Shadow Walker

by Tina Proffitt

  Loosely flowing chestnut hair falling in wavy layers around her shoulders and face shimmered in the sunlight. The glimpses of her face caught from afar since she had been a student of his were all he got of her. But they were enough for him. Her pert little turned-up nose always in the air and clear, porcelain skin made him hungry. From the cut of her jeans, he could also tell she had a tight ass to match her attitude. What she was thinking, prancing around in those flimsy white t-shirts that were damn near see-through, he did not know. Even from here he could see everything God had given her, and it was plenty. He adjusted his stance to accommodate the tightening of his jeans. It had been a long time since he had an n'ya in his bed. Too long.

  The scowl on her face as she watched him told him everything he needed to know about her. Beautiful, oblivious to what she did to men, making her either a total snob or an ignorant virgin. Neither of which he had any use for. He cursed as he turned and headed for the barn since it fell to him, the landscape manager, to clean up after the debacle. Once he got his hands on the punk causing all the trouble, he would make sure he never even thought about pulling another stunt like the one last night. He reached for his shovel to bury another mauled cat. That made four this week.

  On Monday, Bethanie returned to her empty dorm room late in the afternoon, dusty, dirty, and badly in need of a shower. She swallowed down the beginnings of panic that rose suddenly in her chest whenever she found herself alone. There had been a time in her life when she had not feared being alone, not feared her fear, but not anymore.

  She opened the chest of drawers on her half of the room, which was neat as a pin the way she always left it. Stepping over her roommate's dirty laundry strewn across the floor, she made her way into the bathroom, glancing at the wall above her bed that held a small ivory cross with raised vines of the same shade intertwining it, which was all the adornment on her side of the room. Her roommates half of the room however was a completely different story. Maggie had opened Bethanie's eyes to the world outside. There were movie posters on the wall from movies Bethanie had never seen, posters of bands Bethanie had never heard of, and books on the shelves Bethanie had never read. One thing stymied her however; she just did not get the obsession with vampires.

  The only thing the two roommates had in common was their determination to graduate and to be independent, not needing anyone to take care of them. Maggie always said she did not plan to marry a man just so he could support her, that was why she had stuck it out in college all the times when she had wanted to quit. Bethanie understood that. When she married, it would be for love and love alone. She wanted nothing to do with the kind of life her mother had lived, marrying out of a sense of duty or obligation.

  That life had not turned out to be the savior her mother might have hoped for. Before her mother had been sentenced to life in prison for murdering her husband, she had been a dutiful wife, mother of six, and the most invisible person in any crowd. Her face had always been clear of makeup, her hair always pulled tightly back into a bun, and no jewelry had ever adorned her, not even a wedding band. Not that it would have mattered; she had never left the house anyway. Her entire life had been taking care of Bethanie's father and his house.

  Bethanie could still remember so clearly her mother calling her father, husband. As if it that had been his name. Strange that she remembered that one tiny detail of her life, but could not remember something as significant as the night her father was killed. If and when Bethanie ever considered marrying, it would have to be to a special kind of man, the kind who did not have expectations of her. If she were going to be happy in a relationship with another person, she would have to maintain her autonomy she had earned over the past three years. She would have her own bank account with the money she earned from her work. Not to mention that he would have to be a good cook because she was not.

  As she stepped into the shower, she wondered silently to herself why she should be spending so much time lately considering such things that would never happen. Mentally shrugging, she chalked it up to being only one semester away from graduating and the anxiety she felt at the prospect of being totally on her own.

  In the past three years, she had spent time only on Ferra's campus. Not even a visit home to West Virginia to see her brothers and sisters. And it was just as well. Her oldest brother, the preacher, blamed her for what happened to their mother, and she suspected, always would. The two of them just seemed to have been born enemies. She had not had the time, she told herself, to visit her mother either, even though she knew that was a lie. The women's prison was nearby her childhood home where her siblings still resided, but her fear kept her from going there. The twelve-hour bus ride that brought her to Ferra had been her only trip. She spent every weekend, every holiday, even every summer on Ferra College's campus, which had to account for her readiness to taste real freedom for the first time in her life. But there was still that nagging fear that reared its ugly head to thwart her happiness.

  Stepping from the shower she listened to the last drips of water spill from the faucet as it eventually closed, and her ears strained to hear the milling around of students outside. But there was none. Only silence enveloped her. That sound sent fear into her heart like nothing else. She took several shaky breaths to calm her nerves as she slipped into her bathrobe. Her stomach growled. She could see from her window that the sun was setting which explained why she was so hungry. She had not eaten since that morning when she had set out to be with her owls.

  In bare feet and a bathrobe, she padded into the efficiency kitchen, searching her cabinet for dinner. Passing over a can of beans, she was not in the mood for beans and rice tonight, she reached for her favorite meal, chicken noodle soup from a can and peanut butter and grape jelly sandwich on white bread. Cheap, but every penny she earned working on campus as part of the summer maintenance crew, went to pay for her necessities, including enough quarters to do her laundry once a week.

  She had just finished her last bite when she heard screaming coming from outside in the quad. It sounded like someone was in pain. And when she pushed the window shade aside, she saw people scattering, running across the quad in different directions headed for the surrounding dormitories. Suddenly, fear for her owls struck her heart and without a thought to how she was dressed, she ran out the door. Dripping wet from her recent shower, no shoes on her feet, she ran down the single flight of stairs and pushed open the double doors leading outside, running as fast as she could in the direction her fellow students had just come from.

  Chapter 2

  It was getting dark as Shadow placed the heavy bag of Fescue seed to the shelf. The barn was full of ornamental grass seeds, feed seeds, and legumes ready to be partnered in the field next season. Another experiment, thanks to the owl girl, he thought. The idea of having to conduct another field expert this fall semester chafed him. But such was the life of a teacher, always adapting to new ways of doing things, to see if things could be done better than our forefathers. Reinventing the wheel, as far as he was concerned. Shadow knew how to grass feed a herd, and local grasses had always been enough for cattle to grow up big and strong. It was more work for the farmer, but it was worth it in the long run, producing healthier, stronger cattle. The old method his father had taught him did not hurt the pocketbook either as much as costly grain feeding did.

  Caring for animals meant caring for the earth. What man does to the earth, he does to himself, his father would say. And no one knew that better than Shadow. That was one thing he liked about the owl girl's work. With the help of her owls, and thanks to their voracious appetites, it was becoming less and less necessary for pesticides to be sprayed on the fields. Shadow had dedicated the last fifteen years of his life to the land, and the university paid him well for his stewardship, a unique position for a farmer like himself. And he wanted to see the land prosper. Just as his mother had always promised him, his education would pay off one day, it had. He was getting paid to do what his father had done for free. But
it also meant that he was not just providing results for himself, he had to produce results that would impress a board of directors that controlled the purse strings for the college. But he would not have it any other way. The way he figured it, he had the best of both worlds. He got to be a farmer everyday. He got the satisfaction of watching his fields grow and animals feed off them. And at the end of the day, someone else, the college, got to sit down and pay the bills. That was freedom in its most basic sense.

  Suddenly, he felt more than heard the shouts that started at the top of the hill beyond the horse barns. They grew ever more faint as the seconds ticked by, telling him that whoever it was, was headed for the dormitories area of campus. And that anyone shouting the way they were must be heading away from trouble not towards it. At best, it was more freshmen hijinks, and at worst, it was another dead animal. Hanging his leather work gloves on the peg, he headed outside.

  From the top of the hill, he could see the n'ya running. She was dressed in what appeared to be a long t-shirt and nothing else. He swore. What was left of sunset lit her from behind, highlighting the dark red of her hair, which at the moment was still damp. And if he did not know better, he would say she was running barefoot across gravel paths and ditches that intersected the grass fields headed straight for her owl nesting boxes.

  At the same moment he was ready to call out to her to let her know that her owls were safe. No one had been anywhere near her owls since he had left them not an hour ago. But at that moment, a figure appeared behind her. He could not make out from the distance who or what it was, but it had the figure of an animal, and it appeared to be a coyote, standing on its hind legs.

  He watched, running now, dread filling him with every heartbeat as the distance closed between his owl girl and the unknown figure. He was still a good acre away from her and, for lack of a better name, the skinwalker was rapidly approaching her from an intersecting angle. He shouted her name, waving his arms to attempt to get her attention, but it was no use. She was too far away to hear him or to take notice of him, her attention was so focused upon her owls. He decided to change tack and head straight for the skinwalker, or as he now thought of him, dead-man.

  Although quickly closing in on them, he was forced to watch helplessly as the figure reached her before he could intercept him.

  Bethanie spun around and looked into cold brown eyes a split second before the creature's hand closed around her arm. She let out a horrified scream as the skinwalker's momentum propelled them both off balance and they landed on the ground in a tangled heap.

  Shadow reached them as the skinwalker still held Bethanie in his grasp and grabbed for him. But the beast proved too wily for Shadow's large frame to hold onto. The skinwalker ducked and ran, scrambling away for the cover of the woods. But the steep slope of the land had him immediately sliding downwards towards the creek at the bottom of the valley and out of sight. He disappeared somewhere beneath the cover of trees on the other side.

  After losing sight of the creature, Shadow immediately turned his attention to the owl girl. Surprise compelled him to grab hold of her waist, preventing her from moving when she tried to sit up. “Don't move,” he ordered. Blood covered her from her wrist where the skinwalker had grabbed her and forearm all the way up to the delicate sleeve of her nightgown of which he could see straight through to her delicate secrets. The feel of her small waist beneath his hand made it hard to keep his mind focused on the present moment.

  She noticed his gaze traveling the length of her body, and horrified, she twisted free of his grip still on her waist.

  “Ms. Hutchinson,” he said, regaining his senses. He cleared his throat, addressing her in the same manner he had addressed her two years ago when she had been a student in his horticulture class, “are you hurt?” Concern for her was evident in his voice. He had been unable to prevent what had just taken place and that frightened him. He was a teacher and she a student. That meant that he was in a large degree responsible for her.

  “I'm fine.” Her voice sounded clipped from the fear coursing through her. To prevent herself from becoming overwhelmed by what had just transpired, her mind pinpointed its powers of concentration, focusing on the impropriety of him touching her the way he had. She sat up, letting out a frustrated hiss, staring down at the blood on her arm. She knew it did not belong to her, but seeing it there did not make sense to her mind.

  “It must have been on his hands,” Shadow said, reading the direction of her thoughts.

  “It has hands? Animals don't have hands. Unless it was a raccoon. But that certainly was no raccoon,” she said, standing up and brushing grass and dirt from her legs and nightgown.

  Shadow blinked, taken aback by such a matter of fact statement from a woman who had just been attacked. “Nope,” he said, chuckling at the situation that would have sent most women into hysterics that could have only been subdued with too much alcohol than was good for them. “I'd say it wasn't a coon. It wasn't any kind of animal.” He cursed as recent events replayed in his mind, realization striking him that anyone who would do something like this was not a stable human being.

  “What do you mean? It had to be an animal. It was covered in fur.”

  “You get a good look at him?”

  She laughed self- deprecatingly. “I was too busy screaming,” she said, blushing at her own silly behavior. “But it had teeth. Like a dog.”

  “Your mind was playing tricks on you, dear.” Shadow squinted in the direction of the ravine where the creature had escaped, shaking his head. “Let's get you cleaned up and back to your dorm. There's no telling what that fool is gonna do next,” he said, a boyish grin spread across his face.

  Bethanie gasped, dodging his arm as he reached for hers. “I'm perfectly fine to walk, thanks,” she said coldly. Her voice sounded short to her own ears. And she knew she was being rude to him, but there was something about him that set her nerves on end. She just was not comfortable around him.

  His mouth flattened. “You want to be seen walking around campus with blood all over you?” Shadow asked in a frustrated voice.

  She looked down at her arm again as if seeing it for the first time and looked back up at Shadow who stood over her, watching her from above, a good foot and a half taller than her five foot four frame. She shook her head slowly in answer to his question. No, the last thing she wanted was to draw any attention to herself. She did not have many friends and that was intentional. No one on campus knew of her past, and she wanted it to stay that way. It would be a terrible irony if anyone were to see her with blood on her hands. She already felt as though her father's blood were on her hands. Not literally of course, but she felt the blame just the same. The court-appointed psychiatrist had said that she was blocking out the memories of that night to protect herself. That her conscious mind was trying to protect her by burying the memories of what she had witnessed first hand. Because her religion forbade hypnosis as a solution to her amnesia, she testified based on what she could remember. Unfortunately, that had been damning to her mother. The few memories she did have of that night were of being alone in her room and her mother being very angry.

  “Let's go. It's getting dark,” he said annoyed at the reluctance he could feel coming off of her. It was clear to him that she wanted to be as far away from him as possible. He did not understand where it came from, and he hated the way it made him feel... unwanted. “I've got a bucket of water in the barn. You can wash up there.”

  “No. I still have to check on my owls.” She looked up at him pleadingly. “I won't be able sleep if I don't.” She would barely be able to sleep even if she did, but he did not need to know that.

  Shadow paused a moment, noting the set of her jaw and the determination of her stance. He had seen that posture many times before when he had looked in the mirror. Defiance. He understood that much. “Lead the way,” he drawled mockingly, holding out an arm in the direction of her owl's nesting box.

  By the time they reached the top of the n
esting pole, Bethanie's mood had completely shifted from afraid for the safety of her owls to giddy at the prospect of finding the eggs hatched. She peered inside the box and let out a delighted squeal. “Two of Carol's six eggs have hatched,” she declared proudly, glancing quickly back at Shadow and smiling, “the rest will hatch as the days pass, one at a time.”

  The pleasure Shadow took from that one little smile from her took him completely by surprise. Besides, his view from the bottom of the pole was a pleasant one, a spectacular view of her perfect, round bottom.

  “And the rest of their brothers and sisters won't be far behind them,” Bethanie continued as if talking to a friend. All the fear that had just had a hold of her was forgotten in that moment.

  Shadow felt stupid for asking, but as a farmer, his knowledge of these raptors was pretty limited. “How can you tell the female from the male?”

  “That's easy. Because she's young the differences are still apparent. As she gets older though, the differences become less, and she'll begin to look like her husband. Mike's the light brown one. All males are that color with yellow and light gray. Carol's the one with rich brown and darker gray feathers. And of course, all barn owls are white on their undersides. That's what gives them that spooky, ghost-like image you see them hunting at night.” She rubbed the head of the female with her finger. “Carol here has something special though. You see this series of black spots on her chest.” She pointed. “They're in the shape of a heart.” Bethanie smiled at the unique markings.

  Shadow had never had the privilege of looking at a brood up close. And he too put aside his concern for Bethanie's safety for a moment to enjoy them. When he reached the top of the pole, his chest pressing against the Bethanie's slight figure, he was struck by the frailty of the precious life there in the nest and the awesomeness of such majestic creatures. The chicks totally dependent on their parents for their food and protection huddled close to their parents for the sake of their lives.