Spirits Collide, page 11
part #2 of Evil Awakened Series
White Eagle clasped her hand in his. “We’ll do it together.”
She took a deep breath, shut off the jeep, and grabbed the sword from the back. Getting out of the jeep, she slung it over her shoulder. Feeling the cold steel on her back gave her the confidence she needed to walk up to the front door. Ringing the bell, she mouthed, “Help me, Kise.”
Her heart pounded against her chest as she heard footsteps. When the door opened, her jaw practically unhinged. The woman who stood on the other side of the screen door looked just like her, but older.
The woman seemed stunned. She just stared at Pamoon and White Eagle.
“Are you Joanne?” White Eagle asked.
The woman nodded, straightening her dress, raking her fingers through her hair. “I must look a mess. I just came got off work, I—”
“May we come in?” White Eagle said. “It’s important we speak to you,”
“Of course,” Joanne said. “Where are my manners. It’s just that I’m so surprised to see you.” She opened the door, never taking her eyes off Pamoon. As Pamoon entered, Scout on her tail, Joanne smiled. “You’re even more beautiful than your pictures.”
Pamoon tried not to react, she just followed Joanne and White Eagle into the den. Pamoon looked around the room. On the walls were framed pictures of her. This is creepy.
Joanne fidgeted. “Can I get you something to eat or drink?”
“Coffee would be nice,” White Eagle said.
“I just made a pot, it will just take a second.”
When she left the room, Pamoon whispered. “I don’t know what to say or do. I feel so out of place.”
“Just be yourself. I’ll explain why we’re here.”
“I’m not even sure what myself is anymore.”
White Eagle squeezed her knee. “You are Pamoon, the daughter of Kamenna. You are the Kiche. Kamenna would have never corresponded with Joanne if she had any doubts as to her virtue. Remember that.”
Joanne entered awkwardly balancing three cups of coffee, spilling it as she walked. Pamoon slid the sword off her back and stood. “Let me help you with that.”
She took a cup from Joanne, their hands touching. She felt a tingle in her palm and neck as their hands grazed each other.
Joanne smiled as Pamoon took the cup and placed it on the table.
Pamoon watched as her mother took a deep breath. “You must have so many questions,” she said looking at Pamoon.
Pamoon shrugged. “I don’t know what to say. I know some things about you, like why you left me at the reservation. That must have been hard. I know from what Kamenna told me, that you loved me, but you weren’t able to take care of me. I’ve heard the story of how you were visited by an angel and told to leave me at the reservation instead of the orphanage. For that I’m grateful.” Pamoon stared at Joanne who just nodded. Pamoon realized that her mother was just as scared as she was. “I look just like you.”
Joanne smiled. “I was never as beautiful as you, but thank you for saying so.”
“I know you two have a lot of catching up to do, and I hope that one day you’ll have that chance,” White Eagle said. “But we came today for a special purpose.”
“The sword,” Joanne answered looking straight at it. “That’s why you came.”
“Eha,” White Eagle nodded. “I need you to tell Pamoon how you came to own the sword and its significance.”
Joanne began to sweat. “I wrote all that in the letters to Kamenna. Didn’t she tell Pamoon when she gave it to her?”
“My mother died a little over a year ago,” Pamoon said.
“Oh my god!” Joanne covered her mouth with her hand. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I knew my last letter was never answered, but I just figured Kamenna didn’t want me to be part of your life any longer.”
“I found the sword in the back of her closet,” Pamoon said, changing the subject. “Until today, I had no idea where it came from. I asked my uncle, but he insisted we come see you.”
Joanne’s face dropped. “And that’s the only reason you came?”
Pamoon nodded. “It is.”
While they were speaking, Pamoon noticed Scout made his way to Joanne and placed his head in her lap. If Scout trusts her, maybe I should too.
“It’s not that I’ve never thought about you,” Pamoon said. “It’s just—”
“That you hate me.” Joanne said, her eyes welling up.
“I don’t hate you. I just never understood how you could choose drugs over your own daughter.”
Joanne rung her hands together. “I was young and messed up. I knew I was in no shape to raise a child. I only wanted the best for you, and I knew that wasn’t with me. I’ve never stopped loving you. Kamenna reached out to me just days after I dropped you off at the reservation medical center. She thanked me for my bravery and told me she would like to continue to correspond. She was always very sweet and always sent me pictures of you and told me what a wonderful little girl you were and what a strong young woman you were becoming. That’s how I knew I did the right thing.”
“The sword,” White Eagle said. “Please tell Pamoon about your visitation.”
“What visitation? A visit from who?”
“I don’t even know how to begin,” Joanne said.
“Please. It’s vital Pamoon knows the truth. The entire truth.”
Joanne petted Scout and began to tell the story of how she was visited by Archangel Michael in her dream. When she was finished, Pamoon was speechless.
“May I see the sword?” Joanne asked.
Pamoon slid the sword from its sheath and went to hand it to her. Joanne shied away, not wanting to touch it. “That sword burned me once, I don’t think I should hold it.” As she studied it, she cocked her head to the side, confused. “There is something different about it. Something that doesn’t belong.”
“What do you mean?” White Eagle said, leaning forward in his seat.
“The handle was not wrapped in leather when Michael gave it to me, or when I gave it to Kamenna.”
“Are you sure?”
“Definitely. The handle was made of gold. It practically glowed.”
Pamoon and White Eagle studied the grip. “Look at the leather,” Pamoon said. “The intricate Cree markings burned into it. I only know one person who had the talent to do that.”
“Kamenna.” White Eagle said, finishing her thought. “Unwrap it, Pamoon.” Excitement bled though his words.
Pamoon placed the sword on her lap and delicately unwrapped the leather, not wanting to ruin Kamenna’s work. As she unwound the leather, it was if it had a mind of its own and wrapped itself around her wrist. She should have been stunned, but at this point, anything was possible. The more leather she removed, the more gold could be seen; gold so bright, Pamoon almost had to squint to look at it. When she was done, her jaw dropped.
“It is gorgeous,” Joanne said, “but why do you look so stunned?”
Pamoon pointed with a trembling finger at the flame that was etched into the gold. She then showed Joanne the mark on her left palm and the one on her neck.
“It’s an exact match,” White Eagle said. “More proof that the sword belongs to Pamoon.”
“The marks on your hand and neck. You didn’t have them when you were born.”
“Are you sure?” Pamoon said.
“I remember every inch of your body. I might have been messed up, but I will always remember what a beautiful baby you were. Here, I’ll prove it.” Joanne stood and opened a chest that sat against the wall. “I never wanted to forget what you looked like, so the night the angel visited me and told me to leave you with the Indians, I took pictures of you. I wanted to remember the baby I had.” She pulled a photo album out of the chest and laid it in front of Pamoon. Joanne flipped the pages. “See, there are no marks on your hands or on your neck.”
“Then how—”
“Kamenna said that the first few days she had you, you cried at night,” White Eagle said. “She said that’s when she noticed the mark on your neck, and later the one on your hand. It must have been the first sign of your destiny to come.”
“What destiny?”
“Your daughter is no ordinary girl,” White Eagle said. “She is the answer to an ancient Indian prophecy. She is the Kiche.”
“Kiche?” Joanne’s eyes opened wide. “That is the word the archangel used when he gave me the sword. Michael said that it could only be wielded by the one who was destined to save a nation. Destined to become the Kiche.” She shook her head. “I had no idea what he was talking about. I had no idea what that word meant, but I told all of this to Kamenna in my letters.”
“Eha,” White Eagle answered.
Pamoon hardly heard the conversation taking place. She just stared at the handle of the sword. She stood in the middle of the room, gripping the sword in her right hand. Instinctively, she changed hands, making sure to place the flame on her palm directly over the one of the grip. As she held it high above her head, she felt the power of the sword. The blade began to glow. As she stared at the pewter-shaded steel, it began to change: first to a brownish yellow as it heated up, then to a fiery red, and finally to a white-hot blue; all before it burst into flames. The power of the flame tore through her body, from her palm to the flame on her neck as the power reached her head.
“Look at her eyes,” Joanne said, backing away, “they’re gold! And her hair is flaming red!”
Before White Eagle could hold him back, Scout jumped on Pamoon, his fur turning a blinding white, his eyes gold like hers. “Only one who has been to the Spirit Mount could withstand that heat and not be burned,” he thought aloud.
Their words barely registered as Pamoon held the sword high, consumed by a feeling she never thought passible. As she held the sword, entranced by its power, a voice bellowed from the heavens, “Behold the one brave enough to save a nation. The one born to wield the Sword of Truth. Use it wisely, Kiche and it will protect you. Use it otherwise and it will destroy you. You and the flame are now one.”
Pamoon closed her eyes. “Isawêsk tapwewin, weposkâw pehcayihk niya, ohci eyoko niya ohcitaw. stawehikewin isko niya tepwatam.”
With her last word, the flame disappeared, the sword once again made of metal, and her eyes and hair were once again her own. Scout acted as if nothing ever happened.
Pamoon dropped her arm, the sword clanging off the tile floor. Her eyes remained closed, her chest heaved with every breath.
Joanne stepped forward to help her, but White Eagle held her back. “Pamoon must learn to control the power without any interference. She will be fine, just give her a minute.
Joanne dropped onto the couch. “What did she say?”
“She spoke in Cree,” White Eagle explained. “Loosely translated, she said, ‘Sword of Truth, burn within me, for it is my destiny. Extinguish, until I call for you.’”
Joanne dropped her head into her hands, and wept. “She really is who the angel said she was. She really is a goddess.”
Pamoon, who had regained her where-with-all, knelt in front of Joanne. “Of course, I’m a goddess. I’m your daughter.”
Pamoon’s words were more than Joanne ever dreamed she would hear from her daughter. She wrapped her arms around Pamoon’s neck and kissed her face repeatedly, mumbling, “I love you,” through her tears.
Once everyone’s emotions were in control, White Eagle made it clear that it was imperative they leave. “Time is not on our side,” he said. “We must go before all is lost.”
Pamoon kissed Joanne and told her she’d come back when everything was over. Even Scout jumped up, his paws on Joanne’s shoulders and gave her face one big lick.
White Eagle felt Joanne holding him back, tugging his shirt. “Go start the jeep,” he told Pamoon, and store your sword in the back where it will be safe. I’ll be right there.”
He turned to Joanne once Pamoon and Scout were outside. “Is there something you wanted to say?”
“I guess I was just hoping you could reassure me that Pamoon will be safe.”
White Eagle’s eyes closed, sadness washing across his face, before he reopened his eyes and stood tall. Looking directly at Joanne, he said, “I wish I could, too. She is up against the greatest enemy our people have ever known, but she has four things on her side.”
“What’s that?”
“She is the Yee Naaldlooshii—the Skin Walker, she controls fire, she is the Kiche, and most of all, she fights for the one she loves.”
“What? What do you mean, ‘the one she loves?’ Who does she love?”
White eagle smirked as he bowed goodbye. “That is for another time. Goodbye, Joanne. I am sure we will meet again.”
28
Confrontation
Everyone sat and ate at the kitchen table, while White Eagle told Nuna all about meeting Joanne and Pamoon’s experience with the Sword of Truth. When he was finished a heavy silence settled on the room as everyone stated at the sword lying once again on the counter.
Pamoon cleared her throat and asked Nuna if she had heard if anyone else had seen the wendigo. The change of subject seemed to help break everyone’s hypnotic state.
“There have been sightings of what could be the wendigo traveling south,” Nuna answered, “although, no one has seen it, the beast seems to be leaving a trail in its wake. Our people have seen glimpses of large footprints in the snow close to remote villages in Minnesota. The strange thing is, there have been no deaths. It seems the wendigo has been breaking into butcher shops and grocery stores and eating the meat.”
White Eagle scratched his head. “That’s unlike what we know of the beast. In past stories, the wendigoes have always taken human lives. The creatures have always existed on human flesh. I wonder why this one is different?”
“I don’t know,” Nuna said, “but it seems the creature is getting more violent each time it destroys property.”
“Eha,” White Eagle nodded, as if expecting this reaction. “The need for human blood will grow until the beast has no choice but to kill.”
“Why do you think that?” Pamoon interjected.
“It’s the wendigo’s nature,” White Eagle replied. “The beast’s frustration is growing. It’s only a matter of time before it starts to kill.”
Pamoon listened and understood her uncle’s reasoning, but internally she hoped the wendigo’s actions were because of their conversation. She hoped her upcoming trip to Spirit Cave would provide answers.
With the conversation and meal concluded, she and Celia made preparations for their trip to the Spirit Cave.
“I’m scared but excited,” Celia said, stuffing a coat and some water in a backpack, “what should I expect?”
Pamoon stopped what she was doing to answer her friend. She squinted, her mouth twisting as she bit her lower lip. “I don’t know,” she exhaled. “The Misty Woods have a spirit all their own. They accept who they wish and refuse all others. I am hoping that since you’ll be with me, they will let you into the spirit world. If they do, it could still get scary, so just do what I say and don’t ask why; we may not have time for hesitation.”
“Now I’m more scared than excited.”
Pamoon noticed Celia’s anxiety: her rapid breathing, her goosebumps, the sweat on her brow. She smiled the most reassuring smile, grabbed her backpack, and hip-bumped her friend. “Don’t worry, I didn’t break you out of your depressing bedroom for nothing. We’ll be fine.” Scout jumped up, joining huddle, barking and wagging his tail. “I’m pretty sure that means Scout agrees. Trust me, his protection is way better than mine.”
After a pep-talk from White Eagle and one too many hugs from Nuna, the girls readied themselves to leave. Both wore jeans, long-sleeve shirts and boots just in case they came in accidental contact with the thorns. Pamoon was dressed for battle: her sword strapped across her back along with her gunstock war club. On her belt, the knife given to her by Kwanokasha, and gripped in her hand, her staff. Celia wasn’t quite so armed. She wore a long-knife that White Eagle had given her on her right hip and carried a ceremonial walking stick, a gift from Nuna.
The sun had set by the time they stepped off reservation land and into the surrounding woods. They had trekked about forty minutes when Pamoon slowed.
“Why did you slow down? Are we there?” Celia said, her voice rising in pitch.
Pamoon shook her head. “No, but the woods are too quiet. It’s giving me the creeps.” She looked at Scout, whose ears were standing erect. He moved closer to the girls, busy sniffing the air. “Look at Scout,” she continued, “he only does that when he senses danger. Stay close.” Pamoon subconsciously fisted her staff, her knuckles whitened.
They continued in silence until they both spotted the first signs of mist.
“That’s a good thing, right?” Celia said.
“If you can see the mist, that’s a very good thing,” Pamoon said, still on full alert.
Their joy of seeing the mist was short-lived as Scout pulled up and pawed the ground. A growl could be heard growing in his chest until it burst through his teeth, sounding angry and hateful. Pamoon dropped her other hand onto the handle of her knife.
Suddenly, the duo of Bobby and Ralph jumped from the trees in front of them, blocking their path. “I knew your mother was full of shit when she told me you were sick,” Bobby spat, glaring at Celia.
Pamoon’s eyes never left the pair, but she could feel Celia retreat, hiding behind her and Scout.
“Where do you think you’re going, Celia?” he continued. “You’re one of us, you’re not going anywhere with this bitch.”
“She goes wherever she wants,” Pamoon spat back, “and right now she is with me.”
Bobby smirked. “Only if you can get past the three of us.”
She heard Celia yelp, and in her peripheral vision, Pamoon saw Scott drop from a tree behind them.
“Just let us pass. We have no fight with you,” Pamoon said, trying to diffuse the situation.
Bobby and Ralph pulled knives from behind their backs. “But we have an unfinished fight with you . . .” the left side of his mount furled lateral and upward, making his expression even more menacing, “Kiche.” He took a small step forward. “I’m gonna do to you what I should have done to you in the Netherworld.”
