Seasons of Summerland

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Emma Jane ate the meal offered by the old man with quiet gratitude. The dish was a simple but filling rabbit stew, and reminded her of the meals her grandmother used to make. He'd even made bannock, and as she dipped the fresh, fragrant bread into the stew, she ate with a greedy joy. She’d saved a piece to put jam and butter on for the end of the meal, unable to recall the last time she'd been lucky enough to have fresh bannock for dessert.

But, as all good things do, the interlude passed. The old man wrote an address down on a piece of paper, giving directions for where she could find John Flett. She nodded, thanked the man for his time and his wisdom, then set out to find the RCMP officer.

The paper with the address remained crumpled in her pocket, as she couldn’t read it. Instead, she’d listened to his instructions carefully and committed them to memory. She could read in braille and she could see with her spirit vision, but she couldn't read the way others could. Dead paper carried no remnants of soul, so the written words of others remained dark crinkles in her hand, completely useless unless she showed someone else what she was searching for.

Today, she’d taken the paper to be polite. For the most part, Emma Jane relied on word-of-mouth and legends to find what she was looking for. Over the years, Samuel had instructed her in braille and taught her to use the resources libraries could provide. He was wise, and knew learning came from many avenues and differently to different people. In her youth, Emma Jane had resisted his assertions until it became clear to her how right he was.

In this case, she had to find the constable to ask him directly what had happened. If she was lucky, maybe he’d be able to take her to the place the trail began.

To her relief, the instructions the medicine man had given orally were clear and easy to follow. The constable lived in a house on the Rez, and it was easy to tell which one was his. It was almost as though he had an invisible wall around his home; children played together in yards on either side, without once crossing the boundary onto his property even though no fences marked the divisions.

She wondered if he was known to be fair, or if he was one of the authorities she'd learned throughout her life to watch out for. Emma Jane had an uneasy respect for police; a common side effect of growing up in the North, a place that saw more than its fair share of violence and death, often meted out by those in authority who were supposed to protect the vulnerable.

She carefully mounted the stairs, knocked on the smooth metal storm door, then waited. The sound of approaching footsteps rang through the small framed house, followed by the jiggle of a chain as the door opened a crack. The faint glow of a man lit up the darkness that surrounded her, and she glimpsed one eye in a weathered face before the door closed again.

The sound of the chain being removed with a loud scrape broke the silence as the door opened all the way.

“Did Christopher send you?” The man asked, his head c****d to the side.

For a moment she was confused, but then she remembered the medicine man’s first name was Christopher. She'd never thought of calling him that, but then again, she was taught never to refer to elders by their first name. Perhaps things were different for this man.

She nodded, holding her hand out for him to shake. “Yes, I'm here to ask a few questions about what you found the other day.”

The man nodded, stepping back to allow her entrance.

His house was set up the same way the elder’s had been, but with the touches she expected from a younger man. The furniture felt new and comfortable, without memory attached to them the way older items developed with time.

The sound of a TV came from the other room. She hovered in the doorway, opening her senses for signs of danger as she looked around. When satisfied she was safe, she accepted his offer of a chair and sat in the small kitchen.

He dropped into the chair across from her, rubbing his hands over his face in a gesture which simultaneously conveyed exhaustion and frustration.

“We went to check on an old recluse who didn't spend much time in town. We’d gotten a call from his niece. She was concerned she hadn't seen him in a while, longer than usual for him. When we asked around, we discovered no one else in town had seen him for at least a month either. So, my partner and I went on a courtesy call to his farm.”

The man shook his head, and she could sense his uneasiness. He didn’t seem like a man who would get upset easily, and she wondered how bad it had been.

“When we got there, I could feel something was wrong, but I didn't know what. His house was tidy. There were no obvious signs of a struggle, or anything out of place. But while the house was fine, something told me I needed to keep looking. So we went out to the barn and scouted around.”

Emma Jane nodded. “What did you find?”

Constable Flett shook his head, absently rubbing the area over his heart. “Not much. In fact, if it wasn't for that weird feeling I had I might not have noticed anything. As we were about to leave, I spotted a few dark brown marks at the back of the barn. They were obviously a few days old, but I knew it was blood.” The man sighed, tilting his head up to look at the ceiling. “I wish I hadn’t followed the trail, but it’s my job. I drew my gun, following the drops. It was difficult to see them against the backdrop of wood, dirt, and hay, but I managed to track them to the back door of the barn. The trail became easier to follow after that. It had snowed a few days earlier, so even though the snow was deep, the blood was bright red. It stood out against the darkness of the night like a neon light.”

She nodded, waiting while he composed himself. She knew he hadn’t yet shared the worst part of the story.

“I followed the trail. About fifty feet later, I saw the first finger. It had been gnawed off and was almost completely stripped of flesh. Then I found another finger.” The constable pressed his lips together tightly.

Emma Jane watched as he swallowed several times. When he didn’t continue, she took charge. “Where did the trail end?”

She knew it had ended, because the constable had gone to the elder for advice, but she was hoping her question would distract him and allow him to compose himself long enough to finish his tale.

He took a deep breath, exhaling shakily. “When I got to the tree line the trail stopped. There were no more blood spots, and thankfully, no more fingers either. My partner and I searched the area, but the trail vanished into thin air.”

Emma Jane knew wendigo were fast. If it had reached the trees, it would have been easy for it to escape and evade even the bravest and best trained policemen. So the next words the man spoke surprised her.

“The reason I went to Christopher was because of who I am.” He gave her a half smile, and she knew she hadn’t managed to hide her curiosity. “My great-great-great grandfather was said to have been a wendigo. His own brothers, Joshua and Jacob, were forced to kill him to set his spirit free and return him to the ancestors. My concern is that we have another wendigo loose in the community now. I’m sure you understand why I can’t tell my bosses I think a mythical creature is responsible for this in an official report.”

He shrugged, acceptance in his face, adding, “It’s hard enough being an aboriginal officer, walking the line between two cultures every day. I’m worried if I speak of this my reputation on the force will take a nosedive, and I don't want that. I'm doing good work here. I love my job, and the opportunity to protect and give back to my people. I know better than anyone that this evil needs to be dealt with in the correct fashion, or more people will go missing."

Emma Jane inclined her head, seeing the pieces fit together. While the story wasn’t surprising, his connection was. Part of her wondered if he could be at risk for turning wendigo himself, given his family history. She’d need to keep an eye on him.

“I can respect that. In that case, will you help me? I don’t know the area, and as you may have noticed, my vision isn’t entirely what you would consider normal. It would be most helpful if I had a guide to help me track the wendigo.”

The man exhaled again, but this time it was a sound of relief. She reminded herself not to get overeager, but his assistance would make her task less complicated, as well as allow her to watch him.

“I can take you to the old man’s house and show you the trail, but I can’t tell you where he went after the blood ends.” He bowed his head apologetically. “My skills don’t extend to the realm of the spirits.”

She gave him a tentative smile, hoping to reassure him while simultaneously trying to bolster her own confidence. “That should be enough. If you can show me where the path begins, I’ll see if the ancestors will show me the way from there. Would it be possible to go tonight? I don’t want anyone else to go missing if I can prevent it.”

The constable stood, then gestured to the other room. “Give me one minute. I’ll change and bring my gun.”

She c****d her head to the side. “Would you happen to have any silver bullets?”

The man pursed his lips. Just as she was certain he was going to say no, he snapped his fingers and left without a word. She listened as he rummaged through things in the other room, and was perplexed when he returned with a small soapstone box and placed it on the table in front of her.

Emma Jane was intrigued by the way the trinket seemed to glow with a soft silver light, almost as though the new moon was trapped somewhere inside. But as pretty as the box was to her sight, she wasn’t sure what it had to do with her mission.

When he opened it, her breath caught in her chest.

“Where did you get those?”

He gave her a bashful smile, sitting down across from her again. “They’ve been in the family ever since the Fiddler brothers sent my great-grandfather to the spirit world. We have held onto them, in case the same evil befell our family twice. Once I entered Depot for training, the family decided I should be the one to protect them. As the law man in the family it was my duty—at least until they were needed, or another hunter came along asking for them.” He looked her up and down, hesitating.

She raised an eyebrow, and he winced.

“I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but I wasn’t expecting you to be the hunter Christopher would send to help me. You don't look a day over sixteen. How will you be able to take care of a monster as dangerous as a wendigo?”

She shrugged, giving him a cool look. “For the last five years, I’ve trained every day for this kind of mission. I have encountered and defeated other such things, many of which you wouldn’t believe, so I won’t bother to share them with you. Samuel, my teacher, felt I was ready. He sent me to Christopher to assist him in this matter, but perhaps you don’t think it worth your time to take me?”

She let the question trail off, regarding him with an expression bordering on frigid. She knew her pale white eyes made the look even more alarming and used them to full advantage.

The constable flinched, looking down and away. “I'm sorry. I meant no disrespect. I am just curious how such a young woman will be able to take on such a horrific beast, if it truly is a wendigo we are searching for.”

She stood and swung her hair over her back. “Time will tell. I will not brag about my abilities. If you are willing to take me, we should go now. It will make my task easier to have your help, but I will look for the creature without you if I must.”

The man rubbed his hand on the back of his neck then nodded. “I’ll take you. But it’s cold tonight, and you aren’t dressed properly for the weather. Come with me and let us prepare correctly.”