Windigo Thrall

by Cate Culpepper

  Becca shivered and pulled the collar of her jacket closer around her neck. “Do you believe in this curse too, Maggie?”

  “Of course not.” Maggie turned haughty. “Do I look like an idiot to you?”

  “Well, kind of, honey.” Becca didn’t miss a beat. “You just stood right in the path of a speeding inner tube. Just saying.”

  Pat winced, but Becca had hit the right note. Maggie smiled at her reluctantly, and her shoulders relaxed.

  “Okay, granted. I’m an idiot. I ran through a blizzard to warn you about a curse I think is bullshit. But someone had to, and no one else volunteered.”

  Grady unscrewed the top of a thermos and poured steaming coffee into their cups. “I guess I don’t get it yet, Maggie, any of it. Why Selly did what she did, why your family left so suddenly, why you’re worried about us.”

  “The smoke, Grady.” Elena dipped her head at Maggie. “I’m sorry. I don’t presume to know about the rituals your family practice. But don’t many Native American tribes smoke herbs as part of their ceremonies? As Selly did yesterday.”

  “I can’t be your token expert on Native American rituals.” Maggie glanced at Jo uneasily. “But yeah, Selly blew smoke in your faces yesterday. And yes, I think she believed she was getting rid of the curse. My family bought it too, so they ran for home the moment they thought they were free. The Abequas believe they aren’t cursed anymore, because the curse has been passed on to you.”

  “On to us? Into us?” Grady probed. “All of us?”

  “If my family could have foisted this nightmare onto just any white person, I promise you, we would have done it a century ago.” Maggie’s tone was dull. “Selly was looking for someone who was vulnerable. Undefended, I guess. Maybe she thought she found someone.”

  Silence fell over the snowy meadow, and they all looked at Jo. Jo, who had the most brilliant mind Pat had ever encountered. Who seemed to think nothing of the fact that her grandparents had ruined Pat’s family, but she put Pat through college and refused all thanks. Jo was her older sister in every way but blood. Pat loved and hated her, and she was scared for her now.

  Alone among them, Jo was eating steadily, without pleasure, but her chewing slowed as the silence continued. She seemed puzzled, and her gaze lingered longest on Becca’s face. “I’m sorry. Did I miss something?”

  “Jo, you felt ill yesterday, right after you left Selly’s room.” Elena leaned closer to Jo, as if she shared Pat’s protectiveness.

  “Yes. Briefly. The closeness of that tiny room got to me.” Jo tore off the corner of another sandwich with her fingers, her brow furrowed. “But I’ve been fine since. Entirely myself.”

  “Have you?” Becca rested her hand on Jo’s leg and searched her face. “Were you entirely yourself last night, honey?”

  Jo frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  Becca lowered her voice. “You’ve never been so rough with me before, Jo. It scared me a little.”

  Guilt flickered across Jo’s features as clearly as shadows across snow. She averted her eyes and tossed the remnants of her sandwich into the snow-filled trough. “Please. Can we return to some semblance of reality here? Are we thinking I’ve been possessed by a Windigo?”

  “We’re just trying to make sense of this, Jo.” Grady rubbed Elena’s hands in her own to warm them. “The power of suggestion in ritual can be very strong. I’m wondering, if Selly made you believe on some level, even unconsciously—”

  “I’m not sure how Selly could have convinced me of anything.” Jo was regaining her imperious air. “For one thing, I didn’t realize she was trying to breathe the curse of the Windigo into me, along with all that noxious smoke. I just thought she was an extraordinarily rude old woman. Secondly, had she been truly amoral and succeeded in infecting me, why am I feasting on all these fine cold cuts, instead of on one of you?” She looked at Grady pointedly. “Wasn’t Selly Abequa starving herself? Why would I be—”

  “Say what you want about my great-grandmother, all of you.” Maggie rose to her feet, her cheeks flushed. “She did what she thought she had to do to save our family. And that rude old woman, who had no morals, killed herself because she understood that someone who would do such a thing to another person has no right to live in this world. You people enjoy your nice lunch. I’ve warned you. I’ve told you all I know. Pat, I’ve earned a ride into Seattle. I’m sure there are shelters there.”

  Maggie turned and left them, moving back toward the house with the grace of a woman used to walking in deep snow. Pat stared after her, an amazing pang of loss singing through her heart.

  Elena started to get up, but Jo sighed harshly.

  “Ah, no. I’ve done it again.” Jo balled her fist on the lip of the trough. “Becca, I’m sorry. We can’t let her run off like this. Let me apologize. At least I’m getting lots of practice at that.”

  Jo unwound her long limbs and stepped around the trough to follow Maggie. Pat made herself study the breathtaking vista of the mountain so she wouldn’t have to watch Maggie getting smaller in the distance. As always, the beauty of a sunlit Rainier brought her comfort, but it was meager and fleeting this morning. Don’t go, sewa, she pleaded silently.

  In the quiet that followed, Grady lifted a container of coleslaw and set it before Elena. “Here. Try to eat something. You didn’t have much dinner last night.”

  Elena lifted a plastic fork without enthusiasm, and Pat saw a strange expression cross Becca’s face. She was looking at Grady almost wistfully, with an odd yearning.

  “To be honest, I’m not sure where we should go from here.” Grady slipped off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “Clearly, there’s nothing more we can do for the Abequa family. Without Selly, our study’s at a standstill. Jo and I will just have to write up what we have before we drive back tonight. I don’t want to see that young woman disappear into the shelters of Seattle, though. Pat, is there any possibility Maggie could stay here, just until she decides what she—”

  “Absolutely,” Pat said quickly. “I’m sure Jo would be fine with her staying at the cabin.”

  “What about everything Maggie just told us?” Elena was picking at the coleslaw. “What about Jo?”

  “It might be worth it to have Jo’s doctor in town check her out, Becca,” Grady said. “Are you worried?”

  “I’m always worried about Jo,” Becca said quietly. She started packing up their lunch. “But I guess I can’t go as far as worrying that she needs an exorcist.”

  “Becca.” Elena’s tone was even. “I warned you about all this. Have you forgotten so quickly? I tried to tell you Jo would be in danger this weekend.”

  Becca blinked. “But, honey, neither of us believes in demonic possession. We aren’t Catholic. Jo may not be cursed by an evil spirit, but there’s something definitely not right with—”

  “And what about you?” Elena snapped at Pat. She tossed down the container of salad as if at the end of her patience. “You’re not Catholic, Pat. You’re not a member of Maggie’s tribe. Are you as blind to what’s happening as the rest of these educated gringas?”

  “Hey, easy,” Grady murmured.

  “You’re supposed to protect people. That’s your job.” Elena searched Pat’s face. “Are you, too, going to deny the nature of our enemy until it’s too late to help our sister?”

  Pat closed her eyes unwillingly.

  “Elena, please, look at me.” Becca sounded contrite. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to discount your…um. Jesus. P-Pat? Is this normal up here?”

  Pat opened her eyes again and saw Becca gaping at the sky to the north. She started to turn, but Rainier caught her gaze and she froze in astonishment. A heavy blanket of darkness was creeping up the mountain, cutting off the sunlight bathing its foothills. Pat shot to her feet.

  “Wow.” Grady’s voice was faint. “There wasn’t anything in the forecast about another blizzard.”

  An immense black cloudbank had appeared on the horizon and it was moving fast.
Incredibly fast. Its deep shadow spread like liquid, swallowing the sunlight that hit the mountain at high noon.

  “No.” Pat couldn’t tear her gaze from the threatening sky. “That is not normal up here.”

  The temperature dropped ten degrees in seconds. It had been a sunny and quiet morning, but now the peace of the day vanished in the growing moan of the winds.

  Pat looked down at Elena. “Are we already too late?”

  Elena was pale and her voice trembled. “I don’t know, Pat.”

  A frigid gust of air slapped across Pat’s face, jarring her into action.

  “Come on.” She took Becca’s arm and pulled her to her feet. “Don’t stop to take anything. We have to get inside.”

  Chapter Eight

  The women roamed the lower level of the cabin like caged animals as the squall roared overhead. Maggie paced angrily, as incapable as any of them of settling into one of the deep sofas. Not with Pat still out there. She was going to have to commandeer a search party soon, if—

  The heavy front door swung open and they all whirled toward it.

  “How stupid are the Indians out here?” Maggie stalked to Pat, who was shaking off a heavy layer of snow in the entry. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to wander around outside in a gale force blizzard? I’ve known idiots like you who vanished in a heartbeat!”

  “Everything’s battened down out back.” Pat ignored Maggie, which pissed her off no end, and reported directly to Jo. “The windows are bolted.”

  “Are you all right?” Jo asked gruffly.

  “Christ, Jo, of course I’m all right. I grew up on this mountain.” Pat clenched the tip of her glove in her white teeth and yanked it off. “How about upstairs?”

  “Becca and I fastened every latch we could find up there.” Grady gave Pat’s shoulder a companionable slap. “Come and sit by the fire. I’m getting frostbite just looking at you.”

  Maggie’s pulse was slowly resuming a less painful cadence. Since everyone was finally sitting down, she deliberately chose an armchair across the wide room from Pat. She scowled to see she was still shaking with cold and drawing air in deep pants.

  “I grew up in this area too.” Grady tipped the heavy screen guarding the roaring fire to drop in another stick of kindling. “I never saw a storm like this, or even heard of one. Ouch.”

  “What?” Becca asked.

  “Just a splinter.” Grady frowned at the side of her hand. “Were you able to call out, Jo?”

  “No reception,” Jo muttered. “I’ll try again later. Elena, do you plan to join us?”

  Elena still moved restlessly around the perimeter of the large living room, her arms folded in a shawl. “I’m right here, Jo.”

  “Grady’s right. This isn’t normal.” Pat’s face was brooding as she held her hands near the flames. “That sky. This wind. I know every mood Rainier has, every season.” She looked at Maggie. “This is not natural.”

  “You may have to change some of the ways you see nature.” Maggie’s bones knew this. Her mind had tried to deny it all her life, was denying it still, but the tempest above them compelled her to tell the truth. “No, your mountain has never seen a storm like this. No one alive has.”

  “At least we’re well stocked with flashlights and candles if the power fails.” Grady, doctoral degree or not, was clueless, still focused on practical matters. Maggie kept hoping Elena would join their circle. She found her presence oddly comforting, and her eyes seemed more open than the others did.

  “I guess it’s safe to assume no one will be driving into Seattle in the immediate future.” Becca sounded cheerful, even relaxed, and Maggie sighed. She recognized a social worker in crisis control mode when she saw one; they constantly meddled with her family. She would be no help.

  “Which is fine, as far as I’m concerned,” Becca continued. “We can all…” Her voice faded as an ominous, growling thunder rolled over the house, but then she brightened again. “We can all have a slumber party right shucky-damn down here, I was going to say. If that goes on all night, I want you Amazons sleeping around me. Grady, please stop picking at that before we have to amputate.”

  Becca went over to sit next to Grady and cradled her palm in her hand. She tipped it toward the light of a small lamp. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, I can hardly see this tiny fleck. You were grimacing like you had a spike in your hand.”

  “That is a spike.” Grady frowned. “Ow.”

  “Hold still. This is why God invented fingernails.”

  “Jo, those two snowmobiles are in the back shed.” Apparently, Pat still thought they could just run away from this. “Once it calms down out there, I might be able to get them going.”

  “Why waste your time?” Jo looked away from Becca and Grady and stood abruptly. “Once the storm lets up, a plow will come through to clear the roads.”

  “All the way up here, off the main drag?” Grady nodded her thanks to Becca and shook out her hand. “No offense, Pat, but unless the Park Service is much faster than it used to be—”

  “I can pay enough to make it worth their while. We’ll be out of here tomorrow.” Jo headed toward the kitchen. “Did we leave all of the cold cuts out by the trough?”

  “I think there’s still…” Becca peered around at Jo. “Honey, surely you can’t be hungry. We just ate. Are you feeling all right?”

  “Can we declare a moratorium on asking me how I feel, Becca? I feel fine.” There was no malice in Jo’s tone. She seemed almost bored, but there was a rigid set to her shoulders that disturbed Maggie. “However, if we’re going to be here an extra night, and we have an extra guest to feed, perhaps it would be wise to check our provisions.” She didn’t look at any of them as she left the room.

  Becca eased back against the sofa cushions, her shadowed eyes on the flames. “I’d apologize for her, but I’m actually reassured. That was pretty vintage Jo. Maybe she really is fine.”

  Grady gave Becca a gentle tap under the chin with one finger, and Becca smiled at her warmly. Maggie looked from one to the other, and then at Pat, who was still glowering at the fire. She was surprised Pat wasn’t picking up on this. Did she really not notice the outright flirtation that had developed between these two? Jo had sure as hell noticed it, and she hadn’t looked pleased.

  Something quivered in the back of Maggie’s memory, something triggered by the odd frisson of romance she’d just witnessed. Selly had always warned them to watch each other. She said the Witiko would change the rest of the family as well, when it came to take Selly. It always changed the loved ones too, to enrage the cursed into killing them. Maggie blinked, willing Selly’s cracked voice out of her head.

  “How do you know when someone is having a heart attack?” Elena asked suddenly. She was standing in the far corner of the room, gazing out an ice-glazed window.

  “What’s that, honey?” Becca asked.

  “The first symptom of a heart attack. It happens every time.” Elena traced a form on the glass with the tip of her finger, but Maggie couldn’t see its shape. “Ay, that’s right. None of you gringas are certified nurses. You probably wouldn’t know this. The first symptom is not chest pains or breathlessness; it’s denial. The first sure sign that a person is having a heart attack is they insist they are not having a heart attack.”

  “Elena,” Grady said. She sounded almost testy. “Are you going somewhere with this?”

  “It’s true. Denial is the most reliable symptom. Look it up.” Elena shrugged. “But we all believe Jo when she tells us she is fine.”

  And with theatrical timing, the lights went out. Gloom swept through the large room, held at bay only by the crackling fire. They had been talking about this possibility for the last hour, but dismay gripped Maggie nonetheless, a childish fear of the dark.

  “Ah, peachy!” Becca still sounded relaxed as the wind punched at the house. “We have no power and Jo thinks she’s cooking tonight. It’s getting dire around here.”

  “What the hell?” Grady s
hook the flashlight she held and clicked it again. “I just checked all these lights, not half an hour ago. This can’t be out.”

  “Hey, Jo?” Becca called to the kitchen. “Any extra flashlights in there?”

  “One,” Jo’s reply drifted back. “I believe Grady was supposed to check it, but the batteries are dead.”

  “It’s two o’clock in the afternoon.” Pat said this reasonably, an adult pointing out the obvious to a pack of unruly children. The room quieted.

  Maggie turned automatically to the windows, disoriented. Pat was right. Not two hours had elapsed since their sunlit picnic in the meadow. It was full night outside.

  Pat stood up. “Grady, light the candles on the mantel, please. Becca, Maggie, find matches and light the candles on the tables around the room. Be sure they’re safely placed.”

  Her voice was music, a low melody of quiet authority. Pat was changing before her eyes, or becoming more what she had always been; Maggie didn’t know how else to explain it. She was becoming deeply familiar, and Maggie didn’t know how to explain that at all.

  “Sounds like a good plan.” Grady turned to the hearth, and instead of cowering together in the unnatural night, Pat had them sparking lights to push back its shadows.

  Maggie held a match to one of the candles and saw Pat cross to Elena. Elena still stood in the corner watching them, not offering to help. Pat spoke quietly to her, and Maggie had to shift subtly closer to eavesdrop.

  “Elena.” Pat held out her hand, and waited until Elena rested hers in it. “I want you to stop calling us gringas. The way you’re using the word now it’s an insult, a racial slur. It sets you apart from us, and we have to be together tonight. Do you agree?” Pat’s larger hand was gentle, holding Elena’s fingers. She was much taller and could have loomed over her, but she kept a respectful distance.