| |
––––––––
Tired of going over the same information again, Storm said, “We’re missing something. I may have to reevaluate dismissing Nascha and the seer. This has to be someone with knowledge of how the supernatural works.”
Bidziil sounded wary when he rushed to note, “Your father had been training Nascha before he left. I trust Sani’s choice of Nascha over my own opinion.”
So would Storm, but his father would be telling him to keep his eyes open. All those years can change a person.
Rubbing his tired eyes, Storm stood his ground in the executive suite where he, Bidziil, three elders, and three security officers met. “I’m not accusing either person of a crime, but they might know who is at fault. It’s time to bring them in to be questioned. What about the seer? Nascha criticized her.”
“While Haloke does not have Nascha’s power, her heart is in the right place. She’s been a good friend of the clan her whole life. Many go to her for counseling as a friend as much as her ability to find a problem.”
That didn’t sound as if the woman would be any help to Evalle after all.
“Do you trust her?”
Lifting his shoulders, Bidziil said, “We have no reason not to. Haloke stayed with us even after her son died. That speaks volumes for her dedication to the clan.”
Two elders nodded in sync with Bidziil’s words.
The third old guy, Gad, had yet to warm up to Storm, but in truth he’d been surprised the others even allowed Bidziil to invite him.
Nothing would get solved if anyone held back information.
Sensing distrust from this elder, Storm offered, “Please speak your mind, Gad. I won’t take insult.”
Gad stood. “You come here and question those who have served our tribe for many years when your own father walked away.”
“Gad!” Bidziil’s face erupted in irritation.
There it was, the underlying anger permeating the room. Storm said, “I can’t argue that point, but my father shared much about all of you and loved this tribe.”
Ignoring Bidziil, Gad harrumphed. “Words mean nothing. Actions are everything.”
The officers seated and standing remained silent, but their expressions denoted a keen interest in the conversation.
“Again, I agree, but my father felt for him to remain would have divided the tribe.” Storm took in Bidziil’s face, which registered surprise. “It’s true, Bidziil. As I grew up, he told me he had been disheartened when he left. He felt all of you failed your people by not holding tight to the old ways.”
Rage churned the air now, but Storm had the floor and had more to say. He might as well get it all off his chest, every bit of the truth. It would likely be his last chance to speak.
“Over the years as my father worked with the Ashaninka tribe to show them ways to improve their lives while holding on to their culture, he realized he still had to introduce new thinking so they would survive. They remained primitive in many ways, but the time he spent becoming integrated into that tribe opened his eyes to how close-minded he’d been toward Bidziil’s vision for their people. My father admitted that had he been more open to new ideas, he could have been here to maintain the culture of his people during those changes just as he had for the Ashaninka. In other words, he regretted his action and the hurt he caused.”
Now that Storm had spent some time with his uncle, he, too, regretted harboring anger at a man he’d never known.
Lessons learned all around.
Calm settled over the room.
The elder called Tahoma sat back. His fingers tapped on the arm of his chair. “You say ‘your’ people. Do you not feel any tie to this tribe?”
Bidziil jumped in. “Why should he? From the moment he showed up, Storm has been treated as an outsider. I was angry when Sani left, but I’ve also seen our culture slowly disintegrate. That’s why I formed a committee to do as Sani had wanted to maintain the old ways.” He glared at the elders. “You three argued with me.”
Gad grumbled something under his breath. “You wanted to bring in outsiders.”
“Most of them were Dine!” Bidziil argued. He evidently needed to get a few things off his chest, too. Grief would do that. He wasn’t done. “We have to do more to save our past and protect our future. Look around the Dine nation. Every clan is doing this in some way.”
The last elder spoke, which surprised Storm, because Yazzle appeared so timid he leaned with the strongest wind. “I will do a better job supporting the committee, Bidziil.”
The other two gave Yazzle a glare that accused him of being the class suck-up.
On a roll, Bidziil said, “Thank you, Yazzle, but all of you fought me on sending our people to college.”
Tahoma said, “Wait a minute, Bidziil. I supported that with my own funds.”
“Yes, you did, until you realized they were accepting placements outside the reservation.”
Shrugging, Tahoma said, “I don’t like money leaving our land. You shouldn’t have left either.”
Bidziil appeared ready to yank his hair out. “Had I not gone to a university with specific studies, I might not have understood the fine print attached to our sovereignty. No one could build a house or start a business on land they owned, but we have worked around that, haven’t we?”
Grumbling acknowledgement circled the room.
Storm continued to reevaluate the negative attitude he’d arrived with, which was good for the soul.
But this group strayed from the reason for the meeting.
He wanted to find the dark majik user.
This bunch could hold board meetings on their own time.
Before he had a chance to return them to the discussion, Gad said, “I’m surprised you don’t know more about this clan.”
Taken aback, Storm asked, “Why would you think that when my father and I lived thousands of miles away in a remote jungle location?”
“Haloke claimed she kept up with Sani through dream walking.”
Hairs along Storm’s neck stood.
He searched his mind frantically for any mention of Haloke, but his father spoke only of the tribe as a whole with the exception of a few specific people. Storm assumed other memories held too much pain.
Storm knew in that second he’d missed something significant and this could be it. “My father never spoke of a person called Haloke. How did she know him?” Storm sent that last question in Bidziil’s direction.
Tahoma turned another look of surprise on Storm and spoke before Bidziil could. “Your father never mentioned her? They were very close growing up. Many thought those two would become a powerful couple.”
Bidziil said, “Sani would not have called her Haloke. She only took that name when she mourned his leaving and felt she had lost that part of her.”
“That’s right,” Tahoma agreed.
Concern crawled up Storm’s spine. His hands dampened. “What would he have known her by?”
“Miakoda.”
Blood rushed hard through Storm, pounding his ears. “My father mentioned Miakoda one time many years ago. I can’t recall much beyond him saying he was sad over leaving her as she was. I didn’t understand what he meant without further information, but I never pressed him for more than he wanted to share.”
Bidziil said, “When your father made up his mind to leave, he went to tell her. Afterwards, he came to see me and said she had a broken heart he couldn’t heal.”
The door opened and Nascha entered, anger burning in his gaze. “I have come to this den of traitors, as you demanded.” The grim old guy crossed his arms.
Bidziil sighed loud enough to be heard down the hall. “This is not a den of traitors and I sent a request, not a demand.”
Lifting a wrinkled hand, Nascha said, “I did not come to argue. State what you need so I may leave.”
“Storm would like to talk to you.”
Expecting the crotchety old guy to refuse, Storm addressed Nascha first with respect. “I consider any time you allow me an honor, old one. My father spoke of you as his friend.”
At that, Nascha’s taut shoulders relaxed a tiny bit. “My friend should have stayed.”
“My father taught me every action is for a reason as it creates a ripple effect like a stone tossed into a calm lake. Without the movement, life remains stagnant. While you may not forgive him for leaving, he told me he felt you would never reach your full potential had he stayed. He believed you would have been a great support to him, but his people needed a powerful medicine man. He saw a better future for his people in what you would offer as their medicine man, not him.”
Bidziil listened with rapt attention.
Storm had spoken the truth. Now he waited to see what the medicine man’s power might feel like if Nascha dropped his guard or lost control.
Nascha bowed his head then lifted it up. “Your father honored me with his belief. He told me often that I should take this position, but he spoke the truth. I would never have stepped in had he stayed. I have given all I can to my people since he left and feel I have grown into my power, but I still miss him.”
A lump formed in Storm’s throat. “As do I.”
“Is that all you have to ask Nascha, Storm?” Yazzle said, breaking the solemn moment.
Bidzzil snapped, “Do not rush this talk.”
Yazzle whined, “Nascha sounds like he wants to get out of here.”
Nascha cast a glance filled with dark humor at Yazzle. “You would be wise to remain in your role of tribal mouse with giant head.”
For all his timidity, Yazzle sent the old guy an angry look.
Storm drew everyone’s attention back to the problem at hand. “I need your expertise to find the person responsible for killing tribal members.” When Nascha lifted his chin in acknowledgment, Storm explained what had happened to Imala, which had parallels with Sonny’s death. When he finished, he realized the elders hadn’t known all the details, such as Storm freeing the spirits and the dark majik attacking him.
Too bad.
He had no time to dance around this topic when he could feel they were close to figuring it out. “You said dark spirits walk among us. What were you referencing, Nascha?”
“I saw one in the morgue and another near the casino.”
“What?” Bidziil snapped. “And you didn’t tell me?”
Speaking in a deep voice roughened by many years of chanting and singing, Nascha said, “Storm just repeated what I said. You have been told twice!” Drawing a breath, Nascha stepped back with a sudden realization. “You brought me here to accuse me of performing these acts? I do not touch evil majik.”
Clearly the peacemaker, Bidziil said, “No, of course not.”
Yazzle’s eyes bulged. “Not me.”
Gad shoved a dismissive hand in Nascha’s direction. “No.”
Tahoma’s eyebrows furrowed, as he remained silent.
Nascha snarled at Tahoma. “I am not like you. I do not wish for power.”
Opening his hands from where he’d had his arms folded, Tahoma said, “I’m not accusing, but you are the most powerful in this area. If you aren’t doing this, you should know who is.”
Storm confirmed, “Nascha is not the one responsible.”
“How can you know?” Tahoma challenged.
“First of all, I would know if he lied. Second, he doesn’t carry dark energy.”
Gad sat forward. “How would you know either of those things?”
Lifting an eyebrow in Bidziil’s direction, Storm waited for permission to explain.
Bidziil said in a forlorn voice, “Might as well tell them, Storm.”
“I am half-Ashaninka, as many of you know by now. What you don’t know is I am also a Skinwalker.”
Tension and fear burst through the room.
Even the security guards leaned back.
Sending a look Nascha’s way, Storm found him standing still and not running from the battle.
Continuing, Storm said, “I received some gifts and some liabilities with that side of my blood. I am a strong empathic and can detect a lie.” He wouldn’t share how lying on his part resulted in a painful backlash.
Yazzle snapped his fingers. “We can line up everyone to face Storm. If they lie about being the killer, he’ll know.”
Nascha made a scoffing sound. “You think someone who possesses that much power will be so easily caught? Fool.”
When Nascha spoke of that much power, Storm asked, “Who in the tribe, besides you, wields power, Nascha?”
Bidziil interjected, “No one other than Haloke, but even Nascha criticizes her power.”
Nascha muttered, “Why do you defend Bird Woman?”
Appearing beat down and out of patience, Bidziil struggled to sound respectful. “Did you not just complain to us at the morgue about Haloke lacking in skill?”
“Yes. I tell you her sight is not clear.”
“Same thing, right?” Bidziil snapped with exasperation. “We are bringing her in, too. She’d be here now, but out of respect I asked you first to avoid you two being together.”
Storm pulled at all the threads dangling in this case. “Do you think Haloke is powerful, Nascha?”
“Last time I saw her, she had little power.”
“See?” Bidziil complained. “Riddles.”
“When was that?” Storm asked.
“Two years back when her son died. I tried to help her heal. She turned away from me. She was not same person.”
Bidziil said, “I’ve already told Storm about Sani breaking her heart and she hasn’t been the same.”
“Not broken heart. She has broken soul,” Nascha said, anger picking up in his voice. “I keep trying to tell you she does not see clear.”
Storm lifted a hand, asking Bidziil not to argue, then presented a new question to Nashca. “Do you think she could be performing dark majik?”
Grasping his jaw, Nascha stared unfocused for seconds. “I have found no evidence of it on those she sent to me.”
“We’re back to square one,” Yazzle complained.
Feeling as if he was on to something, Storm asked, “Who taught Haloke to be a seer?”
Lowering his hand, Nascha said, “Sani.”
