The Graves of Plague Canyon (The Downwinders Book 3) (11 page)

“For sure,” Deem said. “Porter was ruthless.”

They emerged into the room, exhausted from all the turns.
Carma was standing next to the boulder, her arm raised to point at the tunnel
they’d just come from.

“The treasure you seek is down there,” Carma said.

“Obviously not expecting people to come back out,” Winn said
to Deem. They walked to the false wall, but Deem stopped. She turned to face
the skeletons pinned nearby.

“Traitors, maybe?” she said to Winn.

Winn broke into a smile and they both raced to the rubble at
the feet of the skeletons. The flesh of the bodies had been eaten away by cave
insects long ago, and the clothes of the victims were lying in the rocks at
their feet. They climbed through the rubble and began searching the clothes,
and within seconds Deem raised an object toward Winn, holding it in her open
palm.

“Six sided, inlaid with mother of pearl,” Deem said proudly.
“This is it!”

“Me? In a mine? In Left Hand?” Carma asked. “You must be
joking!”

“It looked just like you,” Deem said. “Your voice, your mannerisms,
everything.”

“I have mannerisms?”

“We figured out it wasn’t you,” Winn said.

“You think I go flying through the air, teleporting into
places? What makes you think I have the time to follow you around? If I had the
time, I’d go myself!” Carma said indignantly.

“It picked someone from our minds,” Deem said. “Someone it
thought we’d respect and listen to.”

“Ah, so any mannerisms were ones you imagined,” Carma said, a
long thin cigarette tilting rapidly up and down in her fingers. “That makes me
feel better.”

Deem held up the vacuum box. “This is what matters. We found
it.”

Carma’s mood changed instantly to delight. She clapped her
hands together, ash falling. “How wonderful! Was my image instrumental in
helping you locate it?”

“Not really,” Winn replied. “It sent us down a wrong path,
the passageway used to kill the gifteds.”

Deem picked up the story and filled Carma in on the details
that happened earlier in the mine. Carma listened intently, her eyes widening
at some parts and her mouth dropping open with surprise during others. When
Deem finished, Carma applauded.

“Both of you are heroic; I’ll not stand for anyone saying
otherwise!” Carma rose from her chair and began to pace. “Porter’s deeds of ill
repute will be turned on their heads when you use the vacuum box to collect the
callum later tonight. I’m going to call Ester and let her know of our progress,
try to calm her nerves a little, and make sure she doesn’t do anything rash
before you finish up at the canyon.” Carma left the dining room and they heard
her making a phone call in the kitchen.

“When’s your date?” Winn asked.

“A couple of hours,” Deem replied.

“Where are you going?”

“I wouldn’t tell you if I knew.”

“Don’t be that way. I’m genuinely interested.”

“And I’m genuinely interested in you not knowing so you can’t
fuck it up.”

“You’ll want to be careful with that kind of language around
a returned missionary,” Winn said.

“We’ve crossed that bridge already,” Deem replied. “He’s not
as righteous as all that.”

“I wonder, then, if more bridges will be crossed tonight,”
Winn said, smirking a little.

“See, that’s why I don’t tell you things, that attitude right
there.”

“Seriously, I hope you have a good time. When will you be
free for our excursion into the canyon?”

“Why don’t you meet me back here at midnight,” Deem replied.
“I figure two hours to get parked somewhere private, hike in around the bend so
we can’t be seen, and set up camp. If we’re lucky, we’ll be sleeping by 2.”

“I’m heading home to get the gear,” Winn said. “Tell Carma
goodbye for me and that I’ll be back later tonight.”

“I will,” Deem said, and watched as Winn turned and left. It
was hard not to watch Winn’s jeans whenever he left a room — or entered it, for
that matter — but Deem thought of her upcoming date with Warren instead, and
decided she’d best break herself of sneaking peeks at Winn’s backside.

Carma came back into the room. “Winn’s gone?”

“He’ll be back,” Deem replied. “He’s gone to get the climbing
gear.” Deem reached into her backpack and felt the satchel she’d picked up in
the mine. She pulled it out and set it on the table.

“I’ve done it, I’ve convinced Ester to hold off until
tomorrow,” Carma said, then looked down at the satchel. “What’s this, more
souvenirs from the mine?”

“There’s something here I wanted to show you,” Deem said,
reaching into the satchel. She removed the leather-bound book she had looked
through in the mine and handed it to Carma, who didn’t reach out to take it.

“I do wish you’d be more careful with what you bring in,
dear,” Carma said, staring at the book. “You don’t know what this might be.”

“I don’t think it’s bad,” Deem said. “I looked through it,
but I couldn’t make sense of it. I was hoping you could. It’s handwritten.”

Carma reached out tentatively and took the book from Deem’s
hands, then opened it. She was holding it at arm’s length as she turned the
pages, her face pulled back as though she was afraid something might spring
from it at any moment.

“I’ll need glasses,” Carma said, setting the book down on the
table. “Especially with all that fancy penmanship.”

Carma walked into the kitchen and returned after a moment. In
addition to her glasses, she was holding a red scarf which she placed on the
table. She set the book on top of it, and wrapped the book up in the scarf. Then
she let it sit in front of them for a moment.

“Aren’t you going to read it?” Deem asked.

“In a moment, dear,” Carma said, lighting a cigarette. She
stared at the book for a minute longer, taking an occasional puff and blowing
the smoke directly at the book. Deem coughed.

Then Carma rose and unwrapped the book, bunching the scarf in
her hand. She turned and walked out of the dining room.

“Where are you going?” Deem asked, intrigued with whatever
Carma was up to. She followed her through the house until they went through a
set of sliding glass doors onto the back porch. Carma dropped the scarf into a
built-in brick barbeque at the far end of the covered porch, grabbed a large
can of lighter fluid, and began dousing the scarf, all the while her cigarette dangling
from her lips. Deem was surprised at how much liquid Carma was squirting onto
the scarf. Once Carma was satisfied that it was thoroughly soaked, she tossed
her cigarette into the pit.

Deem jumped back as a large fireball formed and roared
upward. She felt the heat of the combustion on her face and wondered if any of
her hair might be singed.

Carma turned and walked back into the house, the fire still
roaring in the pit. “There, better safe than sorry.”

Deem followed her, returning to the dining room. Carma sat
herself at the table, grabbed her glasses, slipped them onto her face, and
opened the book.

Deem let her read in silence for a moment, then her curiosity
overcame her. “Well?” she asked.

“My dear,” Carma said, looking up from the book and smiling
at her, “you’ve found something truly amazing. Far more important than a vacuum
box.” She returned to examining the pages.

“What?” Deem asked. “What is it?”

“It’s the journal of a gifted man named Lorenzo Lyman,” Carma
replied, still turning the pages. “Ever heard of him?”

“Lyman, like Lyman downstairs?”

“No,” Carma said. “The Lyman downstairs is first named Lyman.
Lorenzo had Lyman for a last name. It’s an infamous name in Utah history. His
father was Amasa Lyman, one of the few apostles of the church to ever be
excommunicated.”

“Never heard of him,” Deem replied.

“Doesn’t surprise me,” Carma said. “The heretics are rarely
remembered. Amasa had the nasty habit of preaching that man could be saved by
knowledge instead of the atonement. That got him ex’d. After that, instead of
repenting and trying to rejoin the church, he took up an interest in
spiritualism, and kept it up until his death. His family was split on
supporting him. Half his children joined him in his heretical views, one of
which was Lorenzo. Many speculated that Lorenzo had the gift. Lyman will be
absolutely thrilled to hear that you’ve discovered Lorenzo’s journal.”

“So Lorenzo was one of Porter’s casualties,” Deem said.

“Apparently so,” Carma replied. “That, or someone else had
his journal.”

“I can’t read any of it,” Deem replied. “The words themselves
made sense, but not the way he strung them together.”

“I can make out some of it, but that’s because I’ve had more
experience than you,” Carma replied. “I would encourage you to try to read it
anyway. I expect you will find some passages that you can make out, and you’ll
find information in those parts. Things tend to connect, and the more you
understand, the more will open up. This is a valuable find, my dear, and you should
treat it like gold. There are many gifteds out there who would love to have
discovered it.” She slid the book along the table back toward Deem.

“I wonder what else is in this satchel,” Deem said, reaching
in to pull out two more books and some loose paper.

She heard Carma suck in air as she saw the spine of one of
the books.

“What?” Deem asked. “What is it?”

“May I?” Carma asked, reaching for the book with the spine
facing her.

“Go ahead,” Deem said, intrigued by Carma’s reaction.

Carma picked up the book and opened it, looking at the title
page. Deem saw her close her eyes and smile.

“What?” Deem asked.

“If Lorenzo’s journal wasn’t valuable enough,” Carma said,
“you just landed a nice little fortune.”

“Oh, shut up!” Deem said. “You can’t be serious!”

Carma turned the book around to face Deem. “This is an
original 1830 Book of Mormon, my dear,” Carma said. “Last I heard, you should
be able to get a hundred thousand for it. Congratulations.”

▪ ▪ ▪

Deem stretched out and looked up at the stars which had just
started to appear. The blanket underneath her smelled fresh.
He must have
washed it today,
she thought.
I have to hand it to him, he’s been pretty
thoughtful.
After the hike and the food, she felt relaxed. The wine Warren
had brought with the picnic didn’t hurt. And remembering the valuable finds
she’d made earlier in the day catapulted her relaxation into euphoria.

“I haven’t been up this way in years,” Warren said. “We used
to come up here when I was in high school. I think that was the last time.”

Deem was surprised more people weren’t around. The secluded
grassy clearing was beautiful, surrounded by the tall trees of Pine Valley.
They were north of St. George, a few thousand feet higher in elevation, and
with night descending, it was starting to get cooler; much cooler than a St. George
evening.

“Cassiopeia!” Deem said, pointing up at the night sky.

“You know the constellations?” Warren asked.

“Some,” she replied. “The ones I remember from a book I had
as a kid.”

“More wine? There’s still some left,” Warren asked.

“No, thank you,” she replied. “I’ve had plenty. And the food
was fantastic. All the little meats and cheeses and things. Really tasty.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, and stretched out on the
blanket next to her, staring up at the sky.

Earlier they’d hiked the canal trail, and Warren had led her
off path to this spot, where they’d stopped and had dinner. Somehow he’d
managed a huge blanket, and all the necessities for eating, including a bottle
of wine. The hike had been fun, and Warren seemed to have her sense of when to talk
and joke, and when to shut up and enjoy the beauty around them. Now, lying on
the blanket next to him, staring up at the emerging stars, the smell of the
blanket mixed with the smell of him, and she felt intoxicated.
This might be
the best date I’ve ever been on,
she thought.
He made sure everything
was perfect.

Or is that the wine talking?
she wondered. She had only one
glass, but she was a lightweight.

Fuck it, I don’t care,
she thought.
It was a nice afternoon with him, a great
dinner, and now he’s lying next to me. I wonder if he’ll make a move. I wonder
how I’ll react.

She waited patiently, scanning the heavens, feeling more
content and relaxed as each moment went by. And yet, as relaxed as she was, she
felt excitement, too.

“So, you and Winn have known each other for a while?” he
asked.

“Yeah, a couple of years, I guess,” she replied.

“Were you a thing early on?”

“Oh, god no!” Deem laughed.

“What? I thought it was a reasonable question. He’s a
handsome guy.”

“He’s not my type. Winn’ll sleep with anything with two legs,
which is not my style.”

“Is he ex-military? He gives off that vibe.”

“No, he’s not. It’s a look he says attracts men and women
equally, so he uses it.”

“Oh, so he’s gay? I mean… bisexual?”

“Yup,” Deem replied. “What, are you interested in him?”

“No,” Warren replied. “I’m interested in you. That’s the only
reason I was asking.”

Good answer,
Deem thought.
Not threatened, not homophobic. Check.

“So you’re just friends?” he asked.

“Yup, just friends.”

“You seem to spend a lot of time together.”

Deem raised up on one elbow to look down at him. “What is
this? An interrogation?”