The Glooming (Wrath of the Old Gods Book 1) (32 page)

Tara sat up and looked down at the twilit grass. The little Chihuahua ran over and curled itself on her lap while licking her hand.

Josh could see the moisture in his breath as he sighed loudly with his mouth. Great, now they were stranded in the middle of nowhere. Even with the little bimbo’s help, he doubted he could right the vehicle with just the two of them. As he stared out into the night, he noticed the bonfire a few hundred yards away.
There must be people over there, but what kind?
he thought. Would they be able to help or were they bandits who would try to steal their supplies? Either way he needed to find out.

After a few minutes, Tara noticed Josh walking back towards her. Expecting another slap, she tensed her shoulders and avoided eye contact, but the former police detective just walked right past her and got to the rear door of the van. As he opened it, she noticed he took out his Remington 870 pump-action shotgun, the one with the flashlight attached, and then closed the van up again.

As Josh walked up alongside of her, he also did a brass check on his Glock pistol to make sure there was a round in the chamber. “Come on,” he said as he passed her by.

Tara got up, picked up the dog and cradled it in her arms and followed. She walked silently behind him as they both made a beeline for the bonfire. When they got closer they both saw that it was a group of American Indians huddled by the fire. They looked like an extended family with about a half-dozen male adults, three old women, and a child that looked to be about eight. The men were mostly old, their silvery hair glittered in the moonlight. What looked like a grandmother was stirring a small pot by the fire. They had dark wool blankets wrapped around themselves as they sat and stared at the flames. When Josh came into view they hardly noticed him.

“Howdy,” Josh said as he stood a few feet away from the bonfire and faced them. “What are you people doing over here?”

None of them made eye contact. Tara walked up until she was a few feet beside Josh. She could see their wrinkled brown faces were given an orange hue by the reflection of the firelight. Either they ignored him or they didn’t speak any English, but she couldn’t believe the latter since this was America.

“Hey,” Josh said, his voice rising. “I’m talking to you folks. No habla English?”

“Maybe we ought to just leave them alone, Detective?” Tara said.

Josh glared at her. “Shut up, I’ll do the talking around here.”

Tara looked away from him. She didn’t want any more trouble.

Josh turned and looked at them again. “Now, I’m gonna say this once more. What are you people doing over here? This is Federal land.”

The youngest man in the group, he looked to be about thirty, Josh reckoned, spoke up but didn’t make eye contact as he kept poking the crackling bonfire with a stick. “Mister, why don’t you just go and leave us alone.”

“First of all, I’m a cop and you all look like illegal squatters here,” Josh said as he cradled the shotgun so it pointed sideways, out into the night, even though his finger was close to the trigger. Within a split-second he could get into a firing position if any of them gave him any trouble. “Second of all, I’m gonna need your help as my van got overturned down by the river a few hundred yards away. Now, what tribe are you folks?”

“Navajo,” an old man said as he adjusted his blanket and kept close to the fire.

Josh nodded sarcastically. “Navajo. That’s great. Okay then, here’s my deal, I will overlook your squatting and vagrancy in this here park, as long as you boys help me out and get my van upturned. Deal?”

Nobody answered. From the corner of her eye, Tara noticed the small child huddled behind one of the women and they looked at each other as the little boy smiled at her. Tara wasn’t sure if it was the bonfire or the moonlight, but it looked like the boy’s eyes were glowing in the dark when they made eye contact. Even though she was confused by what that meant, she instinctively smiled back.

Josh’s patience had run out. He quickly spread his legs so he was properly balanced as he began to point the shotgun in their direction, but not to anyone in particular. “Okay, now I’m ordering you all to get up. You’re all going with me and you’ll do your share to right my car. Is that clear?”

Nobody moved. Tara held her breath because she knew what he was capable of.

Josh’s left hand racked the slide pump as he chambered a 12-gauge shell into the Remington shotgun, then he pointed it towards the men. “Get up, all of you. And put your hands in the air. Now!”

At that moment Josh sensed something to his left, at the far end of his field of vision. It was a blur of movement in the darkness that had seemed to be far off when he first sensed it. But now, just a split-second later, it felt so close that he could touch it. As he turned to his left, a large, white-furred wolf leapt up at him as its jaws clamped down on his throat. Josh screamed as he let go of the shotgun to try and grab at the beast before it could get to his neck, but it was too late as the wolf’s jaws ripped his jugular open and his blood began to spurt on the grass where he fell, as the beast continued its relentless attack. Tara’s mouth was wide open as she noticed the Navajo men and their glowing eyes as they finally looked at her. She had stayed rooted to the spot as she saw how their forms began to shimmer as if it weren’t their bodies at all. Within a blink of an eye, there were now a pack of wolves, grey and white furred and as large as one of the big show dogs she once saw when visiting the state fair with her brother last year. They had all somehow transformed into animals as the entire pack soon pounced on what was left of Josh. It was then that all the stress and the shock of what had happened finally took its toll on her. She closed her eyes and fainted while hearing the growls and sensed the smell of blood in the night air.

When she finally awoke it was late morning. As Tara sat up, she noticed that the dog was sitting nearby as it scratched the back of its ear with it hind leg. The bonfire was now a smoking pile of ash and the Navajo were gone. After getting up, Tara walked over to where Josh was attacked. All she saw was some bloodstains on the faded grass and his shotgun lying nearby. The dog made its way over to her as she sat down and partially unzipped her dirty jacket.

“I thought they were going to kill me next,” Tara half-whispered. The last two nights she had seen someone die before her eyes. When it had happened the first time in the motel, she was hysterical and had to cry herself to sleep, but now she just felt numb.

The dog sat down in front of her. “There was no reason to kill someone that wasn’t a threat to them,” it said.

“It seemed that they all changed into wolves just like that. I saw the kid’s eyes … they were like glowing in the dark, like the eyes of a cat at night.”

“The eyes are the hallmarks of the yee naaldlooshii. The practitioners of the Way always begin to exhibit tell-tale signs of their power,” the dog said.

Tara turned towards the Chihuahua. “The yee what?”

“They are known as skin-walkers,” the dog said. “They are witches that have attained the power to change their shape. When the man intruded upon them and threatened them, they assumed the form of wolves to defend themselves.”

“So they’re like werewolves then?”

“Similarities perhaps, but the skin-walkers are more like sorcerers that use magic to change their forms because of their mastery over the dark arts.”

Tara furrowed her brow. “How do you know all of this?”

The dog had a very strange accent. It had trouble speaking consonants like “V” and “M” because of its snout. “I have been around.”

“Okay, I give up,” Tara said. “You’ve been speaking in riddles to me ever since I met you, and it seems you can foretell the future—you keep telling me about these paths. I’m pretty sure you look like a dog, but I think you really aren’t one. Just who or what exactly are you?”

“The ancient peoples in these lands worshipped many gods before the various empires from across the sea conquered them.”

“I read about this in school,” Tara said. “They worshipped animals or something like that?”

“The peoples of this land believed that animals were as intelligent as humans and anything that moves is alive. They believe that spirits and beings reside in all things, and the land and everything in it must be given respect. Animals are regarded as both gods and spirit guides for the people. Even when the beasts were hunted, the people always gave their respect to the animal after it was killed and eaten,” the dog said

Tara smirked. “So that’s it then? You’re my spirit guide?”

“The choices you have are yours,” the dog said. “No one forces you on the paths that you have taken. You must choose the path that will take you to your goal.”

Tara sighed. “Look, I don’t know what I want to do. A few weeks ago I just wanted to get away from my dad because he kept hitting me. Then I ended up with Larry, and then that ex-cop. Now they’re both dead and I’m stuck out here. I’ll probably die too.”

“You are at a crossroads,” the dog said. “There are many paths around you and you must choose … for only then does your destiny reveal itself.”

A few tears slid down her ruddy cheeks. “I’m just a kid. And I miss my little brother.”

“Is that the path you wish to take?”

Tara pushed her knees up and placed her chin on them as she wrapped her arms around her shins. “I just want the world to go back the way it was so I can get a job, and then take Timmy to live with me.”

The dog stared back at her with its bulging brown eyes. “If you want to make the world a peaceful place, then it shall be a long path you must undertake, one filled with many dangers. There were many ancient tales of heroes who rid the world of monsters, so perhaps you shall be the focus of a new legend.”

She wiped the tears on her cheek with her wrist. “I need to do something. I gotta help Timmy. Will you guide me to that path?”

“If that is the path you wish to take, then so be it,” the dog said. “It’s been ages since I last aided mortals, perhaps it is time to do so once again.”

Tara narrowed her eyes and looked at the dog closely. “I remember now. There was a kid’s book I read in class about a spirit guide. I think it was a dog or a coyote or something like that and it led the hero on a journey as an advisor or something. That story was about you, wasn’t it?”

“I was known by another name and I chose another form back then.”

“What did they call you back then?”

“Some tribes called me Coyote. Others called me the trickster.”

Tara stood up and grinned. “I knew it! You’re the Trickster God.”

“I have been called that,” the dog said.

She winked at the dog. “Trickster God sounds too long, I’ll just call you Bibsy.”

The dog growled. “That was the name given by my last master and it was a terrible one.”

Tara laughed as she zipped up her jacket and started walking towards the riverbank. “Okay, as long as you guide me the right way I’ll call you Trickster, if you give me trouble I’ll call you Bibsy.”

The dog ran alongside of her. “That was not funny.”

Tara giggled as she made it to the van. The vehicle was still there as it lay on its side along the riverbank. She opened the rear door and looked for some food and found two unopened cans of soup. Tara reached in and grabbed her backpack and then placed the two cans inside of it before slinging it over her shoulder.

She turned to look at the dog. “We’ve got one, maybe two days’ worth of food before we start starving. Where’s this next path supposed to take me?”

“In order to journey into the Spirit World, your senses must be further attuned,” the dog said. “I know of an old man that you can talk to and he lives a few days walk from here. You will need his instructions and teachings.”

Tara frowned. “Spirit World? Is that like the land of the dead or something? I don’t think I’ll like going there. Do I have to die first?”

“If you want peace to return to this world and to be reunited with your little brother then this is the journey you must take.”

Tara thought about it for a minute before giving out a smile as she shrugged. “Ah heck, I got nothing better to do anyway. Might as well try to be a heroine and save the world then. Lead the way, o' Trickster God.”

Unknown Location

The boy could no longer remember what time or even what day it was. For some strange reason, he felt neither hunger nor thirst, and he wasn’t tired either. Of course, when he would close his eyes, he would sleep and dream, but even then, he just didn’t feel the need to rest and would only do it when she entered the room so he would not have to look at her.

Ilya Volkhov was trapped, suspended in a wooden cage that hung over the hut’s ceiling … for how long now he didn’t know. He saw the old woman kill and eat his best friend Andrei. She simply tore him into little bits and pieces with her bare hands, then threw the parts into a black cauldron by the fire. She then licked the blood off the wooden floor with an enormously long black tongue. Ilya closed his eyes in shame when he remembered because he just stood there and watched. But as he thought about it further, there was really nothing he could have done. He was just a child and she was a monstrous, evil witch who just couldn’t be defeated.

His mouth trembling in fear and rage, Ilya made a silent vow to himself that if he could somehow escape and survive, he would avenge the death of his best friend, the one he called Buratino. He had thought long and hard on how to escape and as time had passed, he felt his courage growing as he nurtured it with fond memories of his friend and of his desire for vengeance. While the old woman would move around the room and do her various chores, he would pretend to be asleep so as not to catch her attention, observing with half-closed eyes to see if there was a time and an opportunity with which to escape.

As he heard her singing an old Slavic tune while she rummaged through her treasure trove in the room below, he realized this would be the best time to initiate his plan. From his past observations, she would usually go back upstairs and then go over to him and open the door to the cage so she could feel how thick his arms were. Ilya had read an old storybook in the library of the orphanage where he grew up in. The book told a fairy tale about a little boy and a girl who were held captive by a fearsome witch. In that story, the witch had always felt up the boy’s arm in order to see just how fat he was, so she could eventually kill him and eat him, but the children finally tricked the witch and killed her instead. Ilya hoped that this witch wouldn’t have known about that fairy tale, but he had a slightly different plan as he rummaged through his jacket. That was when he finally took out the piece of chewing gum he had saved just before they went out into the forest.