Winter Prey

Chapter 26

Chapter 26

"Well, that was an extremely productive meeting," Caleb murmured sarcastically to Keoman as they exited the tribal headquarters building.

"Unfortunately," Keoman replied, a like sneer in his tone, "that's the way it works around here sometimes. We don't just talk something to death among ourselves before we make a decision. We have to consult the major spirits all the way up to Midé Manido, as well as dozens of generations of ancestors. Ask each and every one for their input."

They stopped by Keoman's rusty jeep as Caleb said, "All these years of talking back and forth across the divide between the earth world and the spiritual one haven't brought your people any closer to killing this son of a bitch."

"We agree on that. Same old shit this time, only with a new twist. Gagewin doesn't want the Feds called in, because it might hurt our casino business. Which we didn't have forty years ago."

"And while they wait and contact their spiritual advisors, more of your people are going to turn into windigo prey."

Keoman's fist thudded against the driver's door of his jeep. Caleb didn't even jump. He wanted to add another dent. The Midé drew back his fist, but instead of pounding the door again, he stared at the damaged knuckles.

"That bar I told you about is near," he said.

"I'll follow."

Keoman opened his driver's door, then stared back at the headquarters building for a moment. None of the other council members had exited yet. They were probably still deciding when and where to have their ceremony to contact their spirits. As soon as that discussion started, Keoman had nudged Caleb and left the meeting without excusing himself.

Hjak did emerge just then. Keoman glared at the sheriff and slid into his vehicle. "Coming?" he asked Caleb.

"In a minute. Give me directions, and I'll meet you there after I talk to Hjak."

"You'll get the same fucking bull shit from him," Keoman snarled. "But it's your waste of time." He added directions to the bar, then slammed his door. Tires squealed as he shot out of the parking space, but Caleb ignored him and headed for Hjak.

"Got a minute?" Caleb called.

Hjak turned, his truck door already open. "Don't know that I can tell you anything that you didn't hear in there. The tribe's got search parties out. That's about all we can do right now."

"I'm finding it hard to stomach that they won't let you call in more help."

Hjak sighed. "I don't need their agreement. If I thought it would do any good, I'd call without their approval. But tell them what? That we've got a paranormal entity hunting around here? Killing tribal members? Eating them? That we need to know how to fight it, so please send us some X-File agents?"

"No, damn it. That you've got Native Americans being killed. What about Len? The windigo obviously didn't kill him."

"We don't have a body," Hjak reminded him. "We never have any bodies, just disappearing Native Americans."

"From the Marten Clan."

"What do you mean?"

"I talked to Nodinens. She's noticed it, too. Every one of the windigo's kills has been from the Marten Clan. All of them in her lifetime, anyway. There's a birthmark that appears on the faces of some of the Marten Clan members, but not all of them. And not all of the kills have carried that mark, either. There's always the clan affiliation, though."