything together.

  The heat from the fire carried the smoke upward in a faint blue column. Lacey followed the trail of it with her eyes until it escaped through the hole in the roof and faded away on the night breeze. The witchcraft dissipating, the power dissolving. The pain and anger and revenge all leaking away. She sighed; yes, this was peace she was feeling. She knew it now. They had done what they set out to do.

  Sam spoke quietly, again as if he’d read her mind. “It’s over now. We can go. There’s no more to do here.”

  She moved over to Ben and hugged him fiercely. “Thank you,” she said, “for helping us with this. I—I’ve learned a lot. And I’m grateful to know you.”

  Ben smiled broadly, his leather face creased with it. “You come back again?”

  “Oh, yes,” Lacey said, laughing a little although she felt tears pricking behind her eyes. “Yes, I’ll come back again. You just try and stop me.”

  ~~~

  Look for

  Star Walk

  Book 3 of the

  Lacey Fitzpatrick and Sam Firecloud

  Mystery Series.

  Thank You for Reading

  I sincerely hope you enjoyed reading this book as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you did, I would greatly appreciate a short review on Amazon or your favorite book website. Reviews are crucial for any author, and even just a line or two can make a huge difference.

  --MJB

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Melissa Bowersock is an eclectic, award-winning author who writes in a variety of fiction and non-fiction genres: contemporary, western, action, romance, fantasy and spiritual, satire and biography. She lives in a small community in Northern Arizona with her husband and an Airedale terrier.

  For more information, visit

  http://www.newmoonrising.net

  or

  http://www.melissabowersock.com

  Find Me Online on Twitter and Facebook or visit my blog at:

  http://mjb-wordlovers.blogspot.com

  BOOKS BY MELISSA BOWERSOCK

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  In the realm of Zor, the tyrant Mal-Zor is maniacal in his quest for the mythical Blue Crystal of power sends generations of innocents to their deaths in the crystal mines. Jared, a young farmer from a small isolated village, has paid scant attention to the distant troubles until his younger siblings are taken as slaves. Jared vows to
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  When Jennifer and Robert Stinson buy a beautifully restored Victorian house, the last thing they expect is to share their home with a ghost―especially one with a penchant for setting fires. Unfortunately the ghostly arson only creates more tension in their already strained marriage. Jen launches her own investigation into the history of her house and discovers a surprising ally in a sympathetic fire captain. But can she unravel the mystery of the fires before they consume her home, her marriage … and her life?

  Finding Travis (Time Travel)

  No Time for Travis: Book 1

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  Being Travis (Time Travel)

  No Time for Travis: Book 2

  Two years ago, a weird trick of time sent Travis Merrill spiraling from 2016 to the year 1877. Committed now to his life in frontier Arizona, Travis is married with a child on the way and is homesteading a ranch. His knowledge of the future, however, keeps him at odds with his neighbors, his friends… and his wife. He finds it more and more difficult to protect his home without alienating his family, yet he can’t ignore what he knows is – and will be – true.