Windigo Thrall Read online

  “Hello, Pat.” The Latina was younger than Grady by about ten years. She stood, struggling with an armload of coats they should have donned before leaving the terminal, and extended one hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Pleasure’s mine.” Pat shook her hand briefly. Elena’s palm was cool and smooth except for the mild calluses that indicated she worked for a living. The other one, Grady, would have hands like silk. She had that academic vibe, like Jo. “Let me help you with those bags.”

  All this courtesy came naturally after three years in the Park Service, but she was glad to turn to the physical labor of hauling their luggage to the Outback. The vehicle Jo had purchased for her had been fully outfitted for Park mountain service, and it could accommodate five passengers easily. Pat just hoped none of them were big talkers.

  One of the side doors of the truck swung open, and Becca Healy stepped out. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Your arms are six feet long, Jo. Please lend a hand with this stuff.”

  Jo unwound her limbs from the recessed seat, and all six feet of her stood beside Becca, biddable as a lamb. Grady came to an odd dead halt on the sidewalk. Curious, Pat tipped her mirrored sunglasses up and watched the two white women glare at each other.

  “Hello, Dr. Call,” Grady said. “I hadn’t realized you were coming along on this jaunt.”

  “As you see.” Jo lifted one large suitcase effortlessly and carried it to the rear of the Outback. “We’re parked in a loading zone.”

  Pat pushed aside bags of groceries to make room, her curiosity unsated. These two had some history, that was obvious, but their apparently mutual hostility wasn’t surprising. Pat had known Jo all her life, and she had that effect on everyone.

  “Gracias, Dr. Call.” Elena’s tone was friendly, but Jo bypassed her offered hand and slipped into the front seat.

  “De nada,” Becca answered her. “You’ve now heard every word in Spanish I know.”

  Jo’s new girlfriend carried the social graces as naturally and lightly as a second skin, and how that awkward geek had won her heart was a complete mystery to Pat. Becca went to Elena and clasped her hand in both her own. “You’ve met Pat and Jo. I’m Becca. You’re Elena and Grady. Welcome to Seattle!”

  Becca stepped back to include them all in her warm smile. “You guys ready to catch a cannibal monster?”

  *

  Becca noted Jo’s fast slide into the shotgun seat, leaving her to share the back with their new colleagues. She didn’t mind; prolonged physical closeness to anyone other than Becca was difficult for Jo.

  Riding with Pat was like traveling under the protective guard of a butch Lone Ranger. Becca took in the square, strong set of the young Makah woman’s shoulders as she steered them skillfully out of SeaTac. Ah, women in uniform. She wished she knew more about Pat and her family, the odd relationship between Pat and Jo. Perhaps this weekend would provide time for some private coffee conversation.

  Elena was gazing out the window with a dreamy smile, her cheeks flushed with color. She looked excited as a kid, and not much older than one. Grady Wrenn sat flipping slowly through screens on her iPhone, a scowl on her handsome face. Becca had wondered if they were a couple, and the identical rings they wore, beautiful swirls of silver and turquoise, cinched that notion.

  Grady glanced through the window as they turned south on I-5. “They’ve moved the university?”

  “We’re not meeting Dr. Chambliss this afternoon. He’s sending us straight to Rainier.” Jo was texting rapidly, her voice impassive.

  Grady didn’t look pleased with this announcement. “Hey, we planned to spend the night in the city. I wanted to show Elena a few sights.”

  “Change of plans.” Jo closed her cell. “Heavy snow is forecast for the lower elevations this weekend. Time is a factor here, and Chambliss wants us on the mountain before the roads are iced in.”

  “I see.” Grady frowned at the back of Jo’s head.

  “Don’t we have time for a quick dinner before we go up, Pat?” Becca asked. “Fresh salmon at Ivar’s?”

  “I’m afraid they close the gates to the foothills at Longmire at five p.m.” Pat kept her eyes on the road. “We’ll make it, but there’s no time to stop.”

  “Ach,” Becca sighed. “I’m sorry your plans were wrecked, Grady.”

  Grady’s face cleared and she returned Becca’s smile, gracious enough to allow an awkward moment to pass in response to friendliness. “I guess they’re only postponed.”

  “Yes, the city will still be here when we come back.” Elena plucked Grady’s sleeve. “Look, chica! Already you are showing me marvels undreamed of in our little valley.”

  Becca ducked her head toward the forested hills flanking the highway. “You mean trees?”

  “Trees,” Elena repeated reverently. “Green, everywhere you look, even in winter. You live in such a beautiful place, Becca.”

  “That we do. I love it here.” Becca saw Pat flick Elena a smile in the rearview mirror and she agreed with her; she liked Elena, her eagerness, the warmth in her eyes as she regarded her more reserved partner. “Wait till you see the land around Jo’s cabin, Elena. Trees thick as bristles in a brush. It’s gorgeous. Pat lives on the property and she keeps it in excellent shape.”

  “Jo’s cabin?” Grady’s tone was polite. “I didn’t realize you owned the cabin Dr. Chambliss secured for this study, Dr. Call. Will you be staying there with us, then?”

  Becca thought she detected rising horror in Grady’s expressive features, but it was quickly hidden. She answered for Jo, a habit she’d fallen into because she usually managed not to piss people off by merely speaking, and Jo would rather not communicate, period. “Yes, we’re all helping Pat with this investigation. Don’t worry. The place is huge. There’s more than enough room for us. I kind of begged my way into this little jaunt. I’m a social worker, and Jo felt I might be helpful in talking to the family.”

  “Begging wasn’t necessary.” Jo seemed so formal, so unlike her relaxed animation when they were alone. “You deserve some time off. You work too hard, Becca.” She glanced back at her. “I wish you would fasten your seat belt.”

  Becca heard Jo’s protectiveness, her concern for her, her real pleasure that Becca was along on this trip—all of that in those few terse statements. She doubted their new friends heard the love in Jo’s curt words, but it was there. “Well, we don’t get to work together very often. Our fields don’t blend that much, so I jumped at this chance.”

  “I’d think your field would be an unusual match for this study, Dr. Call.” Grady folded one leg over the other on the spacious back seat. “Dr. Call is an expert in afterlife communication, Elena.”

  Elena’s expression was an interesting blend of fascination and acceptance. “Yes? Then we are in the same field.”

  Grady nodded. “Elena is a curandera in our home in New Mexico. An herbalist, a nurse, and a spiritual healer.” She reached over and clasped Elena’s hand. Elena’s eyes flew to Becca and her smile faltered, but then she relaxed again and pressed Grady’s fingers.

  “Hey, I’d love to hear more about your work, Elena.” Becca meant it. “Jo’s taught me a lot about what might lie beyond—”

  “I have only the most peripheral connection to the anthropology department,” Jo interrupted. “I teach a course in transpersonal psychology to Chambliss’s graduate students. That involves the self-transcendent spiritual aspects of the human experience.”

  Becca noted, with both amusement and consternation, that Grady mouthed this definition silently as Jo spoke it.

  “Chambliss commissioned me for this study because I specialize in capturing recordings of sounds generated by afterlife entities,” Jo went on. “And apparently, those sounds are manifesting in this Chippewa family.”

  “This Chippewa family is hearing a voice from the dead.” Grady’s expression had closed again. “The voice of the Windigo.”

  Becca saw Pat’s shoulders tense, a subtle stiffening.

  �
��That’s correct,” Jo said.

  “The Chippewa aren’t native to the Pacific Northwest,” Grady said slowly. “And neither is the Windigo.”

  “That’s correct.”

  “So we’re thinking this Chippewa family relocated cross-country, all the way from Minnesota, and brought the Cannibal Beast with them?”

  “Correct.” Impatience had entered Jo’s tone as Pat turned off on the smaller highway toward Mt. Rainier, and Becca thought again, as she had so many times since she fell in love with this difficult woman, that she would spend her life helping Jo navigate the treacherous territory of human interaction. If she had fallen in love with a partner who was physically disabled, Becca reminded herself, she would spend her life steering her wheelchair over cracked sidewalks. Willingly. She and Jo were dealing with a disability that could be just as challenging, and it merited equal compassion and patience.

  “This family feels they’re suffering from some kind of curse.” Becca was filled with uneasy wonder at the prospect of such a burden. “They fled their home tribe to escape this Windigo, and they’re afraid that somehow it followed them here.”

  “And can I ask how the Park Service got involved in all this?” Grady asked the back of Pat’s head.

  “Some local called in a complaint about the Abequas squatting on Park property,” Pat said. “When I talked to the family, they were all focused on this Windigo curse. I passed the recording of our interview on to Jo. I knew she was experienced in such things.”

  Pat volunteered nothing else, but then Pat generally volunteered little, Becca noted. Jo seemed to speak directly to her only to issue one instruction or another. She treated Pat like a paid servant. But then, with the exception of Becca, Jo treated most people that way.

  “Pat has arranged for us to meet with the family tomorrow morning.” Jo glanced back at Grady. “I hope you’re accustomed to rising early, Dr. Wrenn.”

  “Seriously? We’re going to be ‘doctoring’ each other for three days?” Becca’s voice was teasing. “Can we make it Grady and Jo?”

  “I’m fine with that,” Grady said. “If she is.”

  Becca saw Elena stroke Grady’s wrist, the same comforting touch Becca offered Jo on a daily basis. There was a definite prickliness between their two doctors, even more palpable than the discomfort Jo’s brusqueness usually inspired, and Becca didn’t understand it. Grady didn’t seem the type to be prone to easy annoyance, to disliking people on sight. The laugh lines were deep around her mouth, and her gray eyes were friendly and kind, at least when she looked at Becca.

  Silence filled the lush interior of the vehicle as the powerful motor purred beneath them, carrying them deeper into the hills. Pat clicked on the strong wash of the headlights, pushing back the gathering darkness that fell so early on the mountain this time of year. Becca sat back in her seat, content with the beauty of the twilight scenery and the quiet to enjoy it.

  They drove past the poignant Morton’s Loggers’ Memorial, dedicated to the men who lost their lives in that once vital, often lethal profession. At a crossroad a few miles farther north, Becca saw the lonely roadside shrine to a park ranger who had been killed only the winter before.

  “Damn, that’s a gruesome image.” Jo shuddered visibly as they passed the monument. “You’d think they could do better than that for her.”

  Becca lowered her eyes, annoyed. She found the laminated photo of the young officer resting on a simple pine altar poignant and fitting.

  Elena looked back. “This is a tribute to a ranger who was lost? Did you know her, Pat?”

  “Margaret Anderson was a mother of two,” Pat said. “She was shot by a man trying to escape the police.”

  Becca winced in sympathy. Of course Pat had known that young woman. She had probably worked with her. She regretted Jo’s insensitivity all over again.

  “Did they catch the man?” Elena asked.

  “Yes,” Pat said. “The guy who shot her died himself, later that night. He froze to death in a stream.”

  “Good,” Elena said, and Pat nodded.

  Becca gave herself a mild shake. What in any god’s titties was wrong with her today? Of all the beautiful sights she could be pointing out to their guests, they were chatting about memorials and murder. It was unlike Becca to dwell on sadness, cruelty, and loss, yet it was suddenly all she could see on this pretty drive. Pat’s vehicle was Outback’s best. It cost twice what Becca made in a year, and its heater was a blast furnace, but she was shivering nonetheless.

  The wind wasn’t helping. Gusts were picking up, punching lightly at the steel skin of their chariot, creating periodically ghostly whistles. Pat drove with a sure and practiced hand, and Becca trusted her to deliver them safely through a blizzard, if it came. She wasn’t afraid for their physical safety; she just didn’t like the wind.

  Becca pulled her eyes from the window and met Elena’s gaze. Elena was watching her with mild concern, one eyebrow lifted in a way that made her seem more mature, almost maternal. Becca grinned and winked at her, feeling a little foolish. She was fine, she told Elena silently. They were all fine, and a hot tub and s’mores and a crackling fireplace awaited them. She couldn’t wait to show Elena the cabin.

  *

  Not many people could wink at Elena without making her feel like either a prostitute or a child. But this Becca created a good thing—this nice, friendly wink with no trace of condescension—so it was fine, and Elena winked back at her.

  She knew what was disturbing Becca. She only wondered why Grady and Pat and this strange Joanne didn’t seem to hear it. The winds around the old mountain teemed with ghosts. They howled with a sense of loss that filled Elena with wonder and sadness. There were so many of them.

  But then the winds in her desert valley had always been rich in spirits. Her Diosa hadn’t chosen to show her many of them, which, for the most part, Elena appreciated. The spirits in Grady’s old lands were noisy, but they seemed content hiding in their thick forest.

  “The intent of the study is simply to report.” Jo was continuing a conversation Elena thought had ended many miles ago. Her spirit struggles so, my Mother, she told her Goddess. “There are some anomalies in the interview between Pat and members of this family that Chambliss wants us to document.”

  Grady stirred beside Elena, her hand warm in hers. It was good to be among people who accepted such things. “You said this entire family believes they’re cursed by a Windigo?”

  “Correct, that’s what I said.” Jo sounded impatient again, and Becca sighed.

  If they knew her Grady better, they would know she was not mocking this family’s fears. She always treated people who believed in other worlds with respect. Since Grady had met Elena, the poor woman had become one of them.

  “Not strictly correct.” Pat’s voice was dry. “The Abequas believe only one person in their family, the oldest woman, has this Windigo curse. The rest are just scared of it.”

  “What kind of anomalies came up in your interview?” Grady asked Pat, but it was Jo who answered.

  “The interview was recorded. We’ll hear it once we’re settled.” Jo paused as Pat turned them up a rattling rattrap of a road, more a wide path through the dense trees that grew quickly steeper. “We’re nearly there.”

  And Elena was starting to think it was a good thing, that they were nearly at this cabin. She was beginning to feel afraid.

  She didn’t think Becca could hear it anymore; she was leaning forward in her seat, talking quietly to Jo. Pat was driving, and Grady was lost in her notes.

  They were not many voices, the ghosts howling out there in the dark. They were one voice.

  It wasn’t here yet, but it was coming.

  The big truck actually shuddered with its blasting scream.

  “Damn, those winds are picking up.” Grady knuckled a circle of steam from her side window.

  “Yes, precursor to the storm,” Jo replied. “It’s not due to hit until tomorrow night.”

  “How big
are we talking?” Grady asked.

  “Don’t worry, Doctor—Grady. Pat’s vehicle has traction tires and chains in the trunk.”

  Elena squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out that terrible noise, that lost and evil roaring. Sweet Goddess, You who created every creature, living and dead, what have You done? What is this beast?

  A spirit of the lonely places does not help me. I do not know what that is. Please, my Mother, speak again, don’t fade away as You do sometimes when I most need You.

  “Hey.” Grady’s voice was low, her breath warm on Elena’s hair. “You all right?”

  She was getting there. The wind was the same, but the terrible, unnatural life in it was fading. The voice was falling silent.

  “Elena?”

  “Sí, I’m fine.” She opened her eyes and patted Grady’s hand. Her pulse was returning to normal. The darkness around them receded, and it wasn’t haunted midnight anymore, just windy dusk.

  Grady’s smile was shy and sweet. “It’s going to be all right,” she whispered.

  Elena knew Grady thought she was feeling sorry they wouldn’t be alone together on this vacation. Always, mi Diosa, Grady considers my heart.

  Then they pulled to a stop on a gravel circle and Elena looked up and ay! They were in Disneyland! Only better than Disneyland, where Elena had never been. Here was a castle, and all for them. This “cabin” that belonged to Jo was two stories high. It was huge, all paneled glass and rich honeyed wood.

  And Sweet Goddess, was that a hot tub?

  Chapter Two

  Jo glared up at the high ceiling, resenting the noise the two women made settling in, grudgingly aware that their rustling was muffled and faint. Sturdy construction helped immensely, and Jo needed thick walls in any abode she shared, even temporarily, with others.

  “I hope they understand the upper level is entirely self-contained.” Jo was unpacking the electronics while Becca handled their more personal possessions. Pat was taking her sweet time fetching firewood. “There’s even a small kitchen up there. No reason at all to spend a lot of time together, except when we’re working.”