Rook & Tooth and Claw (35 page)

Jim was already running. As soon as the beast had caught hold of John Three Names, he had scrambled toward the door, dropped to the ground, and headed for the Galaxy where Sharon and Mark were waiting.

It was hot, and he was badly shocked. He could hear his shoes chuffing in the dust and it sounded as if somebody were two steps behind him. Sharon was out of the vehicle already, staring in shock at the wildly-exploding trailer.
Mark was sitting in the back seat, punching wildly at John Three Names’ mobile phone.

“Sharon! Get back in!” Jim shouted at her, as he ran toward her.

“What? What about Catherine?”

“
Get back in
!”

He looked back over his shoulder and the spirit-beast was already running toward him, in the heavy, sinister lope of a grizzly bear. It was enormous, almost three times the size of a real bear, and its claws made a clashing noise on the ground as it ran, like somebody sharpening carving-knives.

“Sharon, for Christ’s sake! Get back in!”

He reached the Galaxy and pushed Sharon back into her seat. He climbed behind the wheel, slammed the door and gunned the engine.

“But Catherine!” Sharon shrieked at him. “What about Catherine?”

Jim violently reversed the Galaxy and swung it around so that it was facing back toward the trailer-park. “Catherine isn’t Catherine,” he told her. “Not any more, anyway.”

“But she’s there!” said Sharon, taking hold of his arm and shaking it. “Look, Mr Rook, she’s there!”

Jim kept his foot down and the Galaxy slithered in the dust. Jim looked up in the rear-view mirror and he could see Catherine running after them, her hair swinging as she ran. But when he twisted around in his seat, all he could see was the huge dark shadow of the Changing Bear Maiden, relentlessly trying to catch up.

“Mr Rook, stop!” begged Sharon. “You’re leaving Catherine behind!”

Jim jammed on the brakes. “Sharon, it isn’t Catherine. It’s something else. It may look like Catherine to you, but to me it looks like something else altogether.”

“I called the cops,” said Mark, hopefully, holding up
the mobile telephone. “They said they’d try to get here in a half-hour, if they could.”

Catherine was still running toward them. In his mirror, Jim could see that her expression was fixed, her eyes were glazed. She was running like somebody who was determined to catch up with them, no matter what.

“Hold tight,” he said, and stepped on the gas. The Galaxy’s tyres slewed sideways on the dirt, and then they were speeding away. At that moment, however, they felt a catastrophic bang at the back of the vehicle, and the rear window shattered inward. Then they heard a hideous scraping, followed by a jarring, wrenching sound, and Jim felt the Galaxy’s steering wheel twitch in his hands as if it had a mind of its own.

“What’s happening?” said Sharon, in terror.

Jim looked back and saw the Changing Bear Maiden running after them, faster and faster. It lunged at the back of the Galaxy and tore off the rear door panel, which bounced away over the dusty ground. Then it smashed the brake lights and pulled off more of the trim. Fragments of red plastic were scattered all over the ground.

“It’s
Catherine
,” said Mark. “What the hell is she doing? She’s tearing the whole damn car to pieces!”

“It’s just like I said, Mark,” Jim told him. “It isn’t Catherine, not at the moment. It’s kind of a beast. The same beast that killed Martin Amato. The same beast that wrecked the locker rooms.”

“What are you telling us?” said Sharon. “You’re trying to say that
Catherine
killed Martin? You’re trying to say that
Catherine
did all of that damage?”

Jim turned around and saw the beast running up closer. It collided with their rear bumper with a heavy thump and he had to swerve wildly from side to side. They were speeding down the main strip between the trailers now, and there were children and dogs scampering everywhere.
Yet he didn’t dare to slow down. The back of the Galaxy was already battered and torn and scored with scratch-marks, and he knew that if he stopped now, the beast would hurtle through the back window into the passenger compartment and tear them into pieces before they had time to open the doors.

“
Mr Rook
!” screamed Sharon.

Ahead of them, an old Navajo woman was crossing the main strip with a Zimmer frame. She was accompanied by a little girl of no more than six or seven, who was smiling to her and chatting to her and offering her wildflowers.

Jim saw them like a photograph – utterly clear, utterly detailed. He was already hitting 70 mph and he had no chance of stopping before he hit them. He just had time to shout “Hold tight!” before he swerved off the main strip and crashed through somebody’s picket fence, mowed down their garden planted with beans and squash and pumpkins, collided with a water-butt, tore up another length of fence like a giant zip-fastener, skidded around the back of another trailer straight through a line of freshly-hung washing, and then bounced back onto the main strip.

He drove out of the trailer-park, hung a howling right turn, and sped back toward Window Rock with his foot flat against the floor.

He checked his rear-view mirror. Catherine wasn’t running after them any longer. She standing outside the trailer-park watching them speed away. He turned his head around and she was still Catherine. The beast had vanished. He had an almost irresistible urge to U-turn and go back to her. Christ, he was her teacher, he felt responsible for her. He couldn’t imagine what she was going through, what fears she was feeling. But he did know that until she was released from Dog
Brother’s influence, she was capable of killing all of them.

“You’re just going to
leave
her here?” asked Mark.

“I don’t have any choice. This man she’s supposed to be marrying has put a spell on her, for want of a better word. Back then, when she was running after us, you saw Catherine but I saw a huge black beast.”

Mark turned around and looked back along the road, just in time to see Catherine turning back toward the trailer-park. “A beast. It’s hard to believe it.”

“Look at the damage she did to the van. If she wasn’t possessed by this
thing,
whatever it is, she couldn’t even have dented it.”

“Come on, Mark,” said Sharon. “You know that Mr Rook can see things like spirits and ghosts and all.”

“Yeah, but a
beast,
man – in broad daylight! Wish I’d seen it!”

Jim said, “Listen,” and told them the legend of the Changing Bear Maiden, the way that John Three Names had told it to him. What he didn’t say was that John Three Names was dead; or that Susan had been killed, too, and burned as an offering to Coyote.

They reached Window Rock and drew up outside the Navajo Nation Inn. “What are we going to do now?” asked Sharon.

“We’re going to pack our bags and get the hell out of here, that’s what.”

“What’s Catherine’s old man going to say when you come back without her?” asked Mark.

“I’m very much looking forward to finding out.”

“Wait up a minute. You mean – he didn’t
expect
her to come back?”

“I don’t think he expected any of us to come back. Only me, so that I could confirm that the beast was gone
for good. And I doubted if I would have lasted long, after that.”

“I don’t get it. We were all supposed to die,
all
of us?”

Jim nodded. “Henry Black Eagle took his family to California to duck out of his promise to give Catherine to Dog Brother. But he underestimated how powerful the magic was, and how far it could reach. After Martin was killed, and Paul and Grey Cloud were arrested for murder, he realized that he had to honour his promise. He wanted us killed by the Changing Bear Maiden so that he would have evidence that his sons couldn’t possibly have murdered Martin. Which, of course, they didn’t. They went down on the beach that night to try to find Catherine before she hurt anybody.”

Sharon pushed the revolving glass door into the reception area. “It seems terrible, leaving Catherine behind like that. I mean whatever she’s turned into now, she was always such a totally sweet person.”

“Sharon, there’s nothing else we can do right now. If we go near her, she’ll rip our heads off. And I’m beginning to think that Dog Brother doesn’t have the slightest intention of sending the Changing Bear Maiden back into limbo, or wherever. I think he likes her fine the way she is.”

Jim rented a Pontiac station-wagon and they drove all the way from Window Rock to Gallup, where they stopped for cheeseburgers; and then 138 mph nonstop to Albuquerque. They arrived in time for an American Airlines flight direct to Los Angeles and they took off into the sun. Sharon and Mark slept for most of the flight. Jim was exhausted but he was still suffering badly from shock and he didn’t want to close his eyes for fear of what he might see.

He took out the silver whistle that Henry Black Eagle had given him. He wasn’t tempted to blow it, but he wondered exactly what it was for. Catherine had warned him that it would alert Dog Brother and give away their location, but Jim didn’t really see the point of a whistle that did nothing more than that. It had snapped Catherine out of her Changing Bear Maiden trance when their airplane had been nosediving into the Cibola Forest, but Jim couldn’t understand how. He had quite a list of questions for Henry Black Eagle when they returned to Los Angeles.

He drove both Mark and Sharon home, and by now it was dark. “Listen,” he said, “I think it would be better if you didn’t tell your parents what happened at Fort Defiance. They’re bound to want a police investigation, and if there’s one situation that the police won’t be able to handle, it’s this. I’m thinking of Catherine, more than anbody else. If the police find her and she goes berserk the way she did at the trailer-park … well, you can use your imagination.”

“We’ll see you tomorrow in class, Mr Rook,” said Sharon, and she unexpectedly gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for getting us out of trouble.”

“I shouldn’t have gotten you
into
trouble to start with.”

“Hey, what’s life without a few scares?” said Mark. “I had the best time ever. Better than sitting on your duff watching TV, anyhow.”

“You didn’t think that when we was headed for those trees,” Sharon retorted.

“I didn’t crap myself, did I?”

“If you had, I would have been the first one out of there, with or without a parachute.”

“Listen,” said Jim, “you don’t have to show up for
college tomorrow if you don’t want to. Maybe you could use the rest.”

“Try and stop us, Mr Rook. Just try and stop us.”

Chapter Eight

He drove to George Babouris’ house and found George sitting on the porch strumming his bouzouki. “Jim – you’re back already! How about a glass of retsina? You should listen to this song I’ve composed. It’s called
How We Danced In Aspropirgos
.”

“Catchy title,” said Jim. “Is it OK if I stay here tonight? The super is supposed to be clearing up my apartment, but I’m not sure that I can face going back there, not till tomorrow.”

“Of course you can stay. Are you hungry? I made stuffed peppers yesterday, all they need is a couple of minutes in the microwave.”

“That’s all right, George. I think I just need a drink.”

George led the way inside. To be fair, he seemed to have tidied the place up since Jim had last stayed there. The goldfish were still swimming through a dense turquoise murk, and there was a pair of discarded socks on the back of the couch, but George had thrown out most of his waste paper and empty beer cans and there was even a bowl of oranges on the table.

“Don’t tell me you’re in love,” said Jim.

“Well, not exactly,” George confessed. “But I’ve met this woman and we’ve been getting along pretty well. I think you know her, as a matter of fact. Well, you
would
know her. She lives in the same apartment block as you do.”

“Go on,” said Jim, suspiciously, setting down his bag.

“You left my number with your super, right, in case he had any questions? So he called and said that he couldn’t replace the kitchen cabinets with exactly the same doors, but would these other doors be OK? So I went around there and they were fine, the doors I mean. They were just like your old ones only better quality. Except that I met your neighbour from downstairs. The woman.”

“You mean Miss
Neagle
?”

“That’s it. Valerie! And I can tell you something, Jim, two people never got on better than Valerie and me. The spontaneity! It was great! And she’s crazy for Greek café music!”

“Well, George. I hardly know what to say. I’m very happy for you – both of you.”

“I’m going round to see her later this evening. Say – why don’t you join me? You could see how your apartment’s coming along.”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to get in the way.”

George opened the fridge and took out two cans of Pabst. “You won’t. So how was Indian country? Did you manage to get everything sorted out?”

“To tell you the truth, George, it was a disaster.”

“Hey – how come? I thought you were looking forward to it. Acting as a marriage guidance counsellor to Native Americans. Smoking peace-pipes. Dancing round the totem-pole.”

“Henry Black Eagle was lying to me all along. He didn’t want me to take Catherine back to the reservation to break off her engagement. He simply wanted me to chaperone her, to make sure that she returned there safe, and married this guy.

“He made a deal with a devil, George, and then he found he couldn’t go back on it.”

“When you say ‘
devil
’—?”

“I mean exactly that. Devil, or demon, or evil spirit, or whatever you want to call it. The man that Catherine is supposed to be marrying has some way of invoking the worst of all the Navajo spirits, called Coyote. His name’s Dog Brother. He can turn people into beasts.”

“He can turn people into
beasts
?” George repeated, raising one black bushy eyebrow.

“I know it doesn’t sound very believable, but there are dozens of mythological stories from all kinds of cultures about demons turning men and women into animals. In Ireland, there’s a jealous fairy who turned men into dogs. In Africa, there’s a demon who makes women into monkeys. I don’t know whether any of these myths have any basis in fact, but here in America there’s a spirit who can turn a young girl like Catherine into a huge black creature like a bear. It was Catherine who wrecked the locker rooms. It was Catherine who trashed my apartment. It was Catherine who murdered Martin Amato. Worse than that, she’s killed two other people, too.”

“I’m finding this difficult,” said George. “Who?”

“John Three Names, the Navajo guide who took us out to meet Catherine’s prospective husband. She tore him apart.” He hesitated, and he found that he could hardly speak. “The other was Susan.”

“Susan? Susan Randall? You’re kidding me!”

Jim’s eyes were suddenly blurred with tears. This was the first time that he had allowed himself to show his emotions since Susan had been killed. “The beast just went for her, George. It took off her head. It ripped her apart. I was shouting at her to warn her but I couldn’t do anything.”

“So what – so where did this happen?”

“Window Rock … in back of our hotel. We burned her body on a fire.”

George pressed his beer-can against his forehead. “Jesus Christ, Jim. Catherine turned into a beast and killed Susan and then you burned Susan on a fire?”

Jim took off his glasses and said, “I swear to God, George. It’s true. All of it. It’s true. You only have to ask Sharon and Mark.”

“And what about this John Three Names?”

“It happened in Dog Brother’s trailer. I was trying to get her out of there. She just – well, one second she was a pretty girl and the next second she was a raging black creature who could tear holes in steel.”

“Jesus Christ, Jim. What are you going to do?”

“There’s only one thing I
can
do. I have a responsibility to Catherine, for what I did, taking her back to the reservation. All right, I was deceived, I didn’t know what I was getting her into. But she’s an innocent party in all of this, George, and I helped to take her back to a life she doesn’t want and a man she doesn’t love.”

“But she
killed
Susan.”

“Not her, George. The Changing Bear Maiden – the beast – that’s what killed Susan.”

“What are you going to tell Dr Ehrlichman? What are you going to tell Susan’s family? You think they’re going to believe you? Like, I know you, and I trust you, but even I’m not sure if I believe you.”

“What I tell people is going to have to wait. Right now there’s only one way to see justice for Susan and to save Catherine from a whole lifetime of living on the reservation with this Dog Brother character – and that’s to exorcize her, or whatever the hell you’re supposed to do when somebody’s possessed with a ten-foot invisible creature with claws like goddamned scimitars.”

George said, “You’re upset, you know. I wouldn’t go so far as to say deranged. But you should think about this in the morning.”

“I can’t stop thinking about it now.”

“Well, let’s go around to see Valerie and see if the sight of your newly-decorated apartment can take your mind off it.”

Jim took hold of George’s hand, and gripped it tight, and George was vaguely embarrassed. “You know something, George. I never saw anything like this before. I’ve seen ghosts, and spirits, and I’ve seen a man leave his body and walk through the city for hours on end, with cars passing right through his body like he wasn’t even there. But this – no, this is different. This isn’t just a spiritual parlour-trick. This is a force that comes right out of the air we breathe and the ground we tread on. This is serious power, George. This is real Native American magic.”

George clapped him on the back. “I’ll say one thing for you, Jim. You never do things by halves. When you go bananas, you go
seriously
bananas. Did you try Prozac yet?”

“Don’t you think I have enough ups in my life?”

“Right now, probably yes.”

“Just let me ask you something. Even if you don’t believe a single word I’ve said, will you accept that I’m sincere?”

“Sure, yes, I believe you’re sincere.”

“Then support me, help me. Even if you think I’ve lost the plot.”

Quite unexpectedly, George put his arms around him and hugged him. His belly was enormous. His beard scratched, and he smelled of kebabs and Sure deodorant. “Don’t you worry, Jim. Whatever gibberish you talk, George is right behind you.”

They drove to Electric Avenue in George’s huge old Silverado pick-up. For Jim, it was very strange going
back there, after the feline formerly known as Tibbles had been killed, and his apartment had been wrecked. He felt as if this wasn’t his home any more, and in a sense it wouldn’t be, ever again. Once you’ve been burgled, once you’ve been vandalized, your home loses its sense of safety, and adding more locks makes it feel even less secure.

“Go take a look at your apartment, then come on down,” George told him. “They’re doing a great job for you. You’ll like it.”

Jim climbed the steps to the second-story landing and walked along to his front door. He saw a blind twitch just opposite, and he knew that it was Myrlin spying on him, to make sure that he wasn’t spying on
him.
He hesitated for a moment and then he inserted the key into the lock. There was a strong smell of fresh paint and carpentry. He switched on the lights and saw that George was right: the walls had been newly decorated in a color that Jim could only describe as “faded camel”. All of the gouges in the plaster had been smoothed over and the kitchen cabinet doors replaced.

Underneath a large dusty sheet of heavy-duty plastic all of his possessions were heaped: his books, his pictures, his CDs, even one of his cardigans. He felt as if he were walking into the apartment of somebody who had recently died.

He turned to leave when he saw his grandfather standing by the window. He looked very much older tonight, his shoulders hunched, his hands deep in his pockets. Jim approached him and said, “Grandpa? What did you come back for? Are you all right?”

“All right? No, I don’t think I am,” said his grandfather.

“Then what’s wrong? Tell me. My friend said that relatives don’t come back unless it’s something serious.”

“How does your friend know that?”

“Because she’s dead, just like you. Her name’s Alice Vaizey and – well, you probably won’t believe this, but she talks to me through the woman who took over her apartment when she died.”

“Why shouldn’t I believe it? It’s the kind of thing that happens all the time. The dead, clinging onto the living.”

“So what’s wrong?” asked Jim. He was so tempted to touch his grandfather – just to take hold of his hand, and feel those dry old fingers and those veins like wriggling roots. Just to feel that soft, well-shaved cheek. He could even smell his grandfather’s hairdressing lotion, and his tobacco.

“That thing I warned you about – it came, didn’t it?” said his grandfather. “That old, cold bristling thing.”

Jim nodded. “It came all right. Look around you. They’ve just finished cleaning up the mess.”

“This isn’t the only mess, is it, Jim?”

“No, grandpa, it isn’t. There was a woman that I was in love with. Susan Randall. The thing killed her, too.”

His grandfather sucked at his false teeth. “I’ve seen Susan: that’s why I came.”

“You’ve
seen
her? Like, where?”

“Jim, there isn’t any
where
when you’re dead. One minute bells are ringing and you’re looking out over these wet, tiled rooftops. Next minute you’re riding the Eighth Avenue Local. Then, before you know it, you’re walking by the shore at Hilton Head, tossing sticks for your dog.”

“How was she?” Jim wanted to know. “Come on, grandpa. I tried to save her. I hope she knows that.”

“She didn’t know anything much. She was very shocked, as folks usually are when their bodies have been beheaded. It takes them quite a while to get over the way they died. But
she said one thing to me, and she meant it, Jim. She said, ‘Tell Jim to go as far away from West Grove College as he can. Tell him to go to Europe. Tell him to go to Japan. Tell him to go anyplace that beast can’t reach him, because it will.’

Jim said, “Do you think you might see her again? Do you think you might pass on a message?”

His grandfather gave him a quick, impatient look. “I’m not a go-between, Jim. I’m not some kind of spiritual mail-carrier.”

“All the same, do you think you could tell her that I love her, and that I won’t stop loving her? Do you think you could tell her that I’m going to make sure that she gets justice?”

“Justice doesn’t mean too much to the dead, Jim. Justice is only for the living.”

“All the same, can you tell her?”

His grandfather shrugged. “I guess I could try. No guarantees, though.”

At that moment there was a knock at the door and Miss Neagle came in, dressed in a black ruffled negligee and strappy high-heeled slippers. “Jim?” she said. “George and I were wondering if you’d like to come down and join us for a drink. He said you had a
very
interesting time in Arizona.”

She suddenly stopped and blinked and stared at Jim’s grandfather. “Oh—” she said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realise you had company.”

Startled, Jim said, “You can
see
him?”

“Of course. He keeps flickering in and out of focus like an old TV, but I can see him, for sure.”

“Who are you to call me an old TV?” Jim’s grandfather demanded.

“Mrs Alice Vaizey, I think, grandpa,” said Jim. He turned to Miss Neagle and said, “Right?”

Miss Neagle smiled. “That’s right. I couldn’t see him, not on my own, but Mrs Vaizey can. That’s why he’s so flickery.”

“What’s going on here?” asked Jim’s grandfather, suspiciously. “Is this the friend you were telling me about? The one who’s dead?”

“That’s right, grandpa. Miss Neagle here took over her apartment, and her spirit, too.”

Jim’s grandfather slowly approached Miss Neagle and stood right in front of her. He lifted his left hand and held it an inch or so away from her forehead. It was obvious that he wanted to touch her, but he couldn’t. “I can see her,” he said. “I can actually see her. It’s like there are two women standing here, one inside the other.”

Without any warning, tears formed in Miss Neagle’s eyes and ran down her cheeks. “Do you know something?” she said, “That’s the first time that anybody’s seen me, since I died. I was beginning to think that I was invisible to everyone, even to other spirits.”

“Well, now, you shouldn’t have to worry about that,” Jim’s grandfather comforted her. “
I
can see you … I can see you as clear as daylight.”