ARC: Peacemaker (11 page)

My sense of carefree diminished as the Paloma station house came into view. Sombre Vol was tethered and standing in the shade of the building, flicking his tail, one hoof lifted in rest.

What the hell was the Marshall up to out here?

The dry heat blistered around us, burning my skin. I pulled my Akubra down low and my neck-scarf up, to shield my lips. We kicked up a fair dust cloud coming in and I didn’t care. I decided that I wanted Sixkiller to know I was here and that I was pissed.

As I rode in past the stock yards, a large crow perched one of the posts extended its wings as if to take flight. Bigger than any bird I’d ever seen, its full wingspan surpassing the length of Benny’s back, I caught the menacing flash of its eye.

Slowing Benny to turn back and take a look at it, I was stopped by something fanning my cheek. I looked up to see an eagle fluttering just by my shoulder.

Aquila? “
What are you doing here?”

All the years I’d been imagining this bird, she’d never come this close.

A piercing cry drew me back to the crow again. It’d lifted from the railing, heading straight towards us.

Aquila gave her own protest call and rose higher, wings arched and claws forward ready to engage. She was a bird of prey but the huge crow moved with malevolent purpose.

I ducked down on instinct and turned Benny straight at the front porch of La Paloma, emphasizing the point with a kick in the ribs. She obliged me by surging from trot to gallop in an instant.

Over my shoulder, Aquila and the crow clashed. I glimpsed a tumble of feathers before they drew apart again and circled each other.

When we reached the steps of the station house, I reined Benny in and dismounted in one fluid motion, taking the steps two at a time. The front door opened before I could turn the handle and Sixkiller hauled me in.

He slammed it shut after me and I flashed on a bunch of familiar objects
–
rocking chair, black iron pots on the wall, and the ancient paint-peeled food safe.

“What the…?”

Ignoring me, he took a large step across to the window.

I followed him.

Outside, Aquila ascended with the crow in pursuit. She soared in an almost vertical line and I found myself holding my breath, willing her to get away.

“She’s going to run into the Canopy,” I said aloud. “What will happen?”

“Nothing,” said Sixkiller. “Watch.”

The crow gained on her and then fell back suddenly, veering, and dropping, as Aquila kept on, disappearing straight through the almost-translucent vapor of the park’s aerial barrier.

“What happened? Is she alright?” I couldn’t see her anymore.

“Take a look for yourself.”

“What do you mean?”I stared at him.

He pointed to the rocking chair where Aquila perched, feathers ruffled, beak open.

“How…” I brushed my eyes, and looked again. “But I just saw her go–”

“What you see depends on with which eyes you look…” said Sixkiller in an infuriatingly obtuse fashion. “In the mind’s eye anything is possible.”

The crow screeched again, drawing my attention back to the window. Robbed of its quarry, it plummeted back towards the house. Just when I thought, it would plunge straight into the verandah and our window, it veered wide, pulling up to settle once more on the yard railings.

I felt my breathing slow a little, but it didn’t help my dangerous mood. “Mind’s eye? What kind of arcane bullshit is that?” I demanded.

He turned his head revealing a bloodied, deep cut along his jawline.

“And what happened to your face?”

“Arcane bullshit happened to it,” he said calmly. “And your denial of what’s in front of your nose is bordering on disturbed.”

That sent my anger levels popping. I squared up on him, fists clenched. “Why are you even out here? You’re supposed to be working
with
me, not riding solo!”

“Working with you does not mean we have to babysit each other,” he said.

“Well excuse me for saving your arrogant carcass last night.”

“I came out to look around. The Mythos started hunting me at Los Tribos. I tried to out-ride it, find some cover.”

“The Mythos? You mean the damned crow?”

Aquila lifted her wings at my tone. Her head swiveled, yellow eyes upon us.

“You’re upsetting your disincarnate.”

“My…
disincarnate
?” I grabbed him by the shirtfront. “Stop using stupid bloody words–”

I was suddenly on the floor, and the wind knocked out of lungs and Sixkiller’s knee on my chest.

Gasping, I shoved his knee sideways then rolled away and onto my feet.

The idea of shooting him plumed like a hot flash through me but he already had his Peacemakers out and levelled at me.

“Calm down, Ranger,” he said quietly. “Take a moment to collect yourself.”

I tried to steady my breathing and my trembling. And failed.

Tried again.

“I’m writing you up for drawing down on me. You’re a menace,” I choked out, even though I’d been thinking about doing exactly the same thing to him.

“Listen up!” he said without any hint that he comprehended me. “We need a plan to get out of here in one piece and
you
need your wits about you.”

“My wits are just fine, Marshall. Put your guns away,” I said more steadily.

He pinned me with his stare, assessing my state.

“Don’t mean no disrespect, ma’am,” he drawled. “But people who lose their tempers make bad decisions. I just need you to cool down.”

Cool down? Not in this lifetime. Not with him. Soon as I got him back to the stables, I was going to have him locked up. “Quit the fake cowboy drawl, Marshall,
and holster your weapons!
”

To my surprise he did.

My shoulders sagged a little and I quickly straightened them again. “So you believe this… bird will actually attack
us
?”

We resumed our window viewing, side by side, but apart. I slid my hand inside my jacket to rest on my piece.

“Talons that big’ll take your face off. Not to mention spooking and possibly injuring the horses.”

“Don’t suppose we can outrun it either,” I said. “I just don’t understand where it’s come from. We have programmes that catalogue park flora and fauna. A bird of this size should have been flagged.”

“Don’t know any technology that’ll track one of these,” he said.

“What do you mean? Are you saying it isn’t real?”

“Sure it’s real,” he replied. “Same way as your disincarnate is real. Just need the right eyes to see it.”

Anger reignited in my chest as though he’d struck a match to it.

“Stop fucking with me.”I stormed over to the door and wrenched it open.

The huge dark crow cocked its head at an unnatural angle, lending to its sinister appearance.

I walked down the steps and pulled my gun. “Let’s see how real you are,” I breathed.

With a curdling squeal it launched from the fence post and flew straight at me.

I stood my ground, determined to prove my own sanity. My fingers tightened on the butt of the pistol. Shooting native fauna was an illegal act, and not something I wanted, but my sanity was at stake. Sixkiller would be my witness that it was self-defense.

I got ready to squeeze the trigger. Four, three, two…

Aquila appeared high in my corner sight as I fired directly at the crow. But it kept coming, as though untouched. I fired again. Nothing.

I dropped my gun and put my hands up to protect my face as talons sank into my shoulder, ripping my shirt and flesh as it pulled away.

I fell to the ground, the pain from the attack burning like hot coals pressed against my skin.

I screamed, I think.

Aquila appeared and flew at the crow, intercepting its next attack on me. This time the creature’s fierce talons interlocked with hers, instead of my body, in a vicious tug of war.

A hand clamped onto my uninjured shoulder and dragged me up the steps, my back scraping along the verandah.

Seeing its prey disappearing, the crow released Aquila and dived at me. I had a brief impression of Aquila dipping towards the ground, one claw hanging slack before my arse got hauled inside and the door got slammed in front of my feet.

Nate Sixkiller stared down at me, his dark eyes unusually wide, chest heaving a little.

“Real enough now?” he asked.

I reached into my pocket with my good arm and retrieved my phone, dialing into the emergency frequency.

“Totes,” I rasped.

“Virgin?” his response was immediate and reassuring.

“I’m at the station house. Can you do a sat’nal of the surrounds? I want to know what fauna
–
birds, specifically
–
are flagged.”

“And this is an emergency?”

“Just do it!” I snapped.

As I waited, Sixkiller took off his shirt and rolled it up. Without a word he knelt down, peeled back my torn clothes and examined my wound.

“You’ll need glue,” he said, proceeding to pack the bundled cloth against it.

I flinched and bit my lips, refusing to moan while Totes was still on the line.

“What was that about glue? Is that the Marshall?”

“Just tell me what you can see, Totes?”

“You OK, Virgin? You sound–”

“TOTES!”

“Jees, settle down girl. Sat’nal shows a flock of
Cacatuaroseicapilla
over at One Spring, and another at Los Tribos.”

“
You mean galahs?”

“I mean the pink and grey ones.
Licmetis
– the corellas – are all over in the Western sector today. Must be rain coming.”

I forced myself to my feet and peered out of the window. The crow had settled on the fence post again, watching the house. Its beak was open and bloody.

“So no other birds at all in the vicinity of the station house.”

“No. Now what’s this about? I got audits coming out of my arse and you’re calling on the EM-line with ornithology requests!”

“Thanks!” I hung up and sagged against the window frame.

Sixkiller stood back now, arms folded, frowning.

“OK,” I whispered! “I believe you. Now tell me what the hell this is all about.”

Chapter Fifteen

Sixkiller produced a water bag from his kit and held it out to me. “You need medical help.”

I took the bag and sank back down to the floor. The water was cooler than I expected and eased the constriction in my throat. The pain from the claw wound had settled into a persistent and excruciating throb. Would deep scratches from an imaginary, invisible crow infect, I wondered. “After you’ve told me what I want to know.”

He read my stubborn expression and settled onto the table, shirtless. Perspiration coated his chest and arms in way that made his skin halo. Or maybe that was my blurring vision.

“You can’t sit on that; it’s a hundred and fifty years old. Even with the nanotube reinforcement the original wood might break,” I said through my pants.

Without a word, he came over and sank into a cross-legged pose in front of me. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything? All of it… Starting with why we can see these… birds and no one else can.”

“Take this first,” he said handing me a small inhaler. “Pain makes it hard to think, and I need you to think so we can get out of here.”

I wanted to say no but he was right, the throbbing was making it hard to concentrate.

I took two sucks on the inhaler and handed it back. The relief was blessed and almost immediate. The pain receded leaving me feeling weak and a little nauseous.

“Tell me,” I urged him.

He arranged his hands so they hung over his knees in the loose karmic pose of meditation. With his naked chest and hair loose he looked like he’d just woken from a long, relaxing sleep. Only the blood on his cheek belied the calm.

“I imagine you know as much as most about the notions of the spirit worlds.”

I shrugged and he went on.

“There are a few who believe. And then there are the rest who are entertained by the
idea
in the same way ghost stories amuse them. True believers are more in tune with other worlds, whether by genetic disposition, or trauma or a life changing events. We are a minority, and even among us, only a few are truly connected.”

“You’re saying that you’re psychic?”

“Just listen… please…”

I took another sip of water. The floor was hard and I wanted to lie down to get comfortable, but pride kept me upright.

“Something is changing,” he said. “The divisions between worlds are eroding.”

“You’re saying other worlds exist.
With people
?” I knew as much astronomy as the next university graduate. We’d conquered the solar system to a degree, could space travel to Mars and Saturn and Jupiter to sightsee. But that was it. No other substantial life forms had been discovered, and we were still hamstrung by the speed of light.

“In the manifold there are many.”

“You’re insane,” I said quietly.

“And your shoulder… how would you explain the blood and the pain…?”

“I… I… can’t… yet. But if you actually believe all this spirit stuff then tell me what you are really doing here?”

He tilted his head to one side as if releasing tension in his neck, and just for a moment I thought he actually looked exhausted. But then his brow smoothed and the spark returned to his eyes. “Birrimun Park is at the hub of this weakening.”

“The hub? So you’re telling me that the US Marshall service believes in the spirit worlds and has sent you out here to investigate a break down in the… what did you call it… divisions?”

He stared at me, unapologetic for how crazy it sounded. Calm and confident as always.

“You’re saying that the US Marshall Service polices the spirit worlds,” I repeated.

“Whether you want to believe it or not, pretty soon it’s going to be undeniable. It should be already…” he gestured to my shoulder. “…But some people are just pigheaded. And to save you getting your friend Caro to check up on me… I work for a division of the Marshall Service that monitors cultural anomalies and shifts.”

I blinked a few times, and let that idea roll around in my brain. My brain however had started to get foggy. “Cultural anomalies and shifts? What the fuck does that mean?”

“Virgin, you need to get that wound looked at soon.”

I glanced down. Blood had seeped through the packing. “Why? Are imaginary birds more dangerous than real ones,” I said.

He frowned. “You’re losing blood still.”

My fingers were slippery from holding his shirt against the wound. Maybe he was right. I hit the emergency frequency code again.

“What now?” said Totes, clearly pissed with me.

“I need a medivac from the station house.”

“Virgin?” His tone switched to concern. “Are you alright?”

“I’ve ripped open my shoulder pretty bad. Don’t think I can ride.”

“What about the Marshall?”

“He’s with me but he says I’m too heavy to carry back.”

Sixkiller frowned at my silly lie and that made me childishly happy.

After a few silent moments he came back to me. “Medivac’s ETA is thirty minutes, Virgin. Just waiting for authorization for it to break Canopy into controlled space.
You need anything in particular?” asked Totes.

“I…”The world receded and I fell into a grey, comfortable space. Sleeping right now seemed the thing, not talking. But I should check on Aquila first. “Nate… Aquila… is she…”

In the distance, I heard Sixkiller shouting something about blood. And then…

Bull was shouting at me.

No, maybe not at me… but right next to my ear ...Instructions about
priority care
and
PRIORITY CARE!

I wanted to tell him to hush, that it was bad for his health to get so stressed out but the words danced about on my tongue then vanished every time I tried to use my lips. I settled for listening, pleased he was mad at someone else for a change…

And then I was back awake and screaming… SCREAMING with pain. Pain like no other. Pain to die from… to die.

Aquila came with me to that place. She screeched in unison. Her leg was broken, her beak damaged.

Birds don’t survive injured beaks. Nate. Nate. Help her… HELP HER!

A cold, numb sensation snatched my consciousness away.

And then it was back again.

“She’s awake, Bull, or at least the monitors indicate her brain activity is in a conscious pattern. I just don’t think she’s chosen to share that with us yet.”

Who was that over-informed voice? Bothered that they knew I was awake before I did, I unglued my eyes.

Nate Sixkiller dominated most of my vision, but behind him, framed in the window stood Heart.

“What are you doing?” I croaked.

Sixkiller put down a phone receiver and folded his arms. “Visiting you in hospital, making sure you’re alive. Hate it to be said I lost a partner on the job.”

I wanted to disagree with his use of the term partner, but Heart brushed past him and sat on the bed.

“How are you doing?”Taking my hand in his, he pressed his lips to my skin.

In spite of the throb in my shoulder and the fact that my head felt heavier than a boulder, a wave of self-consciousness tingled through me. It was great to see Heart, but his solicitousness
–
in front of the Marshall
–
was awkward.

“I want to go home,” I said. “Help me up.”

Sixkiller walked around to the other side of the bed and over to the door. “Superintendent Hunt is on his way in to talk to you. I’ll give you two some privacy until then.”

The memory of La Paloma, the giant crow and the attack flooded back. “Umm… Marshall… er… Did you get me back here,” I asked.

“Came back in the medivac with you.”

“The horses.”

“Came home by dark. Your pistol’s in your bedside table.”

My relief was tempered by more concern. How in blazes was I going to explain what happened to me out there? “Maybe we should talk before Bull gets here?”

His eyelids hooded. “Sure thing, Ranger. I’ll just go grab a drink.”

Heart watched our exchange but didn’t speak until the door shut. “Virgin? What happened?”

I wet my lips and tried to sit up a bit further.

Heart helped me, plumping the pillows and brushing my hair out of my face.

“Don’t fuss. I’m fine,” I said lightly.

“You weren’t fine…” he said. “The wound wouldn’t clot. You’ve had a bunch of transfusions.”

“I did?” No wonder I felt like the sweepings of the holocaust. “How long have I been here?”

“They brought you in thirty-eight hours ago.”

I felt for my shoulder and winced. “Crap.”

“You nearly died, Virgin. You were losing blood faster than they could pump it in.”

Now I could focus a bit more clearly, I saw how exhausted Heart looked. “How did they get it under control?”

“Damnedest thing. They ran out of your blood type, were couriering some in from another blood bank. The Marshall insisted they take some of his blood. Turns out you’re an identical match. Soon as they tubed some in, your blood started to clot.”

“I’ve got… his blood? In me?”

Heart nodded. “Luckily. Yes. Doctors’ll tell you more.”

I nodded, feeling nauseous now and unreasonably ungrateful that Sixkiller had saved my life.

“How did you find out I was here…?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Your boss rang your friend Caro. She came and saw me at work.”

“But they don’t even…”

“You were dying Virgin. You don’t have a next of kin apparently.”

I wiggled my toes and fingers to make sure they worked. Toes were good but the movement of my fingers sent knife stabs all the way up my arm. “Can you pass the water?”

Heart held a bottle and straw to my mouth. “Nurse said you need to drink a lot.”

We sat in silence for a bit, while I sipped and ached. I really needed to talk to Sixkiller before I had to answer a bunch of questions from Bull.

When Heart sat the bottle down again I led with,” Thanks for coming in. I mean… you know… I appreciate it.”

He took my free hand again and he flushed. “You kinda scared me. Didn’t like the idea of not seeing you again.”

My stomach flipped. Maybe there was something real going on between us. But right now though, I had to sort out my story with Sixkiller.

“Heart, I need to talk to the Marshall privately… before my boss gets here. Do you mind?”

He hid a disappointed look by turning to look out the window. It was raining. Summer is coming rain. “Sure, lovely. You need anything else?”

“Nothing,” I said.

“But Heart…” I said as he got up and walked to the door. “I really mean it. Thanks.”

His smile banished any hint of disappointment. “I heard them say you should be able to go home soon. I’ll look forward to it.”

“You want to come over and stay tomorrow night then?”

“I have to work,” he said. “But I’ll call you. I’ll let the Big Hat know you want him.”

I smiled at him and waved. “Bye.”

He blew me a kiss.

While I waited for Sixkiller to return, I went over the events at Paloma in my mind, including my attempt to prove that the crow hadn’t been real. Though still impossible to believe, my body was the proof of it and that left me with only one choice. Accept and deal… or ask for a psych evaluation. Eval would mean temporary suspension with no guarantee of being reinstated.

“Virgin?”

Sixkiller stood at the door, looking dead normal.

I made my decision right then. If he could be walking around acting sane but still believing all this, then so could I. “What are we going to tell Bull?”

He closed the door behind him and moved closer. “You got yourself sorted with this?”

“Short of offering myself up to the altar of a shrink, I can’t see how not to be,” I said.

One side of his lips curled. “Knew you were practical.”

“You know nothing.”

“I talked to the doctor,” he continued. “They’re saying you have some genetic clotting anomaly and that’s why you nearly bled out.”

“I do?”

“No,” he said. “But it’s fine that they think that.”

“How do you know I don’t? I mean… you got scratched on your face by the same creature and it stopped bleeding.”

“I’ve built immunity to the anti-coagulant they inject. That’s why my blood saved you.”

“They?”

“The Mythos.”

I blinked. This was too much. I wasn’t feeling strong enough. “Back the bus up a bit.”

He waited while I took a couple of breaths.

“What am I going to say to Bull?” I asked.

“Keep it straightforward. You fell on the steps and cut yourself. You’ve got a blood disorder which caused the clotting problems.”