by S. C. King
Wood had tried to sleep alone in the bed on the other side of the village, but that had been impossible. The very thought of Chenoa had made him hot and troubled and after a few hours, he had done the only logical thing – he had come to her.
Much later, Chenoa felt a hand slip around her waist and heard the man behind mumbling, “I got you, baby!” She slowly started to remember the events from the previous night, and how she ended once again in Muraco’s bed. She froze, while a distinct thought passed through her mind: Muraco was still asleep and was unaware of what was going on, but Muraco’s hand felt really good.
Muraco made a sleepy noise, and ran his free hand up her side, making her whole body tremble and finally flipping the switch. Chenoa pulled away, turning her back to him. Shaking and still very hot, she was angry with herself for almost repeating the same mistake again and again. What was wrong with her?
Before she could even consider the answer to that question, Muraco pressed his body against her back, his hand reaching urgently towards her, and his erection hard and hot against her. Chenoa shoved his hand away, but he returned like a heat-seeking puppy. The elbow in his stomach, however, did the work.
“Ah, what was this for?” Muraco demanded, sitting up in the bed.
“A little personal space, please!” Chenoa answered between her teeth. The silence that followed was long and heavy in the moonlit room. “Okay!” was all the answer she got, and Chenoa’s expectation to hear him going back to sleep was not met, when he continued with, “I’m sorry, Chenoa!”
That’s new! She couldn’t even remember when the last time was he even bothered apologizing to her, and now with that voice! She heard him getting up and going into the bathroom. The running water almost masked the noises, but Chenoa still could hear him splashing his face. Then silence, and slow steps towards the door.
“Muraco?” the woman called softly.
“Go back to sleep, Chenoa.” Muraco’s voice sounded broken.
She kind of snorted and got out of bed herself. The room was lit only by the moon, but it was enough for her to see Muraco going towards the door.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Going to sleep,” he answered with a slight movement of his shoulders.
“Where?” she asked incredulously.
“Back in the guest house,” his voice low and somehow sarcastic. “Now go back to bed, and let me get some sleep myself.”
She shook her head and asked, “Muraco, this is crazy. Please, tell me what the problem is?”
The man laughed and glared at her. “You want to know what the problem here is?
Chenoa glared at him in return, the duh silent, but loud enough for him to hear.
“Ok, here it is,” with them everything has become a challenge, and Muraco was taking this situation as one, as well. “I swore to myself, I would cut my hand off, before ever touching you again, without your permission. As you know only too well yourself, I went overboard without even knowing I was doing it, so the only thing I can do now is make sure it never happens again. Okay? Is that enough of an answer for you?”
“Not so much,” she snapped back, and then she seemed to replay what he had just said. “Wait, you wanted to touch me, but we used to have sex almost every night a few years back, so what is the problem?”
He turned abruptly and almost fell in his haste to reach the door. “I’m going now.”
“You are such an idiot,” Chenoa said and stepped forward, successfully preventing him from leaving. The softness and heat she felt beneath her open palm when she touched him wasn’t something she was expecting, but the feeling was gone too quickly, with Muraco taking a step back. He stumbled back and nearly fell over his own feet. “What, what are you doing?”
“I am simply stopping you, you moron.” Chenoa cried and watched his face going through a number of expressions – surprise, exasperation, hope!?
“Chenoa, you can’t simply…”
And then she did something that surprised even her, Chenoa leaned forward and kissed Muraco on the mouth. The kiss was soft, just her lips touching his surprised ones. He pulled back, and perplexedly cleared his throat. Chenoa never gave him the chance to speak. “And now it is your turn!”
“My turn?” he asked, looking at her as if he has never seen her before.
“To do something,” she explained to him, as she would to a small child. “Do you want me to go and sleep on the sofa now?”
Muraco shook his head, the frustration visible in his eyes. “Do you want me gone?” His angry glare was more than enough of an answer. Her next question, however, was so unexpected that he almost lost his words. “You want me to do it again?”
“Do it again?”
“Okay,” she said, taking his answer as an invitation rather than the plea for understanding it was. This time, Chenoa opened his mouth with her lips and slid her tongue inside.
“Right, you made your point, okay?” Muraco said, and pushed her away, but Chenoa had other ideas, and shook her head with a barely there smile on her lips. “Apparently, not well enough.” And leaned in for another kiss. The moment her tongue stroked his again, Muraco gasped a little, and for a long, aching minute, he kissed her back. When he pulled back once more, Muraco asked pleadingly, “Chenoa, what is this?”
Trying for humorous, rather than serious, she said, “And you say I’m oblivious. Come on!” She pushed and tugged him back to the bed and sat down, placing her hand on his hip. He shoved it away with an annoyed gesture. “Seriously, what’s going on?”
Chenoa just smiled up at him and replaced her hand on his hip, tracing the waistband of his boxers with a delicate finger. The breath Muraco sucked in was unsteady, and his words showed how unsecure he felt. “If this is a game to you, it’s not funny at all.”
“I am not playing.” Her words were said with such conviction that even Muraco fell silent for a moment.
“Then why are you doing this?” Good question, but the answer wasn’t very clear even to her at this particular moment. There was clearly something that was scaring him a lot, but Chenoa still had to find out what. He had come to her bed last night, and they had gone to sleep together – no problems there. But, clearly Muraco had other ideas about the situation.
“Don’t you get it?” she demanded. “I want this. I want you. And if what you said before meant that you simply thought about me occasionally, out of idle curiosity, then you’d better say it right now.”
“Chenoa,” he said, “You know that it is not like this…”
“Then tell me how it is,” she insisted, tugging him to sit down on the bed beside her.
“I am here on official business…” Wood started carefully. “And you and your family are my primary suspects.”
“I know, but I also don’t care. What we do in our spare time is no one’s business.”
“If only things were so simple…”
It had always been very complicated between them, with both of them being so strong and knowing what they wanted from life. The physical attraction had won over the multiple cons in their relationship, but Wood still wasn’t happy. Neither of them was, for the matter.
Chapter 8
One look at Wood’s guilty expression, and Davis kicked him under the table. “What happened last night, Charlie?”
Wood shrugged and hunched his shoulders, fiddling with one corner of the label on his beer bottle. Awesome, now he had to explain his love life to his boss.
“Speak,” Davis demanded. “I mean it, Charlie. I am not in the mood for twenty questions.”
Wood huffed out a breath, and actually had the nerve to look annoyed at being forced to come clean. “I think I may have compromised the case by sleeping with one of the suspects. Maybe. Or, you know, not.” He stuck his jaw out, looking defeated. “Look, I know you don’t like to talk about this, I mean about personal stuff...”
Davis was instantly angry. “What happened, Charlie? We don’t have enough difficulties as it is? You
want more?”
Wood held up his hands in a placating gesture. “I’m not looking to stir anything up, believe me. Between Chenoa and me there always had been tension. I haven’t seen her for ages, so I went to her room... and things happened...”
Great, not only Wood did something stupid, but he wasn’t even sure how he felt about it. What does it mean to the case? Would they be able to control it? It shouldn’t have been any surprise to Davis, but he still was taken aback by Wood’s confession.
He looked over at Wood. His jaw was still clenched angrily, but Davis could read the anxiety in his shoulders. He’d peeled the entire label off his beer bottle in little soggy strips of paper that lay scattered around the table in front of him.
“You wanted this?” Davis asked. “It was you, who went to her, right?” He was mixing references, but he was mad, and it was hard to be angry and witty at the same time.
Davis shrugged one shoulder, and wouldn’t look at him. Things were becoming even worse. And just like that, the fight went out of Davis. “Alright, Wood. I think you made a big mistake, but… alright.”
That day, the investigation took them deep into the Alaskan forests and high up in the mountains. Davis met with more of Wood’s childhood friends, but no one made the same impression as Chenoa. They both avoided the subject of the last night, and tried hard to find some lead on the case.
Wood took him to different members of the clan, hoping to find someone with information about the missing artifacts. Both detectives played their roles well, and asked about the funeral and Chenoa’s family. Everybody insisted that they had no idea who might have committed the robbery, but the word was spreading, and Wood was sure that they were on the right track.
“They are going to have a potlatches ceremony in two days,” one of Wood’s oldest friends said. “I heard that they would hold it near the sacred spring.”
“Thank you, Willy, that will help us very much.”
Later that same day, when Davis and Wood were driving towards the place they spent the night, Wood explained to the detective the concept of the potlatches.
“In the past, our tribe gave potlatches to celebrate a child’s first hunt, `or to mark a death, or a marriage. The potlatches are actually a big feast during which your guests consume all of your food. During the ceremony the family histories and bloodlines are recited, as well as offerings are given to the ancestors.”
“And you still perform them regularly?”
“No, today very few of us perform those ancient ceremonies, but still...”
“Chenoa’s family is a family of the traditionalists, right?” Davis shook his head. “We should go to the ceremony.”
“Yes, but it would be difficult for you to come,” Wood warned him. “Foreigners are not welcome to those ceremonies.”
“But you would find a way to get me in?”
“Yes, I will,” Wood answered, but there was something that sounded like doubt in his voice.
The inner battle Wood was fighting against himself was getting harder to control, and the place and people were not making it easy for him to concentrate. Too many memories about the past were clouding his mind...
Chapter 9
The sun was already up, and the grass was twinkling with dew, as Wood finally realized what he was doing. He was going to break one of the most sacred rules of his people and bring a stranger to the ceremony... He had done it before, but now it was different. This time, the decision was only his, and the fear that he might have made a wrong one was not leaving him to rest.
They were moving slowly, like a snake, through the green meadows and green woods towards the sacred spring, hidden deep into the forest. They were getting close, but not ready. The spring was only a few minutes away, but Wood wasn’t ready to face what was waiting for him there. He tried to think about other things for a moment, but his mind was full of worry, and he wished to find an answer to all the questions that troubled him. They were moving easily down the other side of the hill, through the meadow, over another hill, and another meadow, skirting close to a strip of woods. Wood felt lured by the woods’ mysterious shadows, the twittering birds, and singing leaves. The idea of hiding amidst the trees brought some peace to his haggard mind.
For Wood, life wasn’t just about traditions, history, or the clan’s welfare. No, all he wanted was to find in life a sense that would make him happy. For years, he had tried to keep a distance between himself and the clan. Wood wanted to believe that there was something deeper in life for him to experience. His work was satisfying, but Wood still felt that he needed more.
The sun was high on the horizon when Wood once again became aware of the world around him. The detective was walking alongside him in silence, looking lost in thought.
“Thank you,” the young man said, while slowing down. “It is very kind of you to help me.”
“It’s not a problem, Charlie,” Davis uttered, and smiled at him. “Do you think that we would find something today?”
“Yes. Soon, we will be at the sacred place. Make sure to stay out of sight.”
“What would they do if they see me?” Davis asked him, wanting to know what to expect.
“I think nothing, but your presence could make them more careful.” Wood explained. “I have never been to a similar ceremony, you know. And I never expected to attend one, so far away from home.”
“Really,” Davis exclaimed, surprised. “Why is that?” he asked before thinking about what he was saying. “Sorry, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“It is not a problem,” the other man smiled at him. “When I was growing up, I lived in the big city and what is more, my family was not big on those types of things.”
“So it will be the first time for both of us,” Davis said sadly, as his practical mind and too slim odds would not let him believe that they would be able to solve this mystery case just by watching an ancient Indian ceremony.
“It looks that way,” Wood continued. “From my own personal experience, I can say that it will be more interesting than what some might think.”
For the first time in days, Wood felt calm enough to let his guard down. Davis was by his side, and he was sure that everything would go okay. The inner battle he was having had been exhausting, but he believed that once the case was solved, everything will go in its place.
His love for his people and his loyalty towards his job were in conflict right now. Inside of him, Wood could feel the inner battle, but he also knew that in some situations he wasn’t given a choice.
Chapter 10
At the beginning of twenty first century, Alaska’s forest looked like it had looked centuries before. Green, wild, lonely, and in a way scary to those who had never visited it. Most of the villages inside it were small, dusty, and composed of a handful of wooden buildings. The few and barely visible roads were its only connection to civilization, and the evil of the past had almost been forgotten by the local people. The rattle and bustling of the big city never disturbed the slow and simple life of the woods, as news arrived here well after it had become already old.
The people here were very similar to the environment around them. Nature was unforgiving – arid and hot during the summer, and cold and wet during the winter. The men of the Haida tribe were silent and strong, most of them old soldiers and hunters with multiple wounds to be proud of. The women, on the other hand, were forced to become stronger by the hard life they were living and the multiple responsibilities they had.
Wood and Davis arrived at the small clearing in the middle of the woods, where a small spring was coming amidst the stones, well after everybody else. A few men stood nearby and watched them walking into the clearing, but only one of them approached the newcomers. Wood watched the chief walk their way, dressed in dark brown pants and black coat, with a revolver hanging low on his right side and a hat in his hand. The man was around forty eight years old, with dark, almost black eyes and similar black hair. His face, although serious at the mo
ment, showed signs of strong character and quick intelligence.
“Hello, Muraco,” he said, while holding out his hand to greet him. “Welcome to the sacred stream. It has been a long time since you came this way.”
“Thank you,” Wood responded, and placed his hand in his. “I really forgot about my responsibilities.”
The summer had just dressed the trees and planes in green, reminding everyone that nature had awakened from the long winter sleep. Davis had seen the woods and their surroundings from the last hill they climbed, and had really enjoyed the untamed nature that was surrounding the place from everywhere.
“I am glad you came, detective,” the man looked Davis’ way. “I hope that your trip wasn’t too hard?”
“Thank you, it was actually very exciting.”
“I want to assure you that we will help you with everything we can to solve the case, but you need to leave us to finish the ceremony, before doing anything.” The chief spoke seriously, not looking ready to be contradicted.
“Okay,” Davis agreed easily. “I was already warned about this. Don’t worry, I will not disturb the ceremony.”
After that, Wood took Davis away from the center of the clearing to a place almost hidden by the trees. He had explained beforehand that it would be necessary to do so, in order not to disturb the mourners.
So Detective Davis sat under the trees, and prepared to watch the ceremony. He expected a lot from it, and wasn’t disappointed. More than fifty people took part in it, following the tradition and the ancient rules. The family of the deceased was seated in the middle of the clearing, near the stream, and accepted the guests with offers of food, drinks, and gifts. A few long speeches were delivered by the most prominent guests and at the end, the dead man’s biggest son joined them and spoke long and colorfully about his great father.
