Read Online Death Walker by Aimée & David Thurlo - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Aimée & David Thurlo
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mantle. It looked peaceful enough, but something still made her restless. There was trouble brewing that went beyond Kee Dodge’s murder. A ripple of fear was already reaching out through the tribe. So manydeaths in such a short time—the murder then the bus accident—would feed the growing disharmony and foster chaos among them. The beliefs that sustained the People could also work against them now.
She thought of Leonard Haske. She’d only met the hataalii once, about fifteen years ago, but she’d never forgotten him. The man’s piercing gaze, the power and presence that held those around him in thrall,had left an indelible mark on her. She remembered being in awe of him, thinking that nothing could ever stand up to the power of that Singer’s song. The tribe needed men like him now more than ever.
* * *
Across the reservation a shadow moved stealthily through the dark. It was late, but night was his ally. He was a silent hunter in search of prey. He moved swiftly and silently through thedesert, like a coyote, or better yet, a wolf. He spoke in low tones to himself, with the ease of someone who had always found himself his own best audience.
This was his time; he was finally coming into his own. He felt powerfully alive, more animal than man. He could feel the fire in his belly nourishing him even as it slowly consumed him from within.
The moon edged out from behind the clouds,and the desert came alive with the song of its night children. He crawled toward the edge of the mesa and watched the hogan below. The Singer was preparing a sand painting by lantern light. Perhaps it was for himself. He could smell the man’s fear, and the power it gave him electrified every cell in his body.
He saw the hataalii look up, studying the area around him. He knew the old man couldsense the threat against him, though he couldn’t do anything about it.
He drew power from the Singer’s concerns, and felt his own strength grow. He was the invincible hunter who roamed the night. Darkness—that time which heralded the symbolic death of each day, defeating the light. Now it allowed him to view with impunity the life he would take. He threw his head back, but resisted the screamthat built inside him. The need to complete the kill thrummed through his body. But he would wait. He would do things right.
He crept away silently, feeling the hunger in his belly, the need to kill pulsing and growing stronger with each beat of his heart.
Soon. He would do it soon.
FOUR
Ella woke up slowly, but it was still dark. Turning, she checked the clock on her nightstand. It was only five A.M. , but sleep had eluded her all night long. Images of the hostage-taker’s distorted face and bloodless lips accusing her of failure had haunted her nightmares.
She sat up, tossed the sheet and light quilt back, and went to the window. As a cop, crazy nightmares came with theterritory. But until now, she’d never questioned her ability to cope with them. Cockiness, it seemed, was another of the casualties of experience.
Ella pulled on a pair of jeans and a chambray work shirt, then walked barefoot into the kitchen. She wasn’t hungry, but she poured herself a bowl of cereal anyway, needing the comfort of routine. As she opened the carton of milk, she could feel herhands shaking, a leftover from the horrific play of images that had filled her nightmares.
Remembering Tony’s ghastly death, Ella gave up on the food and sat at the kitchen table, staring at her hands. She’d considered getting out of law enforcement dozens of times, but being a cop was all that gave her life here on the Rez purpose and definition. The truth was she needed the job far more thanit needed her.
With an exasperated sigh, she stood up, went to her room, and finished getting dressed. The sun was rising, and her mother would be up soon. Deciding she might as well get an early start, Ella adjusted her pancake holster, making sure it fit securely at her waist, then
She thought of Leonard Haske. She’d only met the hataalii once, about fifteen years ago, but she’d never forgotten him. The man’s piercing gaze, the power and presence that held those around him in thrall,had left an indelible mark on her. She remembered being in awe of him, thinking that nothing could ever stand up to the power of that Singer’s song. The tribe needed men like him now more than ever.
* * *
Across the reservation a shadow moved stealthily through the dark. It was late, but night was his ally. He was a silent hunter in search of prey. He moved swiftly and silently through thedesert, like a coyote, or better yet, a wolf. He spoke in low tones to himself, with the ease of someone who had always found himself his own best audience.
This was his time; he was finally coming into his own. He felt powerfully alive, more animal than man. He could feel the fire in his belly nourishing him even as it slowly consumed him from within.
The moon edged out from behind the clouds,and the desert came alive with the song of its night children. He crawled toward the edge of the mesa and watched the hogan below. The Singer was preparing a sand painting by lantern light. Perhaps it was for himself. He could smell the man’s fear, and the power it gave him electrified every cell in his body.
He saw the hataalii look up, studying the area around him. He knew the old man couldsense the threat against him, though he couldn’t do anything about it.
He drew power from the Singer’s concerns, and felt his own strength grow. He was the invincible hunter who roamed the night. Darkness—that time which heralded the symbolic death of each day, defeating the light. Now it allowed him to view with impunity the life he would take. He threw his head back, but resisted the screamthat built inside him. The need to complete the kill thrummed through his body. But he would wait. He would do things right.
He crept away silently, feeling the hunger in his belly, the need to kill pulsing and growing stronger with each beat of his heart.
Soon. He would do it soon.
FOUR
Ella woke up slowly, but it was still dark. Turning, she checked the clock on her nightstand. It was only five A.M. , but sleep had eluded her all night long. Images of the hostage-taker’s distorted face and bloodless lips accusing her of failure had haunted her nightmares.
She sat up, tossed the sheet and light quilt back, and went to the window. As a cop, crazy nightmares came with theterritory. But until now, she’d never questioned her ability to cope with them. Cockiness, it seemed, was another of the casualties of experience.
Ella pulled on a pair of jeans and a chambray work shirt, then walked barefoot into the kitchen. She wasn’t hungry, but she poured herself a bowl of cereal anyway, needing the comfort of routine. As she opened the carton of milk, she could feel herhands shaking, a leftover from the horrific play of images that had filled her nightmares.
Remembering Tony’s ghastly death, Ella gave up on the food and sat at the kitchen table, staring at her hands. She’d considered getting out of law enforcement dozens of times, but being a cop was all that gave her life here on the Rez purpose and definition. The truth was she needed the job far more thanit needed her.
With an exasperated sigh, she stood up, went to her room, and finished getting dressed. The sun was rising, and her mother would be up soon. Deciding she might as well get an early start, Ella adjusted her pancake holster, making sure it fit securely at her waist, then
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