Dark Moon Walking (8 page)

Dan's voice drifted back to the cabin. “Nope. Hasn't been anyone here for weeks. Is there a problem?”

The reply was almost drowned out by the rising pitch of the outboard. “No. She is probably just out exploring. We will go back and wait.”

Walker straightened and was about to move when the outboard quieted again.

“That is a nice canoe. Do you like to use it here?”

“It's not mine. My friend uses it to paddle around a bit.”

The outboard sped up again, and its whine diminished as the men left the bay.

Dan stepped back inside. “I think our plans have just changed.”

SEVEN

For the first time in a week, the morning sun burst through the clouds and set the water dancing. Gliding past the familiar shoreline, Walker felt a growing anger replacing the dread of the past two days. This was his land.
Gigame' Kana'l
, the Creator, had chosen this place for his people. Thunderbird ruled these skies.
U'melth
, the Raven, had placed the sun and the moon here, and Raven had given them the salmon, the namesake of his clan and sustainer of his village.

The People, his people, had lived here, fished these waters, walked these beaches, for thousands of years. Like them, he had come to love and respect this world. He knew every bay, every cove and every inlet, not only by its shape and depth, but by its scent and the rhythm of its swells. He knew what lived there and where it lived. He knew the pattern of the seasons and the surge of the tides.

There were mornings when the tendrils of mist rising from the water wrapped around him and almost stole his breath with their soft caress. When the frolicking play of a family of river otters held him rapt and spellbound. When the wheeling flight of a flock of gulls, pure white against a hard blue sky, made his heart sing.

There were evenings when the canopy of stars, brilliant against the black depth of the night, shone so brightly that it frosted the trees with silver light and lit the ground around him.

There were days when the orcas leaped from the ocean, huge and magnificent, water sheeting from their smooth, muscular bodies, and his world stilled in awe.

Like his ancestors, and like the creatures he shared this land with, he too killed, but only for food, and he wasted nothing. He had learned long ago, on the harsh asphalt streets of the city, that violence was never an answer. And this was violence. Of that he was completely sure.

Claire shared his world and shared his appreciation of it. A white girl from a different culture, she had effortlessly gained his respect with her warmth and her work and her simple lifestyle. Her values echoed his own and those of his people. She had given him the gift of her friendship when few others would have considered it. He would not turn away from her now.

Whether or not Claire was still alive, he had to find her. He had to find out who was doing this. He had to find out why. Most of all, he had to get his world back into balance and restore the harmony that was both his sanctuary and his birthright.

He had left Dan and Annie last night, slipping away into the darkness. They all agreed that he should be the one to continue the search for Claire. She would not be likely to respond to a stranger in a strange boat, and Walker had an intimate knowledge of the waters and currents and hidden coves of this crowded archipelago that no chart or
GPS
could possibly duplicate. Dan would check out the black ship for himself. He could easily plot a course that would take
Dreamspeaker
past Shoal Bay and, because he had already been seen and had spoken with the two men in the inflatable, his presence should not raise an alarm.

Dan had given Walker a hand-held marine radio he said was tuned to some restricted duplex channel, saying it was a hangover from his time on the force and was only accessible to the police and from the single-sideband radio he had on board
Dreamspeaker
. Walker didn't know anything about radios, but he liked the idea that he and Dan could use it to talk without risk of being overheard, while Dan had said he liked the idea that Walker could call for help if needed. At the same time, Dan cautioned him against using it unless it was really important. If the marine police were near enough to hear it, they would not be pleased, and they would ask some hard questions about how Walker had come to have it. Dan said he figured he could come up with a story that would cover his ass, but he would rather he didn't have to. Walker understood his caution but wondered again about the pain he had seen on Dan's face when he talked about his former career.

He found himself relieved to know that Dan was no longer on the force. He had not been entirely comfortable with the idea of the police coming in, but he knew he could not take on the black ship alone. Plus, he had figured he could disappear once Claire had been found. Now he didn't have to worry about it. Dan was just a friend who would try to keep an eye on the black ship and could help out if needed. And although it felt strange, Walker had to admit he felt good about having a friend, someone to talk to and call on.

Now he let the rhythm of the waves work their magic on his spirit. He had not slept. Once dusk had stolen the last of the light and the horizon had merged the ocean with the sky, he'd angled his canoe out into the current and let it carry him toward his destination. As the sun rose higher, he moved in closer to shore and started to chant in time with his paddle.

Ahead of him a fish jumped, breaking the surface of the water. As he watched, an image of
Sisiutl
, the three-headed sea serpent, formed in the waves. Walker remembered the carved cedar mask that hung on the wall in his mother's house. That
Sisiutl
was painted in intricate patterns of red, green, and black. This
Sisiutl
was formed from ripples of silver water, but it was still
Sisiutl
. The legends said the serpent had once transformed himself into an invincible war canoe to help an ancestor. Perhaps he had come to help again. Walker hoped so. One glance from the serpent could turn an adversary into stone.

Dan hauled anchor before dawn. The moon was low, its pale light illuminating the faint mist that rose off the water to float like layers of gauze above it. He wanted to reach Shoal Bay just before sunrise, when there was barely enough light to see. Experience told him that was the best time to catch people unaware. It was also the best time as far as the explanation he had come up with went. If he was really heading back south as he had told the two men at Annie's boat, he would certainly start out early.

He debated trying to call Mike but decided against it. Even if he could reach him via the satellite phone, his ex-partner wouldn't be able to do much. Without hard facts, he would find it impossible to convince the brass to send anyone up. Dan was no longer a member of the force—he had quit more than six months ago. That wasn't a long time, but it was long enough to make him an outsider, and any information he provided would be suspect. He didn't doubt Walker's story, but there were too few details. Maybe once he had seen the black ship for himself he would have something more.

He slowed the engines long before he reached Shoal Bay, staying well out in mid-channel. It was important that nothing seem unusual, although simply being seen was not really a concern. He set the radar to close range and switched on the recorder. It would not give him enough detail to positively identify the black ship again later, but it would help.

As soon as he passed the eastern point of the bay, he knew all his efforts were wasted. The wharf was empty. The black ship had left. Shoal Bay was deserted.

Dan swung the wheel over hard. He had no idea if or when the black ship would return, and there were still the men in the inflatable to worry about, but he could always say he just wanted to see if they had found their friend. Besides, this was an opportunity to check out the sounds Walker had heard. From the description he had given, the small boats had been going from the ship to the shore. They had to have been unloading something.

He turned
Dreamspeaker
so she was bow out and tied her to the wharf. If he hurried, he could use the dinghy to explore the shore before the sun rose high enough to steal the shadows from the bay. That gave him at least a small sense of security.

The tide was low, exposing the gravel beach. He cruised slowly along it, from the head of the bay to the outer point, but saw nothing out of place. Then he reversed his course and tried again a few feet farther out but with the same result. It didn't make sense. He needed to talk to Walker again. Try to figure out what he was doing wrong.

The first rays of the sun were hitting the water as he turned back toward
Dreamspeaker
. They reflected off a row of small black buoys that floated just below the surface. No wonder he had not seen them. He let the dinghy drift up to them and peered down through the clear water. At the base of each tether was something dark. Maybe a metal box or cylinder. He reached down and cautiously tugged at one of the buoys. Whatever was down there was too heavy to be easily lifted. He was going to need help.

EIGHT