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“And what do you think this something is?”
He shook his head, looking frustrated. “I don’t know.”
It occurred to me if I told Tom everything about Marino, it might solve two of my problems. I had the potential to get both men off my back. But I was too tired to deal with it now. I’d save that idea for when I needed to use it.
I offered him a tired smile. “Tom, I appreciate all that you’re doing for me, but you’re wasting your time and Manteo’s taxpayer dollars. I promise if something comes up that requires police assistance, you’ll be the first man I call.”
He frowned. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“It’s the best I’ve got right now.”
Sighing, he pulled a card out of his pocket. “I had a feeling you’d say that.” He handed it to me with a stern expression. “My cell phone is written on the back. If it’s an emergency, call 911. But if it’s not, and you want to talk to me, call my cell. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”
I took the card, hating myself for actually considering using it. “Okay.”
“I’m going to let the speeding issue go with a warning, and I’m going to watch you head inside your apartment to make sure you’re safe.”
Little did he know that I was safer than he was.
For now.
Chapter8
Ispent over an hour searching the Internet for professors of North Carolina Native American studies. I found Dr. Debra Higgins at UNC in Pembroke, almost a five-hour drive away. I planned to call in the morning and see if I could make an appointment with her. Perhaps a woman would be better, since I seemed to have zero luck with men.
Next I searched for information on Mishiginebig, and after a little reshuffling of my search terms, I found a reference to him at the bottom of a Wikipedia page. Only he wasn’t just part of the Algonquian/Croatan belief system, he was part of the folklore of many native religions.
While I’d known this encompassed deities and spirits of other beliefs, this was the first proof I’d been right.
Maybe this meant I could expand my search.
Sleep was elusive again. I got my usual visit from the animals begging for my help, and the badger was back too. My neighbor’s dog, Chip, lay on a patch of grass, his guts exposed. The badger was rooting around in his open body cavity, but he lifted his bloody face when he saw me. “Do you know why I eat their hearts, witness to creation?”
“No,” I whispered.
“That’s where their manitou is purest.”
The full implication of what he was saying sunk in and I fell to my knees.
I was awoken by a banging on my door, and I sat upright, clutching my sheet to my chest, my palm itching.
Okeus had come to eat my heart.
No, Okeus had plans for me, although those plans might very well include my heart. But I didn’t think he’d just show up and bang on my front door. Okeus seemed like a god who went for pomp and circumstance and special effects. When he was ready to pull off whatever he had planned, it would be a production.
Convincing myself it wasn’t Okeus, I padded to the door, nearly hyperventilating with fear. “Who is it?”
Please let it be a human. Three weeks ago, it would never have occurred to me that there’d be an alternative.
“Curse Keeper,” the spirit hissed.
Closing my eyes, I rested my head against the door. Couldn’t I catch a break? Just one?
“What do you want?”
“Ahone wishes me to relay a message.”
Ahone?
