The Gathering

NINETEEN

WE WALKED TOWARD THE Harbourfront branch library, just across the road and down the street from the tattoo studio. A guy was playing his guitar out front as tourists barreled past, eyes averted. I dropped a toonie in his hat. Daniel did the same, the two-dollar coins clinking in the empty hat.

We sat down. I took out my muffin from the café and got one bite before Daniel said, “I take it you know what a skinwalker is or we’d be in the library looking it up. And I take it you’re upset about it because you haven’t said a word since we left that apartment.”

“Not upset. Just feeling dumb for not figuring it out on my own. A skin-walker is a Navajo witch, which is exactly what she called me. It’s not a good witch. Or something they dress up as for Halloween. For some, skin-walkers are really out there, cursing people. The tattoo artist said her aunt used to live with the Navajo. A folklorist. She would have heard all the stories. At the time, I’m sure that’s all they were, but now, with the dementia or whatever, she’s confused and thinks they’re real.”

“Are skin-walkers a kind of shape-shifter? Like werewolves?”

I nodded. “They’re supposed to be able to take on different forms, usually coyotes and wolves.”

“So this woman, who used to study those legends, knows you’re Navajo, sees what looks like a paw-print birthmark, and thinks you’re a skin-walker.”

“I’ve never heard of them being marked, but maybe she has. A regional version of the legend. Anyway, I have my answer so I can stop worrying, which is good, because I have more than enough to worry about these days.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“Not much to say. It’s just a bunch of things hitting at once and it’s like they’re feeding on each other, making them all worse. The tattoo place problem. The cougar problem. The Rafe problem.”

“You’re really upset about him, aren’t you?”

“I’m really confused about him. So let’s talk about happier subjects. You said Nicole came over this morning.” I bumped his shoulder and grinned. “I take it that means last night went well.”

He stared down at his untouched muffin.

“Or not,” I said.

He put the muffin back in the bag. “Yeah. It didn’t. I mean, it was fine. We talked. We …” He shrugged. “I gave it a shot, but it’s not going anywhere, Maya. I know you think I’m still hung up on Serena. I’m not.” He glanced over. “I’m really not. I miss her and I wish to God I could have—”

His voice caught and he looked away. The bits of muffin in my stomach turned to lead pellets.

“It was me,” I said. “I’m the one who saw her go under. I’m the one who could have saved her. If I’d brought Kenjii … If I’d learned to swim better … If I hadn’t panicked, thinking I was drowning …”

“No,” he said firmly. “Whatever happened out there, we did our best. I know you did and you know I did, and we’re not going to get into it again. We’re not. Okay?”

I tried to look away, but his gaze skewered me.

“I know you feel guilty and you know I do, but that has nothing to do with me dating again. It doesn’t.”

I nodded.

“I miss Serena and I wish she was still here, but even if she was, I’m not sure—” He swallowed hard. His jaw worked. Then he said, slowly, “It’s not going to happen with Nicole, Maya. She’s cute and she’s nice, but that’s …”

He shifted, rolling his shoulders. “I don’t know how to say this without being cruel.”

“Go ahead. It’d never get back to her. You know that.”

He nodded. “With Nicole … cute and nice is all you get. There’s nothing else there. The same reason you don’t want her as a new best friend is the same reason I don’t want her as a girlfriend. I know you think maybe that would be good for me—someone who won’t demand a lot—but I’m okay.” He looked at me. “It’s you I’m worried about.”

I turned away to toss my muffin in the trash. “I’m fine.”

“I know why you want to talk to Mina Lee,” he said. “You want to find out if she knows anything about Serena’s death.”

I stopped, hand still over the garbage can.

His voice dropped. “You want to know how she died. Why she died. You want answers.”

I dropped the muffin. “I know it was probably a freak accident. I know I’ll never get a why, because there isn’t one. I know that this reporter almost certainly doesn’t have any answers for me. I just want—” I faced him. “I need to ask.”

He looked like he wanted to say something. Even opened his mouth. Then he snapped it shut and nodded. “Let’s check out that book first, so we know what her message meant before we confront her.”

Reference books were on the second floor of the library. We found the one Mina Lee put on the card and took it to my favorite spot, a lone table on the far side of the stacks where light streamed through the window.

The book was an old text on agrarian cults that hadn’t been checked out in years. Big shock there. Satanic cults, sex cults, drug cults—I’m sure they all get their share of interest. But agricultural cults? I didn’t even know there were such things.

Daniel turned to the page as I looked over his shoulder. One word caught my eye.

“Witches?” I said. “Shouldn’t this have been sent to me?”

“Not witches,” he said, pointing. “Witch-hunters. An Italian cult of witch-hunters.”

“Okay, so what’s the connection to you? Your parents are Italian and you like fighting. Oh my God. You’re a witch-hunter. I’m a witch. Hate to break it to you, Daniel, but if you’re a witch-hunter? You’re doing it wrong.”

He gave me a sidelong smile. “Maybe it’s not that kind of hunting.”

“Then you’re definitely doing it wrong.”

He laughed and we continued reading, trying to find something—anything—that would tell us why Mina wanted Daniel to see this. The whole two-page spread was about this cult. The benandanti, which translated to “good walkers.” Apparently, they believed that, on certain nights of the year, their spirits left their bodies and went out to protect the crops by fighting evil witches.

This wasn’t just a myth, either. Like some people claimed to be skin-walkers, some claimed to be benandanti. Or they did before the Inquisition, when they were rounded up and executed as witches. If they insisted they had supernatural powers, then they were also witches, and it didn’t matter that they were supposedly using those powers for good and for the benefit of the Catholic Church. They were evil. So they were hunted and killed.

It was only when Daniel turned the page that we figured out why Mina directed him to this book. There, written at the end of the section on the benandanti was a note. “If you want to know the truth about Salmon Creek, call me.” A phone number followed.

Daniel flipped over the card Mina had left him. The number was the same as her cell.

“Okay, does this make any sense at all?” he said. “Why not just write the message on the back of the card?”

“Two possible reasons. One, she was afraid someone else would find the card. So she found a book no one was likely to check out. Two …” I looked around the library. “She’s waiting for you to show up, hoping to talk to you away from town.”

“Okay, but … the truth about Salmon Creek?”

I snorted. “She wants you to tell her the so-called truth. Proof of animal testing, horrific medical experiments …” I shook my head. “Call her again. I’ll skulk around, see if she’s here.”

Mina wasn’t at the library or outside it. Nor was she answering her phone.

Before we left, I wanted to look up skin-walkers. No, I wasn’t obsessing—I had my answer and I was happy with it. But I was curious about the paw-print birthmark connection. The more information I had, the easier it would be for me to mentally file the whole thing and forget it.

Most of what we found on skin-walkers was fiction. We only dug up a few brief references in books on Native beliefs and occult mythology. The Navajo don’t like to talk about them. Like I said, some believe skin-walkers really exist. Treating them lightly invites trouble.

Those references did confirm what I told Daniel. Skinwalkers are evil witches who cast curses and take on the form of animals, usually canines. When we checked the internet, we did find one reference to them also shifting into bear form, but not cat, and no mention of them bearing any kind of mark, let alone a paw print. Clearly just an old woman’s ramblings.

I was ready to pay a visit to Mina Lee. Daniel wanted food. Now, I know teenage guys like to eat. Teenage wrestlers really like to eat. Well, unless they’re trying to get into a lower weight class, but Daniel never does that. So, it wasn’t surprising that he’d want to grab food.

“I feel like fish,” he said. “Let’s swing by Pirate Chips.”

“Hard to eat fish and chips while you’re driving,” I said.

“We’ll dine in.”

He started toward the sidewalk. When he realized I wasn’t following, he turned.

“You don’t need to talk to her about Serena,” I said.

“What?”

“I’m the one who wants answers, not you. I get that. I can do this alone.”

“I’m not—” He cut off the word with a snap. “I’m tired of playing the grieving boyfriend, okay? It’s been a year, and still everyone makes me feel like—”

He stopped and turned his back.

“Makes you feel like what?” I moved up beside him.

“Just … stop doing that, okay? Stop pussyfooting around the subject of Serena. Stop treating me like I’m dying of a broken heart. Stop making me feel like I should be.” He rubbed his mouth. “That didn’t come out right. I don’t mean … Of course, I miss her. She was a friend. A really good friend. I’m just …”

“Tired of being treated like the heartbroken boyfriend when you want to move on. Is that why it’s not working with Nicole? You feel guilty because you want to date again?”

He threw up his hands and let out a growl of frustration that made passing tourists decide the other side of the street looked much more interesting. As he watched them cross, his growl turned to a laugh.

He shook his head at me. “The only thing holding me back from dating Nicole is a complete lack of interest, okay? As for Serena, I want answers, too. I’ve wanted them for a while, but since we weren’t discussing it—and, yes, that’s partly my fault, not wanting to upset you—I’ve never said so. I do want to talk to Mina Lee and see what she knows, and the only reason I’m stalling is because I’ve got something to say first. It’s going to piss you off, and I’d really rather be sitting in a public place when it happens.”

“So I won’t storm off?”

“Exactly.”

“I’d never do that, Daniel.” I stepped closer and looked up at him. “You have the keys, and it’s a very, very long walk—”

I snagged the keys from his pocket and took off. I easily darted around a gaggle of senior citizens nearly blocking the sidewalk. Daniel didn’t have as much luck, and I heard him apologizing amid gasps and harrumphs. I raced toward the harbor. I was rounding the local theater, planning to circle back, when Daniel’s shout pulled me up short.

I turned. He barreled toward me, his eyes wide with alarm. Right, like I was falling for that one.

I started to run again. I should have been able to outpace him easily. I always could. But the next thing I knew, I was being tackled. He knocked me into an alcove, both of us hitting the wall, then collapsing to the ground.

“Stay down!” he said.

Not much chance of doing anything else with him on top of me. But when I glanced up into his eyes, I saw that the panic wasn’t fake. He looked around as if expecting a posse of armed gunmen to round the corner at any moment. When footsteps sounded, he tensed, muscles bunching, prepared to leap up and defend us against—

Two preteen boys passed the alcove. One of them saw us and whispered to his friend. They grinned our way and shot Daniel a thumbs-up.

When they’d gone by, I pushed him off me.

“Okay, I might have overreacted,” he said as we sat up.

“You think?”

He pushed to his feet and looked around. “I thought I saw someone.”

“Where?”

“I—I—” He looked around. “I don’t know. Down there maybe?” He pointed along the wharf. “I was running after you and it happened so fast, I didn’t get a good look.”

“Was it a man? Woman? Young? Old?”

“I’m … not sure.” He exhaled and leaned against the wall. “Okay, that sounds nuts. I’m not even sure I saw someone.”

“You sensed someone?”

He made a face. “Now that really sounds nuts.”

“Hey, if you’re okay with me imagining myself as a pine marten, I’m okay with you sensing unseen assailants.”

He laughed. “Mina Lee was right. The isolation is driving us crazy. We just hadn’t realized it yet.”

“Not the isolation. The mad science experiments. They’ve spiked the water with hallucinogens.” I headed back to the sidewalk. “Your instincts are usually pretty good, though. Maybe Mina is lurking around here and you caught a glimpse of her. Let’s wander a bit, see if we spot anyone.”