“Dammit, Sawyer!” My shout startled a few birds from the nearby scrub. “You want me to trust you, let me trust you. For once, just answer a question.”
He continued inexorably on. I had to follow or be left behind. I considered the latter, but in the end I hurried to catch up. I wasn’t a complete idiot. I was safer with him.
“Do you think I mean you harm, Phoenix?”
I considered the question. If he’d wanted me dead, he’d have killed me years ago. Why wait until I was stronger? Unless he hadn’t known what I’d become.
I snorted. He’d known. Probably before anyone else.
“All right,” I allowed. “You didn’t send the chindi after me.”
“Obviously, since I gave you the turquoise.”
I touched the stone where it rested beneath two layers of clothing. Funny, that only made me suspicious again.
“You think 1 sent it for Sanducci?” he asked,
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Someone did.”
“That goes without saying.” He sounded bored. I suspect being accused of sending evil Navajo spirits to kill people did get old fast.
“I wish I knew who,” I murmured.
“I’m sure you’ll find out.”
He had that much faith in me? Despite myself, I was warmed by the praise.
“Anyone who has the power to send a chindi has the power to send a whole lot more. Something new should show up to kill you any day now.”
The warmth died. Constant references to my imminent death were getting old fast, as well.
“Jimmy said a chindi is a vengeance demon.”
“That’s one interpretation.”
“It isn’t true?”
“A chindi is a malevolent spirit released with the dying breath of a Dineh.”
“A ghost?”
“Perhaps.”
I loved it when he was so specific.
“Chindis wander the night. Never whistle after dark or you will call one to you.”
I frowned. Had the chindi been summoned because someone whistled after dark?
“I doubt there were any wandering Navajo ghosts in Wisconsin,” Sawyer murmured.
My gaze flicked to his back. I hadn’t said that out loud.
“A witch is the only one capable of sending a chindi on a mission of vengeance.”
“Like you.”
“We’ve already established that I’m the most likely suspect. Yet still I deny it.”
This wasn’t getting us anywhere. I couldn’t prove he’d sent the chindi. Even if I could, what good would proving it do me? I had to stay; I had to learn. If Sawyer had tried to kill Jimmy by possessed cougar, that didn’t change one damn thing.
Conversation became too difficult as we continued up the mountain. I had no idea where we were going, but Sawyer seemed to. Our path was direct; our pace rapid.
I was thankful I’d eaten the eggs that morning, because there was no stopping for lunch, even if we’d had any; all water was consumed on the trail with barely a pause to tilt our heads, swallow, and move on.
Eventually, night hovered just above the horizon, pressing down on the last orange remnants of day like great black clouds. Stars winked against a curtain the shade of midnight. The moon burst free of bondage, spreading a glorious wash of silver over the scrubby bushes and crooked trees surrounding us.
“That’s it.” I sat on the nearest smooth, large rock. There were quite a few. “I’m done.”
Sawyer kept walking, disappearing quickly into the darkness. The night closed in around me, chill ebony air. I shut my eyes, tilted back my head, and tried to open my mind, my heart, myself. I still couldn’t.
In the distance something howled. Wolf? Coyote? Dog? I couldn’t tell. Did it matter? Tiny animals scuffled through the underbrush. Insects buzzed around my head. I could have sworn a snake slithered around the rock upon which I sat. As long as the reptile didn’t start to rattle, I’d ignore it.
Sawyer had refused to allow a weapon of any kind on this trip. According to him, a vision quest must be completed without them. I’d taken his word for it, but right now I wished desperately for a gun.
I caught the scent of wood smoke and my eyes flew open. Either a forest fire was cruising down the mountain, and I was dead, or Sawyer had made camp.
My gaze swept the tree line. Flames did not dance merrily in my direction like escapees from Fantasia. I didn’t hear the telltale whoosh that would signal impending, agonizing death.
Must be suppertime.
Though I’d sworn not to move, the prospect of food, however bad, changed my mind. I strode into the stand of pine and fir exactly where Sawyer had disappeared.
The ground tilted downward; the foliage thickened. I could smell water along with the smoke. Cool, clear water.
My pace picked up. The sharply canted path spilled me out of the trees so fast I nearly fell into the lake.
A fire burned in front of the hogan built on the bank. The night had turned chilly, and I hurried closer, reaching out to the flames.
“Sawyer?” I called. No one answered.
I stepped to the door of the hogan, rapped on the wood, stuck my head inside. Empty. However, his backpack leaned against the wall.