Darkness Past

by Sherryl Hancock

  “The people she works for?” Tina asked guilelessly.

  “Currently, the citizens of the state of California,” Kana replied, a quirk to her lips.

  “Currently?” Tina asked, surprised by the word.

  “Well,” Kana said, “I think Midnight could be the first female president of the United States if she put her mind to it.”

  “You think that much of her?”

  “I think more than that of her,” Kana replied.

  “So you two are close?”

  “Yes,” Kana said. “Midnight and I have worked together since I was eighteen years old. She’s one of the very best friends I have.”

  “Is that why you act as her bodyguard?”

  “No,” Kana said. “I act as her bodyguard because she felt I was one of the best people for the job. I protect her back, literally and figuratively.”

  Tina grinned.

  “If you could say one thing to young people who may be wrestling with the idea that they might be gay, what would you say?” Tina asked, looking at Palani.

  “I’d say that you should always follow your heart, no matter what,” Palani replied, her eyes on Kana, her smile soft.

  “Kana?” Tina queried.

  “I’d say that they shouldn’t let anyone tell them who they are,” Kana said simply.

  They were done with the story then. Kana was relieved. The photographer had been snapping shots throughout the interview, and Kana was ready to swat the woman.

  “I’d like to get together with the two of you tomorrow morning, if that’s possible,” the photographer said cautiously.

  She’d been warned by the editor of the magazine that under no circumstances was she to irritate Kana or Palani. This story was too important.

  Kana glanced at her watch. “It’s only eleven o’clock. Can’t we do this now?”

  The photographer looked nervous suddenly, but Palani stepped into the uncomfortable silence.

  “Kana, she has to have good lighting, plus they need to schedule hair and makeup people…” Her voice trailed off as Kana’s eyebrow went up. “I know, I know,” Palani said. “This isn’t stuff you’re used to, but you want our photos to look good, don’t you?”

  “Frankly, my dear…” Kana began, her tone sardonic.

  “Kana,” Palani beseeched softly, “I want everyone to see how beautiful you are. With the right lighting and camera angles—”

  “We can fake it,” Kana cut in, her look sour.

  “No,” Palani said. “With the right lighting and camera angles, the camera will capture who you are, inside and out.”

  “You truly have magnificent features,” the photographer put in, her dark eyes assessing Kana.

  Kana looked cynical.

  “I have photographed some of the most beautiful women in the world,” the photographer, Chez Grace, said, “and rarely do I meet someone with such raw beauty. Without all the need for makeup, hair, and the right clothes. Ms. Kana, you have a style that is part of your soul—you are truly beautiful. Please let me photograph you so the world can see this.”

  Kana looked back at the photographer, not sure what she actually wanted to believe. She knew this story was major to the magazine, but she imagined a world-famous photographer had to lie to get someone to take pictures. Glancing at Palani, she saw complete joy in her girlfriend’s eyes.

  Palani was thrilled beyond words that Chez, who was usually quite quiet and introspective, had seen fit to tell Kana all that she had. It was what Palani truly felt about Kana, and now someone else had told Kana the same thing. It substantiated it, and proved that it wasn’t just her love for Kana that made her believe this.

  Kana sighed. “I have to make sure Midnight has nothing going on in the morning, but what time are we talking?”

  “Say six a.m.?” the photographer said.

  Palani nodded, while Kana glowered.

  “Okay, maybe you’re used to this, but that early?” she asked, her tone indicating her shock at such an early start time.

  “Morning light is soft, it is perfect,” the photographer pronounced.

  Kana exhaled deeply. “Hell, Midnight won’t even be finished with her coffee by then,” she said with a grin.

  Palani smiled. Kana was already regaining her sense of humor—that was a good sign.

  The photo session went well. Kana surprised Palani by agreeing to some more artistic shots, including the shot Jerry had suggested. There had, of course, been the caveat that Kana and Palani have all final approval on what photos were actually published. It was understood that Kana would not allow anything to be put out to the public that might embarrass Midnight in any way. Also surprising was that the photographer readily agreed to their reviewing the photos. Palani tended to think it was because she had every confidence that the pictures would be incredible.

  Chapter 3

  Sierra was in Los Angeles, at the Attorney General’s legal offices. It was a meeting of the Deputy Attorneys General for the criminal division. She was anxious to get home to her son; it had been two days, and the meetings just seemed to drag and drag. Glancing at her watch as she listened to another long-winded attorney giving his summation of a recent case, Sierra prayed he’d be done soon. It was already four thirty. If she was lucky she could make the airport by six thirty and be home by eight that night. Unlike the rest of the deputies, she wasn’t staying the night and traveling back in the morning. She had responsibilities at home.

  The attorney wrapped up fifteen minutes later, and Sierra gave her last words on the meeting. Everyone left, talking about the new division head. Sierra Youngblood didn’t mince words; she was a lot like Midnight Chevalier. Many in the division felt that was why she’d received the position she had. Others had their own ideas but wouldn’t speak of them in public. It had already been seen that Midnight Chevalier didn’t appreciate anyone denigrating her decisions. Her rebuttals were always swift and cutting. No one wanted to be on the end of one of Midnight Chevalier’s diatribes.

  Leaving the meeting, Sierra hurried to her rental car parked across the street at one of the daily lots. Her bags were already in the trunk. All she needed to do was get through the LA traffic and get to the airport. Easier said than done, she thought as she got in the car, tossing her purse on the passenger seat. She was just turning the key in the ignition when she glanced through the windshield, catching a glimpse of red. Her eyes widened as she stared at the red rose that was under one of the windshield wipers. Glancing around frantically, she felt a chill go through her. It couldn’t be…

  She got out of the car. With shaking hands, she reached for the rose. There was a note tied around its stem. Her eyes darted around her surroundings, fearing he’d jump out of the darkness and attack her. Opening the note, she read it slowly.

  “We’ll be together soon,” it said in scrawled handwriting.

  “Oh God,” she whispered to herself, tossing the rose away from her and jumping into the car.

  Locking the doors, she started the engine with a roar and threw the car into reverse. Unfortunately, the cars were parked rather close together—she ran into a car behind her before she realized just how close. Terrified, she looked around, hoping someone would come to find out what had happened. Luck was with her—three people turned in her direction and started toward her. Two of them were deputies that worked for her.

  “Are you alright?” one woman asked, reaching for Sierra’s elbow.

  “Are you hurt?” the man asked.

  Sierra was already near hyperventilating from the fear, so she nodded.

  Within an hour, Sierra had told the police what had happened, including receiving the rose and who it was from. The police had called Kana Sorbinno at Sierra’s request.

  Kana was at the hospital an hour after she was called, thanks to Joe Sinclair’s personal jet.

  “But how?” Sierra asked, her eyes wide as Kana walked up.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Kana said, smiling. “Let’s get you home.” She
took Sierra’s elbow gently.

  Less than an hour after that, Sierra was on a small jet bound for Sacramento. Joe Sinclair had greeted her and explained that a friend had bought him the plane for his birthday. “So don’t be too impressed,” he said with a grin.

  Kana was sitting with her, but Sierra still hadn’t really recovered from the shock.

  “Look,” Kana was saying, “I think this is more serious than we originally thought. Sierra,” she said, putting her hand on the younger woman’s. “I think you need full-time security.”

  “Security?” Sierra asked, her tone disbelieving.

  “Yes,” Kana said. “Someone to travel with you, at least until we feel this guy is no longer a threat to you.”

  Sierra wasn’t sure how to take that. What did security mean? A person with her night and day? How would that work? Her mind was going in a million different directions. Then it came to a screeching halt as Kana mentioned a name.

  “I’ve only got one person I can use in Sacramento right now, but she’s good. Her name is Kashena Marshal.”

  “I’m sorry, who?” Sierra asked, sure she’d just heard wrong.

  “Kashena Marshal,” Kana repeated, wondering if Sierra was still in shock. “She’s very good. She’s been law enforcement for over six years, and most of that doing bodyguard work. Before that she was—”

  “A Marine,” Sierra said, staring straight ahead.

  “Yeah…” Kana said, looking at Sierra oddly. “You know her?”

  “I knew her a long time ago in college,” Sierra said, sounding somewhat haunted. “She rescued me once.”

  “Rescued?” Kana asked, curious now.

  Sierra nodded, but she was too caught up in memories to explain.

  Sierra had been a junior at the University of San Diego. She’d been young, idealistic, and full of hope. Her entire tribe had raised the money for her to go to this private college. She was going to be a tribal lawyer. Or she thought she was. Whatever she did, she knew she’d help her tribe get whatever they needed.

  In order to better understand the world’s version of Indian history, Sierra had taken an American Indian Studies course. She was sure it would be an interesting class, and it was. More so because of the blond Marine who joined the class two sessions into the course. In her Marine uniform of khaki, and her hair pulled back severely in a bun, Kashena Marshal exuded power and strength. She also displayed an air of dignity when she talked about “her people.”

  The professor of the class, of course, asked her how she’d come by her knowledge of Indians.

  “Simple,” Kashena answered, her voice strong and proud. “I am Indian. One half Ojibwa. I’ve spent a great deal of time on the reservation with my grandmother.”

  Sierra was taken aback. Kashena didn’t look Indian, with her blond hair and deep blue eyes. Once she knew, however, Sierra started to see signs of Indian blood in Kashena. Her bone structure, her skin that got darker as the long summer wore on. And something about her spoke volumes about the quiet dignity of a people whose time ended violently at the hands of white men.

  At one point in the class, Indian names were discussed, and Sierra’s own name was examined. The professor, who had a love/hate relationship with his extremely bright pupil Kashena, asked her what her Indian name meant.

  Kashena looked back at the man, then glanced at Sierra, her eyes connecting with the only other Indian in the room as she answered.

  “It means ‘She with the stars in her eyes.’”

  Sierra felt a connection then. Simply two spirits uniting over common ground, was how she explained it to herself. After class, Sierra felt the need to say something to the usually aloof, solitary Marine, so she stopped Kashena on her way out of the room, still fumbling for something to say.

  “What is your family name?” Sierra finally blurted out.

  Kashena looked back at the older girl, her deep blue eyes reflecting amusement at Sierra’s obvious nervousness.

  “Windwalker,” she said simply, starting to move past the smaller girl.

  “Wait!” Sierra exclaimed, before she even knew what she’d say next.

  Kashena turned to her, her stance for all intents and purposes a “parade rest,” like she’d just been given an order.

  “Yes, Ms. Youngblood?” she queried, her voice amused.

  This served to only further befuddle Sierra. “I, well, can we, I mean, can I invite you to coffee sometime?”

  “Coffee, ma’am?” Kashena asked, her voice holding an odd note.

  “Yes,” Sierra said. “You do drink coffee, don’t you?”

  “Quite often, ma’am, but I don’t really think that would be appropriate.”

  “Appropriate?” Sierra asked, perplexed.

  “For appearances, ma’am.”

  “Whose appearances?” Sierra asked, getting irritated that this was becoming so difficult.

  “Yours, ma’am, considering,” Kashena answered, her eyes glittering with subdued humor.

  “Considering what?” Sierra asked, already deciding she didn’t like this conversation.

  “Considering that you’re a young attractive female, and I’m gay, ma’am.”

  That answer stopped Sierra dead in her tracks. Gay? Why hadn’t she known that? She stared up at Kashena with such shock evident on her face that Kashena grinned. Before Sierra could recover and ask why that mattered, Kashena had turned on her heel and strode away.

  The next time the class met, Kashena acted like nothing had happened. Sierra had no idea what to say to her, so said nothing at all.

  A month went by, and Sierra did her best to forget about the conversation. Kashena didn’t speak to her, so Sierra did the same, assuming she’d in some way offended the other woman. She’d come to realize what Kashena had been saying that day. Being seen with a gay woman would make people question Sierra’s sexual preference. She’d been dating men since she’d gotten to school, since things had been so restricted on the reservation, especially with her parents being so prominent. She wasn’t gay, everyone knew that, but Kashena had been being cautious for her benefit. Or had she? Sierra wasn’t sure.

  After finals, Sierra and some friends went to a party at one of the fraternity houses off campus. That night she drank way more than she should have, and a guy that had been trying to get to her for months finally made his move. He took her up to his room in the fraternity house. They were making out when Sierra suddenly realized she was far too drunk to be doing this. She didn’t really like the guy; it was the alcohol that had made her say yes.

  “I can’t do this,” she said, pushing at him.

  “Sure you can, baby, sure you can,” the young black man said.

  “No,” she said, firmer this time. “I don’t want to do this.”

  “It’ll be good, I promise you it will.”

  “No!” she yelled, pushing at him again and starting to panic.

  He was over her, his weight holding her down. His hands were pulling at her clothes now—he wasn’t getting off her.

  “Stop!” she cried again. “I said no!”

  “What are you, a cocktease?” he sneered.

  “No, she’s a woman who just told you no, three times,” came a voice from behind them. “I know because I counted,” Kashena continued, her voice a slow drawl.

  Sierra didn’t think she’d ever been so relieved in her entire life. The man didn’t move.

  “Get off her, now,” Kashena said, walking into the room.

  “Who do you think you are?” the guy asked, glancing behind him, obviously not feeling too much of a threat.

  “I said,” Kashena began, putting her foot on the bed and grabbing a handful of his shirt and hair as she hauled him to his feet, “get off her.”

  Sierra shifted herself to the head of the bed, away from him. But his attention was on Kashena now. He whirled on her, his eyes blazing.

  “Who the fuck do you think you are, bitch?” he asked viciously. “All up in my business and shit. Get out of
here.”

  “Fine,” Kashena said, holding her hand out to Sierra.

  Sierra jumped off the bed and reached for Kashena’s hand.

  “I meant you get the fuck out,” the man said, reaching for Sierra as he did. “Shorty’s stayin’.”

  Kashena used Sierra’s hand to pull the smaller girl behind her and away from him.

  “No, Shorty is leaving with me,” Kashena said. “And if you’re smart you’ll back up off me.”

  “You think you can take me, dyke?” the man said, his stance hostile.

  Kashena’s eyes narrowed, her hand releasing Sierra’s. She balled it into a fist and slammed it into his jaw before he could even blink. He sunk to the floor, unconscious.

  “I think I just did,” Kashena said, her voice perfectly calm.

  Turning, Kashena took Sierra’s hand and led her out of the room, down the stairs, and out of the fraternity house before anyone could stop them. Kashena put Sierra in her car and drove her back to the college where the women’s dormitories were. Once there, she parked her car and opened the door for a now quiet Sierra. Kashena put her hand out to Sierra and noticed that the smaller girl’s hand was shaking as she reached out to take it.

  Leading Sierra up to the dorms, she glanced down at her. “What room?” she asked gently.

  “425,” Sierra said, her voice shaky.

  Kashena led her inside and to the elevators. A few minutes later they were in Sierra’s dormitory room. Kashena looked around. It was decent, definitely better than the barracks she stayed in on base at Camp Pendleton. There were two beds, which let Kashena know that Sierra had a roommate. All the more reason to get out of there fast.

  Glancing at Sierra, who now stood near the window looking out, she noticed the girl’s shoulders were shaking. It was Kashena’s natural reaction to comfort her. Stepping over to Sierra, Kashena put her hands on Sierra’s shoulders. Sierra immediately turned and leaned against Kashena, crying in quiet sobs. Putting her arms around the smaller girl’s shoulders, Kashena did her best to comfort her. Finally, when Sierra quieted, Kashena sat down on the bed, still holding her. She looked down at Sierra, tipping her face up to hers with a finger under her chin.