Blackening Song (25 page)

“We have a problem,” Ella warned. “Those trucks are newer than this old thing, and they’re not shot full of
holes. We’re not getting out of this anytime soon. In fact, we’re in as much danger now as before.”

“So are they.” Clifford began a new song as he reached into a leather pouch.

FIFTEEN

Ella didn’t know how he’d done whatever he’d done before, but this time she was prepared. She steeled herself for another assault on her senses, but oddly enough, nothing happened. Clifford was singing, but she could barely hear him. She risked a glance at him as they sped down a long, steep hill toward a sharp curve. Her brother’s eyes were closed, and he seemed to be deep in concentration.
A bead of perspiration formed on his forehead.

As the pickup rounded the bend, Clifford spoke a single word in Navajo and threw what he’d been holding in his hand out of the back window.

In the rearview mirror, Ella saw a white billowing cloud suddenly appear in the road. She felt an explosion. A heartbeat later, the lead vehicle chasing them skidded into the hillside. The truck crashed onto
its side and slid to a halt, blocking the road.

“A few minutes, that’s all the time we have,” Clifford warned Ella.

Their truck bounced across a cattle guard onto the paved road. “We’ll be okay now. I can make good time to the nearest police station,” she said, pressing down on the accelerator.

“No!” Clifford yelled indignantly.

“Those guys behind us mean business. After today, I don’t think
they’re about to give up. The police could place you in protective custody,” Ella argued.

“What the police will do is stick me in jail. You can’t do that to me.” He paused, and added, “Or to our family.”

“I’ll find the answers needed to clear you. Trust me, Clifford, please,” she responded, looking at Wilson for support. Today, Wilson had truly faced death alongside her and Clifford. She was
almost ashamed that she had doubted his loyalty.

“You don’t understand what’s really going on,” Clifford argued.

“Fine. Explain it to me then.”

“I know you made our escape easier,” Clifford conceded, his sorrowful voice betraying his weariness.

“Try possible.”

“No, easier,” he repeated, “and safer, perhaps.”

“
I
think what she did showed courage and merits answers,” Wilson said.

Clifford
looked at his friend speculatively, then back at Ella. “What you did today, Little Sister, showed skills and strengths that are far from ordinary. How do you explain your ability to find us? Luck?”

Ella noted his guarded tone. Something about it disturbed her. “I sorted out the clues I’d gathered, then went on a hunch. It paid off.”

“Do you always trust your instincts so little?” Clifford said
in a disapproving tone.

Ella could feel Wilson’s gaze on her, though she kept her eyes glued on the road. “It’s not magic, if that’s what you mean. The subconscious often has answers that are difficult to recall. I’ve learned how to tap into that when I need to.”

“Your subconscious,” Clifford repeated with a hint of a smile. “That’s what it was. You’ve always had a lucky subconscious.”

Ella
wasn’t sure what was going on in Clifford’s head, but she was sure she didn’t want to know. He was just trying to distract her with his own brand of magical double-talk. “I can help you, but you’re going to have to trust me all the way. We share the danger, so this isn’t the time for secrets between us. There’s too much at stake.”

Wilson looked at Clifford. “Your sister has shown you loyalty.
She’s jeopardizing the career she loves by protecting you from the police, even though she doesn’t agree with what you’re doing.”

“All right.” Clifford glanced at the empty stretch of highway before them. “Where are we going, and how long will it take to get there? What I have to tell you is difficult, and not something I can explain in a few minutes.”

“I’m still trying to figure out where you’ll
be safe. For the moment, I just want to get as far from here as possible, and stay off the more traveled routes. To a cop, this truck would stand out like a sore thumb.”

“No one else will give it a glance,” Clifford said. “Beat-up trucks are a dime a dozen around here.”

“I have an idea,” Wilson said. “What about that abandoned gas station just east of where they used to hold the turkey shoots?”

“The cinder-block place where the bootleggers store their shipments of beer?” Clifford asked.

“That’s the one. Everyone knows about it, but no one says anything, because the Tache family really needs the money. Since it’s such a small-time operation, the cops have always left it alone. That’s not likely to change soon.”

“I like that. Good idea,” Ella agreed. She remembered where it was, too.

“All right,” Clifford chimed in.

“Now, the answers you promised,” she prodded. “We’re at least forty minutes from the station.”

Her brother took a slow, deep breath, then let it out again. “I believe that the skinwalkers want the area surrounding the church and the college because of the inherent evil that resides there. They want to tap into its strength and use it for their own ends. That’s
why they have to stop the church from being constructed—they can’t afford to have that ground consecrated. It would weaken the magic there. Even if you don’t believe in magic yourself, Sister, you must recognize that others do and are willing to act on such beliefs. Believe me, their motivation is strong.”

“So the problem isn’t really the college, just the church.”

“No, not at all,” Clifford
answered. “They want that area to remain deserted for their rites. The college will bring in a lot more people and threaten their secrecy. Plus, once it’s finished,
hataaliis
will gather from everywhere to perform special ceremonies at the dedication. That might also destroy the power the skinwalkers want to harness and protect.”

“If Sings would stop these jerks, couldn’t our Singers do the ceremonies
now?”

“No. Remember, our rites are very specific. It’s a lie to perform a ceremony for a building that isn’t there. Any ceremony that is false will not be heard. It could even make things worse.”

Wilson glanced at Clifford, then Ella. “In the long run,” he said, “there’s only one answer. We have to expose the skinwalkers hidden among us, identify every single one of them. If we don’t, they’ll
undermine everything the tribe is trying to accomplish.”

“I believe that there are specific locations within that area where the evil is particularly concentrated,” Clifford said. “I suspect the skinwalkers have already held ceremonies over these places.”

“Where?”

“One is right above the old church.” A squad car approached; Ella asked Clifford to duck down. The unit went by without slowing.

“The skinwalkers have miscalculated. They’ve inadvertently turned you into a double threat, Big Brother,” Ella mused, after giving him the okay to sit up again. “As the manhunt for you continues, Blalock and the police keep broadening their search patterns. They could easily stumble onto one of these secret ceremonies.”

It took over an hour to get to the gas station—the pickup had begun to overheat
and Ella had had to ease up on the gas pedal. She hoped the truck hadn’t suffered damage that would wind up stranding them somewhere. She drove around to the rear of the building, where they’d be hidden from the road. Ella surveyed the surrounding area. “I don’t like this. It’s too open.”

“That’s what makes it ideal,” Wilson said. “No one can sneak up on Old Man Tache here. And the phone line
works,” he added. “All you have to do is put in a quarter.”

“How do you know this?” Ella asked with a tiny smile.

Wilson cleared his throat. “Everyone knows it.”

“Try again.”

“I’ve bought a six-pack or two here on a hot summer day,” he admitted.

Ella chuckled softly. “Wait here for me.”

She went inside the building and checked out the gas station’s boarded-up office, then the garage area.
Finding it empty, she returned to the truck. “It’s clear for now, but if they’re using this as a drop-off, there’s no telling how long that’ll last.”

Wilson walked inside with Clifford. “I doubt there’ll be another shipment for a month, maybe more. FB-Eyes is making too many waves, and it’s got people nervous.”

Ella joined them. “How reliable are your sources?” she asked Wilson pointedly.

“We’re reasonably safe using this place,” Wilson said flatly. “Tache follows the old ways. Of course, if you can think of someplace better…”

Ella considered. “No,” she answered at last, then looked at Clifford. “But it’s your call. You’re taking the biggest chance. Until we can discover the identity of at least some of our enemies, you have to remain hidden. While they’re looking for you, I’ll
look for them.”

“I’ll stay here then. I can even pull my truck inside and keep it out of sight, if I have to. I’d prefer to play it safe and hide it in the desert. Somebody will have to bring it here—it’s in an arroyo, about a mile north of the hogan, covered with shrubs. I doubt our attackers found it.”

“I’ll get it. I have to go back anyway,” Wilson said. “My truck’s still there, too. The
ones who ambushed us won’t stick around. It should be safe enough, now, for me to reclaim it.”

Ella nodded in agreement. “We’ll both go. I want to search your vehicle and find that homing device. But we might have to leave your truck where it is,” Ella told Clifford. “The police and Blalock are looking for it.”

“They won’t recognize it; I painted it green, then weathered it a lot.” Clifford
shrugged.

“That was smart,” Ella conceded.

Wilson nodded in agreement, then glanced at Ella. “I understand homing devices are very small. My truck’s pretty big. What if we can’t find it?”

“We will, don’t worry. I’m very good at searches.”

Ella and Wilson drove back in her father’s truck, which was operating normally again despite the bullet hole and broken or missing glass.

After delivering
Clifford’s admirably disguised truck to a new hiding place, and stopping at the gas station to tell him where they’d left it, they drove back to the area where the shooting had begun. They had wanted to put that off until last to ensure that their attackers had time to leave the area completely.

About an hour before sundown they arrived at the spot where Wilson had left his truck, some distance
from the hogan. They circled the area first, seeing tracks, but no sign that anyone was still around. Ella checked the boot prints, but none was very revealing.

“Looks like I won’t be taking that truck anywhere tonight,” Wilson said, gesturing to the flat rear tire.

“Don’t you have a spare?”

He gave her a sheepish smile. “You’re looking at it. I blew out a tire last week and haven’t had a chance
to get it repaired.” He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “My cousin Ed will drive out with a spare. He won’t ask any questions.”

“Let me look it over while we’re here. I still want to find that homing device before the sun sets.”

“I’ll hold a flashlight for you,” Wilson offered. “It’s dark underneath the truck.”

Ella went over the truck with a practiced eye and touch. Locating explosives
and listening devices was all part of her training. A homing device was just another form of transmitter. She checked the bumpers, then the wheel wells. Moving inside, she ran her hands carefully over the upholstery, then searched the steering column and underneath the dashboard. Not finding anything there, she went back to the outside. Ella jumped up onto the bed of the truck, but found nothing
unusual. Finally she crawled beneath the truck, looking up into the area where the spare tire was kept. Nothing was visible from below, so she ran her hand along the top of a metal bracket that normally held the tire in place.

“Got it!” She removed a small magnetic device, about the size of a large button, emerged from under the truck, and studied the bug for several moments. “You can easily
get these through electronic warehouses, and I know of a guy who got one through a survivalist’s catalogue. This is going to be difficult to trace. It was placed after you had the flat, but would have taken only a few seconds to attach. I’m afraid it won’t tell us much about its owner.”

“It doesn’t matter; you couldn’t have taken it to the police without leaving yourself open to a lot of questions.
For one thing, they’re sure to wonder why someone would put this on my vehicle. Since they know I’m Clifford’s friend, they’re bound to start watching me more closely. They may even think FB-Eyes did it, though if Blalock had bugged my truck he would have used a better bug.”

“You’re right about all that.”

Ella hurled the tiny device as far as she could, sending it straight into the desert. “Maybe
some packrat will pick it up and carry it around, and keep them running in circles.”

“We can always hope.”

“Come on. I’m beginning to see why Dad loved his old truck. They don’t make them this tough anymore.”

Silence stretched between them as they headed back to the now-familiar stretch of highway. The sun had finally gone down, and something was telling her that they needed to get out of the
area fast. She concentrated on driving, turning on the headlights to see clearly.

“Do you feel it?” Wilson asked in a hushed voice. “The gathering shadows, since sunset … Well, they just don’t feel right.”

Ella heard the mournful wails of coyotes or wolves faintly in the distance and had to suppress a shudder. She suddenly felt as frightened as a lost child.

“It gives me the creeps,” she answered
with deliberate, concealing evenness. “It won’t be much longer before we reach the highway, though.”

In the beam of the truck’s headlights, they saw a large dog ahead, trying to drag itself out of their path. “That poor thing,” she said, “somebody hit it with a car. It’s leaving a trail of blood.”

“Don’t even think of getting out of this truck,” Wilson said flatly.

“I wasn’t,” she assured him.
“It’s feral, and it might not understand that we’re no threat to it.”

As they drew near, the injured animal seemed to abruptly recapture its strength. Its limp vanished. It whirled to face them. In the blink of an eye it jumped onto the truck’s hood, jaws snapping viciously.