C.E. Murphy - Demon Hunts

"Oh, Jo…"

I shook my head, violent little motion that tangled tears in my eyelashes. Sympathy was more than I could handle. "It was like it made it almost okay. I mean, it wasn't okay, it was horrible, but it was like…her gift to him, the only thing she could do. And mine was to give him to a family who was ready for him. He's twelve now, and he doesn't believe in vampires."

"You keep in touch?" Gary sounded rightfully surprised.

I shook my head again. "No, I just…I had a vision of him a couple months ago, when Suzy was here. That's all." That's all. Like it was normal to have visions of anybody. "I found Petite in somebody's barn that summer," I added inanely.

Gary, very softly, said, "Ah," like that cleared everything up. "Anybody else know about this?"

I shrugged. "Sure. Everybody in Qualla Boundary. But nobody out here, no. Morrison, maybe. Probably. Maybe Laurie fucking Corvallis, since she's been looking me up. But no."

"Hell of a thing to keep secret, doll."

"Like it comes up in casual conversation? 'Oh, and by the way, did I mention I had twins when I was fifteen?' I never wanted to talk about it, Gary. I left that whole life behind a long time ago."

"What'd your dad think?"

"I never asked him."

Something in my tone warned Gary off pursuing that path any further, because he made another one of those ah sounds and there was a brief awkward silence before he rolled his head back toward the room and said, "Your pal in there know?"

"I doubt it. Not before today, anyway. I wasn't studying with him anymore by the time I got pregnant." I sounded tired and bitter and angry to my own ears. Just this summer, I'd reached through time and stolen my younger self's expertise, leaving her with nothing more than a vague memory or two of coyote dreams. I could see a cycle there, a closed loop through time: I'd taken the one thing that a young Joanne Walkingstick thought made her special. Less than two months later that girl was pregnant, putting her well and truly on the path to becoming the adult woman who had to steal her own younger self's understanding of magic in order to deal with the world she'd been thrust into.

"Can I ask you somethin' else?"

"You going to anyway?" I smiled a little and invited the question with a nod.

"Think you ever woulda told me?"

"Yeah." That was about the weariest confession I'd ever made. I turned around and put my butt against the railing, arms folded under my breasts. "I actually almost did last summer when you were in the hospital. You said, um. You said something about wanting grandkids, and I…" Words were hard. I dropped my chin to my chest and reached down to grab the railing hard. "It was the first time in my whole life I ever even thought about telling somebody."

"Aw, Joanie." Gary put his arm around me and kissed my hair, and we stayed there, quiet and together, until a knock on the door forced us back into the now.

Thursday, December 22, 7:16 P.M.

Coyote slid the door open a few inches and latched his gaze downward, like he didn't want to intrude. "I think I found something. You, um, you want to come in?"

I felt bad for him. He had to have a pretty good idea of what we'd been talking about, and he'd decided he didn't belong in the conversation. Truth was, he probably belonged as much as Gary did, maybe more. On the other hand, Gary had been a real, solid person in my life for the past year, and Coyote'd been out of my life or mostly dead since I was a teen. Either way, I'd never heard him sound so diffident. I said, "Yeah," almost as carefully, then walked forward into him and put my forehead against his shoulder. I hadn't known I was going to. Neither had he, and he grunted quietly before putting his arms around me. Gary slipped past us into the room, and Coyote exhaled over my head, a small worried sound.

"You okay?"

"Not even a little." All I wanted was to crawl into bed and pull him up close behind me while I slept for about a week. The idea forced a tiny cough of laughter from my chest. "On the positive side, I'm emotionally drained and exhausted, which is practically like sleep deprived. Perfect for hunting monsters."

Coyote set me back a few inches and crooked a smile. "Great. Watch out, wendigo." He took my hand and led me inside. I sat down beside Gary so I could focus on Coyote, trying to push away melancholy and worry about the problem at hand.

He took his BlackBerry out again and glanced at it, though more as a prop than a prompt. "Okay. So there are Yu'pik stories about people who've been 'made cold by the universe.' It's something that happens in the winter, people get lost on the snow flats and they go…between. To this place that's not in any of the planes I'm familiar with. It's just described as a constant storm. Sometimes we can see them in our world, but they don't leave tracks and they're almost impossible to call back. They have to find their own way home, and while they're searching, they're neither dead nor alive."

"So they're like Schrödinger's People?" The idea amused me enough that it actually did alleviate my moodiness. Coyote looked faintly exasperated, but Gary chuckled, so I called it a draw and went on. "Okay, sorry. But that sounds right, with the storm and no tracks and not being able to catch it with either magic or bullets. Do these things hunt people?"

"Not as far as the stories I can find say, but that doesn't mean it's not happening now. Especially if it's someone of power who became lost. Someone who might have had an understanding of what was happening, and who knew there was a path home if he could just find it."

I dropped my chin to my chest. "Score one small point for the home team. I thought it might be someone who knew what they were doing." Of course, I'd also thought it was someone using a power circle for nefarious ends, so it was only a very small point. "Tell me they have a reliable solution for rescuing or otherwise stopping these cold universe people."

"Nope."

I glanced up with a little smile. "Are spirit guides supposed to say 'nope'?"

I would never understand how he could look so much like his coyote self in his human form, but the grin he gave back was toothy and pointed like a coyote's. "Yep." Then he wrinkled his nose. "But no, they don't. These people either find their own way home or they don't. I think a soul retrieval is still our best option."

"A soul retrieval for someone whose body we don't have? How does that work?"

My mentor looked pained. "If we're lucky he'll find his way back to his body. If we're not…"

"If we're not, the body's long since dead and we've just got a spirit who won't die," Gary concluded. "That sound about right?"

Coyote nodded and we were all quiet a few seconds, contemplating that, until my stomach rumbled loudly enough to make Gary sit up straight. I clapped a hand over it, and must have looked unusually pathetic, because Coyote shook his head without me saying anything. "We shouldn't eat. I'd put this off until we'd been up a full twenty-four hours if I thought we had time, but I'm afraid that'll just give it a window to regain strength."

"You mean, to eat people." I didn't want to sugarcoat any of this, particularly if I was using it as an explanation for my belly as to why my throat had, from my stomach's perspective, apparently been cut. Also I hoped the idea of eating people might make me less hungry, but my stomach growled again. Guess not. Let's hear it for long pig.

Which was exactly what the wendigo was thinking. I picked up a pillow and hit myself in the head with it a few times, much to the bemusement of the men. I said, "Nevermind, forget it," into the pillow, then dropped it and scrubbed my hands through my hair. "Okay, if we have to do this thing, why don't we get it done so we can hit the hotel restaurant before it closes? I'm going to become very unreasonable if I don't get to eat until tomorrow."