Thunder Moon

by Lori Handeland

  I also wanted to change my clothes, which reeked of the fire, so I stripped and donned one of the extra uniforms in the closet, exchanging my sandals for sneakers, then made my way to the computer and typed in buzzard feathers.

  I got back a whole lot of ways to use them for decorating or arts and crafts. Did people have lives? Who spent their time thinking up this stuff? Psychotic Martha Stewart clones?

  Native American legends, buzzard feathers, I pecked out next. That got me a hit right away.

  The Cherokees believed that by placing a buzzard feather at the entrance of any dwelling, a witch would be unable to cross the threshold.

  “Oookay.”

  I’d overheard Ian say that no one had reacted to the feather, which led me to believe he was looking for a witch, and I wasn’t the only one he was looking at.

  My heart pounded in my throat, not with fear so much as excitement. I’d been at a dead end. I’d had nowhere to turn for answers, and suddenly answers had fallen into my lap. I just didn’t know the question.

  “Kalanu Ahyeli’-ski,” I repeated as I typed, then hit enter with a flourish.

  Of all the Cherokee witches the most feared is the Kalanu Ahyeli’-ski or the Raven Mocker.

  “That could explain the sudden increase in ravens. Maybe.”

  The Raven Mocker robs the dying of life. Flying through the night with arms outstretched, trailing sparks, the witch announces its approach with a horrible shriek. The Raven Mocker eats the victim’s heart, stealing whatever days the person has left on the earth. Because the Raven Mocker is a witch, it is able to remove the hearts without leaving a scar.

  That took care of our theory of alien invasion. I can’t say I was sorry to see it go.

  Now I knew what we were dealing with, kind of. I had no idea what this thing looked like, how it worked, a way to kill it, but I had a pretty good idea who did.

  * * *

  Since the door was still partway open, I walked right into the clinic. Out of curiosity I glanced up. A buzzard feather had been tacked to the wall directly over the entrance at both the back door and the front. Obviously not taking any chances, Ian had placed one over each window as well.

  I’d already broken in, so I took off my shoes, snuck up the stairs, and headed for the only room where a light remained burning. No one was there.

  Desk, books, papers—his office, not his bedroom. He’d probably gone to bed and forgotten to shut off the light. Before I woke him up and questioned him mercilessly, I’d take a peek. I wasn’t worried any longer about a warrant. No court in the land was going to believe any of this anyway.

  Medical texts. Medical journals. Tiny bottles of oil. Colored liquids. Bowls of herbs. A bag of what appeared to be grass. I opened it and took a whiff, determining it was the kind that cows ate, before setting it down.

  I made my way to the desk where several loose sheets of paper lay on the blotter. The words were in Cherokee. I couldn’t read them, but there was something familiar about them.

  I threw a quick glance over my shoulder; I’m not sure why. The place was as quiet now as it had been when I’d walked in.

  Ian stood right behind me.

  I let out a pathetic squeak and stepped back, stumbling over a stack of books next to the desk.

  He reached out, quick as a snake, and snatched me by the forearms, hauling me against him. His eyes caught the golden glow of the lamp, flickering topaz, even as the pupils dilated so large they nearly obscured the lighter shade of his irises.

  “What are you doing here?”

  I opened my mouth to answer, or maybe to question, and he kissed me. That seemed to be his prelude to everything.

  I tasted desperation on his tongue, lust, desire, need, on his lips. My body responded; I couldn’t make it stop. I felt all those things, too, even though my mind knew better. But right now my mind seemed to have gone on vacation. Something nagged at the corner, but I couldn’t quite grasp it with him kissing me like this. Then he was touching me, too, and I couldn’t do anything but touch him back.

  My thighs hit the edge of the desk, and I sat abruptly. He stepped between my legs, nudging them farther apart. Looming over me, his shadow blotted out the light. His hair sifted over my face, creating a curtain between us and the world.

  “Grace,” he whispered, as his lips trailed across my jaw, down my neck. My head fell back; to keep my balance I wrapped my legs around his, hooking my ankles.

  His fingers popped the buttons on my uniform seconds ahead of his mouth. He traced his tongue across my collarbone, then dipped it into the valley between my breasts and up and over the swell. One tug and he bared me to the night air, then his mouth closed over a peak, and he suckled.

  Somehow my shirt came off, my bra, too. I was naked from the waist up, clothed from the waist down, but wrapped around him, center to center; his erection rode me right where I needed it to. My gun belt thwapped against the desk in an enticing rhythm, which only added fuel to the arousal.

  He reached behind me, and flung the papers and pencils and books off the desk in a single sweep of his arm. For an instant I was stunned and excited; then I saw again those papers, the writing, and I remembered where I’d seen it before.

  I shoved him away and drew my weapon.

  His gaze shifted from my bare breasts to the Glock. “You have an odd idea of foreplay.”

  “Then you’re really not going to like the climax.” I lowered the barrel until it was pointed at his crotch.

  He took a step backward.

  “Don’t move.” I got off the desk, ignoring the sudden chill as the air drifted over my skin. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of covering myself. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before.

  Keeping my eyes and my gun on him, I retrieved one of the papers he’d swept so grandly to the floor. I would have known sooner if I hadn’t believed they’d been burnt to cinders in the fire at my house earlier that night.

  I held up a paper covered in my great-grandmother’s handwriting. “Who in hell are you?”

  Chapter 26

  “You know who I am.”

  “I may know your name but not who you are. Not why you’re really here.” I set the paper on the desk, then leaned my hip against it. “Tell me more about the Raven Mocker.”

  “I should have known you’d figure it out.”

  I didn’t bother to tell him I’d only figured it out because I’d been eavesdropping.

  “You left a buzzard feather at my house?”

  He lifted one shoulder, lowered it.

  “You thought I was a witch?”

  “Someone is.”

  “Why me?”

  “You were out in the forest the night of the Thunder Moon.”

  “So were you.”

  “I was looking for the Raven Mocker, and there you were.”

  “You knew it was here?”

  “I knew it was coming.”

  “How?”

  He tilted his head. “You wanna stow the gun, maybe put on a shirt so I can think straight?”

  “No.”

  “I won’t hurt you. If I planned to, I could have a hundred times already.”

  “Well, that makes me all warm and fuzzy,” I muttered, my stomach rolling.

  I’d believed he wanted me for me, just as I’d wanted him. But like so many others, he’d wanted something from me—to get close so he could see if I was evil and then steal my great-grandmother’s medicine.

  I stared at him, uncertain what to do. Scream, shout, shoot? None was a good idea, so I put up my gun and reached for my shirt, keeping my eye on him the whole time.

  “Talk,” I ordered as I buttoned the last button.

  “I’m a member of an ancient society.”

  “I am going to kick Elise Hanover’s ass.”

  “You know about the Jäger-Suchers?”

  “They were here last summer.”

  “Werewolf troubles?”

  “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

>   “I hadn’t heard. I run into a Jäger-Sucher here and there on various assignments. It’s hard not to since we’re both hunting supernatural creatures, but I’m a member of the Nighthawk Keetoowahs. You’ve heard of them?”

  I’d learned about the Keetoowahs in school. They’d been formed in the eighteenth century for the express purpose of keeping Cherokee history and language alive.

  “You’re a member of a Cherokee society devoted to preserving the traditional ways,” I said. “I don’t see what that has to do with this.”

  “That’s what the Nighthawks are on the outside, but on the inside we’re sworn to track down and eliminate evil supernatural entities, like the Raven Mocker.”

  “If you know about the Jäger-Suchers, then it would follow that they know about you.” Especially since they seemed to know about everything.

  “Sometimes we make use of the others’ resources.”

  I wondered momentarily if Edward had used his influence to get Walker’s medical license approved so fast or if perhaps the Nighthawks had their own Edward on staff.

  “I asked Hanover about you, and she said she’d never heard of you.”

  “She lies.”

  “No shit.”

  “You don’t like her?” he asked.

  “We rub each other the wrong way.”

  “Wolf and panther.” Ian was suddenly right next to me. “I can understand why you would.”

  “Back up.” I shoved at his chest. I couldn’t think when he was so close. He smelled too good and his body lined up with mine just right. “I’m not a panther.”

  “You are.” He drew one finger between my breasts. “Here. Just like I’m an eagle.” He pointed at himself. “In my heart.”

  “Speaking of hearts, I have a sudden rash of missing ones, which I hear is the fault of the Raven Mocker.”

  “It is.”

  “But no one’s seen this thing.”

  “It’s invisible.”

  As I’d suspected.

  “Though not all the time. It’s a person and a raven. Witch and shape-shifter. The Raven Mocker enters the rooms of the dying by becoming invisible.”

  “The shrieking?”

  “Frightens the victim to death.”

  I thought of the terror-stricken faces of the dead, and I wanted the witch to die as frightened as all of its victims had been.

  A little vindictive? Sue me.

  “How do we find it?” I asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “I thought finding these things was what you did.”

  “If it was that simple, everyone would do it.”

  I was in no mood for jokes. “Why isn’t it simple?”

  “Do you know what a witch looks like?”

  “Bad teeth, warts, long, gray scraggly hair?”

  “Could be. Could also be you, me,” he spread his arms wide, “everybody.”

  “How do we figure out who it is before someone else dies?”

  He indicated the desk. “That’s why I’m translating your great-grandmother’s papers.”

  “I thought those were cures.”

  “Cures can have more than one meaning—medicinal cures for human ailments and supernatural cures for monstrous entities. Most of the papers of great medicine men and women also contain legends that were passed down through the generations. Stories of beings from ancient times—both good and bad.”

  “Why do you think my great-grandmother’s papers contain information about the Raven Mocker?” I paused. “You were already here when the storm arrived on the night of the Thunder Moon. You said you knew the witch was coming, but how?”

  “I’m A ni wo di.”

  “A paint clan medicine man. I know.”

  “Paint clan are more than medicine men; some of us are sorcerers.”

  I waited to see if he’d laugh, but he didn’t. “You’ve been reading way too much Harry Potter.”

  “While I do enjoy Harry and clan, I was a sorcerer long before he showed up. Besides, he’s a wizard.”

  “Wizard, witch.” I threw up my hands. “What’s the difference?”

  “I’ve never met a wizard, so I’m inclined to believe they don’t exist, but I could be wrong. A witch can be either good or bad, depending on the witch. And a sorcerer, in the world of the Nighthawks, is a medicine man with a little something extra. Magic.”

  “Right,” I said. “You bet.”

  “You don’t believe me?”

  I’d seen magic, both as a child and as an adult. I’d shoved aside the memories of my great-grandmother’s gifts, refusing to believe what my eyes had seen. Then last summer I’d had no choice but to believe when I’d witnessed men and women turn into beasts and back again.

  “What kind of magic are you talking about?”

  Ian didn’t answer, at least with words. He closed his eyes and began to chant in Cherokee. The air thickened, shimmered, changed, and when he opened his eyes, they weren’t human anymore.

  “Eagle eyes. You’re a shape-shifter?”

  “Not completely. After years of practice, I can draw from the essence of my spirit animal, take on some of its powers.”

  “Can you fly?”

  “Not yet.”

  “There’s been an eagle spotted near town.”

  “I’m sure it’s just drawn to the...,” he shrugged, “vibes. When I call on my eagle spirit, something must go into the air.”

  That could explain the sudden influx of ravens. If this witch was a raven shape-shifter, that would put “something” into the air as well and perhaps draw them in.

  “If you can’t fly, what can you do?”

  “I see.”

  “Me, too, pal, and I’m not even magic.”

  “You’re a descendant of Rose Scott, one of the most powerful medicine women in recent history. With some training, you could easily do what I can and more.”

  “No thanks. I’m not much of a bird lover.”

  He gave me a knowing look. I had been a bird lover, several times.

  “You’re A ni sa ho ni,” he said. “Clan of blue. The panther. If you study, if you practice, there’s nothing you can’t do.”

  It was tempting. The long-ago childhood dream of actually becoming a panther, of course it called to me. But I was no longer a child, and I’d had to put away childish things. Like my panther collection.

  “You’re starting to make me think more of a snake in the garden than an eagle in the medical clinic.”

  He tilted his head with a birdlike flick that gave me the willies. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re tempting me, Ian. I’ve seen what werewolves can do, and I want no part of that, regardless of how powerful I might become.”

  “What do werewolves have to do with anything?”

  “Shape-shifters are shape-shifters. Just because I’d be a panther wouldn’t make me any less...” I waved my hand. “Evil.”

  “Why would you be evil? I’m not evil.”

  “That remains to be seen.”

  “You’ve got this all wrong. I was born to be a sorcerer, a Nighthawk, and a warrior. Accessing the eagle spirit is part of who I am, just as your panther is part of who you are. Elise sensed it in you, just like you sensed the wolf in her. You think if she believed you were evil she wouldn’t have shot you in the head the first chance that she got?”

  He had a point. I had no doubt Elise Hanover would have blown my brains out gladly if she sensed any threat to humanity. I might not like much about her, but I did like that.

  “Tell me more about what you can do.”

  “I have the eyes of the eagle, so I can see farther, better. At times I can see the future. Which is how I knew to come here before the Raven Mocker appeared.”

  “If you can see so damn well, why can’t you see who it is?”

  “The Raven Mocker has powers, too. We need to find a way to be more powerful.”

  “Yeah, that oughta work.”

  He ignored my sarcasm and continued. “He or sh
e is invisible when stealing lives and probably too visible when not stealing them.”

  “Too visible?”

  “The witch blends right in.”

  “How does the Raven Mocker thing work? Is it, shazam, there’s a new person in town, and he or she is a witch?”

  He was already shaking his head. “The Raven Mocker is born during a storm on the night of the Thunder Moon. You saw the sparks trail down to the Di’tatlaski’yi’?”

  “English,” I ordered.

  “The place where it rains fire.”

  “Twice. Once on the night of the Thunder Moon, and once when my house almost burnt down.”

  “You saw the sparks that night?”

  “Didn’t you?”

  “No, but that doesn’t mean they didn’t happen before I got there.”

  “I also had reports of sparks before the shrieking, though no other fires,” I said.

  “The legends say the Raven Mocker arrives in a shower of sparks. I’d thought that just meant original arrival, but I guess not.”

  “On the night of the Thunder Moon I saw the sparks, heard the shriek, saw what seemed to be a fire, but when we got there all we found was a crater.”

  “Where the Raven Mocker was born.”

  “The crater was empty.”

  “You think it would wait around to be captured or killed?”

  “What was it?”

  “An evil spirit.”

  “Which is so easy to capture and kill. Where did it go?”

  “If we knew that, we’d know who it was.”

  “You said the Raven Mocker wasn’t a new person.”

  “No. Someone called on the Ani’Hyun’-tikwala’ ski.”

  I just stared at him until he translated.

  “The thunder beings. They released the Raven Mocker from the sky vault. The spirit rode in on the lightning, then possessed the one who called it.”

  “Someone in my town is possessed by a shape-shifting witch who eats the hearts of the dying and steals their lives?”

  “That about sums it up.”

  Chapter 27

  “Where do we go from here?” I asked.