Unnatural Mayhem, page 1
With the fate of the Natural World at stake, can Shawnee and Mayhem stop trophy hunters before it’s too late?
Explosive news of a crow hunt rings out in the White Mountain Region of New Hampshire, and one hundred crows gather to put an end to it. With so many lives at stake—including Poe’s—Shawnee and Mayhem must work together to stop the trophy hunters before they obliterate the local murder.
Taking on twenty-five experienced hunters armed with shotguns is no small feat. If they fail, Poe may lead his brethren to their death.
No matter what it takes, this group must be stopped.
But what if Shawnee and Mayhem aren’t seeing the full picture? What if these men have secrets worth killing over?
UNNATURAL MAYHEM
Mayhem Series, #5
Sue Coletta
Published by Tirgearr Publishing
Author Copyright 2021 Sue Coletta
Cover Art: Cora Graphics (www.coragraphics.it)
Editor: Sharon Pickrel
Proofreader: Lucy Felthouse
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away. If you would like to share this book, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not given to you for the purpose of review, then please log into the publisher’s website and purchase your own copy.
Thank you for respecting our author’s hard work.
This story is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, incidents are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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DEDICATION
May Mother Earth guide your feet.
May Father Sky keep his arms around you.
May Grandfather Sun warm your cold days.
May Grandmother Moon keep the glow in your heart.
May the Star Nations light the way to the next destination,
and the Great Spirit always keep you shielded from pain.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The heartfelt message in the dedication is a Native American blessing.
Special thanks to all my consultants and sources who added realism to Unnatural Mayhem:
Angelfire
Hanksville.org
Navajo Cosmology
Explore Deeply
Navajopeople.org
Navajo Skies Guide
Legends of America
WikiHow
The Inn at Thorn Hill Restaurant and Spa
Silencer Central
Bay Nature
Hunker.com
Tech Republic
WildlifeProtectionSolutions.org
Spoon University
Xavier.edu
Indian Country Today
Defensive Carry
Null-byte.wonderhowto.com
Wildlife Protection Solutions
NRDC
TRAFFIC
Csrc.nist.gov
The Tony Hillerman Portal
Natural Deets
JacksonNH.org
High Mark Security Solutions
Openjournals.bsu.edu
Ya-Native
Americanindianmagazine.org
Mikkelaaland.com
National Geographic
Cornell.edu
To Bob, Bobby, Kathy, Berlyn, Scarlet, Joey, Dad, and Frank: Thank you for remaining my loudest cheerleaders. The endless hours spent at my desk—headphones on, music cranked—can’t be easy on you, yet you (almost) never complain. Love you all!
Last but not least, thank you, God, for blessing my life in unimaginable ways.
UNNATURAL MAYHEM
Mayhem Series, #5
Sue Coletta
Chapter One
“Only by going alone in silence, without baggage,
can one truly get into the heart of the wilderness.”
—John Muir
Thursday, 9 a.m.
If the rumors were true, this trip might get bloody.
On the long drive north, Mayhem’s faithful crow companion, Poe, perched on his thigh, his gaze transfixed out the passenger window. Sulking would not benefit him this time. Jacy Lee asked for help with his granddaughter, Shawnee, and Mayhem could never refuse such a simple request. The trip would work two-fold. Not only could he aid a dear family friend, but he’d heard whispers about a particularly nasty hunt.
The White Mountain region of New Hampshire blossomed with color. Deep purple lupines speckled open fields, wildflowers bursting with burnt orange, gold, and vibrant reds—an ideal spot to teach a feisty feline important life lessons. The one obstacle was Poe. Almost three hours scrolled by without a single note from him. After his mother’s final departure eleven months ago, he hadn’t shown the least bit of enthusiasm for much of anything. In truth, he and Poe both carried scars from that fateful night, tearing him up in ways he never thought possible.
In front of the log cabin in Jackson, rich cedar and pine wafted through the vents, the ruralness of the area conjuring fond memories of his and Kimi’s weekend trips. After sliding the shifter into Park, he stroked Poe’s sleek, feathered back. “We’re here, buddy.”
Sloughing off Dad’s loving touch, Poe soldiered to the passenger seat, lowered his bill to his chest feathers, and peered up at him, dark eyes full of sorrow and pain.
“I understand your malaise. I truly do.” The last time he and Poe came here, they bid farewell to the purest soul on earth, Mayhem’s beloved, his reason for waking each morn. “Sometimes in life, however, we need to swallow our emotions and forge ahead. I thought you’d be happy about this trip.”
Poe cocked his head, as if to say, “Seriously?”
Food rewards worked wonders for motivation. Thus, Mayhem reached into the pocket of his leather blazer and withdrew a Ziploc baggie of seedless black cherries, one of Poe’s favorite treats. “Would you like one before we head inside?”
From two fingers he dangled a cherry by the stem, and Poe inched closer, his gaze volleying between Dad and the fruity bribe. Stupid, he was not. Poe also understood the implications of accepting. If he indulged, the petulant behavior would need to cease. Black cherries, however, were almost impossible to resist. Leaning forward, he gobbled the bribe of its stem.
“Care for another?”
This time, Poe did not hesitate, fruit juices dripping out the edges of his bill.
“My good boy.” His voice crooned, fingertips dancing across Poe’s feathery crown. “They’re really quite succulent. Wouldn’t you agree?” When he offered another, a third cherry disappeared down his gullet. “Please preen your plumage before we proceed.”
No one understood good grooming habits better than Poe. Cleanliness ran through his DNA. At birth, crow hatchlings defecated into fecal sacs—Mother Nature’s diapers used by many birds. Some species instructed their young to defecate over the rim of the nest, but that act alone might attract predators. Much more efficient to carry the membranous sacs away. If one were to stumble across a crow’s nest—highly unlikely for various reasons—they’d find an odorless, spotless, and bacteria-free zone.
In the Caddy, Mayhem adjusted the rearview mirror to check the long, dirt driveway framed in tall pines, ash, and maple trees, the log cabin hidden from the main drag. “They should arrive any minute. If you hope to gain the upper hand, I suggest we enter first. Unless you wish to extend an olive branch to Shawnee and begin on common ground?”
Poe leaped onto Dad’s forearm. The obvious message meant he wouldn’t dream of going easy on her.
“All right, then.” When he opened the driver’s door, Poe snatched the baggy off his lap and took flight. Mayhem chuckled under his breath. Little rascal. From the backseat, he lifted out the covered dish filled with food to honor his loving wife—a Chippewa tradition practiced for a solid year after the passing of a spouse.
A mustiness rode the stagnant air inside the cabin. Holding open the door, Poe soared inside and circled the natural wood ceiling, flew up the open staircase, and cleared the second floor.
Two car doors slammed out front. Mayhem slid open the living room window. Neither Jacy Lee nor Shawnee noticed him. Both locked in a verbal disagreement.
“I don’t understand why you can’t stay with me, Shicheii.”
Jacy Lee palmed her fair cheek. Cherry-red streaks glimmered in the sunlight across her long, raven hair halfway down her back. “Mourning Dove, you know why.”
“Yeah, yeah, Poe’s attuned to his environment.” She swatted at the air as though erasing her remark. “Big deal. He hates me, Shicheii. Like deep hatred, down to his hollow bones. If you leave me alone with him, there’s no telling what he’ll do.” Overly dramatic as usual, she flung out her hands. “What if he kills me in my sleep?”
“Come now, child.” Jacy Lee stroked her upper arm, trying to soothe her. “Paranoia is not a good look on you.”
“But—”
Jacy Lee silenced her with one flash of his palm, and his granddaughter relented, dropped her chin, and followed him into the cabin like a lost puppy.
Perched on the kitchen table, Poe stood firm, his wings caped wide, dark eyes glowering at Shawnee.
Halfway into the living room, she stopped dead—paused—and jabbed her head at Poe. “What’s that about?” she asked Mayhem.
“Intimidation tactic would be my guess.” Raising his fedora, Mayhem smoothed back a strand of hair that had fallen loose from his braid, then extended a hand to his lifelong friend. “Nice to see you, Jacy Lee. Shall we head out?”
Flat palms flew straight out in front of Shawnee. “Wait—”
“Is there a problem?” said Mayhem.
“Yeah, there’s a problem. Your freakshow over there wants me dead, and you know it.”
Snickering inside, he forced down a grin. “Regardless of how long we stay, that is unlikely to change, I’m afraid. You did knock him out of mid-air, after all.”
Her stiff shoulders collapsed. “I’ve told you a bazillion times it was an accident.”
“I understand that, however, it’s in Poe’s nature to hold a grudge. One cannot change their true character. The instinct’s been implanted in his kind for millennia.”
Leaning aside, Jacy Lee hushed, “Perhaps we should let them reacquaint for a while before we leave.”
Rocking back on his heels, he could barely comprehend his old friend’s hesitancy. “If the rumors are true, you do understand that time is of the essence.”
“I do, Cheveyo.”
There weren’t many people who could get away with using Mayhem’s birth name—he preferred the anonymity of his epithet—but he’d known Jacy Lee most of his life. As a tribe elder and a powerful, spiritual Medicine Man, Jacy Lee had earned the highest level of respect. Shame he’d only reconnected with his granddaughter eleven months ago. Had they re-established their bond sooner, she’d act more grounded in their culture, centered, and a lot less feisty. Alas, the separation was the only way to keep her safe. Without that heart-wrenching decision to sentence her to a solitary life as an orphan, she would have never reached her thirties.
With an exaggerated exhale, he relented. “All right. I suppose a few minutes won’t set us back too far.”
“I’m starving,” Shawnee whined. “Maybe we could all have breakfast together before you split?” Without waiting for a response, she darted for the door. “I’ll grab the groceries from the backseat.”
The moment she left the cabin, Poe relaxed his wings.
“Good boy.” Mayhem crooned, ruffling his chest feathers. “You are cognizant of the fact that holding an impressive stance all weekend will drain your body of energy, are you not? I realize you want to make a bold statement, but I’d be remiss if I neglected to mention, by presence alone, you already have the upper hand. Thus, the stance is a bit over-the-top. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Poe’s wings slumped forward.
Jacy Lee slapping a frying pan on the stove perked up Poe’s mood, and he leaped off the table, fluttering down to the kitchen island. Like many animals—wild or domestic—crows viewed food as love. Humans often felt the same.
We feasted at celebrations. We feasted at ceremonials. We feasted at funerals. It’s a trait shared throughout the Natural World. Food’s the great equalizer. Nothing spelled love quite like a home-cooked meal.
With both arms stuffed full of grocery bags, Shawnee poked her head in the doorway. “Mr. M., you better get out here. Something’s goin’ down.”
When Mayhem hustled out to the porch, an emerging sea of black flapped toward the cabin. “Oh, my. Jacy Lee,” he called out as Poe flew to his shoulder perch, talons gripped tight to his leather-clad shoulder. This magnificent display proved the rumor mill got it right.
“Your training will have to wait, child.” Jacy Lee stroked his granddaughter’s arm. “We have work to do.”
Chapter Two
11:45 a.m.
All these crows swirling above me didn’t exactly calm my nerves, especially with Poe squawking at decibels unfit for human ears. He leaped off Mr. Mayhem’s black leather-clad shoulder, joining the local murder circling overhead, screeching back, engaged in a heated discussion of some sort.
“Someone wanna fill me in?” Facing Mr. Mayhem, I jutted a thumb over my shoulder. “What’s wrong with ’em?”
Right then, Alanis Morissette belted out Ironic in the breast pocket of my grandfather’s short-sleeved button-down shirt, the song muffled by his traditional buckskin vest and a gazillion angry voices calling back and forth. But Shicheii stayed focused on the murder of crows, growing in numbers by the second.
I shook my hand at him. “Shicheii—”
Mr. Mayhem nudged his elbow, and my grandfather tore his gaze away from the cloudless sky amassed by black wings, flapping, soaring, dipping. “Your phone is ringing, Jacy Lee.”
“Hm?” His brow furrowed. “I don’t have a phone, Cheveyo.”
“No,” I said, half-expecting a dial tone by the time his fingers reached under the vest. “You have mine, remember? Can I have it, please?”
“Oh, I apologize.” When he passed me the cell, I hustled into the cabin, hoping to drown out Poe and his crew.
After checking the caller ID—an unfamiliar number—I covered one ear to block out the ruckus outside. “Hello?”
On the line, Maggie wept. “Can you come get me, Shawnee?”
“Come get you? Get you from where?”
“I’m at Becca’s house.”
I ducked to peek out the window, crows flying in from all directions, adding to the bedlam. “Who’s Becca?”
“My friend from school. You met her at softball.”
“The little redhead with freckles?”
“Yeah.”
Strolling toward the kitchen island, I could barely hear myself think, never mind unscrambling the ramblings of a nine-year-old. “Did you two have a fight?”
“No.”
“Mags, don’t make me guess. I’m dealing with enough shit as it is.” Is it hot in here or is it just me? I tugged my T-shirt away from my chest, billowing the material in and out. “Where’s your mom?” Austyn wasn’t her birth mother, but she was definitely her mom. Once I rescued Maggie from the same scumbag pedophile who abused me years ago, Austyn adopted her. And Maggie thrived in her care. “What happened at Becca’s that makes you wanna leave?”
“Uh,” she said, hesitant. “Are Dedenaan and Shicheii there?”
Long story short, Dedenaan meant grandfather in Chippewa, Shicheii meant mother’s father in Diné aka Navajo. “Yeah, they both are. We’re in Jackson at the cabin. Why?” Maggie wasn’t stupid. She knew they were the most spiritual, loving badasses on the planet, and all three of us would do anything to protect her.
“Can you pick me up? I can’t stay here.” She cried harder, shredding several layers of my heart. “Please, Shawnee. I need you.”
“Okay, okay. What’s the address?”
“I don’t know.” Panic laced her crackling words. “I can’t stay here.”
“It’s alright. We’ll figure it out.” I switched ears. “Whose phone are you on?”
“The landline.”
“Perfect. I’ll trace it. Are you safe?”
“Yeah, I guess, but—"
While pacing back and forth between the kitchen and living room, my breath knotted around my ribcage, the blood in my veins reaching a boiling point. “Did someone put their hands on you?” I jogged toward the screen door that led to the porch. Outside, the crow calls intensified, all my tiny body hairs rising at once. “I will fuck… them… up!”
“No one touched me, Shawnee.”
“Oh.” My adrenaline slammed into a brick wall, my anger waning, dialing back my heated tone. “Did you and Becca have a fight? Is that why you wanna leave?”
“No.”
Dropping my forehead into a cupped hand, I slumped over the kitchen island, one elbow resting on cool granite. “Mags, you gotta give me somethin’. I can’t just leave for no reason.”
