Blackening Song (37 page)

Clifford dove out the passenger’s side. Wilson threw open his door and jumped out, pulling Ella with him. After they’d rolled clear of the vehicle, Ella
saw a thin wire stretched taut across the windshield, shimmering in the moonlight. As she studied it, trying to figure out where it led, it suddenly snapped with a twang.

Before she could take a breath, something dislodged from the cottonwoods overhead. A split second later, a massive tree trunk, its end sharpened to a point, crashed onto the cab of the truck. They heard the sickening crunch
and squeal of metal as it transfixed the pickup. The ground trembled.

For a moment they were frozen in place, then Ella ran uphill through the trees. Peterson’s truck was moving eastward at a moderate pace.

Clifford came to join her. “This trap has probably never failed before. He thinks one or more of us are dead.”

“No, I don’t think so,” she responded. “I think he figures we’re trapped here,
and he’s going for reinforcements. He’ll be back with everyone he can round up. We’ve got to get out of here.”

Wilson walked slowly uphill. “Well, my truck isn’t going anywhere for a very long time.” He exhaled softly. “How am I going to explain this to the insurance company?”

Clifford grinned. “Logging accident?” They both laughed.

Ella shook her head. Men! They had bursts of humor at the
oddest times. “Okay, guys, we’ve got to get moving. We’re at least three hours’ walk from the main road, but if we keep a steady pace, we’ll be fine,” she said, casting a worried glance at Clifford.

“No. That’s not where we should be headed,” Clifford stated. “I know where Peterson’s going,” he continued, still staring at the retreating pickup, which had almost disappeared from view. “Remember
when I told you about areas where the evil seems stronger?”

Ella had been studying her brother. “Even if you know Peterson’s destination, you’re in no shape for a long hike, and probably a fight.”

“She’s right,” Wilson agreed. “Let’s head for the road. Maybe we can flag someone down.”

“Hiking all the way to the road will sap my energy. Then I won’t be able to see this through—and you
will
need
my help.” Clifford pulled his knife from its sheath, then went back toward Wilson’s truck. “You’ll both just have to trust me.”

“We do trust you,” Wilson said, following him. Wilson reached into the truck and retrieved his rifle and a box of ammunition. Fortunately they had been behind the seat and were undamaged. “It’s your judgment we don’t necessarily agree with.”

“Well put,” Ella said as
she joined the men, unable to suppress a smile.

Clifford pressed the blade of his knife against the palm of his hand. Blood oozed from the gash.

“Are you crazy?” Ella demanded furiously. “You’re weak enough.”

“I would have asked you to volunteer, but I know you’ve always had a problem handling pain.”

“I avoid it whenever possible—so what? That just means I’ve got sense!” she challenged, outraged.

Clifford held his hand over the passenger seat, allowing his blood to stain it, then wiped the steering wheel with his bloody palm. “We have to use all the tricks we can think of to even the odds.”

Suddenly she realized what he was doing, but Wilson was a step ahead of her. Taking Clifford’s knife, he sliced a thin line down his arm. “Let them think we’ve been injured. It’ll make them underestimate
us.” He smeared his blood around the truck.

“You’re both crazy.”

Wilson grinned at her. “You have a better idea?”

She shook her head in disbelief and frustration. “I won’t slice my hand. I may need it to shoot.”

Clifford’s cut clotted quickly, but the wound on Wilson’s arm continued to bleed even as Wilson wrapped a handkerchief around it. “It’s not deep,” he said in response to Ella’s worried
look. “It’ll slow down soon.”

“Why don’t you hold your arm up for a bit? That should help.”

Clifford reached into his medicine pouch and pulled out some bits of dried leaf. “Put this on the wound. It’ll help.” Wilson nodded and did as Clifford had said.

For the first time, Ella found herself envying her brother’s knowledge of healing. “Let me tear off one sleeve of my shirt. You could use the
extra bandaging.”

With a grin, Clifford said, “Have you noticed how softhearted my sister is? She tries to hide it, but the truth always comes out.”

Wilson unwrapped the handkerchief, then looked at his arm. “Keep your sleeve. The bleeding’s stopped.”

Ella nodded. She felt relieved. “Good. Let’s get going. Once the shooting starts, you’ll be glad I’ve got two good hands.” As they walked into
the darkness, Ella realized she hadn’t said
if.

TWENTY-THREE

The long hike across the desert valley was made tolerable by the evening air and the fact that their wet clothes had dried. Still, Ella was worried about Clifford. He hadn’t said a word in over forty minutes. “Let’s stop and rest for five minutes.”

Clifford shook his head. “We’re in danger, exposed out here. We can’t even afford to slow down.”

“We’ll be in greater danger if you
fall flat on your face and we have to carry you,” Ella countered.

“She’s right,” Wilson agreed. “Even in the dark, you don’t look so good.”

“Glad to hear you think so. I’d hate to discover you found me attractive.”

“I think you both lost too much blood back there. It’s affecting your thinking,” Ella mumbled, annoyed at their banter.

“Little Sister, don’t you ever lighten up?”

“Not when I
know I could be jumped at any moment.”

Clifford smiled. “Nah, I don’t think Wilson would get out of hand with me around.”

Wilson laughed softly, seeing the startled look on Ella’s face. “Would you have us march into a fight in total silence, thinking about it every step of the way?” he asked her quietly.

She forced a smile. “Sorry. Never did have a lot of patience with the male-bonding thing.”

“Jealousy, that’s all,” Clifford teased, then grimaced.

“Are you okay?” Ella asked quickly.

“I’ll make it,” Clifford said, taking a slow, deep breath.

“How close are we?” she asked.

“Another fifteen minutes, but we’ll have to take a very tough route to avoid being seen.” He gestured toward the rugged cliff they were approaching. “Straight up.”

“You’re not serious. No way you’ll make that,”
Wilson said.

“It’s our only chance. They won’t be looking up there for anyone. It’s too difficult an approach, and very noisy if you take even one misstep.”

Ella heard low voices up ahead somewhere. “I think we may have underestimated their number,” she said quietly.

“It sounds like there are too many people for us to risk a confrontation,” Wilson said, moving to steady Clifford, who was weaving
slightly.

“Time for a change of plan. We’ll take a quick look around,” Ella said, “try to identify as many people as we can, then steal a car and leave.”

“No,” Clifford whispered. “There’s no time to waste. A few nights ago, I found one of their gatherings. It was small, but the power they’re able to call up is great—it drew me to the site. That night, I heard one of the men mention this place.
This is the center of their power.”

“How many people did you see that night?” Wilson asked.

“Only six, but their numbers are not important. There are only a few whose power we need to fear.”

“Their leaders?” Ella asked.

“Yes, but it’s their abilities we have to guard against, not their standing,” Clifford answered.

“Because their powers are a match for yours?” Wilson asked.

“Perhaps superior,”
Clifford admitted. “But we’re strong as long as we fight as one.” At Wilson’s nod, he added, “I mean all three of us. We each have something unique to contribute.”

“Ella has her training; you, your abilities as a
hataalii.
What do I add?” Wilson asked.

“Your knowledge of the past and of our people. Most of all, your loyalty and courage. Those are not to be discounted.”

Clifford was nearly exhausted
by the time they reached the summit of the mesa. About twenty yards away, a wooden building stood almost hidden in a cluster of piñons. “Six cars,” Clifford whispered. “They came up from the south end of the mesa.”

“So your count was about right,” Wilson said, matching the softness of his tone.

“I’m going on alone,” Ella murmured. “Stay here and cover me while I take a look around. Maybe I can
identify some of the cars—and I’ll try to steal whichever vehicle looks easiest.”

“No, I’ll go,” Wilson offered. “I’m the one who’s most expendable.”

“None of us is expendable,” she said harshly. “Besides, do you know how to hot-wire a car?”

Wilson smirked. “No, I took drafting and P.E. that semester.”

“Then I’m the logical choice,” Ella answered with a tiny grin. “My education has been more
varied.”

“Your greatest strength still lies in the things you’ve never had to be taught,” Clifford said softly.

She didn’t want to think about what he meant, focusing instead on what she had to do. Ella crept forward, feeling as clumsy as a newborn colt. Every sound she made, crossing the rocky mesa, seemed magnified. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She’d tried not to show any fear in front
of Wilson and her brother, yet the terror pounding through her made Ella sick to her stomach. What she intellectually derided as superstition still had the power to touch her deepest emotions. She was coming face to face with her darkest nightmares.

Ella inched slowly toward the building. Perspiration covered her body though the temperature was in the low sixties. Keeping carefully behind cover,
Ella waited, watching and listening. Nothing moved, yet she was reluctant to cross the flat empty stretch between her and the building. It was unnaturally quiet. She shuddered.

After several minutes, when nothing had changed, she made up her mind to jog over, make her way to a side window, and peer inside. On the way, she’d check the vehicles for ignition keys. That might save valuable time later.

If she didn’t see any keys, she’d disable the vehicles by using her pocketknife to cut the valve stems on two tires.

Ella took a deep breath, pulled out her pocketknife, and opened the largest blade. Then, drawing her weapon, she ran a zigzag course to the building. As she dodged around the parked vehicles, she saw a Bronco with the keys still in it. That would be their ticket out. She left its
tires alone.

Reaching the building, she pressed herself against the wall. She could hear a slight hiss from the cars as their tires flattened, but that was all. She still couldn’t hear any voices. Something was wrong. She should have been able to detect at least some sounds by now.

Bracing for trouble, she slowly peered over the window ledge. The small, one-room building was empty. A bolt of
fear slammed through her. Maybe the enemy had heard or sensed her approach and circled around after her brother and Wilson. They’d be no match against so many.

She ran back to the Bronco, started it, and sped down the road the skinwalkers had used. Ella glanced back, wondering how soon they’d come after her, but no one appeared. She drove around to the north side of the mesa, half expecting to
be ambushed at any time. As she pulled to a stop, Wilson and Clifford ran down toward the vehicle.

“What happened? We saw you shoot out of there like a rocket,” Clifford said. “How come they didn’t chase you?”

“There’s no one there. The building’s empty.”

“Where did they go?” Wilson asked.

“I don’t know.”

“We had a clear view from the top of this mesa. No one came out,” Clifford assured her.
“They must have been in there. Somehow you missed them.”

“I didn’t. I’m telling you no one was inside,” Ella maintained.

“They were hiding,” he insisted.

“It’s possible, but why? They didn’t know I was there.”

“I don’t have any answers,” Clifford replied. “Not yet.”

Ella raced toward the highway. “We can’t go back there alone. We’re badly outnumbered. It would be suicidal.”

“Not if we prepare
ourselves adequately. Trust me; I know what to do. Drive to the sacred mountain, to the cave our mother showed us when we were kids.” Clifford leaned back into the seat, weariness etched on his face. As if to himself, he said, “Each mountain is a being that thinks and breathes. The water that channels through them gives them life. It’s there we’ll gather the strength we need, and appeal to First
Man and First Woman to protect us.”

“The gods that have control over witchcraft,” Ella said, remembering the stories.

“Properly appealed to, they can be persuaded to help us. I’ve kept prayer sticks at the cave, and ancient weapons have been hidden there for decades. Those will help us now.”

Ella kept her doubts to herself. Weapons sounded good, but not ancient ones. In lieu of manpower, they
needed firepower. Still, she was confident that when the time came, she’d be able to appeal to Clifford’s practical side.

It took ninety minutes to get there, but the ride helped Clifford recapture his energy.

Ella parked halfway up the mountain, aware she couldn’t drive any farther without risking the vehicle. “We’ll have to hike from here.”

“Now I know where you’re going,” Wilson admitted.
“I came here once, a very long time ago, with my father. He showed your mother the cave.”

“I didn’t know that,” Ella said, surprised. She couldn’t remember her mother ever mentioning Wilson’s parents.

“My father was in love with your mother once, although that was a long, long time ago.”

“I certainly didn’t know that!” Ella looked at Clifford, but he didn’t seem surprised by the revelation.

“What happened between them, do you know?” Ella asked, unable to suppress her curiosity.

“When my father was dying, he told me all about it. I think he wanted to relieve himself of all the guilt he’d felt for years.” He cleared his throat. “Dad had wanted to marry your mother, but she never trusted him. You see, he wanted to father children who’d have the power given to those of your family. Your
mother knew that and realized his reasons for wanting her were selfish. She chose your father instead.”