Blood Oath, Blood River (The Downwinders Book 1) Page 22

  “I like that dog,” Lyman said, still looking at Deem.

  “Yes, but he shits all over the orchard and it makes irrigating a nasty affair.”

  “Think of it as fertilizer,” Lyman said, cracking the first real smile Deem had seen him give.

  “Why, that’s a disgusting idea, Lyman,” Carma said, becoming animated. “I do not want dog doodoo as fertilizer for the pecans! I think it would ruin their taste. Can’t you make it so it goes back onto the Jeppsens yard if it needs to do its business?”

  “Alright,” Lyman said. “Anything else?”

  “The fuses you wanted are going to take a little longer to arrive than I thought,” Carma said. “The government tracks that kind of thing now, so to get them without a paper trail, it’ll take some fancy footwork.”

  “I don’t care how long they take,” Lyman said wearily. “As long as we get them.”

  “Alright,” Carma said.

  “Anything else?” Lyman asked.

  “No,” Carma said, shaking her head. “Anything else I can do for you?”

  “No,” Lyman said, “but thank you for bringing them down to meet me. It seems like a long time since I’ve met other gifted people.” He turned to Winn and Awan, telling them goodbye. They each nodded back at him.

  “Deem,” he said, turning to her. “You’re kind to agree to my terms. It’s a little pathetic, I know.”

  “I don’t mind,” she said. “You like my voice, and I think you’re easy on the eyes. So it’ll work out.”

  “Easy on the eyes?” Lyman asked.

  “It means you’re handsome,” Carma interjected. “You’re not hard to look at. She’s flirting with you.”

  “Oh,” Lyman said. Deem could swear he blushed a little. “Well, thank you. I guess I’ll see you the next time you come around?”

  “Yes,” Deem said.

  Lyman turned and walked back through the opening at the far end of the room, and was gone.

  “Well,” Carma said, turning to Deem, “that’s a first.”

  “What?” Deem said.

  “You’re the first woman he’s asked to come visit him,” Carma said, turning to walk back down the passageway that led to the house. “He might actually be getting over Sarah. Never thought I’d see the day.”

  “That seemed like a touchy subject,” Deem said, following her.

  “Let’s get back upstairs,” Carma said, “and I’ll tell you the story.”

  ▪ ▪ ▪

  “Coffee?” Carma asked Deem. She’d just filled Winn’s mug and was working her way around the table, where everyone was seated eating breakfast.

  “No, thank you,” Deem said.

  “Ah, there’s a little bit of Mormon left in you yet!” Carma said, moving on to Awan and filling his mug without asking.

  “I like how it smells,” Deem said, “but not how it tastes.”

  “Oh, if I had a dime for every time I’ve heard a Mormon say that,” Carma said.

  Deem thought for a moment that she should be a little offended at Carma’s comment, but she found it impossible to go there. Carma was too warm, and even when she said something marginal, it came out more as entertaining than as insulting. Deem expected Winn to jump on and make a comment about the coffee, but he surprised her.

  “Please don’t take this the wrong way, Carma,” Winn said, “but Deem’s not in any danger coming here to visit Lyman, is she?”

  “Well, if Lyman didn’t like her,” Carma answered, “I’d say maybe. But since he’s enamored with her voice, I’d say not.”

  “And he’s enamored with my voice,” Deem said, “because I sound like Sarah?”

  “Or so he thinks,” Carma said. “Sarah was a hundred and fifty years ago. I think he over-romanticizes her.”

  “Tell them the story,” Awan said, eating.

  Carma sighed and sat down at the table with a mug of coffee. “Back in the 1860s, Utah wasn’t a state, but it was the gathering place for all Mormons worldwide. Lyman’s parents converted in London, and traveled to America. They pulled a handcart across the plains from Nebraska to get here. They settled in Manti.

  “Polygamy was big at the time, with Brigham Young declaring it was the only way to get to heaven, and the local church leadership in Manti enjoyed marrying pretty young girls as soon as they were able to breed.

  “Lyman was young, as you saw, and fell in love with a girl his age named Sarah, and she loved him back. Unfortunately, the Bishop in Manti at the time had his sights set on Sarah for years. He informed Sarah and her parents that she was to be sealed to him, which in those days was considered a bit of an honor, having an older church authority select you and all. Sarah didn’t want anything to do with the old Bishop and told him so.

  Carma took a sip of her coffee and continued. “Eventually it came out that the reason Sarah wouldn’t agree to the sealing was because she was in love with a young boy in town, Lyman. The town found Lyman one Saturday morning, lying in the middle of the street with no pants on. He’d been castrated in the middle of the night, and left to bleed out right there on the main thoroughfare of town. His parents scooped him up and nursed him back to health.

  “When the locals went to church the next day, they were in for a surprise. Lyman’s balls were nailed to the wall inside the chapel. The Bishop gave a fiery talk during sacrament meeting. He pointed at Lyman’s privates, and said, ‘That’s what comes from disobeying authority!’

  “One of Lyman’s friends overheard others in the ward talking about the incident. He heard that the Bishop had directed Danites to do the deed. The Bishop reasoned that once Sarah learned that Lyman was no longer a man, she’d lose interest in him and consent to the sealing.”

  Deem stared down at the bowl of cereal she’d been eating. She suddenly lost the urge to eat anymore.

  “Lyman’s parents were furious, but they knew they couldn’t take on the Bishop and ward, so they left, moved down here to Leeds. Supposedly Brigham Young learned of the incident and was pissed. But he left the Bishop in his post, never did anything to him.”

  “What happened to Sarah?” Deem asked.

  “After a couple of months she relented. Lyman’s family was gone. It was easier to just give in, so she married the Bishop. Wife number nine.”

  Carma paused, took another sip of coffee.

  “The story I’ve just told you isn’t uncommon. It happened a lot back in those days. It still happens today, without the castration, in fundamentalist communities. The old men force the young men out, so they can have the young girls for themselves. They’re called ‘lost boys.’ They dump them hundreds of miles from home and let them fend for themselves. They tell them if they ever come back into the community, they’ll kill them.”

  “So Lyman was one of the first lost boys,” Winn said.

  “But he was gifted,” Deem said.

  “Something he didn’t really understand at the time,” Carma said. “His mother suppressed it, in both herself and Lyman, when they converted. She didn’t think it was acceptable in light of her new faith. But after they left Manti and moved to Leeds, she decided her new faith might not be all it was cracked up to be, so she went ahead and told Lyman about the gift, and began teaching him how to use it. He naturally hated the Mormon leaders for what they’d done to him. He never really got over Sarah, and he spent the last year of his life using the knowledge his mother had passed to him to ensure he’d come back as a ghost so he could monkeywrench them from the other side. He died soon after from complications caused by the castration. The moment he died, he began working against the Mormon leaders in the area. He hates the fundamentalists as much as he hates the regular Mormons. He was particularly angry with Warren Jeffs and caused that man no end of trouble. It got a lot more serious when the nuclear testing brought all that radiation and he got more powerful.”

  “So that’s how he knew about Claude?” Winn asked.

  “Yes,” Carma said. “And I suspect Claude knew about him. And he knows all
about the secret council. It has remained his goal to keep making life hard for higher-up Mormons, and he’s become really good at it.”

  “The secret council must know about Lyman, then,” Deem said.

  “I don’t know,” Carma said. “Lyman excels at staying under the radar. They must know there are forces at work here, laboring against them. They call it ‘Satan,’ but it’s really just what it always is with the Mormons – problems of their own making coming back to haunt them. They are so wrapped up in their own world – you know how insular they are – that I’m not sure they’ve identified Lyman specifically. Even if they did, at this point they’d have a hard time doing anything about it. Lyman has spent the last thirty years building up a fortress here. For as long as I’ve lived here, he’s been adding layer upon layer of protection. If they knew he was here, they’d have a very hard time rooting him out.”

  Deem smiled. “He’s an ally, then,” she said, regaining her desire to eat and shoveling a spoonful into her mouth.

  “One of the best you could ever have, my dear,” Carma said, smiling at her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Deem stayed at Carma’s for the rest of the morning, chatting with her and the others. Hanging out at Carma’s was like staying at a really good friend’s house – comfortable, relaxed, and fun. Before she knew it, it was ten a.m. and she felt the need to check on her mom.

  They all packed back into Winn’s Jeep and left, Carma standing at the threshold, waving to them as they left.

  “I think she asked us to come back at least fifty times,” Deem said as they rode back to St. George.

  “That’s her,” Awan said. “And she means it. She obviously likes you two. You should drop in there anytime and visit her. You don’t need me around to do it.”

  “That story about Lyman was a trip,” Winn said. “Fucking barbaric.”

  “He seemed really sad to me,” Deem said.

  “That’s because you reminded him of Sarah,” Awan said. “Usually he’s just angry. Very angry.”

  “Carma seems to know how to deal with him,” Winn said.

  “They’ve been a team for years now,” Awan said. “She doesn’t put up with bullshit, as you probably figured out. And he needs her to do things that he can’t do himself, physically. So it works out. That’s how she got the house.”

  “From Lyman?” Winn asked. “He gave her the house?”

  “Yes,” Awan said. “They struck a deal, way back.”

  “But since he’s a ghost, how could he control the ownership?” Winn asked.

  “I don’t know,” Awan said, “but for some reason, the documents always say what Lyman wants them to say.”

  They stopped at the restaurant parking lot where Awan had left his car the night before. “You’ll call us when that chalk is ready?” Winn asked as Awan hopped out of the Jeep.

  “I will,” Awan said. Deem left the Jeep too, and ran to Awan, throwing her arms around him and giving him a long hug.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I owe you.”

  “You’ll help me with the brothers in Indian Springs,” Awan said, “and we’ll call it even.”

  Awan walked to the open window where Winn sat inside the Jeep. Winn extended his arm, and said “Thank you, Awan.”

  Awan grasped his arm just below the elbow, and they held each other’s arm for a moment. “You’re welcome, my brother,” he said, then dropped Winn’s arm and walked to his car. Winn and Deem watched as he left.

  Deem got back into the Jeep. “He called you brother,” Deem said. “I don’t think he meant it in the Mormon way.”

  “No, he meant it in the Paiute way,” Winn said. “So he really meant it.”

  ▪ ▪ ▪

  Deem checked with her mother as soon as she walked in the house. Her mother was vacuuming the stairs, something she only did if she felt good.

  “No bite this morning?” Deem asked her above the roar of the vacuum cleaner.

  “No!” her mother shouted back. “No bite!”

  “That’s good!” Deem said. “Aunt Virginia still here?”

  “She’s going back tomorrow,” Margie shouted. “It’d be nice if you’d come with us to dinner tonight. I thought we’d drive into St. George and eat at that place in Santa Clara that serves fresh pasta.”

  “Sounds good,” Deem shouted back. “What time?”

  “Let’s leave here at four,” Margie yelled.

  “Alright,” Deem said. That means we’ll be eating at five, she thought. Old people.

  She went up to her bedroom and saw her father’s day planners, lying in a stack on her dresser. She closed the door to her bedroom, cutting down the sound of the vacuum enough that she could make a phone call. She dialed the number for the bank in Hurricane.

  “Hi,” she said once a voice picked up on the other end. “I need to speak to Mr. Braithwaite. It’s about my loan status.”

  “I’m sorry,” the voice said, “but Mr. Braithwaite is out sick today. Could Mr. Bennett help you instead?”

  “No, that’s OK,” Deem said. “I’ll try back tomorrow. Thanks.”

  It’s working, Deem thought. Just as Awan said.

  She wondered what Braithwaite looked like right about now. Was his flesh falling off as he rotted? Maybe he tried to pick up something, and he felt the skin of his fingers slide off?

  Deem shivered from grossing herself out, but then laughed to herself, feeling good at the sense of victory.

  Maybe I should ride out to his house and see what’s going on, she thought. No. He still may have some power. Too dangerous. But I would love to see the look on his face.

  She spent the rest of the day getting cleaned up and regaining her strength. She thought she’d go visit Carma after dinner and begin looking through the documents they’d stored in the side room.

  I should get those documents copied or scanned somehow, she thought. I’ll talk to Carma about it tonight, see if she has any suggestions.

  The idea of seeking Carma’s advice sat well with her, and she knew Carma would be open to it. Carma was one of the most immediately approachable people she’d ever met, and even though she’d known her only a short time, she liked her immensely.

  A couple of hours before four, she placed on headphones and listened to some music while lying on her bed, but she quickly fell asleep. She’d had an early morning on the heels of a long, tiring day, and it caught up with her. When she rolled off her bed after her nap, she saw it was time to go to dinner with her mother and Aunt Virginia.

  Dinner had been pleasant and the pasta was very good. She saw other people with wine glasses at their table, and she wondered how it tasted. She’d never tried any alcohol, in accordance with her Mormon upbringing. When the waitress had asked her mom if she wanted to see the wine list, her mother laughed at her as though she’d asked if the sky was green. “Of course not!” she’d replied, with the air that said “I’m Mormon, I don’t drink wine, and how dare you think I might!” Deem hated when her mother acted like that in public, but she didn’t say anything to her about it. Her mother had developed this heightened attitude ever since her father had become stake president, and she knew her actions would be more heavily scrutinized by local members.

  Deem noticed that the waitress did not offer coffee at the end of the meal, even though she’d seen her offer it to other tables. Probably doesn’t want to get attitude again, Deem thought. This meal needs to get over, so I can get out to Leeds.

  Deem was answering questions that her aunt was lobbing at her and picking at a dry piece of tiramisu when her she felt her phone vibrate. She pulled it out. It was Winn.

  “Sorry,” she said, standing up. “Gotta take this.”

  She walked to the back of the restaurant where the restrooms were located, and answered the phone.

  “Winn?” she said.

  “Yeah, it’s me,” Winn said. “We’ve got a problem.”

  “What?”

  “Awan just called me. He’s got a friend wh
o’s wired into the whole skinrunner thing, knows people who know the shaman, that kind of thing.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Word is, the shaman is pissed. Braithwaite called him when he noticed he was losing his powers, demanding his money back. The shaman’s in the process of figuring out how it happened. Presumably to put a stop to it for future skinrunners.”

  “Does he know it was us?”

  “Awan didn’t know. But Awan thinks we need to take the guy down.”

  “Who? The shaman?”

  “Yes. He says if the shaman doesn’t know it was us already, he will soon. And then he’ll come after us, since we’re a threat to his business.”

  “Jesus Christ!” Deem said. She could feel all of the relaxation of the day quickly evaporate. “How do we take down a shaman? Does he have any ideas?”

  “He thinks we should meet up in North Vegas again. If I tell him eight, do you think you can make it?”

  “No, make it nine. I’m in St. George at a goodbye dinner for my aunt, she’s going back to Arizona tomorrow. So I’m not back to Mesquite for at least an hour.”

  “I’ll tell him nine. Keep me posted if that changes, OK?”

  “Will do.”

  “Here we go again,” Winn said. Deem could almost see him shaking his head on the other end of the phone.

  ▪ ▪ ▪

  “We can’t ignore him,” Awan said. “He will track us down, I guarantee it.”

  Deem sat at the restaurant inside the truck stop in North Vegas. She’d been trying everything she could think of to avoid going after the shaman, but Awan had shot down each idea.

  “We’re in this up to our necks,” Awan said. “Dealing with the shaman was always a potential thing we’d have to do. If I’d heard from my friends that he was blowing off the skinrunner, I wouldn’t be saying we need to act. We could let it sit. But he’s hunting, trying to figure out how it happened. He’ll figure it out eventually.”

  “Even if he does, what’s to say he’ll come after us?” Deem asked. “We’re gifted, he’ll know that. I assume taking down a skinrunner will be viewed as substantial, powerful. Maybe he’ll cut his losses and move on.”