Flicking on the bedside lamp, I shoved my hand beneath the glow. In the center of my palm lay a coyote carved in turquoise—a totem, a fetish, an amulet, a talisman, who knew? But it hadn’t been here before, and I hadn’t brought it with me.
My gaze fell on my laptop, and I was across the room booting it up before I took another breath. A few clicks of the keys and I was surfing for an answer.
I’d encountered amulets before; they protected the wearer from trouble. Talismans brought good fortune. But totems and fetishes I knew very little about.
I skimmed a few Web sites. Totems watched over a particular group of people—usually a family, a clan, or a tribe—and were carved to depict the animal spirit associated with them. Totems were most often used by the Ojibwe but had been found in European, African, and Australian cultures as well.
I discovered that while the Ojibwe had once dominated the Upper Midwest from northern Michigan through South Dakota, and could easily have left something like this in the area, though doubtfully on my bed, they did not carve totems out of turquoise. Turquoise was found somewhere else.
In the land of the Navajo—the Apache, the Zuni, and Pueblo, too, but considering I was dealing with a couple of Navajo skinwalkers, we’d just stick to Navajo carvings for the moment.
Navajo didn’t carve totems but fetishes, ascribing mystical qualities to the inanimate objects. According to the light research I was able to do in ten minutes on the ’Net, a fetish gave the wearer increased powers. The carving was often kept in the medicine bundles of Navajo shamans and used in their ceremonies.
A fetish made of turquoise was especially powerful, because the Navajo believed turquoise a sacred stone that increased communication between the wearer and the supernatural.
I rubbed the tiny coyote between my fingers. “In that case, I’ll just keep you close by.”
When I left the motel, the sun had just crept past the long navy-blue line of the horizon, turning everything from violet to molten gold. I tucked the fetish into the pocket of my jeans. Who knew why Sawyer had left it, but I was certain I’d soon find out. One thing I’d learned since becoming leader of the light—everything happened for a reason. I might not like the reason, but there was always a reason.
Since I’d taken care of the necessities by having coffee in my room, I didn’t bother to stop for breakfast. All I wanted was to find the Old One and do what needed to be done.
Less than an hour later I approached Inyan Kara. I’d seen the mountain on the horizon within minutes of leaving Upton behind. It wasn’t hard considering the land leading up to it was flat and covered with low, patchy grass. Buildings rose here and there—red, white, gray—and cattle dotted the landscape like flies.
The mountain was surrounded by private land, and as the clerk had indicated, I’d need permission to climb it. So I followed the arrow on a hand-painted sign, knocked on the door of the house at the end of a dry and dusty lane, then politely asked the elderly woman who answered for her blessing.
She pursed her lips and eyed me from head to foot. “You know the mountain is ’bout twelve square miles?”
“Yes.” I hadn’t, but it didn’t matter. I wasn’t going to examine every inch of it as she was examining every inch of me. I just wanted to find Sani.
She stepped onto the porch, her steel-gray braid swaying across her thin back, then pointed toward the crest with a hand marred by age spots and raised blue veins. “Ridge is the shape of a horseshoe, with the peak in the middle. Real steep, that ridge. The peak’s thousands of feet high, bare of grass and trees, slippery as all get-out. Big old canyon in between. You be careful.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Best be back before dark.” She eyed my bare arms. “Gets cold on Inyan Kara when the sun goes down.”
Since I did not plan to stay there after dark I had no problem agreeing.
“Whatcha want up there anyway?” she asked.
My mind went blank. For an instant I couldn’t think if I should tell her the truth or a lie, then I couldn’t recall what lies I’d told lately and to whom, which was the problem with lies. I decided to stick as close to the truth as I could.
“I heard there were black coyotes.”
“You another one of them cryptozoologists? Had one here last week looking for a new species.”
“Sure,” I said.
“Just so you know, none of them ever seen a black coyote.” She went into the house and shut the door. As I turned to leave, I murmured, “I will.”
I drove as close to the mountain as I could get in the Impala then loaded a backpack with water, granola, crackers, and a jacket. I checked my cell phone, though I doubted I’d get much reception up there. Still, never leave sea level without it.