Lori Handeland - Blue Moon

"Faith is for fools who don’t know their own mind," I snapped.

As a kid I’d spent countless hours praying for my daddy to come home. He hadn’t. I’d spent equal time praying to be like everyone else. I wasn’t. So I’d given up praying long ago.

"I’d rather be a fool," he said quietly, "than believe in nothing at all."

I did believe in something—facts—but I found no reason to tell him that. Living in the middle of woo-woo land had taught me quite quickly that arguing with someone who believed the unbelievable was like smacking your head against a brick wall. Maybe someday you’d move the brick, but you were more likely to be dead first. 1 changed the subject.

"Any idea who might belong to that totem?"

He turned away and I frowned. Up until now he’d looked me in the eye when he spoke to me. Why the sudden change? Unless he couldn’t lie to my face.

"Professor? You said you might know."

"I’m familiar with a few of the wolf clan in the area."

"How’s that?"

"Because I’m one, too."

"It’s a fraternity or something?"

"No."

He faced me again, and any amusement I might have seen once was gone. Had I offended him? I wasn’t sure how, but then, I rarely understood how I’d pissed someone off. Queen of the social gaffe? Me?

"In Ojibwe tradition each person belongs to a clan, the descent of which comes through the father. Legend has it that we are the ancestors of the animal our clan is named for. So even if you were of the Lac du Flambeau band and I was Grand Portage, which I am, if we were wolf clan, we were blood. We couldn’t marry."

"Double damn," I said dryly.

His lips quirked. Maybe I hadn’t offended him after all.

"In other words, your people believed that wolf clan members descended from the wolves—"

"And bear clan from the bear, crane from the crane. Exactly."

"Interesting." And weird.

"It’s a legend. Not too many of us keep up with to-temic clan lore these days."

"Except for you."

He shrugged. "It’s my job, even if I didn’t believe we should keep the old ways alive."

"Do you know who might belong to this totem?"

"Maybe."

He picked up the tiny black herald, rolled the stone between his fingers. The thought of him using those fingers on me in much the same way made me forget for an instant what I was doing here.

"This isn’t a common wolf clan totem," he continued, and I yanked my mind from fantasy to reality. "I’d like to keep this to study some more. I’ve never seen one like it."

"What’s so different?"

"The wolf is… odd, and there are markings that disturb me. Something is not quite right."

Disturb? Odd? Not right?

"What are you getting at?"

"Ever heard of a manitou?"

"What?" His quick change in topic left me floundering to catch up. "You mean a spirit?"

"Kind of. Manitou means ‘mystery,’ ‘godlike,’ ‘essence.’ An all-encompassing spirit. Legend has it that Kitchi-Manitou, the great mystery, created all."

The great mystery . Despite my skepticism of all things woo-woo, I liked that. The great mystery was a good phrase for God and everything in that realm.

"Everyone has manitoulike attributes," Cadotte went on. "We each have our special talent. Yours must be sarcasm."

"Ha-ha."

He quirked a brow. "Or maybe something hidden, which I’ll uncover later."

"Don’t count on it, Slick. What’s your special attribute?"

"Besides my great big—" I caught my breath. "Brain?"

The air hissed out through my teeth, making a derisive sound. "Yeah, besides that."

"Maybe you’ll give me a chance to show you my special talent sometime."

"I repeat, don’t count on it."

He smiled. "Getting back to my story. Most of the manitous are helpful. They’re guardians over us poor humans."

"And the ones that aren’t helpful?"

"Two. Both are man-hunting manitous. Weendigos , or the Great Cannibals, and the Matchi-auwishuk ."

"Translation?"

His smile faded. "The Evil Ones."

Even though I believed none of this, the hair on my forearms tingled.

"I don’t like the sound of either one," I admitted. "But what do they have to do with our totem?"

"The markings on this wolf remind me of certain drawings I’ve studied of Matchi-auwishuk."

"What does that mean?"

"I’m not sure."

"Swell." Silence fell between us.

"Why are you so interested in this?" he asked.

Good question. The totem could be anyone’s, dropped at the scene of the accident for any number of reasons. It might not have anything to do with Miss Larson at all.

But I found it a tad too coincidental to discover a wolf clan totem at the scene of an accident involving a wolf. That, combined with the information on manitous and evil ones, as well as the violent death of the victim within twenty-four hours…

Well, call me silly, but my nerve endings were doing the tango.

I might not believe in woo-woo, or anything I couldn’t verify by fact, but I’d had enough hunches turn out true that I’d learned long ago not to ignore the steady hum in my head that said something was rotten in Min-iwa.

Cadotte’s voice broke into my thoughts. "You aren’t going to tell me, are you?"

"Tell you what?"

"Why you’re so interested in a stray wolf totem."

"I’m curious."

"Funny, but you don’t seem the curious type."

"You’re wrong." I stood. "Number one on the ‘what you need to be a good cop’ list is curiosity. Otherwise we wouldn’t keep asking all those annoying questions."

"Hmm." He got up and strode around his desk, coming too close, crowding me again.

I liked my personal circle of space, and he was invading it. But to back off would mean I was nervous, that he affected me. I was and he did, but why let him know? Perhaps one of my other attributes was bull-headed stubbornness.

Nah.

"So, should I call you?"

I gaped. "C-call me?"

There went my tough girl image.

"If I find out anything about the totem."

Of course. The totem. Not me. Never me.

Poof went my silly female fantasy.

"Yeah. Sure." I dug out a card with my various phone numbers.

He stared at it, then lifted his eyes to mine. He was still too close. I was still not backing away.

"Jessie?" he murmured. "Short for Jessica?"

"As if."

Jessica was the name of a pink-cheeked, blond-haired, petite ballerina girl.

He laughed. "I can keep this?" He flicked a finger at the totem, which remained on his desk.

I hesitated. Though I hadn’t logged the thing into evidence yet, I should. Whether it meant anything or not, who could say? Maybe William Cadotte.

"For now." I grabbed a plain piece of paper, scribbled on it, then stabbed my finger at the bottom. "Sign this."

He picked up a pen and signed before asking, "What is it?"

A lawyer he wasn’t. "That’s evidence. You just signed for it, but I’ll need the thing back."

"All right."

Silence again. Time to say good-bye. I wasn’t sure how.

"I’ll be in touch. Jessie."

The way he said my name made me recall the sheen of his skin in the moonlight. The way his muscles had rippled, the way his earring had swayed.

When was the last time I’d had sex? Far too long, from the direction of my thoughts. Far too long, since I couldn’t quite recall. Not the when, nor the why, I could barely recall the who.

I needed to remember that Cadotte was an expert consultant, nothing more, before I made a bigger fool of myself than I already had.

I got a grip and pulled out what company manners I had. "Thanks for your time, Professor."

He took the hand I offered. My mind went all girlie again. I wanted to know what those dark, long fingers could do; I wanted to feel those large, rough palms against my skin. I wanted to see everything I’d seen last night. Touch it, taste it, too.