Blackening Song (13 page)

Concern filled her as Clifford’s gaze darted over the terrain behind her, searching with the thoroughness of a hunter who suddenly recognizes that he is the prey. “Why didn’t you have Wilson bring me to see you sooner?” Ella asked, breaking the silence that
had shrouded them all.

“Always criticizing, little sister,” he teased softly, holding her hands for a moment.

Ella fought a sudden urge to hug him, respecting the tribal custom that discouraged physical contact between a man and a woman of the same clan. “You’re in so much trouble! Will you let me help you?”

“I’m the one who has to protect
you.
” Clifford gestured toward a small, somehow familiar-looking
old-style hogan hidden among a stand of tall pines halfway up the long slope the pickup had climbed. “Come inside.”

Ella followed him in, then sat across from him on the cool dirt floor, glancing around. A two-burner gasoline stove and a box of canned goods suggested he’d been there for some time. The lack of new ashes in the fire pit told her he’d been careful about smoke. Were they close to
other hogans? Realizing that Wilson had remained outside, she glanced at her brother questioningly. His eyes were half closed. Ella wondered how long it had been since he’d slept.

“He’ll keep watch and make sure no one comes up unexpectedly. It’s a necessary precaution.” Clifford rubbed his eyes.

“Tell me what’s going on.”

“Our father is dead because he refused to believe the truth. Don’t repeat
his mistake. You have to listen to what I tell you with an open mind.”

“I promise that I’ll do whatever I can to help you. Remember, I’m trained to be observant and objective. I have no preconceptions.”

He leaned back against the earthen and pine log sides of the small hogan. It was a type of structure called
Tzin-yah’-dee klin’,
or logs stacked up. Constructing it required no woodworking tools.
Navajo warriors in the story of the Cub Mountain Chant had occupied this kind of hogan in defense against the Utes. Ella knew she’d seen this place before, but it had been years. Damn her memory!

The hogan suited Clifford’s traditionalist nature. He remained quiet for a few seconds, looking at her with eyes half open but very perceptive.

“Throughout your career, you’ve found a way to avoid the
things you feared the most,” he said. “Intangibles have always frightened you far more than anything you could visualize and define. What I have to say will make you remember what you’ve fought hard to forget.”

“My memory’s better than you think,” she answered quietly. How like Clifford to put things in mystical or magical terms! She’d listen to his explanation, then make up her own mind.

Clifford
nodded. “We’re fighting an ancient evil. It uses the skinwalkers for its own purposes.”

“What do you think that purpose is?” She kept her voice cool, nonjudgmental, trying to maintain the poker face of a successful agent. She wanted him to keep talking. Many times her ability to listen without revealing her own thoughts had helped put witnesses at ease and aided her work.

“I don’t know, not
precisely. But evil always works at the expense of the majority.” This time, when his eyes narrowed, it was from outrage and frustration, not lack of sleep. Ella could feel Clifford’s struggle not to let negative emotions like anger cloud his thinking.

“Evil or not, whoever killed our father is as human as you and me. I have to catch that butcher before he harms anyone else.” Ella took a deep
breath. “In the meantime, I’m worried about you and the rest of our family.

“Our enemies are human, true, but what drives them goes far beyond that. Everything exists in two parts; there’s evil and good in each of us. When something happens to upset that balance, a
hataalii
is needed to restore harmony.” Clifford crossed his arms.

Ella knew from Clifford’s rigid stance and stony gaze that his
mind was made up. Still, she had scored a partial victory. She’d gotten him to talk openly about the situation, and that was the first step.

She studied the hogan carefully. Clifford’s old model 94 Winchester rifle was propped up near the door, alongside two boxes of .30-.30 cartridges, and across the hogan, a Ruger Blackhawk revolver sat in a leather holster on a blanket roll. The pistol looked
to be a nine-millimeter. If need arose, she and her brother could share pistol ammunition. Her heart pounded as she realized the implications of this analysis.

Clifford had followed her gaze. Ella was sure that he could sense her tension and the urgency that was driving her. “Do you have any idea who we should be looking for? These skinwalkers have to be people who live in the area.”

Clifford
shrugged, uncrossing his arms and clasping his hands. He was nervous. “I can’t make wild guesses—you know what would happen if I accused someone who was innocent.”

Ella smiled grimly. “Yeah, they’d be hiding out somewhere in an old hogan with half the world out to get them.” She took a peek out the door to make a point.

“I’ll give you the names and backgrounds of a few people I’ve had run-ins
with and the name of someone our father had bad dealings with on occasion. Be very discreet when you look into this. These people could all be innocent.”

Ella handed him her pocket notebook and a pen, but he already had the list and thumbnail descriptions written on a piece of brown paper torn from a grocery sack. She was grateful that he’d had enough confidence in her investigative abilities
to prepare the list beforehand. She glanced at the names and pocketed the list. She’d follow these up soon. Right now there was another urgent matter to handle.

“Thanks. Now let’s get back to your situation. It’s my opinion, as a law enforcement officer, that you’d be better off turning yourself in. At least you’d be safe and I could devote my time to finding the real criminals instead of worrying
about you.”

Clifford shook his head immediately. “My—our—enemies are everywhere. It’s a lot easier to get into a jail than out of one. I’d be dead overnight. Besides, I have to fight for our People from the outside. Here, I can do the ceremonies needed to protect all of us. There’s magic that needs to be countered.”

“Let me do my job and track down the killers. Even Houdini couldn’t get away
from me once I had my hands on him. Give yourself up. I’ll escort you in and make sure you’re placed in protective custody.” Ella knew his mind was made up, but she had to try.

“You’re not
listening.
To succeed, we have to fight on two fronts,” Clifford said, his voice rising slightly. “You deny the existence of the unknown, which is my area of strength.”

“I prefer to keep my goals straightforward
and simple.” She wasn’t going to let an argument about spiritual or religious matters cloud her thinking. “Talk to me. Tell me how to find the one who killed our father. My strength is in tracking down criminals, not ghosts.”

“I
am
telling you!” Clifford held up his hand. “I can’t believe this. You’re still the only person I know who can make me lose my temper.” He turned away, gathering his
composure again. Ella watched his shoulders slump. “I don’t know who the murderer is. I only know where we have to look to find him.”

She glanced at the battered old suitcase by the bedroll. “But you’re thinking they might find you first.”

“I have to be prepared to fight them any way I can. They’ll come after me because as a
hataalii
I’m the biggest threat against them. They also know their
actions against my family have ensured that I’ll do my best to destroy them, not just what they represent. I have to use every kind of weapon to ensure my own survival. Every morning I prepare myself physically and mentally. I’ve also fortified this hogan with
hozonji,
our Good Luck Songs, and I’ve sprinkled it with sacred corn pollen. I’ve done the same thing for the homes of our friends and
relatives.”

“Do you know why our father was chosen as their victim?”

“A symbol mostly, but anyone involved with the new church or the college is in danger. That entire area is infused with evil. The skinwalkers have chosen it as their home and will not give it up to anyone. You’ve been to the site of the church; Wilson told me. Didn’t you feel something while you were there, a wrongness about
that place?”

Ella wanted to deny it, but she couldn’t. “Spooky stories can bother anyone,” she replied with a shrug. “It made me nervous.”

“I know what you found there. You should be afraid. Can’t you understand that it’s all interwoven?”

“I’ll tell you what I do see. The evidence against you is mounting. The police have a silver concha with your mark on it. Did you know that?”

“I don’t see
how. All of mine are accounted for. I took two off my belt and melted them down to make a bracelet for our baby.” He twisted around to show her the two spaces on his belt, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “The bracelet is now buried with the child. There are no others that I know about.”

“I’m so very sorry for what happened,” Ella said, her voice strangled. She took a deep breath to steady
herself. She had to maintain her objectivity as an agent to continue questioning him effectively. “Have you been to the church site recently?”

He remained silent for a few moments. “The last time I went there was to do a Blackening Song to exorcise the evil, or at least weaken its power. Before I could complete the ceremony, Paul came to find me. Loretta had gone into labor. My son was…”

“I
know,” Ella said gently.

“The evil in that place has already caused the death of our father, and my tiny son. My enemies are now after my wife. I need your help, little sister.”

“Loretta’s being looked after, and I’ll watch over Mom. Can you identify the people trying to stop construction of the new church? If you’re right, they’re the ones who murdered Dad.”

“Why do you insist on only seeing
half the problem?” Clifford asked wearily.

Ella considered her reply carefully. The power of magic, of skinwalkers, was bolstered by the people involved in those activities—and by those who feared them. She toned down her answer. “Evil needs to be in people to do harm,” she responded, keeping her voice coolly logical. “I’ve been trained to track down criminals. I’ll go after the people; you can
take care of the other half of that equation. If you won’t turn yourself in, that’s the only deal I can offer you.”

He nodded. “All right, but don’t trust anyone outside our family except Wilson. Until we know who the skinwalkers are, they have the advantage.”

“Do you know anything about the threats made against Dad? Unsigned notes were sent to him, warning him to drop the idea of building a
church. If only I had known how far they were willing to go!” Emotions reverberated in Ella’s voice. Then she realized from the puzzled look in Clifford’s eyes that her father hadn’t trusted Clifford not to side with his enemies.

“I don’t blame you for assuming the notes were nothing more than a way to scare him…” His voice trailed off.

“There’s a ‘but’ in there someplace.”

He shook his head
slowly. “I wish you’d never chosen to leave our land. There’s so much you haven’t learned. Now you’re vulnerable.”

“I followed the life’s walk that was right for me. I don’t regret my decision.”

“Then you shouldn’t have returned. You’re not prepared to handle any of this. Go back to the world you adopted.”

She struggled to forgive the hurt his words caused her, because she knew they’d been
spoken out of concern for her safety. “I can carry my own weight. Just because you don’t see what part I’m to play in what’s happening, don’t discount me. Isn’t that what you’ve always said about traditional beliefs?”

Clifford’s eyebrows rose slightly. “You argue well, but this is no parlor game.”

“No,” she replied somberly. “This is my job. It’s what I’m trained for. That’s why you can’t afford
to turn down my help. In a life-or-death situation, you use every weapon in your arsenal.”

Slowly he nodded in acquiescence. “All right. As long you agree to do the same.”

EIGHT

Wilson blindfolded Ella again. “Do you understand why this is still necessary?”

“You’re trying to keep me from being an accessory, and from the danger that knowledge of Clifford’s whereabouts can bring. Still, I don’t agree. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“I respect the training you’ve had, but none of us can face this on our own. The odds against us are bad enough.
Let’s not make them even worse.”

It was the conviction in his voice that worried her most. Fear was a strange thing, an unpredictable force that could take on a life of its own. It could cause people to go off half-cocked. She’d hate to think that the most pressing danger they’d be facing would stem from their own worries.

As they drove away from Clifford’s hogan, the sun playing on Ella’s face
guided her, mapping a trail in her mind. She was certain that, if necessary, she’d be able to identify the general area where her brother was hiding. She’d noted the position of the mountains in the distance as she’d left the hogan.

Suddenly Wilson braked and veered sharply to the right. Ella reached for the dashboard to steady herself. “What the heck are you doing?”

“There’s a police car parked
ahead of us. I’m going to have to avoid it.”

“At least that’s proof they don’t know where Clifford is,” she commented.

The pickup headed up a steep slope. The truck slowed, and Wilson commented, “The ground is muddy from the recent rains.”

“You have four-wheel?”

“Sure, we’ll make it.”

Instinct told her differently. She could feel the truck’s speed become erratic as the tires bogged down,
extracted themselves, then repeated the process; the rear end of the vehicle fishtailed drunkenly. “Can’t you find firmer ground?”

“I’m trying, but it’s not easy.”

They traveled downslope slowly, the truck sliding dizzily. “Look, maybe you should let me take the blindfold off. I could help you keep an eye out.”

“No. We’ll be fine. Have confidence in me.”

Abruptly the truck’s nose plummeted,
practically tearing Ella out of the seat belt. She gritted her teeth. The pickup was still, canted on an angle.