10

“So this wendigo thing was some kind of ancient beast and the Old Ways shaman had managed to whip it up into a murderous frenzy?” Andrea Devereaux shook her head slowly. “You know, I think the hardest part for me to believe is that Valente’s company played the part of the hero in killing the wendigoes off.”

She was catching on quicker than I had at first. “See what I mean about telling you the truth, but not giving you anything you can type up for a report? I’ve held the stuffed and mounted heads of all three wendigoes and it still feels unreal to me at times.”

“I think the bureau is just glad it’s over: 61 bodies in Oklahoma, 1 in Joplin, and 2 in Saint Louis. That’s a heck of a body count to just sweep under the rug, but they’re doing it. They don’t know anything about wendigoes and wouldn’t believe me if I told them…but they know it’s not natural, either. Official word says it’s over, so it’s over.”

The night was drawing closer to morning and I had consumed more than my fair share of alcohol since the sun had set, but my mind wasn’t that dull yet. Still, I didn’t want to alarm her if I didn’t have to. “Did you bring Salazar’s file with you? I would like to take a look at it if I could.” I fumbled for a plausible excuse. “Maybe he came up with something on the Old Ways I missed, some background on what pushed the old woman over the edge.”

I don’t think she bought it entirely, but she stood up anyway. “Yeah, it’s out in my car. I’ll go grab it.”

After I let her out, I tried not to process any of the extras. They were words not easily unheard, though: one in Joplin, two in Saint Louis. Had those happened before we killed them? Maybe the wendigo had woken up there and used those as stopovers to get breakfast en route to its destination in Oklahoma. But, either way, why hadn’t I heard about them?

“Because they weren’t Valente employees.”

That fit. I knew about all the attacks on people who fell under the corporate umbrella of Valente International. The Old Ways massacre and these three took me by surprise, because they weren’t under Valente’s protection. I remembered something from my discussion with the Eye of Winter about two separate events: a man walking the Shadowlands and the woman calling down the curse. Was there an uncursed wendigo, woken by the shadow walker, out there? And if so, was it my responsibility to stop it? I wasn’t walking the Shadowlands and I sure wasn’t being paid to protect the public, but somehow I felt vaguely responsible. It wasn’t that I had caused it…but I knew I had the power to stop it and with that power…Agent Devereaux’s return knock broke my reverie.