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Rising, I headed for the door. When I opened it, a chilly breeze eddied through the room. I choked on awareness of the weariness and tinges of desperation in the room. They’d covered it well.
“So what’s going on?” I met Monique’s glance.
A faint scream somewhere to the north. The pulse of fear around me whited out my empathy, staggering me. Shaking it off, I stared out the door as the sound diminished. Faint light slid across the water below. To pursue, I needed someone to pole the boat. And some direction.
I glanced over my shoulder.
“What the hell was that?” My voice fell into the quiet like a rock swallowed by water.
But she didn’t answer, so I already had an idea about what was going on. It was the Wendigo I’d heard on the wind. It had come here and was hunting on the people. I already planned to keep hunting it and try to actually kill it this time. But if it killed me, these people wouldn’t be safe. No one else would care that they were being eaten. They’d be left here to die.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true, if I called Uncle Ethan here, he’d help these people. If. He was a man with a well concealed soft heart for the trapped and the helpless, and he had enough power to take down a spirit. So, I needed to do two things: try to handle the spirit myself, and create a backup plan in case I failed.
A tug on my pants leg. I jumped, almost falling out the door. A small man stood by me, barely knee-height to me. His features were a fusion of Native American and the people seated around us. He was dressed in skins and cut-down clothing like Monique’s family as well. His hair, thick and spiky, fell to the ground, his skin was gray, and he smelled of tobacco.
The spirits around here were why I carried tobacco, They really liked it.
“Hunt,” he said with a thick accent. “Wi·nteko·wa.”
I didn’t attack him, though a knife had appeared in my hand by reflex. Friendly spirits existed, though they were shy and wary. Too many of them had ended up enslaved in the early days. The old governments thought them too dangerous to be allowed to roam loose. The Guild hadn’t freed them when it took over.
“Is that like the Wendigo?” I wasn’t Chance; I could never sit still and pay attention to long lectures about this and that when there was running or fighting or anything else to be done. Wendigo, I knew; I didn’t want it to be a totally new type of spirit.
A pained expression flitted across his face. “The greed-spirit. You smell like its blood. It comes from the wutahshuntar, over there.”
He pointed in the direction of the city, where the rich teenagers stayed as they learned the Guild’s history. Or drank, flirted and wasted their tutor’s time. I thought Wendigo meant just cannibal, but spirits adapted like humans do, and greed was fertile ground in that crew.
The picture made sense. One of the wealthy teenagers, trained in magic, had invited the spirit in or been possessed unwillingly—which meant that he or she had managed to retain enough humanity to blend in with our people. I lacked any proof, but I had a theory now.
Monique cuddled her youngest, who continued nursing despite the noise. Shame directed her eyes away from me. “Could you…?”
Tapping my lip thoughtfully, I smiled as an idea formed. Uncle Ethan had given me a code phrase to say if I was in trouble. I trusted Monique enough with it to tell her, and to have her carry her message through the wind to him. That was the only way I could get him here and still do what I needed to do. “I’ll hunt the, um, winnataka. But one of you needs to go west, to the Commonwealth border, and say this name three times.” I wrote it in charcoal on the floor. Ethan Stormdust-Smith. “Say something like ‘help us, or aid us, or they’re murdering us’. Or something. Then wait. He’ll come.”
“Why?” asked Monique’s brother.
“He won’t fight it on Guild soil, but he’ll set defenses so it can’t get to you. Humanitarian aid; just let him know you need the ward made so friendly spirits can cross it. Please don’t tell him about this.” I tapped the onyx. “I’ll fix this on my own.”
Some of the tension in the room eased, but I knew it wouldn’t leave until both the spirit in hereandthe one out there were gone. Even though the small one in the room wasn’t particularly dangerous, it still wasn’t something to mess with. If provoked, I had no doubt we’d all have to run from this room to survive. The people had clearly seen it before based on their reactions, and likely left it offering, but I was probably the first among them to talk to it.
They wouldn’t feel better until I stopped, and it left. So, I better ask it anything I might want to know. “What are your people called?” I asked, looking down at the spirit. I fished in my bag and pulled out a pinch of tobacco and handed it to him. He accepted it and tucked it into his pouch.
“Puck-wudj-ininee. Hunt well.” He vanished from my direct gaze.
“Can you move, until someone comes?” I returned my attention to Monique.
Her laugh wafted bitter amusement through the room. “We give up our claim on this place if we move. Then we really do have nothin’. Nope, we’re gonna stay here. Is this Ethan your man?”
“No, he’s a relative. And he’ll help, but you need to go to the border to call him. He won’t hear you, elsewise.”
“In the mornin’. You need a boat tomorrow?”
“Yes. I’ll just sleep here.”
* * *
I dreamedof Dmitri helping Elise pack, trying to play Defend with Kara. Robert kissed them all goodbye, an unfamiliar gentle expression on his face as he ruffled Dmitri’s hair.
I woke, my face wet, echoes of music and voices following me into the small room. Even breathing and some snores echoed in the room. The person who kept watch by the door nodded at me when I sat up.
