“Logan Tom!” the last of the Sinnissippi Indians called out to him. “Come sit with me!”
Two Bears spoke the words boldly, as if it did not matter who heard them.
As if he owned the park and the night and the things that prowled both. Signaling that nothing frightened him, that he was beyond fear, perhaps even beyond death.
Logan lifted his arm in response. He still didn’t believe it. But stranger things had happened. And would happen again before this was through, he imagined.
Cradling the black staff in his arms, he walked forward.
As he drew closer, Logan Tom could see how little Two Bears had changed in ten years. He’d been a big man when Logan first met him, and he hadn’t lost any of his size. His strong face and rugged features showed no signs of age, and the spider web of lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth had not deepened. His copper skin glistened in the firelight, smooth and unblemished where it stretched across his wide forehead and prominent cheekbones. No hint of gray marred the deep black sheen of his hair, which he still wore in a single braid down his broad back. Even his clothes were familiar—the worn military fatigues and boots from some long-ago war, the bandanna tied loosely about his neck, and the battered knapsack that rested on the ground nearby.
When he reached him, the Sinnissippi took Logan’s hand in both of his and gripped it tightly. “You have grown older, Logan,” he said, looking him up and down. “Not so young as you were when we met.”
“Didn’t have much of a choice.” Logan gestured with his free hand. “But you seem to know something I don’t about how to prevent that from happening.”
“I live a good life.” Two Bears smiled and released his hand. “Are you hungry?”
Logan found he was, and the two moved over to where the fire burned in an old metal grill with its pole base set into a slab of concrete. Nearby was a picnic table that had somehow survived both weather and vandals. Plates and cups were set out, and eating utensils arranged neatly on paper napkins. Logan smiled despite himself.
They sat down across from each other. Though he had offered it, Two Bears made no effort to prepare any food for them. Logan said nothing. He glanced around the clearing and the wall of night surrounding it. He could not see beyond the glow of the fire. He could not see the AV at all.
“You are safe here,” the other said, as if reading his mind. “The light hides us from our enemies.”
“Light doesn’t usually do that,” Logan pointed out. “Is this an old Sinnissippi trick?”
Two Bears shrugged. “An old trick, yes. But not a Sinnissippi trick. The Sinnissippi had no real tricks. Otherwise, they would not have allowed themselves to be wiped out. They would still be here. Eat something.”
Logan started to point out the obvious, then glanced down and saw that his plate was filled with food and his cup with drink. He gave Two Bears an appraising look, but the big man was already eating, his eyes on his steak and potatoes.
They ate in silence, Logan so hungry that he finished everything on his plate without slowing. When he had taken the last bite, he said, “That was good.”
Two Bears glanced up at him. “Picnics used to be a family tradition in America.”
Logan grunted. “Families used to be a tradition in America.”
“They still are, even if you and I don’t have one.” The black eyes looked toward the road. “I see you still drive that rolling piece of armor Michael Poole built for you.”
“He built it for himself. I just inherited it.” Logan stared at the impenetrable black, seeing nothing. “I think of it as my better half.”
“The staff is your better half.” The Sinnissippi fixed his gaze on Logan.
“Do you remember when I gave it to you?”
He could hardly forget that. It was several weeks after the Lady had appeared to him and he had agreed to enter into service as a Knight of the Word.
He was waiting to be told what he must do. But she had not reappeared to him, either in the flesh or in his dreams. She had sent no message. He was frozen with indecision for the first time since Michael died.
Then O’olish Amaneh, the last of the Sinnissippi, arrived, a huge imposing man carrying a black staff carved from end to end with strange markings. Without preamble or explanation he asked Logan his name and if he had accepted his service to the Word, then said that the staff belonged to him.
“Do you remember what you said to me when I told you the staff was yours?”
Two Bears pressed.
He nodded. “I asked you what it did, and you said it did exactly what I wanted it to do.”
“You knew what I meant.”
“That it would destroy demons.”