Chapter 40
Canada, Twenty-Eight Years Ago
“The old ones say if anyone eats the heart of a togquos child he will become strong and courageous. Your brother wants that for you. You will eat his heart and grow up to be a powerful and brave man. The more young togquos heart you eat, the stronger you become.”
“Togquos? What’s that, Daddy?”
“Twin.”
“Eating a twin heart will make me strong?”
“Yes. The more togquos heart you eat the bigger and stronger you will get.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
“Gimme twin heart, Daddy. I will eat lots of togquos hearts.” The boy smiled. The foul thing inside of him smiled, too…
Northern California, Present Time
Maggie and Jake pitched in to help with Happy’s campaign. Maggie and Dawn held a fundraiser at Mama’s. They hired a local band, posted three-colored flyers, and advertised in The Wicklow Daily. For $25 a head, dessert bar and unlimited coffee drinks included, the citizens of Wicklow crowded into Mama’s. With help from Jake, Danny and Jimmy, they cleared a space in the middle of the store so people could dance. Dawn advertised the event as the “The Happy Dance.” Maggie and Jake handed out bright yellow Happy Face buttons superimposed with writing that read “Make Our County a Happy Place.”
Besides the entry fee, there was a silent auction and a raffle, so the fund raiser netted some decent money, which Happy funneled into local TV advertisements.
Brock Hanley actively campaigned, too. He and his supporters started a letter-writing effort, targeting Happy’s comparative youth and inexperience. The editor of The Wicklow Daily supported Hanley and published letters saying things like, “Why send a boy to do a man’s job? Elect Brock Hanley for Sheriff, a real man with real experience.”
“It’s going to be a bloody hard race for Happy to win,” Maggie said to Jake.
“Yeah, I know. We’ll keep our fingers crossed. I’d hoped Happy might score the Latino vote, but other than hola, cervesa, and gracias, he doesn’t speak a word of Spanish, so some of our more culturally engrained Hispanic community members aren’t too keen on him. They think he’s too Anglo.”
“He’s married to Rosa, though, won’t that help?”
“I wouldn’t count on it. He’ll need a miracle to pull this off.”
*
Maggie decided it was high time to clean out the hen house. “Their droppings and feathers piled so high, I can’t find the eggs,” she said to Samantha.
She raked with so much vigor and focus that she didn’t notice the squad car pull into her driveway, and had no idea Jake and Happy were standing behind her.
“Hi there,” said Jake. “Need a hand?”
Maggie jumped and dropped the rake on her foot.
“Ow! Dammit. What are you two doing here?”
“We were checking out a theft call in the neighborhood and thought we’d come by for a cup of coffee.”
Maggie peeled off her gloves and put them on a fence post. “Sure,” she said. “I’m about ready for a break anyway. What theft?”
“Old lady Brooks again,” said Happy.
“Oh, yeah, what is it this time? Did her ninety-year-old neighbor lady climb on her roof and drop through the crawl space to steal a half a bag of almonds from her pantry again?”
“No, this time, she is convinced that a Mexican gardener broke in through a window to steal a box of panty liners and one of her winter boots,” Jake said. “I told her all we’d have to do is look for a one-legged Mexican hopping around wearing her boot, and we’d have our man.”
“Oh, jeez. We gotta call Social Services. That poor woman needs help,” Maggie said.
“She also says she’s seen Sally wandering around here. When I told her that Sally’s ashes were scattered over the Alps, the old woman insisted she’s seen her. She’s delusional as hell.”
The sky darkened. Maggie looked into the sky thinking a cloud had obscured the sunlight, but no, it was ravens. Hundreds of ravens circled on silent wings. By that time, Jake and Happy were staring upwards, too.
“What the…?” Jake said. “Where’d they all come from?”
The birds descended, cawing, knocking and squawking, more joining in. They flew in from every direction. The sky was black with ravens. Then…the ravens attacked. Swooping down with talons extended, they came within inches of the two men.
“Run for the house,” Maggie shouted.
As the three sprinted for the cabin, a large raven swooped down knocking off Jake’s hat. Another clawed Happy’s shoulder, tearing his uniform, gouging his skin. Maggie and the men ran into the cabin and slammed the door behind them. Jake drew his service weapon, and parting the curtains, looked out the window. “What the goddamn hell was that all about?”
Maggie went to the bathroom and searched her medicine cabinet for some Neosporin and a bandage. By the time she tended to Happy’s shoulder, the ravens had gone.
*
That night, the raven dream returned with a vengeance. Maggie flew over her A-Frame, over the river, and into the Trinity Alps, joined by an unkindness of ravens, more than she’d ever seen. “Why are you here?” she asked them.
The one flying closest to her said, “You are not paying attention, Pukkukwerek.”
“Pay attention to what?”
“We are trying to tell you.”
“I don’t understand?”
“You want to find the monster. You need to find his lair.”
“Yes?”
“Then pay attention. You must follow us in the forest.”
“Follow you? I’m here now. Take me.”
“Use your feet.”
“What do you mean, my feet?”
Maggie awoke, her head in a fog. What the hell? First ravens attack me and my guests, then haunt my dreams with riddles? She recorded the dream in her notebook, and the next day when she arrived to the station, she handed it to Jake.
“What does this mean?” he said.
“I guess it means I’m supposed to follow the ravens on foot? Or, I’m supposed to do something with my feet? I don’t know. Doesn’t make any sense to me, either. I’m going to ration their corn if they don’t stop messing with me.”