Kiss the Bees

16

Now this is all that is known of Mualig Siakam. She was one of the greatest of all the medicine women in all the Land of the Desert People. She lived to be very, very old. And she taught some of her songs to a few men.

Some women tried to learn the songs, but the buzzing of the bees joined with the song in the heads of the women and made them afraid. Because they were afraid, the women would not let sleep come. Sleep was necessary in order to know all the powers which one does not see, and which are used in healing.

The Indians would take a new baby many miles to see Great Medicine Woman, andMualig Siakam would sing over the baby. She would sing over it with the white feathers of goodness which would help guard its spirit from meanness. And she would feed the baby a little of the very fine white meal which would make its body strong.

But sometimes Great Medicine Woman would refuse to sing. Then the people knew there was no hope for the child.

If the people grew angry and tried to makeMualig Siakam sing over such a child, Great Medicine Woman would scold. She would ask them what right they had overTash — the Sun-andJeweth — the Earth-and all ofI'itoi' s gifts. Then she would go into the dark inner room of her house, and thePa-nahl — the bees-would begin to roar with anger.

When that happened, all the people-even Old Limping Man-would go away.

Alvin Miller wasn't used to doing his work in front of a live audience, but that night the lab was jammed with onlookers. The Walkers were there along with Deputy Fellows and both detectives on the case, Leggett and Myers. At the last moment Sheriff Forsythe even showed up, probably summoned by Detective Myers.

"All right," Forsythe said, looking around the room. "What exactly's going on here?"

Brandon Walker looked at the man who had replaced him. "My daughter's missing," he said. "We're afraid she may have been kidnapped."

Forsythe glowered at Detective Myers. "Kidnapped. I thought you said this was a Missing Persons case. And what's all this about bones?"

Miller came across the room and handed the papers over to the sheriff. "This set of prints matches individual prints we took off the collection of bones Deputy Fellows discovered out near the reservation yesterday afternoon as well as items from the break-in at the Walker residence last night that Detective Myers was called to investigate."

Slipping on a pair of reading glasses, Bill Forsythe studied the report. "Quentin Walker," he read aloud. Then he looked up at Brandon. "Your son?"

Brandon nodded. "I want you to call in the FBI," he said.

"The FBI!" Forsythe exclaimed. "For a little domestic thing like this? Not on your life. Chances are your son and daughter were drinking or something, just the way Detective Myers said…"

Brandon turned to Alvin. "Do you still have that tape recorder here?"

Miller nodded. "Yes."

"I want you to play the tape," Brandon said.

"But I haven't finished lifting-"

"Play it," Brandon ordered. "That's the only way they're going to believe what we're up against."

A few seconds later, Lani Walker's voice was playing to all the people crowded into the lab. "Quentin," she was saying. "Quentin, Quentin, Quentin."

"Your daughter?" Forsythe asked.

Brandon Walker nodded. By the time the scream tore through the room, Diana Walker was sobbing quietly into her hands.

"You're right," Sheriff Forsythe said, when Alvin Miller finally switched off the tape player. "It's time to pull out the stops."

Breathing a sigh of relief, Brandon Walker reached out and squeezed Diana's hand.

Quentin Walker had deposited his second load of pottery in the back of the Bronco and was on his way back to the cave for the third and last one when he saw the flashing red lights turn off Highway 86 onto Coleman Road.

Climbing up and down was hard physical labor. His head was far clearer now than it had been when he started out. Even though there was no chance of the people in the police car seeing him, he froze where he was and waited for it to go past. But it didn't. Instead, it slowed and turned left, heading for the charco.

Blind panic descended on Quentin Walker. Someone's found Tommy, he thought. And now the cops are coming for me.

For the space of thirty seconds, he stood paralyzed by fear and indecision. And then, without a thought for the other people in the cave-without even recalling their existence, to say nothing of the third batch of pottery-he turned and ran back down to the Bronco. There was a single car key in his pocket. Sweeping the camouflage cover off the top, Quentin clambered into the vehicle and shoved the key home in the ignition.

Switching on the engine, he gunned it, testing the power, trying to remember exactly how he had come to be here on the mountain. Dimly he remembered driving up here, but it had seemed lighter then. In the dark, he was hard-pressed to remember how to reverse course and get back down.

He began trying to turn the Bronco around. There was little room for maneuvering inside that little clump of mesquite trees, especially when he didn't dare turn on the headlights. Those would certainly attract the attention of the cops with their flashing red lights. Even now, the cop car was headed straight for the charco.

Realizing that's where the cops were heading drove Quentin into a frenzy. The next time he backed up, he high-centered on a boulder he hadn't been able to see in the rearview mirror. Even with four-wheel drive, the Bronco didn't come loose the first two times he tried to go forward. The third time, he really goosed it, slamming the accelerator all the way to the floor, giving the Bronco every bit of power he had.

And it worked. Too well.

With a roar and a spray of pebble-sized rocks, the Bronco shot forward-through the grove of mesquite and right over the edge of a limestone cliff that had lain, shrouded in darkness, just beyond the sheltering trees.

Quentin mashed desperately on the brakes, trying to stop, but by then it was too late. The Bronco was already airborne. It came to earth the first time twenty yards from where it had taken off. It landed nose-first and then bounced end for end. With the screech of tortured metal and to the accompaniment of breaking glass, it turned over and over. The battered remains finally came to rest, roof down, in the soft sand of the wash that skirted the bottom of the mountain. There was no fire, no explosion, only a cloud of dust that rose up into the nighttime sky and then silently dispersed.

Not having fastened his seat belt, Quentin Walker was thrown clear the first time the Bronco rebounded off the unforgiving mountainside. He flew through the air like a rag doll and then landed with a bone-jarring thump into a sturdy thicket of low-lying manzanita.

Quentin never saw Mitch Johnson come scrambling up over the landslide debris and out the crack of that second entrance, never heard him yelling into the gradually graying nighttime sky.

"Come back here, you rotten son of a bitch!"

Lani heard the engine turn over and stutter to life. The sound was faint but distinct. Other than the Bronco, there was no vehicle within hearing distance.

Mitch Johnson roared out his dismay. "Goddamn it! What the hell does he think he's doing?" Moments later, Johnson hurtled himself toward the pile of debris that blocked the second entrance. As he scrambled up it toward the crack at the top, loose rocks and pebbles rained down. A few of them smashed into Lani's legs and arms. Grabbing the pot, she scrambled to safety, stopping only when her body was pressed against the far side of the cave.

She could hear Mitch Johnson shouting at Quentin. For a moment, until the rocks quit falling, Lani stayed where she was. She might have remained there longer, but something outside herself urged her to action.

Now's your chance. Run!

Responding to that silent command, Lani stood and tried to walk. Her feet had fallen asleep. When she tried to stand on them, they were unfeeling boards beneath her. Seconds later they were alive with a thousand needles and pins.

Halfway across the floor of the cavern, she realized what she was doing and stopped cold. She had been trapped there in the cave with Mitch Johnson as surely as the spirit of Betraying Woman had been caught in her unbroken pottery. Now Lani had a chance to escape, but if the pots remained, so would Oks Gagda, imprisoned in her pottery long after the debt for betraying her people had been repaid.

Turning back toward the half-buried skeleton and her cache of pots, Lani was determined that the spirit of Betraying Woman would at last be set free.

Lani fell to her knees and felt around the dirt surface until she located the last half dozen pots-the ones Quentin hadn't been able to fit into either his first or second trips to the Bronco. Setting the one little pot aside, reserving it in case she needed to use it as a weapon, Lani set about breaking the other pots. One at a time, she heaved them against the rock wall, hearing them splinter to pieces.

At last only the little one remained. Lani reached down and picked it up. She started to take it with her, but reconsidered. If even one pot remained, Betraying Woman would still be trapped. Hating to do it, but knowing she had to, Lani raised her arm high overhead and smashed that pot as well.

There were tears in her eyes as Lani turned back toward the interior of the cave. She was truly alone now. Her first instinct was to follow Mitch Johnson up over the pile of debris, but what if he was still out there? What if she came out on the other side only to run straight into him. No, her only chance was to find the passage that led into the outer cavern.

In a sudden panic, she realized she had lost track of the exact location of the opening of the passage.

The moon had long crossed the peak of the mountain, leaving the cave in total darkness. There was no light-at least there shouldn't have been. But as Lani searched the darkness for which way to go, a light did appear. Not a ray of light, and not a beam either. It looked more like a shadow glowing in the dark. It seemed to hover there on the far side of the cave before disappearing into nothing.

Some people have claimed that what Lani saw was little more than a cloud of dust set loose by Mitch's scrambling feet. But for Lani, for someone steeped in the ancient legends of I'itoi and in the traditions of the Tohono O'othham, there was no doubt about what she had seen.

The phosphorescent cloud came from the pots, all right, but not from dust. Freed now from her clay prison, Oks Gagda herself had come to show Lani the way.

Setting off across the dirt floor of the cave once again with more confidence than the darkness warranted, Lani walked to the place where it seemed to her the cloud had disappeared. She held one arm in front of her to keep from running into the rock wall, but that wasn't necessary. At the very spot where the cloud had disappeared, the passageway into the outer cavern opened up before her.

She paused there for a moment, wondering. If Betraying Woman had deceived her own people, could her guidance now be trusted? But there were no other options. One step at a time, Lani set off down the passage. Any moment, Mitch Johnson might return to the cave to find her, bringing the spirit of his friend, Andrew Carlisle, with him, but Lani Walker was no longer alone. Elder Brother himself was with her and so was Betraying Woman.

Lani had reached the point in the passage where she felt rather than saw the walls open out around her. She was just congratulating herself on getting that far when she heard cursing and scraping coming from the front entrance of the cave. Mitch Johnson was coming back. For one heart-stopping moment, she froze. There was nothing more she could do. Mitch had her trapped in the cave. Now he would surely kill her. Or worse. Either way, she had come to the end of her endurance.

Out of the depths of Lani's despair, Nana Dahd' s comforting words returned to the girl once more:

"Remember in the story howI'itoi made himself a fly

And hid in the smallest crack when Eagleman

Came searching for him. Be like I'itoi, Little Olhoni. Be like I'itoi and hide yourself

In the smallest crack. Hide yourself somewhere

And do not come out again until the battle is over.

Listen to what I sing to you, Little Olhoni. Do not look at me but do exactly as I say."

Lani Walker was already inside a crack in the mountain; already in a cave very much like Eagleman's cave, with a pile of bones moldering in the far corner just the way the bones of the people Eagleman had eaten had moldered in the corner of his cave. And there were cracks inside this crack. The curtains of falling stalactites and the growing mounds of stalagmites that she had glimpsed with Quentin's flashlight earlier all offered places where I'itoi could possibly have hidden and where Lani might hide herself as well.

Lani Walker had grown up in two worlds, understanding much of each. She knew instinctively that the Mil-gahn, Mitch, might look at the pile of debris and immediately assume that she had followed him out, climbing up and out. It might not occur to him that she would stay inside the mountain; that without benefit of a light she would have nerve enough to trust herself to I'itoi' s power and move into the enveloping darkness rather than away from it.

With him scrabbling through the one passage and with Lani trapped in the other, there wasn't a moment to lose. Halfway down the passage, the man-made earthen covering yielded once more to bare, jagged rocks. She could feel the sharp edges under the soles of her boots. She remembered that just before Quentin had ducked into the passage, she had glimpsed the walls of the huge cavern receding far into the mountain.

Clinging to the dank, wet wall and using it as a guide, she turned left from the mouth of the passage and fled along the side of the cavern, into the heart of the mountain.

Into the heart ofI'itoi 's sacred mountain,she told herself. That is where I am going. Either I will be safe there, or that is where I will die.

Hardly daring to breathe, she scraped along, still clinging to the wall, testing each tentative stepping place before she put her weight down. She came to the first break in the wall. Feeling around it with both arms, she realized it was a stalagmite, one three feet wide and about that tall, rising up from the floor of the cave. It wasn't large, but perhaps it was large enough to hide her. She ducked behind it just as the first jagged beams from Mitch's flashlight flickered into the cave and then slid across the otherworldly surface of the far wall.

Lani pressed herself against the sheltering stalagmite and held her breath. She didn't dare peek out for fear the beam from the light might reveal her face glowing white in the darkness. She marked his progress by watching the bouncing ray of his flashlight as he came across the room and by the curses and moans that accompanied his every step. She couldn't make out exactly what he was saying, but every once in a while the word "knee" surfaced and there was something about "cops."

Perhaps, in clambering up and over the debris, he had reinjured the knee that had been bothering him earlier. That would explain the knee part. As for the cops, Lani couldn't imagine what he meant. It didn't seem possible that there would be police officers outside looking for her. How could there be? How would anyone know where to look?

After what seemed an eternity, Mitch disappeared into the second passageway. Lani was tempted to stay where she was, but since this was the first hiding place she had found and the one nearest the opening to the second cavern, it was also most likely the first place Mitch Johnson would look when he came searching for her again. She would have to do better than that.

Hoping the noise of his own movements would mask hers, she crept on, trying to suppress the ragged breaths that threatened to catch in her throat and ignoring the sweat that trickled down the back of her neck. Two steps farther, her foot slipped off a sharp edge into a pool of icy water. The splash sounded like an explosion in her pounding ears, but when she stopped still and waited, there was no answering sound from the other room. Perhaps he hadn't heard it.

Barely able to breathe, she moved on. A dozen more steps into the mountain, she found a gap between two stalagmites and burrowed her way into that, stopping only when she came up against solid rock.

Closing her eyes against the darkness, she let Nana Dahd's comforting words spill over her soul:

Be likeI'itoi, LittleOlhoni.

Be like I'itoi and hide yourself

In the smallest crack. Hide yourself somewhere

And do not come out again until the battle is over.

Listen to what I sing to you, LittleOlhoni.

Do not look at me but do exactly as I say.

Trying to obey Nana Dahd' s instructions, Lani pressed herself even deeper into the crack in the wall. She had just eased her way down into a reasonably comfortable sitting position on another low-slung stalagmite when she heard the roar of rage in the other room. She cringed. Now it's coming, she thought.

Now the evil Ohb knows I'm gone.

Summoned by Sheriff Bill Forsythe, a loose coalition of officers from several jurisdictions converged on the Walker home in Gates Pass. They were just starting to work when the doorbell rang and Brandon went to answer it. Standing there was FBI Agent in Charge, Brock Kendall. After years of working together, Kendall and Brandon Walker had gone from being colleagues to becoming friends.

Kendall held out his hand. "I heard you were having some trouble," he said. "How does that old saying go? I'm from Washington and I'm here to help."

Brandon Walker's face cracked into a pained grin. "Thanks, Brock," he said. "Come on in."

"How bad is it?"

Walker shook his head. "The worst," he said. "About as bad as it can get."

"And the perpetrator may be Quentin, your own son?"

As a father, Brandon could barely stand to answer that question. "Yes," he said. "That's the way it looks."

Even with Brian Fellows and Dan Leggett doing the briefings, it still took precious time to bring all the players up to speed. Brandon Walker tolerated the seemingly interminable interviews as best he could because he knew they were necessary. And he understood that a meticulous crime scene investigation conducted by FBI-trained personnel was equally essential. Even so, it was hard not to fall prey to the thought that nothing much was happening.

At six o'clock in the morning he went into the bedroom. Diana, fully dressed, lay on the bed, staring dry-eyed up at the ceiling. "What's happening?" she asked.

"Brock Kendall is here, on an unofficial basis, of course, unless it starts looking like someone crossed state lines or until he can clear the way under missing and exploited children. Detective Leggett just sent out for a search warrant for Quentin's apartment over on Grant. Dan's a thorough kind of guy. He isn't going to make a move until he has all his ducks in a row."

"If Lani's already dead, what difference will being thorough make?" Diana asked despairingly.

"Don't say that," Brandon returned. "Don't even think it."

"You heard the tape," Diana said. "What else is there to think? And why would Quentin do such a thing? What did Lani ever do to him? Is it jealousy? Is that what this is all about? We would have done exactly the same things for Tommy and Quentin that we did for Davy and Lani if they had ever shown the slightest interest. And every time we tried to do something, Janie was right there saying it wasn't good enough for them. No matter what we did, it wasn't enough."

"Shhhh," Brandon said, laying a finger on Diana's lips. They were as parched and dry as if she had been running a fever. "It isn't Janie's fault that Quentin's gone off his rocker," Brandon said. "Don't waste your time blaming her, and don't blame us either."

"That's what you're saying then? Quentin's gone crazy and what's happened has no connection to the book? Nothing tonight has anything to do with the danger Fat Crack warned us about?"

Brandon slumped wearily against the headboard on his side of the bed. "I can't see what the connection would be," he said. "Insanity is the only thing that makes sense."

Just then there was a tap on the door. A young deputy poked his head inside the room. "Brock Kendall was trying to use your phone a few minutes ago. He said there's evidently a message on your answering machine. He said you should probably listen to it just in case it happens to be a ransom demand. We're in the process of setting a trap on your line. This call must have come in before that."

Brandon played back the message. Using the speaker phone, they both listened to Wanda Ortiz's voice.

"Gabe and Baby just left for Rattlesnake Skull Charco," Wanda said. "He wants you to meet him there. He says that's where you'll find Lani."

By the time the message ended, Brandon had already slipped his shoes back on and was bent over tying them. "What are you going to do?" Diana asked.

"You heard Wanda. Fat Crack wants me to meet him at Rattlesnake Skull Charco, and that's where I'm going."

Diana started to slide off the bed. "If that's where she is, I'm going too."

"No, you're not."

"Why not?" Diana demanded, slipping on her own shoes. "Why the hell shouldn't I? Lani's my daughter, too."

Brandon didn't want to say the real reason, that he was afraid of what they would find at Rattlesnake Skull Charco-afraid of what they would see. He couldn't seem to do much, but at least he could spare Diana that.

"One of us needs to be here to answer the phone," he said. "What if a ransom call does come in?"

Diana's voice rose, verging on hysteria. "There's not going to be any ransom call. You know that. You just-"

"Please, Diana," Brandon said huskily. He reached out and touched her, letting his fingers graze gently down the curving line of her cheek. "Please stay here. I can't order you to stay, but do it because I need you to, Di. Because I'm asking."

Diana sank back down on the bed. "All right," she said. "I'll stay."

"Thank you," Brandon said. He started toward the door.

"You'll take the cell phone?"

"It's already in my pocket."

"Call the moment you hear anything," Diana added. "The moment you find her. Promise me you'll call, no matter how bad it is."

Brandon stopped at the door and looked back at his wife. "I promise," he said. "No matter how bad."

Leaving Diana alone, he hurried out into the living room. "What's up?" Brock Kendall asked.

"Hitch up the wagons. We need to go out to the place where they found those bones yesterday afternoon. According to Gabe Ortiz, that's where we'll find Lani-at Rattlesnake Skull Charco."

Brian Fellows leaped to his feet. "I can take you there," he offered. "It's not easy to find but-"

"I've been there before," Brandon Walker said. "It's the same place where we found Gina Antone all those years ago. Besides, Brian, I want you to stay here."

Disappointment washed over the young deputy's face. He started to argue. "But I-"

"Most of the other officers here are strangers, Brian," Brandon Walker said. "You're family. I'd like you to be here to be with Diana just in case. To give her some emotional backup. I only pray she won't need it."

"All right, Mr. Walker," Brian said. "If that's what you want me to do, I'll be glad to stay."

Brandon had left the Suburban parked out in front of the house. "Gabe Ortiz," Brock Kendall was saying as they climbed in. "That name sounds familiar. Who is he again?"

"A friend of the family," Brandon answered. "He's also the Tohono O'othham tribal chairman."

"But what does he have to do with all this, and how would he know that's where Lani might be?"

"He's a medicine man," Brandon answered, heading for the door. "He knows stuff. Don't ask me how, but he does."

Sitting in the mouth of the cave, watching the flashing red lights in the desert below, Mitch Johnson fought his way through an initial attack of panic. He was convinced that the lights had nothing to do with him. What he couldn't understand was why the hell they didn't finish up whatever it was they were doing and go away. The little Indian slut was still missing, but he was beginning to think that maybe she hadn't made it out of the cave after all.

He couldn't believe he had screwed up that badly, but there was no one to blame but himself. He had counted too heavily on the drugs to control Quentin. He had kept the Bronco's ignition key in his pocket, but Quentin must have had a spare. He had raced out of the cave in a rage when he heard the Bronco start up without taking the precaution of securing the girl first. When he first discovered that Lani was missing, he had figured she had simply followed his own path up and over the landslide debris in the smaller cavern and out to the steep surface of the mountain.

Now, though, he wondered if that was true. Had she gone that way, she, too, would have seen the lights. If she had gone straight there, hoping to be rescued, wouldn't her appearance have provoked an almost instantaneous reaction? By now the mountainside would have been crawling with cops ready to use Mitch Johnson for some high-tech nighttime target practice. No doubt a bunch of eager-beaver searchers would have combed every inch of the surrounding terrain. One of them was bound to have stumbled across the crumpled hulk of Quentin Walker's Bronco.

No, as the still night slid into early morning, as the sky brightened in the east, and as the flashing red lights stayed right where they were, Mitch grew more and more convinced that Lani Walker was still somewhere inside the cave and probably freezing her cute little tush off as well.

He had already decided on a backup plan of action. All he had to do was make it to the Bounder. Even with his knee acting up again, he could walk that far. Then, if he drove into town, hooked on to the Subaru, he could drive off into the sunset and no one would be the wiser. He understood, however, that a plan like that would work only so long as Lani Walker wasn't alive to point an accusing finger in his direction.

Which meant that, inside the cave or out of it, Mitch Johnson had to find her first.

Had time not been an issue, he could simply have settled into the passage and waited. Eventually Lani would be faced with two simple courses of action: she would either have to come out or starve to death.

Mitch's real difficulty lay in the fact that time was an issue. By now the Walkers knew something was up and had probably called for reinforcements. And so, after checking the flashing lights one last time, Mitch Johnson turned back into the first passageway. He did so with only one purpose in mind-to find Lani Walker and kill her.

Somewhere over southeastern Colorado, Davy Ladd finally did fall asleep. The next panic attack hit while the Boeing 737 was cruising over central New Mexico. An observant flight attendant realized something was wrong and quickly moved the little old lady out of the way to an empty seat several rows forward.

As the dream started, it was similar to the others. The evil Ohb was there once again, armed with a knife, and chasing Lani and Davy through miles of mazelike tunnels. Once again he was awakened, gasping and sweating, by Lani's chilling scream.

"Something's happening," David said when he could finally speak again as he sat mopping rivulets of sweat off his face with a fistful of napkins the flight attendant had provided.

"What do you mean?" Candace asked.

"Something's happening, and it's happening now," Davy declared.

"How do you know that?"

"I don't know how I know, I just do."

Candace reached in her purse, pulled out a credit card, and removed the air-to-ground phone from its holder in the seat ahead of them. "Call," she said, running the magnetic strip through the slot to activate the phone. "Call and find out."

"Hello?" Diana answered. Her voice wasn't as strong or as clear as it usually was on the phone. Whether that stemmed from nerves or weariness, Davy couldn't tell. "Mom? It's Davy."

"Where are you?" she asked. "Still in the hotel?"

"No," he answered. "We're on a plane somewhere over New Mexico. Maybe even Arizona by now. What's happening?"

"All hell has broken loose. There are investigators all over the house tearing the place apart. They've been here for hours and-" Diana stopped. "You're flying?" she asked as what Davy had said finally penetrated.

"Yes."

"And you'll be here soon?"

"Yes. The plane should be on the ground in about half an hour. We'll rent a car and-"

"Oh, Davy!" Diana whispered into the phone. "Thank you. I can't believe it. This is an answer to a prayer. But don't rent a car. Brian's here with me right now. I'll have him come to the airport and meet you at the gate. What flight?"

"America West, flight number one, from Chicago. And, Mom?" he added. "I'm not alone."

"You're not?"

"No. My fiancee is with me," David Ladd said, reaching out and taking Candace's hand. "Her name is Candace, Mom. You're going to love her."

The unrelenting cold of the larger cavern had crept into Lani's body, bringing with it a strange lethargy that robbed her of purpose-of the will to fight as well as of the will to live. The first time Mitch had gone cursing through to the outside in search of her, she had tried leaving one hiding place in favor of a better one.

She had barely ventured beyond the sheltering cover of the stalagmite when she lost her footing and fell. She came to a stop with one leg hanging out over a void. Unable to tell how deep the hole was, she broke off a small splinter of icicle-shaped rock and dropped it over the edge. It fell for a long, long time before finally coming to rest.

Shaken, Lani had crawled back into her original hiding place and there she stayed. At first she tried to maintain her connection to Nana Dahd' s song, but gradually the cold robbed her of that as well. The words slipped away from her. She could no longer remember them. She had almost drifted off to sleep when Mitch Johnson returned to the cave once more.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," he called. "You can't hide from me forever."

The sound of Mitch Johnson's voice jarred Lani to alert consciousness. She had hoped to convince him that she had left the cavern. Now, however, as the beam from his flashlight began flickering here and there across the far wall of the cavern, probing one shadowy hollow after another, she realized that wasn't true. With the light moving ever closer, Mitch was searching for her-searching systematically. Fortunately for Lani, he had started on the far side of the cave, but gradually he was working his way closer. It was only a matter of time before the revealing light found its way into Lani's shallow hiding place.

In this unequal contest where one opponent had light and the other did not, Lani knew there was no hope. And it wasn't just the light either. He had other advantages as well-a gun for sure and probably even a knife. Once Mitch found her, it would all be over. There would be no further possibility of escape. If only there were some way…

No longer able to summon Nana Dahd' s war song, Lani shrank back against the wall, trying to make herself as small a target as possible. As she did so, she felt something brush against the back of her neck. A bat! It was all she could do to keep from screaming as the invisible wings ruffled her hair and fluttered across the skin of her cheek.

Possibly the bat was as startled by Lani's presence as she was by the wings fluttering past her. Soaring on across the chamber, the disoriented creature must have swooped past the man as well.

"What the hell!" Mitch Johnson exclaimed while, at the same time, the flashlight fell to the rocky floor, rolled, flickered briefly, and then went out.

"Damn it anyway!" Mitch bellowed. "Where the hell did it go?"

Lani Walker closed her eyes in prayer, although the darkness both inside and outside her head remained the same.

"Thank you, little Nanakumal," she said silently to the bat, wishing that she, like the Mualig Siakam of old, could speak I'itoi' s language well enough so the animal could understand her. "Thank you for stealing the evil Ohb' s light."

With her heart pounding gratefully in her chest, she waited to see if Mitch Johnson was carrying a spare flashlight. She could hear him scuttling around in the dark. And then, just when she was beginning to think she was safe, she heard a distinctive scraping. Suddenly a match flared.

Mitch's fall had taken him several yards from where he had been before. The flame of the match flickered in a part of the cave where Lani hadn't expected to see it. Not only that, in her eagerness to return to her hiding place, she had gone too far. Instead of being completely sheltered by the stalagmite, she had moved a few critical inches to the other side.

"Why, there you are, little darling," he said. "Come to Daddy."

And then the match went out.

Brian was waiting at the gate when Candace and Davy finally stepped off the plane. He grinned when he saw Davy. "You guys must have been at the very back of the bus."

"Close," Davy said. "Candace, this is Brian Fellows, my best friend. Brian, this is Candace Waverly. We're engaged."

Suppressing a blink of surprise, Brian nodded again, taking charge of one of Candace's bags while she carried the other. "Your mother mentioned something to that effect, but things are so chaotic right now, I'm not sure the information's really penetrated."

"What's going on?"

"It's a very long story," Brian said. "And if you don't mind, I think I'll wait until we're in the car before I tell it to you."

"It's that bad?" Davy asked.

"It ain't good," Brian replied.

On the way down the concourse and while they waited for the luggage, Candace chattered on and on about how brown everything was and about how small the airport was compared to O'Hare. She seemed oblivious to the seriousness of the situation, but Davy had seen the bleak look in Brian's eyes.

Brian had gone home and traded the Blazer for his personal car, a low-slung Camaro. The mountain of luggage didn't come close to fitting in the trunk. Candace finally clambered into a backseat already piled with two leftover suitcases.

"All right," Davy said to Brian as soon as they were all in the car. "Tell me."

As Brian related the story, Davy became more and more somber. Tommy and Quentin had been the banes of Davy's childhood just as they had of Brian's. In fact, it was the older boys' casual meanness that had, in the beginning, united the younger two. Mean or not, though, Brandon Walker's sons were still part of both families. To have to accept one of the two as Lani's killer was appalling.

"You're sure he did it?" Davy asked.

"I heard the tape," Brian replied. "Believe me, it was pretty damned convincing."

"How's Mom taking it?"

"About how you'd expect," Brian said. "Not very well."

"And Brandon?"

"He's better off than your mother is. At least he's able to do something about it. The last I saw of him, he was on his way out to Rattlesnake Skull Charco with Brock Kendall, an FBI agent."

"Rattlesnake Skull? Why there?"

"To meet Fat Crack. Wanda Ortiz called and said that according to Gabe, that's where we'll find Lani."

"Is that where we're going?" Davy asked.

"No. We're supposed to go to the house."

"If the charco is where the action is, that's where I want to be," Davy said. "Let's go there."

Brian cast a dubious look across the front seat toward his friend. "All right," he said. "But first let's drop Candace off at the house."

"No way," Candace Waverly said from the backseat. "Where did you say you're going?"

"To a charco to see if there's anything we can do to help."

"What's a charco?" Candace asked.

"A stock tank," Brian answered.

"A retention pond," Davy said at the same time.

Candace sat back in Brian's cramped rear seat and crossed her arms. "If you're going to the charco, I'm going too," she announced.

Davy looked at Brian. "I guess that's settled then," he said.

"I guess it is," Brian agreed.

"How can it be so empty?" Candace asked, as Brian's fully loaded Camaro swept west along Highway 86.

"Empty," Brian repeated. "You should have seen it years ago when Davy and I were kids. That's when it was really empty. There are lots more people living out here now than there used to be."

Candace looked out across the seemingly barren and endless desert and didn't believe a word of it.

Davy, meantime, seemed preoccupied with something else. "You told me about finding bones at the charco,and about Quentin's fingerprints showing up on some of them. What I don't understand is why Quentin would have taken Lani there. It doesn't make sense."

"Nobody says it has to make sense," Brian told him. "All I know is Fat Crack said that's where your dad should look and that's where he's looking."

"Who said that?" Candace asked.

"A friend of ours," Davy answered quickly. "His name's Gabe Ortiz. He's actually the tribal chairman."

"He's an Indian, then?"

"Yes."

"But it sounded like Brian called him by some other name."

"Yes." Davy rolled his eyes. " Gihg Tahpani," he said. "Fat Crack."

"So is Fat his first name and Crack's his last?"

Candace asked the question so seriously that Brian burst out laughing while Davy was reduced to shaking his head. Obviously he had failed miserably in preparing Candace for the culture she was stepping into.

"Fat Crack is a first name," Brian explained good-naturedly. "But it's also sort of a friendly name-a name used between friends. So when you meet him, and until you know him better, you probably ought to call him plain Mr. Ortiz."

They turned off onto Coleman Road. "What kind of shoes do you have on?" Brian asked, looking at Candace's face in the mirror.

"Heels. Why?"

"I was just over this road in a Blazer yesterday. If the Camaro doesn't high-center on the first wash, I know it will on the second."

"On the what?"

"Wash. It's a dry riverbed. A sandy riverbed. We're going to have to walk from here, so the car doesn't get stuck."

"That's all right," Candace said. "I have some tennis shoes in my roll-aboard."

Brian pulled over on the side of the road. The suitcase in question was one of the ones that had wound up in the backseat with Candace. While she dug through it to find her tennis shoes, Davy and Brian stood outside the car, waiting and looking off up the road toward the charco. Finding her shoes, Candace kicked off her heels and then moved to the front seat. She was sitting there tying her shoes when she saw something strange on the shoulder of the road a few feet away.

As soon as she had her shoes tied, she walked over and picked up a small medallion with a strange black-and-white design woven into it. "Hey, you guys," she called to Brian and Davy, who were waiting for her on the other side of the road. "Come see what I found."

Davy sauntered over. As soon as he saw what was in her hand, though, his jaw dropped. "Where did you get that?" he demanded.

"It was right here. Along the side of the road…"

"Brian, come here, quick. Fat Crack's right. Lani's been here. Look!"

Sprinting across the road, Brian Fellows stopped in his tracks the moment he caught sight of the basket. "You're right," he said. "She has to be here somewhere…"

The three of them were standing there in stunned silence, staring up the mountain, when they heard a cry. "Help."

The voice was so faint that at first they all thought they had imagined it. Then it came again. "Help. Please."

Brian Fellows was the first to start off up the mountain. Davy followed directly on his heels, with Candace bringing up the rear.

Tackling the mountain straight on, with no zigzagging to ease the ascent, made the going slow and difficult. From time to time they had to pause for breath, but each time they did, the voice was a little stronger. "I'm here. In the bushes."

"It sounds like Quentin, doesn't it?" Davy asked.

Nodding grimly, Brian Fellows drew his weapon. He was wearing a bulletproof vest. Neither Candace nor Davy were. "You'd better drop back and let me go on by myself."

"Like hell," Davy said. "Come on."

Frozen in terror, Lani crouched against the wall. The stalagmite that had once provided shelter was now a trap. If she moved away from behind it, he would see her and shoot her. She could hear him out there, crawling ever closer to her hiding place. She could hear him breathing in the dark. Now that he had located her, he came forward without bothering to squander any more of his precious matches, trusting that she would stay exactly where he had seen her last.

And the truth was, she didn't have any choice. She was so cold and had sat in one position for so long that her legs ached with cramps. The pressure was so great that she was tempted to come flying out of her hiding place and make straight for what had to be the passage to the outside. But she didn't do it.

Even as the thought crossed her mind, she realized that the darkness in I'itoi' s sacred cave was far stronger than Mitch's matches. If he'd had plenty of them, he would have been using them by now instead of scrabbling along in the dark. And without light, the power of darkness and the power of bats was far greater than the evil Ohb' s.

Deep in the cave, Lani had met Nanakumal. By touching her, Bat had taken away Lani's fear of the darkness and had infused her with his power. From now on Dolores Lanita Walker would still be Forever Spinning to some, but in her own heart she knew that she was changed. As soon as the bat's wings grazed her skin she was also someone else. From that time on, Lani would call herself Nanakumal Namkam — Bat Meeter, knowing that Bat Strength and Ant Strength would both be part of her strength.

Suddenly Lani's spirit was alive again, like one awaking from a deep sleep or else from death itself. Something Nana Dahd had told her was called e chegitog. The cold no longer mattered. She had come into her own just the way Nana Dahd had told her she would someday. No matter what Mitch Johnson did to her, he couldn't take that away.

The song spilled into her mind without her even being aware she was thinking about it.

O little Nanakumal who lives forever in darkness,

O little Nanakumal who lives forever in I'itoi' s sacred cave

Give me your strength so I will not be frightened,

So I will stay in this safe place where the evilOhb cannot come.

For years Betraying Woman has been here with you.

For years your strength has kept her safe

Waiting until I could come and set her free

By smashing her pottery prison against the rocky wall.

Keep me safe now too, littleNanakumal

Keep me safe from this new evil Ohb.

Teach mejuhagi — to be resilient-in the coming battle,

So that thisjiawul — this devil-does not win.

O little Nanakumal who lives forever in darkness,

Whose passing wings changed me into a warrior,

Be with me now as I face this danger.

Protect me in the coming battle and keep me safe.

Brian was the one who found Quentin Walker, found him trapped faceup and helpless in a bed of manzanita. Knowing at once that his half-brother was too badly hurt to pose any danger, Brian holstered his weapon.

"What happened?" he asked.

"I didn't do it," Quentin sobbed. "Tell Dad I didn't do it."

"Didn't do what?" Brian asked.

"I didn't kill Tommy. He fell. He fell in the cave. I tried to help him. I swear. But he died anyway."

Davy, who had stopped to help Candace up a ledge, arrived just in time to hear the last sentence.

"Lani's dead?" he demanded.

When Quentin looked up at Davy, his eyes wavered as though they wouldn't quite focus. "Lani's not dead," he said. "Tommy's the one who's dead. He's been dead a long, long time."

"But where's Lani?"

"Lani? How should I know where Lani is?"

Davy reached down and grabbed the neck of Quentin's shirt. He would have shook him, too, if Candace hadn't stopped him. "Leave him alone, David," she gasped, fighting to regain her breath. "Can't you see he's hurt?"

Letting go of the shirt, Davy turned and looked up the mountain. "She has to be in the cave," he said. "I'll go. You two stay here with Quentin."

"Lani! It's Davy. Where are you?"

Davy! For a moment, Lani thought she must be dreaming. It was impossible. Davy was in Chicago. He couldn't be here.

"Lani!" he called again. "Can you hear me? Are you in here?"

She heard him then, heard the sound of movement in the passageway. It was true. Davy was here. He had come to find her, to save her. Instead, he was crawling directly into the arms of Mitch Johnson. Somehow she had to stop him.

"Davy," she screamed. "Go back! Don't come in here. He'll kill you. Go back."

The cavern reverberated with a hundred echoes and then fell silent. There was no further sound of movement from the passageway.

"Thank God you're alive," Davy called back. "But it's okay, Lani. We found Quentin down the mountain. He can't hurt you anymore."

Once again there was movement in the passageway. "The killer's still in here, Davy. It's not Quentin!" Lani howled. "Go back, Davy, before he kills us both."

"Davy!" Mitch Johnson called out. "Did you say Davy? Not little Davy Ladd. Come on in, Davy. I won't hurt you. I won't hurt anybody. You're right. It was all Quentin."

Now there was movement again, but not in the passageway. Now it was in the cave itself. "Keep talking, little girl," Mitch Johnson whispered hoarsely. "Just keep talking. I'll find you, you little bitch, if it's the last goddamned thing I do."

Another match flickered to life.

"Lani," Davy demanded. "What's going on in there? Who's in there with you?"

For a moment Lani was quiet. Mitch Johnson was an implacable enemy-more determined to find and destroy her than he was concerned about his own capture.

Nana Dahd had told Lani more than once that the Tohono O'othham only kill to eat or to save their own lives. In relating the story of the evil Ohb, Rita had always said how proud she was that, in the moment when Diana Ladd might have killed Andrew Carlisle, she had chosen instead to spare him, trusting his punishment to the Mil-gahn system of criminal justice.

In a moment of understanding that went far beyond her years, and far beyond anything Mitch Johnson had told her, Lani understood that somehow, still alive and in prison, Andrew Carlisle had taken that piece of Tohono O'othham honor and turned it into something evil. He had used it cheawogid — to infect-someone else with the same evil that had fueled and driven him.

Nana Dahd had died too soon to know how wrong she was. But Lani knew. The telltale cheposid — the brand-Mitch Johnson had burned into her breast was proof enough that, as long as he lived, so did Andrew Carlisle.

Those thoughts streaked through Lani Walker's mind as she sat bat-still in the cave, watching the momentary light of the match flickering in the darkness and listening as Mitch came stumbling toward her. Had she screamed again, the echoes might have thrown him off and sent him in the wrong direction, but suddenly she knew that was the wrong thing to do. Instead of hiding from the evil Ohb, Bat Meeter wanted him to find her.

"I'm here," she said quietly, pulling herself to her feet. "I'm waiting." A storm of needles and pins shot down her numbed legs. She had to cling to the stalagmite to keep from falling, but she held her ground.

"Lani!" Davy shouted. "Please. What's going on?"

"He has a gun, Davy," she said, speaking slowly in Tohono O'othham. "His name is Mitch-Mitch Johnson. The evil Ohb sent him here. He wants to kill us both."

"Speak English, you little bitch," Mitch Johnson swore. "You're a goddamned American, speak English."

He was only a matter of yards away from her now, creeping along the wall on the same path Lani had followed, as that match, too, flickered and burned itself out. Pulling herself around the rock, she stood directly in his path.

"You'll have to come get me, Mitch," she taunted. "I'm right here. I'm waiting."

Grunting with effort, she tugged off one of her boots. "Here," she said. She tossed the boot a few feet in front of her. The explosion that followed reverberated back and forth inside the cavern. Clinging to the cold stalagmite, grateful for its solid presence, Lani thought there had been a dozen shots instead of only one.

She had ducked her head and closed her eyes, so the flash of light hadn't affected her. But her ears were roaring. From far away she could hear Davy calling to her. "Lani! Lani! Are you all right?"

"I'm still here, Mitch," Lani said again, not raising her voice, barely speaking above a whisper. "I'm here and I'm waiting."

Carefully judging the distance, she pulled off the second boot as well, tossing it slightly behind her and to the left. She heard him rush forward, close enough that she felt him brushing past her as she ducked back behind the stalagmite once more. There was another explosion of gunfire, another ear-shattering roar. And then nothing.

For a second or two Lani thought she really had gone deaf. She was afraid that the silence that suddenly surrounded her would always be there, that it would never lift. But then, from very far away, she heard Davy calling again, pleading this time.

"Lani, please. Answer me. Are you all right?"

There was a groan-little more than a moan, really. It came from beyond Lani's hiding place. From beyond and below it. From the bottom of the hole into which Lani herself had almost fallen.

She heard the sound and was chilled. It meant that down there somewhere, far beneath the surface of the cave, the evil Ohb was still alive. He had taken her bait. The boot had done its work, but the fall hadn't killed him. Even now she could hear movement as he struggled to rise from where he had fallen. Lani knew with a certainty that she had never known before that as long as Mitch Johnson lived, every member of Diana and Brandon Walker's family would be in mortal danger.

Coming out from behind the stalagmite, Lani felt around her in the dark. She remembered being told once that limestone caves are fragile-that the formations break off easily and that they need to be protected from human destruction.

"I'm okay, Davy," she called. "But don't come in right now. I think he's hurt, but he may still be able to shoot. We need help. Go get someone with guns and lights and bulletproof vests."

"You're sure you'll be all right?"

"I'm fine," she answered. "Go now. Please go!"

She heard Davy shuffling back down the passageway just as Mitch Johnson groaned again. Feeling her way around the floor of the cavern, she located another stalagmite, one that was much smaller than the hulking giant behind which she had hidden. This one was about a foot in circumference and three to four feet high.

"Ants are very strong," Nana Dahd had told her. "When they have to, they can carry more than their own weight."

Positioning her back against the large stalagmite, she pushed against the smaller one with both her feet and all her might. She pushed as hard as she could, straining until stars of effort blazed inside her head. At first it seemed as though the rock would never come loose. But then she remembered who she was- Mualig Siakam-a powerful medicine woman, someone who, with the power of her singing, could determine who would live and who would die.

Had Mitch Johnson been a little baby, surely the Woman Who Was Kissed by the Bees, Kulani O'oks, would have refused to sing.

Pushing again, Lani Walker felt the stalagmite give way slightly, rocking gently and trying to come loose from its moorings like a giant baby tooth in need of pulling. She pushed again and the rock was looser.

All things in nature go in fours. It was the fourth push that broke the huge rock free. She felt it tottering toward her and she had to push it yet again to send it tumbling in the other direction. She heard it scrape across the lip of the hole. Then, for a space of several seconds, there was no sound at all, then there was a muffled bump as the limestone boulder hit something soft and came to rest.

Holding her breath, Lani listened. In the whole of the cave, except for the steady drip of water, there was no other sound, no other being. Mitch Johnson was dead. In the emptiness of his passing, Lani realized that the spirits of Betraying Woman and Andrew Philip Carlisle had disappeared as well. The three of them had joined huhugam — those who are gone.

This time, they would not come back.

"Lani, I'm here," Davy shouted. "Brian is with me. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she called back. "It's safe to come in now. The evil Ohb is dead."