Downwinders: Blood Oath, Blood River Part 4

"Can't feel a thing," Virginia answered.

It was twice as big as the two blisters Deem had cut open earlier. She could feel something hard inside, just like the others.

"Mom," Deem said, "would you find me a small, sharp blade? Sterilize it and bring it to me?"

"What are you going to do?" Margie asked.

"And bring some tissues and bandages," Deem said. "We're going to drain this."

Margie didn't move. Deem turned to look at her, and she could see Margie wanted to argue.

"Mom?" Deem said. "Please?"

Margie gave in. She turned and left the room.

"Is it big?" Virginia asked.

"Not too," Deem said. "I think once we drain it you might feel a little better."

"I can't believe the doctor didn't find it," Virginia said.

"He must not have looked you over very thoroughly.

"I doubt he spent five minutes with us. Wrote a prescription and left."

Deem looked at the nightstand next to the bed. There was a yellow bottle with a prescription label. Deem picked it up and read it it was for an antidepressant. That's all these doctors down here know to give women, Deem thought.

"Have you taken any of these yet?" Deem asked Virginia, who was still lying on her left side.

"No," Virginia said. "I was sleeping."

"Well, don't," Deem said.

Margie returned and handed Deem a paring knife from the kitchen.

"You sterilized it?" Deem asked.

"With rubbing alcohol," Margie said.

"Alright," Deem said. "Don't move, Aunt Virginia."

Deem placed the knife at the welt and pressed in. Immediately grey smoke rose from the welt as though it had been under pressure. The skin deflated, and Deem used the knife to widen the slit. Then she removed the white bone from the flesh. It was twice as large as the one she'd removed from herself the previous night. She held it up for Margie to see.

"Oh my!" Margie said, examining the white lump. "Those edges look sharp! I can't believe you couldn't feel that, Virginia!"

"Can't feel a thing," Virginia said, still on her side.

There was no blood, so Deem used a couple of bandages to cover over the incision, and she allowed Virginia to roll back.

"What was it?" Virginia asked.

"We don't really know," Margie said. Deem held the knife up for Virginia to see the bone fragment, still perched on its tip.

"Oh my G.o.d!" Virginia said.

"Language!" Margie chided Virginia.

"That doctor oughta be sacked!" Virginia said. "Thank you, dear," she said, looking at Deem. "I feel better already!"

"Would you like something to eat?" Margie offered. "I was making a tray for you."

"I'll get up," Virginia said. "Let me walk around for a bit and see how I feel."

Deem turned to Margie, and her mother gave her an appreciative smile. "I think you may have a future in medicine!" Margie said.

Chapter Three.

Deem sipped her hot chocolate while Winn drank a coffee at Pete's.

"What's his name again?" Deem asked.

"Awan," Winn said. "Awan Agai."

"Strange name," Deem said.

"You're one to talk," Winn replied.

"Did he say anything about it?" Deem asked.

"Nope," Winn said. "Just wrote that he knew what it was, and wanted to meet up."

"Indian Springs is a good hour and a half away," Deem said. "He must think it's serious."

"We'll see," Winn said. The waitress brought him a plate of French fries covered in brown gravy.

"That looks disgusting," Deem said.

"Deliciously disgusting," Winn said, smiling. "Want some?"

"No," Deem said, scrunching up her nose. "By the way, I cut a piece of bone out of my aunt just before I came here. Same thing I had, but twice as big."

"No s.h.i.+t!" Winn said. "That must be why she was sick."

"I'm guessing if I hadn't cut mine out, I'd be sick too."

"That's a good bet."

The chimes attached to the diner's door rang as a tall man walked into the room. He was wearing cowboy boots, tight fitting Wranglers, and a Yankees baseball cap on his head dark black hair sticking out from under it. He had on a tight white t-s.h.i.+rt, tucked into his jeans. He looked lean and fit, and a few years older than Winn. He walked over to Deem and Winn's booth and stood next to them.

"Winn?" he asked.

"That's me," Winn answered.

"Awan," he said.

Both Winn and Deem slid further into the booth to allow Awan a place to sit. Awan looked at both open spots on either side of the booth and chuckled. He sat next to Deem.

"I'm Deem," she said, extending her hand.

"Nice to meet you," Awan said, taking her hand.

Deem felt a little fl.u.s.tered, which wasn't normal for her. She wasn't sure what she was expecting, but it wasn't this. Awan was disarmingly handsome. And now that he was sitting next to her, she noticed he smelled fantastic.

"So I read your post," Awan said, looking down at Winn's fries. "Can I have some of those?"

"Help yourself!" Winn said, shoving the plate closer to Awan, who grabbed several fries that were covered in gravy and stuffed them into his mouth.

Deem noticed that his teeth were perfect. Not something you usually see around here, she thought.

"d.a.m.n, those are good," Awan said. "I think I'll order a plate myself."

"So you think you know what we've run into?" Deem asked.

"I'm pretty sure," Awan said. "But tell me the whole thing, from start to finish."

Deem and Winn alternated telling Awan the story. They started with the bus trip and Deem ended with the removal of the bone from her aunt's neck.

"I'm pretty sure I know," Awan said. "The combination of it being on your roof and your aunt having a black tongue is what makes me think it's a mutated naaglos.h.i.+."

"Skinwalker?" Winn asked.

"Not like any skinwalker you've heard of," Awan said. "This bunch has changed due to downwind radiation. They're different. Friends I know have been calling them skinrunners because they're not like regular skinwalkers."

"Bunch?" Winn asked. "You've seen more of them?"

"Lots of them in the past few months," Awan said, eating more fries. "They function only at night. Their ability to transform into animals is limited, but they gain the attributes of some animals without transforming."

"Like being able to run as fast as a bus?" Deem said.

"Exactly," Awan said. "The glowing eyes are another sign. And they target people, especially people who've seen their face."

"That would be me," Deem said. "And my aunt, too."

"What do you do to stop them?" Winn asked.

"That goes back to how they became skinrunners in the first place," Awan said. "The man who attacked you became a skinrunner by performing a ritual with the aid of a shaman. The ritual has changed from the traditional, in part because of a rogue shaman who is using downwind mutations to create more naaglos.h.i.+ than usual. Normally it's the shaman who decides to become a skinwalker, but this guy is spinning out skinrunners by the dozens, for a fee. Anybody can become one with his help, as long as they complete the requirements and pay his price. It's become a business to him."

"What are the requirements?" Deem asked.

"There's a ritual the shaman performs," Awan said. "It stops, halfway though. The person has to leave, and kill someone he loves. Then he returns to the shaman, and the ritual completes, and they become naaglos.h.i.+. Skinrunners."

"Navajo?" Winn asked.

"He was Navajo until they kicked him out," Awan said. "Now he's practicing a blend of Navajo and Hopi medicine. I'm guessing the Navajos probably wish they'd put him down rather than exiled him."

"How'd you find all this out?" Winn asked. "Normally the Navajos won't talk about skinwalkers."

"I'm Paiute," Awan said, "and I've got some gifted friends who are Navajo. They know I specialize in tracking bad medicine, so they've been keeping me informed. It's nothing they'd tell a white man. And they're always cautious about saying too much. I think they're hoping I'll track this shaman down and take care of him for them. He was experimenting with things that bothered them, mutations especially. They exiled him years ago, but it's only been in the last few months that he figured out how to ma.s.s-produce these skinrunners. They know it's him, but for some reason they're not taking action to stop him."

"Are you going to track him down?" Deem asked.

"Wasn't my plan," Awan said. "I've got some trouble back home at the moment. I saw your post about the black tongue and thought I'd better warn you."

"Thanks for that," Winn said. "Any suggestions as to what we should try?"

"Well, he'll keep coming back," Awan said. "Stay up and watch tonight, get a spot where you can see the roof of the house clearly. I'll bet you see him up there, blowing corpse poison down your chimney."

"Corpse poison?" Deem asked.

"It's made from the bones of dead babies," Awan said. "Extra potent if they're twins. It's what's causing the blisters on your skin with the bone fragments inside. You can keep cutting them out, but he'll keep doing it, and you'll just keep getting them. And eventually you'll succ.u.mb, because the blisters will stop appearing on your skin and develop on the inside of your body instead. You've got three days after you develop black tongue to get it resolved, or you'll die."

"Great," Deem said sarcastically. "Any idea how to stop him?"

"Well, there's stopping the attack and there's stopping him," Awan said. "Two different things. If you want to stop the attack, there used to be a device that would remove the black tongue and permanently protect you from another infection. My grandfather used to have one, but it's long gone. He said it was stolen. Other than something like that, you can only keep cutting out the bones, until you can't find them anymore."

"Can you tell me more about this device, Awan?" Deem asked. "The object your grandfather said was stolen?"

"I never saw it," Awan said. "But I know he used it a lot. There's always been skinwalkers down here, and people trying to put them down. He'd use it on people with black tongue, and they'd be free of the attack."

"I wish we could find an object like that," Deem said. "Did he keep journals?"

"He did," Awan said, becoming more enthusiastic. "Good journals. He might have sketched it out. When I get home I'll check. If I find anything I'll take a picture of it and send it to you."

"Even if we knew what the object looked like," Winn said, "how would that help us? Where would we get one? I don't collect objects, and I don't know anyone who does."

"I might know someone who can point us in the right direction," Deem said. "Eliza. Remember her, when Steven and Roy were down?"

"Sure," Winn said. "She has objects?"

"I know she uses them in her work," Deem said. "She might have one, or be able to refer me to someone who would know. I'll reach out to her and see."