Spirit Dance Read online

  Dance, spirits, dance.

  Estelle and I had been an item for quite a while, back when I ran security in the northeast. For centuries, the Heroka were nothing more than creatures of legend. Security had mostly amounted to making sure things stayed that way. Then came the Tainchel, a covert operation of the federal intelligence agency CSIS, formed as we later learned, with the single goal of tracking down and capturing the Heroka. For scientific purposes.

  Tainchel. Old Scottish term: Armed men advancing in a line through a forest to flush out and kill wolves.

  We lost quite a few before we caught on. They’d developed specialized scanners from tests on early victims. Subtle differences in alpha wave patterns, infrared readings, and metabolic rates gave us away, even in crowded cities.

  Then they got careless, and we became aware. I leaked word about a meeting that the Circle of the Heroka planned for an isolated spot. At the next full moon, of course. I figured they’d expect that.

  Twenty of the Tainchel walked into the ambush, armed mostly with tranquilizer rifles. They didn’t walk out. They’d encountered the Heroka before, but never predators. Wolves, bears, the big cats, birds of prey. We didn’t take prisoners.

  After, we contacted Justice and CSIS. I sent a list of the remaining Tainchel agents, present locations, recent activities, and a note saying, “We know who you are. We know where you are. We will kill to protect ourselves. Back off.”

  They backed off. CSIS disbanded the Tainchel, and an uneasy truce began.

  The truce lasted. Estelle and I didn’t. She argued against the ambush, the killings. I argued that we fought for our existence. In the end, we just argued.

  Robert and I had been friends for years, and through me, he had come to know Estelle. After I exited the scene, the two of them became more than friends. About then, I resigned from the Circle. Robbie replaced me there too.

  Dance, spirits. Dance with the beasts of the night.

  Growling, Gelert turned toward a dim rustle in the forest. I gave the dog a mental command to lie down again. Stealth was not my intruder’s aim. I stood as Leiddia stepped out of the trees, stopping at the edge of the firelight.

  She smiled. “Hello again.”

  “Hi yourself.”

  “You don’t seem surprised,” she said as she approached.

  “I had the feeling you wanted to tell me something.”

  “Yep,” she said, “You’re a wolf.”

  I tried to remain expressionless. “Excuse me?”

  She walked to the opposite side of the fire and sat on the ground, grinning. “Blaidd. I looked it up. It’s Welsh for wolf.”

  “Oh, right. I forgot I’d told you.”

  I sat again, as Gelert came over to nuzzle her. She took his huge head in both hands, rubbing him behind the ears. “And what’s your name?”

  I told her, and she made a face. “Gelert was the legendary hound of Prince Llewellyn of Wales,” I explained.

  “Hmm. So, why does Ed call you Grey Legs?”

  I chuckled. “The Ojibwa and the Cree believe using its name will attract a wolf. So they call it Grey Legs, Grey Coat, Golden Tooth, Silent One. Ever since I told him what my name meant, he’s called me that, as a joke.”

  She smiled again. “So he thinks you’re a wolf, too.”

  I grinned back. In the store, I’d been so intent on her aura of the Mark, I’d overlooked how attractive she was. Gelert liked her too, always a good sign.

  She stared at me. “You are a wolf.”

  I remained silent.

  “What’s it like,” she asked, “to change, to be that way?”

  “You do know, don’t you? How?”

  “Your friend, Robert. We met during the funerals at the church. Something about me fascinated him. He kept staring at me.”

  “Can’t say I blame him.”

  “It wasn’t that kind of interest, but thanks,” she said smiling. “Anyway, I knew he was different too, but I didn’t know what it was.”

  She shifted her gaze to the flames. “He was so upset, so sad. He said he had something to tell me, about me. That something must be added for what was lost. I didn’t understand, but I wasn’t afraid of him. Somehow, I knew I could trust him.”

  I smiled. That was Robbie — the size of a grizzly, but women treated him like a big teddy bear.

  “At the cemetery after the burials, we walked together. We found a big stone just inside the forest, and sat and talked. Well, he talked. I just listened. He told me of the Heroka, of how you are a race older than man. How you each are linked to an animal species.”

  I nodded. “We have many names. The Ojibwa called us the Heroka, or Earth Spirits. They believed my people were ancestrally related to different animals, similar to totems. We bear traits and abilities of our totem animal, like keener senses, greater strength.” I turned to Gelert. “And we can command those animals.”

  Without a word from me, Gelert trotted to my tent and emerged holding a cup in his mouth. He dropped it in my hand.

  “Coffee?” I asked.

  She laughed. “I guess house-training Gelert wasn’t a problem. Thanks, just black is fine.” She looked serious again. “Robert told me more.”

  I reached for the coffee pot hanging over the fire. “That we can change into our totem animals.”

  She nodded.

  “You believed him?”

  She took the cup from me. “Pretty well had to. He showed me.”

  I gave a low whistle. “He must have been sure about you.”

  “He said I had the right to know, that I had the Mark.”

  “Yes. Yes, you do,” I said quietly.

  “Then I’m one of you?” She leaned forward quickly, spilling coffee onto the ground.

  I shook my head. “No. Not yet anyway. Very few with the Mark ever become one of the Heroka. They need assistance. Didn’t Robert explain?”

  “He had something to do first, something he owed someone. He was going away but said he’d be back to explain more and help me.”

  She got up then and walked to me slowly, as if trying not to frighten away an animal that had strayed in from the forest. She sat beside me, her leg brushing against mine, her breath cool and sweet on my face. I noticed something else.

  “Your cheek,” I began, reaching out.

  She turned away. “He hit me.”

  “Your stepfather?”

  She nodded.

  I turned her face back to me with a finger on her chin. “Why?”

  She looked down. “He was...touching me. I made him stop.”

  My hand squeezed her shoulder. “Has he tried this before?”

  “No,” she said with a sneer. “He’s always saved his special attentions for Mom.” She leaned against me, her head against my shoulder. “I hate him and I’m scared, Gwyn.” Her voice was low but firm. “I wish I had your strength, your powers.”

  Wrapping my arms around her, I held her for a long time, neither of us speaking. Technically, I had to petition the Circle first, but I was never much on policy. To me, it was her right. I thought of her mom and Tom Barker. I thought of Tom with her.

  “You’ll have my powers,” I said. “I’ll give you your birthright.”

  She sat straight up. “You can do that? How?”

  I grinned. “Well, there’s the classical method or the modern approach, plus some, uh, variations. In the classical scenario, I shape shift and savagely attack you. Unique microorganisms in my saliva and in oils excreted from my claw tips enter your blood stream through your various wounds, meeting up with some equally unique enzymes that those with the Mark carry. This results in a mutated enzyme that modifies your cell structure. You’re then of the Heroka, assuming you survive my attack.”

  She snuggled close again. “Well, I like where you attack me, but not the various wounds part.”

  “Chicken. Okay, the modern version then. I make an incision somewhere you don’t mind having a scar, and apply a poultice moistened with my blood.”
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  She wrinkled her nose. “Saliva, oils, blood. The Heroka don’t practice safe shifting, do they?”

  “We’re immune to most human viral and bacterial infections, including AIDS. Some Heroka diseases exist, but they’re treatable.”

  “Hoof and mouth disease?”

  “Smart ass.”

  Leiddia laughed then looked thoughtful. “So I need to get certain of your bodily fluids into my bloodstream.” She moved to rest her chin on my shoulder. “You mentioned variations?”

  I stroked her hair. “They involve, uh, other bodily fluids.”

  She leaned forward, brushing her lips against mine. “And other methods of application?”

  I nodded, pulling her to me into a long kiss. “So,” I asked after a while, “which method would the patient prefer?”

  “I’ll try,” she said, between kisses, “the variations.”

  Several variations later, we were both asleep.

  ~~~

  I awoke alone except for Gelert, which wasn’t what I’d had in mind. Over breakfast, I pondered whether I felt used.

  She was a big girl. She’d known what she was after. She’d gotten it.

  Used. I shrugged mentally. Not the first time.

  Leaving Gelert to guard the plane, I broke camp and set out immediately for the driver’s cabin. I wanted daylight to scout the area, and assure myself that this was not a trap.

  Mitch and I had divided Robbie’s two targets. Mitch had planned to cover Conrad in Toronto, while I watched the truck driver, since I’d lived here after Stelle and I split. That was our plan four days ago. Somehow, Robbie had known Conrad would be away from Toronto that night at his lodge in the Muskokas, and had killed him there. Once Mitch heard of Conrad’s death, he’d head here, but Robbie had a full day on him.

  It was up to me.

  Sunlight filtered through the canopy of trees, warming the crisp fall day as I followed familiar forest trails. My thoughts kept drifting to Leiddia and last night.

  Ed’s map was clear, and I made good time, reaching a rise overlooking the cabin by early afternoon. Finding a spot with good cover and a clear view of the building, I watched, listened, and smelt the breeze. I repeated this process at three other locations before I was satisfied.

  The driver was there, plus three men with rifles. Conrad’s death had not gone unnoticed. I could detect no one else.

  My plan was to intercept Robbie on his way to the cabin, away from the attention of the guards. My problem became figuring which route he’d take.

  Three sides of the cabin were open field. Approaching undetected required coming in from behind, moving down through trees from the rise where I now stood. Undergrowth choked most routes to the rise. The best path followed a forested ridge, where the forest floor was clear under the roof of trees.

  I picked a spot giving a view of both the ridge and the fields surrounding the cabin, and downwind from the ridge path. After a snack of dried beef washed down with warm water, I settled behind a huge fallen tree to watch, wait, and sniff.

  One hour. Darkness. Two hours. Moonrise. Four hours. Predators are used to waiting. I spent the time thinking of Leiddia. Her face and body kept shifting into Stelle’s.

  Midnight. The cry of a screech owl brought my head up. I shivered in the cold. The owl. A symbol of the souls of the dead in Indian myths. Shamans gave owl feathers to the dying to help them pass into the next world.

  Just then, I caught a whiff. A minute later, I saw a huge shadow moving steadily along the ridge. For a moment, I thought I saw two shapes. Must have been the light. I watched long enough to guess his route, then moved to an intercept position.

  Hidden, I listened. Twigs breaking, leaves rustling. Closer. Footsteps, breathing. I stepped out in front of him.

  Startled, he stopped, dropping back into a defensive stance. Suddenly, I became aware of something some distance behind him. Something big and moving fast. And growling.

  Shit. He’d brought help.

  “Robbie! It’s me, Gwyn!” The grizzly closed on me quickly, while I assessed the best tree to scale.

  “Callisto! Halt!” Robbie’s voice ripped the night. The huge beast rumbled to a stop at his side, snorted in my direction, then settled back on its great haunches.

  Robbie was wearing jeans and hiking boots, and a denim jacket over a white T-shirt. He was bigger than I remembered. Reaching out to stroke the grizzly’s hump, he looked me over. “Hello, wolf man. Been a long time.”

  “Too long, Robbie,” I said, trying to sound more casual than I felt.

  He seemed to think this over, scuffing the ground with a toe. “Come to help me finish?”

  I shook my head.

  “No. No, I didn’t think so,” he said sadly, then his face hardened. Pouncing with a speed belying his size, he caught me in the chest with his shoulder, knocking me to the ground. I rolled and sprang to my feet. If he pinned me, it was over. We circled each other.

  “Can’t we talk?” I gasped, forcing air back into my lungs.

  “Talking’s done. We talked, we sang,” he snarled, “we died. Now they die.”

  He tried a foot sweep. I backed away. Apparently, he was keeping his teddy out of it. Maybe he wanted a fair fight, which would be like him. Maybe he was worried I might have some reserves too. About then, I was wishing I’d thought of that.

  Robert was a grappler, a wrestler. My style was karate — blocks and strikes. Not needing my hands to grasp meant I had an option he didn’t. Staying in a left fighting stance, I moved my right hand closer to my body where my left arm hid it.

  “You’re not a killer, Robbie. Let it be.”

  Slowly. Concentrate. Keep circling. Gradually I felt it work. Now, I had to use it without killing him.

  “Let it be? You mean, leave him to you. Well, he’s mine, Gwyn. He dies by my hand, not yours.”

  I didn’t get a chance to reply. He moved in, feinting a high punch, then dropped his shoulder and threw out an arm to circle my waist for a takedown. I sidestepped and blocked the arm, spinning him around and exposing his side. I drove in with my right hand, aiming for the shoulder.

  A useless target for a normal strike. But not this strike.

  Three inches of claws sank into flesh and muscle. A cheap shot. In tournaments, you must announce or display shifts. This wasn’t a tournament.

  He roared, spinning free but tearing open the wound. He stepped back groaning, left arm limp, useless. The grizzly growled but stayed put.

  “It’s over, Robbie,” I said softly, shifting my hand back to normal.

  He sank to his knees, head bowed. “Damn you...wanted to do it myself...she was mine too...,” he muttered, then looked up. “Take me with you. It’s not much farther. Let me see you do it.” His face went dark. “I want to see him die, Gwyn.”

  “What the hell are you talking about? Nobody’s killing anybody. What’s with you? Stelle’s going to flip! She hates killing. You’re going to break her heart, man.” Like I did, I thought.

  He stared up at me, the strangest look on his face.

  Something must be added for what was lost.

  A chill filled my belly.

  She was mine too.

  “Gwyn,” he said. His voice was gentle.

  A lot of us are activists. I got Stelle into it.

  “Stelle’s dead. They killed her...”

  A female protestor from out of town also died.

  He dropped his head sobbing. I stood there, feeling like the leaves at my feet — brittle, broken, dead.

  I got Stelle into it.

  Mitch. He’d known, of course, but he needed me to stop Robbie. Isolated and estranged as I was from both Stelle and Robbie, he’d gambled on me not knowing. With one of the Heroka already out for revenge, he knew that if he told me, I’d be racing Robbie to the kill.

  Now I did know. So what was I going to do?

  Standing there, I realized that I’d always thought Stelle and I would get back together somehow, sometime. I had n
ever stopped loving her, never believed it was over. I shook my head, fighting the anger and the tears. Too much killing, she had said. I knew what she’d say now.

  “Come on, Robbie,” I said quietly. “Let’s go home.”

  I’ll never know who their first target really was. They must have held back after I appeared, hoping we’d kill each other. When we stopped fighting, they stopped waiting.

  I had just knelt to help Robbie up, when the bullet caught him in the bad shoulder. He took another in the chest before I pulled him to the ground and threw myself flat. I looked back in the direction of the cabin. A line of figures was moving toward us through the trees. Figures with guns.

  The Tainchel.

  “How many?” he gasped.

  “Too many.”

  “Those aren’t trank guns,” he groaned.

  “I think they’ve given themselves a new mandate.” They’d be on us in seconds, but I couldn’t leave Robbie behind.

  “Just...bought you...some time,” Robbie gasped. The next second I knew what he meant.

  Sixteen hundred pounds of furred fury burst from a thicket. Charging into the nearest group, it grabbed a man in its jaws and threw him against a tree. Rearing up three meters on hind legs, Callisto sent two more spinning through the air with a slashing swipe of her paw.

  I watched transfixed. “Run, Gwyn,” Robbie said. “You can’t save me.”

  I shook my head. Bodies at her feet, Callisto turned to charge another cluster. More fell before her. The rest were firing at the grizzly but still she attacked. The shooting continued, and she was slowing. Rushing another man, she reared to her full height and fell on her screaming victim. She didn’t rise.

  Robbie sobbed quietly.

  They put more shots into her. Silence followed. No movement. Callisto had made them cautious. She’d bought us time.

  Robbie was pale, breathing in rapid gasps. The Indians believed the bear possessed great curative powers. Robbie needed more than legends.