Richfield & Rivers Mystery Series 3 - Venus Besieged (28 page)

But
I didn't expect to see them sucking each other's lips off, their sexual fervor
evidenced in the tight body grip, mouths welded, Ramona's blouse open and her
bra askew. Her skirt was hiked seductively, Barrett's arm under it locked
around her hip and, guessing from the way Ramona shifted and moaned, beneath
her panties, in exploration of the entire topography of her sexual landscape.

The
woman who had hit on me and struck out and the woman who'd hit on me and scored
were now only interested in one another, and in an inexplicable way, I was
happy for them. I took a moment to watch them in a deep, sensual embrace,
Barrett now tenderly kissing Ramona and not so tenderly reaching inside her
clothing to stroke her body. I wanted to shout, "Give the woman a break,
she's been bound and gagged," but Ramona Mathers didn't look like she
wanted a break.

"Curfew,
kids," I said, and the two of them broke apart sheepishly and followed me
back to the car, where I dug into my pocket and gave Callie the hand-drawn map.

The
five of us and Elmo were pretty packed into the Jeep. Callie put him in the
front seat with her and he sat on the floorboard, his paws up in her lap facing
her. She stroked his head and talked to him and explained why his transport
suddenly looked like a city bus.

"I
think Little Horse had Nizhoni at his place. If we could read this map, we
could get there," I said.

Callie
handed the map to Manaba, who only glanced at it for a second, then said,
"Straight ahead and cross the goat path running diagonally southwest to
northeast. Then leave the car and we will proceed on foot."

"How
could she read that chicken scratching?" I said.

"She
went there as a bird and the map was a reminder," Callie said.

"You
travel as a bird?" Ramona asked Manaba, reviving enough for a slightly
caustic side to resurface.

"She
shape-shifts like her grandmother, who taught her," I said flatly,
realizing as the words came out of my mouth that I'd joined the ranks of the
incurably insane. "If everything on earth is made of protons and neutrons,
whether it's a table or a human, and we can put a table in a molecular chamber
and raise the vibrational level up so high the object actually disappears, then
humans can obviously vibrate at a level that would make their bodies disappear,
leaving their spirits free to roam, and if the spirit was talented enough to
enhance and harness that energy, then it could basically...do stuff the rest of
us can't." I stopped for breath.

"Very
good," Callie breathed.

"Had
to be able to sort of justify it in my mind," I said.

"Beats
pledging a sorority," Ramona quipped, and Barrett grinned widely,
obviously believing everything she said was witty. I was reminded that love
makes fools of even the most sophisticated.

Ahead
a small adobe dwelling, smoke coming from the fireplace, rose in the sand. We
pulled up and cut the motor, slipping out of the car as quietly as possible.
Having had all the stalking around in the sand I could take for one day, I
attacked the small wooden door of the adobe house as if this were a drug bust:
kicking first with my foot, jumping back against the wall, then shooting down
into the lock and blowing off the doorknob. When I slammed my shoulder into the
door and entered, the Indian man facing me looked completely dazed and fearful.

"You
Little Horse?" I asked, and he nodded yes. Eyeing the four women who came
in behind me, he must have thought he'd been busted by women's bridge night.

In
the corner on a small cot, a dark-haired woman lay in the shadows. Manaba moved
quickly to the tattered bed, knelt down, and felt the woman's forehead. She
took something out of a leather bag at her waist and forced it between the
woman's pale lips.

As
Little Horse moved closer to the lamplight, I shouted, "You're the guy who
rescued me and the one who dug up Nizhoni's grave." I wanted to find out
every detail of what happened below that cliff—how he caught me and why, but he
seemed terrified that I knew him and grasped a sheaf of gray stalks, set it
aflame, and let the pungent smoke fill the room, then moved from one corner of
the room to the next as he swung the sage through the air, apparently too
paralyzed with fear to speak and now only able to chant for protection.

"Where's
the guy who kidnapped you?" I persisted in addressing Little Horse.
"Look, Ramona vouched for you and said another guy kidnapped you."
But Little Horse was mute and, if not terrified, at least preoccupied with
driving away evil.

Manaba,
ignoring all else, talked softly to the woman on the cot, telling her we would
be taking her out of here. A sound at the door and Barrett made a quick move to
put a chair up against it, but the door was blown open from the other side.
Standing before us was Dwayne, his frame filling the doorway, and I realized
what had Little Horse so nervous.

"Gotcha
all in one spot. Good."

Dwayne-Wayne
might have been nuts, but he was no match for three women with PMS. He reached
for his gun as Barrett picked up a chair and swung it at his midsection and
Callie brought both arms down full force on his forearm in the same move she'd
used on Luther, which momentarily threw Dwayne off balance. He took a second to
recover before making a staggering attempt to aim at her. I was waiting for him
and yanked him inside the cabin and slapped him over the head with the butt of
my gun, which put him on his knees and split his head open.

"Anybody
got a belt I can borrow?" I asked the room at large and Barrett removed
hers. Glancing at it before tying Dwayne up, I realized this was the most
expensive rope ever used on anyone, but Barrett probably wouldn't need it.
Gathering from her glances at Ramona, she'd have her pants off at the earliest
convenience.

"We
may have to tie you to the hood of the car like a deer, since we're flat out of
seats," I told Dwayne.

Manaba
seemed oblivious to the commotion as she helped her lover to her feet and began
walking her to the door, Manaba's inner strength visibly overcoming her outward
fatigue. Callie reached for the door and I noted that Little Horse was shaking
so badly the smoke was almost making rings.

No
time to digest that thought before the door exploded open again and nearly
splintered off its hinges. A huge, ominous, raging energy mass filled the room,
the blast followed by Luther Drake. He stood in the cold night air, bare
breasted, face painted, a black crow feather in his hair, his dichotomous grin
a warning he could smile while ripping the skin off your face.

Manaba
never flinched, but I personally was one large goose bump, having thought the
sonofabitch was dead. Hell, for all I knew, maybe he was dead and this was more
weird energy returning to haunt us. Callie grabbed me by the arm and pulled me
away from the door.

"Surely
you didn't think I had drowned?" he asked Manaba.

She
handed Nizhoni to me, and I felt as if I had been deemed guardian by a parent
who knew she was about to die and was entrusting me to care for her child. I
shook that feeling off and helped Nizhoni to her bed, then returned to guard
Callie. Ramona and Barrett retreated to the corner as if observing a horror movie
and Callie stepped forward, afraid of nothing in the spiritual realm.

"The
grandmother spirit asks that you release your hold on this woman, Nizhoni, and
let her live," Manaba said.

"The
grandmother spirit wants the land back." Luther leered and mocked her.

"You
threatened and tricked her into signing, telling her the developers were coming
for the land and you would fight them."

"The
grandmother wants your lover to live, wants me to give up my power, but the
grandmother spirit is dead, and her granddaughter does not honor what I know
and bring. I am the same as you."

He
swung his fist down on Manaba's head and blood spewed from her scalp, the blow
smashing her to the ground. The sound of her body hitting the floor seemed to
be the downbeat for an orchestral symphony of sights and sounds. The wind
picked up exactly as it had before, but this time it blew papers around the
room and people's hair back and the lights out as if we were in a cyclonic wind
tunnel. Light bounced around the room, its source unknown, illuminating the
room sporadically and allowing us to see the whites of Luther's eyes and the
gleam of his teeth.

Barrett
yelled as a lamp missed her head and she covered Ramona with her body, and
Callie stood amid it all, tall and unafraid and dealing with whatever was
happening as calmly as if we were merely in a small argument. In the dim light,
I realized Luther was choking the life out of Manaba, who was too exhausted to
overpower his energy again.

"He's
killing her!" I screamed and dove on him. Callie picked up an andiron and
smashed it into his head, but it was as if she'd merely tapped him with a
plastic pipe; his strength shocked me. He bled but he didn't weaken, and his
rage increased tenfold. He seemed to grow twice as tall and lunged at us, this
time physically connecting with me and then Callie, hurling us across the room.

I
landed, momentarily too injured to walk, then crawled to Callie to see if she
was alright. Then he grabbed me, and I realized I was only in the path of where
he was really headed, which was Nizhoni and then Manaba, intent on killing
them. Fighting him and shouting for Callie to get out of the way, I felt myself
losing, crushed by some super strength beyond my comprehension.

That's
when I heard the cry, a long wailing supplication from Manaba.
"Shimasaniiiiii."

I
cringed, thinking maybe the head wound had claimed her life.

My
mind was racing, trying to figure out how we could overpower him, when in the
partial dark, the wind kicked up around our feet, the power of it nearly lifting
us off the ground, sending chills across my body, a wind I'd felt only in
severe thunderstorms, but now somehow it was in this cabin. The air was alive,
charged with electrical current that pulsed around us in waves of energy that
seemingly controlled the rhythm of my beating heart. Then I heard the growl, a
visceral, guttural grinding of innards. My mind flashed on Elmo, but I had
never heard him sound like that.

Then
the leap, the flash of fur, bared teeth, ripping and tearing and flailing and
screaming and blood—
it must be blood
—a liquid substance splashing
through the air, and then a loud groan as if the devil had relinquished its
hold on something—the battle over, ended, silence.

Callie
managed to reach a table lamp and turn it on. The partial light revealed Luther
Drake dead on the floor—this time dead for sure, blood dripping from his mouth,
his heart torn out of his chest. Beside him a huge wolf stood, tired and
bloodied, breathing... panting...breathing...panting.

It
turned and surveyed the room, seeming to make eye contact with each of us, then
walked quietly out of the cabin and into the woods. From the looks of the faces
in the room, we were all in shock.

"What
did Manaba scream?" I whispered to Callie, somehow knowing Manaba's shrill
cry was tied to the appearance of the wolf.

"The
Navajo word for grandmother."

And
for my money, it appeared her grandmother had answered the call, perhaps
removing the man from this world who had removed her—if one believed in that
kind of energy transfer.

"Anybody
got a working cell phone?" Barrett asked. "I'll call the
police."

"Let
me have your cell phone," I said to Dwayne, then realized he was dead.
"What the hell happened to him, not a mark on him?"

"Heart
attack," Manaba said authoritatively, and I believed it was the same kind
of heart attack her grandmother had suffered.

I
got a signal on Dwayne-Wayne's cell phone. Calling the police from his phone
was justice.

I
threw a blanket over Luther Drake, not wanting to look at the condition of this
particular dead guy and the mess made of his corporeal self.

Thirty
minutes later, Sedona's answer to crime fighting showed up in the form of
Sergeant Striker, sporting his perfectly pressed uniform and, despite the low
light, aviator sunglasses. He planted himself in the doorway, legs apart, gun
drawn, the Atlas of law enforcement.

"What's
goin' on here?" he barked at the room in general, and before I could
answer, he flipped the blanket back and caught sight of Luther Drake's body.
Striker bent over for a closer look, gagged, and spewed vomit like squashed bug
guts. "He's had his heart ripped out," Striker said, trying to
explain his weak stomach.

"Slows
'em down, which is good," I said, mimicking his remarks to me and
reminding him we'd met before.

He
listened as I told him Dwayne-Wayne had attacked us, followed by Luther Drake,
and while they were threatening us, a wolf came through the door and killed one
and gave the other a heart attack.

I
skipped the part about the wolf being the grandmother; I didn't think it mattered.
None of us could have inflicted the claw marks or bites on Luther Drake's body.
He was clearly done in by a wolf. A wolf in what dimension was something we'd
have to sort out among ourselves.