Chapter 12
As much fun as our afternoon had been, we still had a job to do that night. I called the pizza place to order supper, then ran down to the Cube to retrieve his clothes from the day before. “Maybe I’d better start leaving a change of clothes at your house,” he said, sniffing at his shirt.
We got to his place around 9:00 p.m. George was watching TV, beer can in hand; he waved to us as we walked in. He was already dressed for our escapade, looking every inch the urban Indian: cowboy boots, boot-cut jeans, Western shirt with mother-of-pearl snaps. His bolo tie featured a huge chunk of turquoise on the clasp. I couldn’t see his belt buckle from where I stood by the door, but I suspected it was graced by a few more such stones. His hair hung in two plaits on either side of his head, each tied with a leather thong. An impressive cowboy hat sat next to him on the sofa.
“Perfect,” Joseph said approvingly. “I’m gonna go throw some stuff in a bag.” He kissed me and headed off toward his bedroom.
“Good job,” George said to me when Joseph had disappeared down the hall.
“What do you mean?”
He indicated a spot at the other end of the sofa, and I sat. “Joseph’s been needing a woman for quite some time now. I guess you’re it.” His attention seemed to be split between the TV show and his comments to me.
“I don’t understand,” I said. “What do you mean, he’s been needing a woman?”
He turned his head toward me and lowered his voice. “You know about the skinwalking.” It was a statement, not a question. I nodded. “He had a pretty rough time of it with the tribe when he first started to change.”
“I know about some of that.”
“Well, it’s made him pretty secretive about it. He’s kind of scared to tell anybody, for fear they’ll shun him like the tribe did.”
I nodded as the pieces fell into place. It made sense; all that “man of mystery” stuff when we first met must have mostly been due to his fear of being found out.
“And then, too,” he said, as if vouchsafing a confidence, “sometimes the change sneaks up on him. Makes it hard to date a lady if you’re worried you’ll turn into a wild animal in a clinch.”
I snorted. “I can see how that would put a crimp on things, yeah.”
“Now you be good to him, you hear?” George said. “He deserves something good in his life, after what he and the old man have been through.”
I smiled. “I’ll do my best, George.”
“See that you do,” he said, and burped.
Joseph came into the room, a backpack looped over one shoulder. He slapped George on the back. “Let’s go, buddy. It’s show time.”
George drove his own pickup truck and went to check in first. We waited until he texted Joseph his room number – “326,” Joseph read aloud. That was the signal that the coast was clear in the lobby. We checked in, keeping our backs carefully turned to the doorway in case Durant wandered by for some reason.
Our room was on the sixth floor and, as luck (or the goddess) would have it, in the same wing as Durant’s room on eight. We were pretty sure he hadn’t changed rooms again, but as soon as we were settled, Joseph the Mouse went to make sure.
In less than fifteen minutes, he was back. “He’s still there,” he confirmed with a grin, “and he’s got the desk shoved up against the door.” He reached for his shorts.
“Why are you getting dressed?” I asked.
“That,” he said as he dropped his shorts and joined me on the bed, “is a very good question.”
The rest of the night went like clockwork. Joseph did his thing and, relaxed as I was, it was no trouble at all for me to go along for the ride.
As soon as I heard Joseph hooting outside, I texted George, who went down to the lobby. He found an unobtrusive spot with a view of the front desk and sat down with a newspaper to wait.
As soon as Joseph got back to our room, he got dressed. I slipped my arm around his waist to steady him; he leaned on me a little; and slowly, we made our way down the stairs. The fire door opened into an alcove off the lobby. By peering around the corner, we had a clear view of the front desk and George’s chair. George tipped his hat to us and went back to his paper.
We didn’t have to wait long. The elevator doors opened just a few minutes later and Leo Durant sailed out in high dudgeon, holding at arm’s length one of the hotel room trash cans. He banged the trash can on the counter and began screaming at the poor desk clerk. “Again! For the third night in a row! My sleep has been interrupted by some practical joker banging on my window! And every night I find this stuff on the floor!”
George was already on the move. “Excuse me, sir, but I couldn’t help overhearing....”
“Half the state couldn’t help overhearing,” Joseph muttered. I poked him in the side.
“Can I see what you’ve got there?” George went on. He made a show of poking around inside the trash can. “Mmmm. Ohhh my. Mister, I don’t know how to break it to you, but you’ve got a real problem on your hands.”
“I know I’ve got a real problem on my hands!” Leo was turning purple. “I am trying to get this idiot to fix it for me!”
“Have you had any run-ins with any Indians lately?” George asked.
Leo stopped in mid-fume, mouth agape.
“Because,” George went on, “what you’ve got here is the makings of a good, solid Indian curse.”
“What?” The color began to drain from Leo’s face.
“Yes sir,” George said, poking through the trash can again, “I’d say you must’ve riled up them old Indian spirits pretty good. You’re marked, Mister. I wouldn’t want to be you right now. Sorry.” George turned back toward his chair.
“Wait!” Leo called, grabbing the back of George’s shirt. His face was bloodless now. “What do I do with this stuff?”
“Shit,” Joseph said softly. Leo had gone off-script.
Thank Somebody that George was up to the challenge. “Well,” he drawled, “I reckon you need to sweep all that stuff up – I wouldn’t leave even a grain of it in the carpet, if I were you – and then I’d get in my car and drive about a hundred miles due north. Then I’d dig me a hole about two-three feet deep and dump all this stuff into it, and spit on it, and say, ‘Evil spirits, leave me alone!’ And then fill in the hole and walk backwards back to your car. But don’t tell nobody what happened.”
“O-okay,” Leo said. “I won’t tell a soul.”
“And don’t worry,” George said, walking Leo to the elevator. “Your secret’s safe with me.” They entered it together. I could hear George soothing him as the doors slid shut.
We were dying with suppressed laughter as we climbed the stairs to George’s room.
“Nice fucking job,” Joseph said, giving George a high five.
“Especially the ‘cure’,” I said, holding my side where it ached from laughing. “Oh my God, I thought I was gonna die.”
“Oh, it weren’t nothing,” George said. Then he winked at me, and dropped the laconic Westerner act. “It was worth it just to see his face when I told him he was cursed. That was priceless.”
Joseph set the alarm on his phone for 10:00 a.m. so we could be up and out before checkout time at noon. But far, far earlier, my phone rang. I fumbled with it, managing to hit the right place on the touchscreen almost by accident. “Hullo?” I mumbled.
“Naomi, it’s Brock.”
“What the hell, Brock? What time is it?” I glanced at the room clock, which said 5:15.
“Sorry, I know it’s early. Listen, Leo just called me.”
I sat up and looked at Joseph, who I suspect had come wide awake as soon as I said Brock’s name. “And I should care because...?”
“He asked me,” he said with exaggerated patience, “to ask you whether you could get Charlie Frank to come to a meeting at our office today.”
“Today?” I squeaked. “That’s insane, Brock. He’s four hours a
way. And it’s New Year’s Eve.”
“Would you please just call and ask him?” Brock said. “And then get back to me? Leo is very insistent that we have the meeting today. See if you can get your clients to come, too.”
“I’ll do the best I can, Brock, but I’m not promising anything.”
“Thanks, Naomi.” The phone went dead.
“I bet it just about killed him to thank me,” I snorted to Joseph. “Do you have Charlie’s number?”
Charlie agreed to come. I held my nose and called Brock back, and we set the meeting for 11:00 a.m. “Let’s see,” Joseph said as we got dressed. “If Leo hit the road right after he talked to George, that would have been about four. Give him about an hour and a half to go a hundred miles...say an hour to dig the hole and do all that other crazy stuff George told him to do...another hour and a half back here, shower and shave, breakfast if he can keep it down, and then a forty-five minute drive to your office. Yeah, he’ll be there by eleven. He might even be there early.”
“Stop it,” I said, laughing. “You’re killing me. Call your grandfather.”
He hooked his arms around my waist and found a convenient spot for his hands a little higher up. “Say, why are we getting dressed? We’ve got hours until checkout time.”
“Joseph,” I said sternly. “Call your grandfather.”
“Are you trying to push me?” he asked as he nibbled my ear.
“Not yet,” I said, and then, as one of his hands drifted lower, “oh, fine, have it your way.”
A little while later, I confessed to Joseph that I had felt the tiniest bit badly for Durant. “It sounds like he lost a lot of family in the Indian wars,” I said. “I’m sure that when George told him he was cursed, all that family history came back to him.”
I kind of expected Joseph to say, “Yeah, well, he shouldn’t have messed with us.” That’s certainly what Brock would have said.
But no. Joseph sighed and said, “Yeah. I felt bad about that, too. If I’d known about that when I was setting things up, I might have come up with a different plan. But things were already in motion by the time he said anything. And it was kind of ancient history for him, anyway, right? All that violence was several generations back.”
I knew he was rationalizing, and he knew it, too. “You lost family, too, back then,” I pointed out, running my fingers along his forearm.
He looked into my eyes. “That doesn’t make it right.”
My heart swelled. “Of course not. We didn’t really hurt him, though.”
Joseph sighed. “No. We didn’t. It’s just that sometimes Coyote convinces me to do stupid stuff on impulse. And then we’re both sorry later.” He looked away.
I frowned. Coyote? Maybe he meant the coyote side of his nature. Yeah, that had to be it.
“I just hope White Buffalo Calf Pipe Woman knows what She’s doing,” he said.
“So do I,” I said fervently, and kissed him. “So do I.”
Joseph had estimated correctly. Durant was early. He seemed almost eager to see us as we walked through the door of the conference room – Charlie first, then me, then Joseph, then Looks Far. (The old man had taken one look at his grandson and me, grunted, and then hugged us both. It was very sweet.) We took seats on the opposite side of the table from Perry, Brock and Leo.
“Thank you all for coming on such short notice,” Leo said, commandeering the meeting from the start. “Our board of directors had an emergency meeting late yesterday about this matter, and I wanted to let you know their decision as soon as possible.”
“On a Sunday? BS,” I wrote on my yellow legal pad and slid it toward Charlie. He read it and nodded slightly. I saw Brock frown as he caught the exchange.
“First, Mr. Frank,” Leo said, “I want to thank you for raising the questions you did at our last meeting. They gave our directors much food for thought.”
“I bet they did,” I wrote. Joseph kicked me under the table.
“Our managers have spent the past few days looking into the answers to those questions,” Leo went on, “and they have discovered what you suggested here in this room last week: that this project is not feasible at this time, and in fact it may never be feasible.”
“That’s good news, Mr. Durant,” Charlie said smoothly. “That’s very good news for my client.”
“And for my client, as well,” I said. “Charlie, do you still have that sales contract?”
“Yes, I do,” he said, sliding it out of his briefcase (where, I would have bet money, it had sat since Friday).
“Mr. Durant, you need to tear up that document,” I pushed. “As a show of good faith.”
Charlie held it out. Leo actually smiled at Charlie as he took it. He held the document at the top between the thumb and index finger of each hand, and made to separate his hands.
Then Brock said, “Hold it.”
I blinked rapidly. There was a weird distortion in the air around Brock that hadn’t been there before. It was as if someone much taller and burlier overlaid him, occupying the same space in his chair.
“Leo,” Brock continued, and his voice sounded deeper too, “put the document down.” I felt force behind his command, but it was qualitatively different from mine. His felt far older, and as if it came from a different wellspring of power than mine did. I also had the sense of long acquaintance – as if Whoever Brock was channeling had held sway over Leo for quite some time.
Joseph must have felt it, too, or at least he must have seen the same distortion I did. He nearly yanked the tablet out of my hand to scrawl one word: “Loki.”
We exchanged “oh, shit” looks. The playing field had just become a lot more complicated. I began to wonder whether we had been wrong. Maybe Odin wasn’t the Norse god opposing White Buffalo Calf Pipe Woman. Maybe it was Loki. Or maybe Loki simply saw an opportunity to cause trouble in the upcoming battle and was egging Odin on.
Suddenly I recalled my vision of Brock’s past, and the grinning wolf that had loped down the trail after him. Loki, too, was a shapeshifter. And he was certainly capable of causing a hell of a lot of trouble.
It was obvious that Charlie wasn’t sensitive to whatever Joseph and I were seeing. Mildly, he said, “What’s the problem, Brock? I’m sure Leo has an electronic copy. If he ever wants to renew his offer, he can simply print it again.”
“That’s not the point,” Brock said.
“And the point would be?” I asked, leaning forward, my arms on the table. Make no mistake – I was gibbering inside. What I really wanted to do was crawl to the door and make a break for it. But then I thought, if I’m going to have to mediate among the gods at some point, I might as well start practicing now. Come on, Lady, I thought, or maybe prayed. I could use a little help here.
I fancied I felt ghostly hands grip my shoulders, easing my fear and steadying my resolve. Then Joseph – and his otherworldly friend – laid a hand on my forearm.
I met Brock’s gaze steadily, thinking, Whoever you are, you’re outnumbered, bud.
Then the conference room went gray around me. The discussion became a murmur, like the soughing of a constant wind through a stand of pines, and the people faded to shadows.
That is, some of them did.
In Brock’s place was a very large, very blond Viking with a horribly scarred face and murder in his eyes. “Who are you?” he demanded, looking straight at Joseph.
Joseph had not totally transformed – I could still see him in the tall, lean, lithe creature who stood next to me. But his nose and mouth had morphed into a long snout, his ears had lengthened until they seemed to sit atop his head, and his eyes glowed like amber beacons. “Coyote,” I breathed in confusion and fear.
Coyote/Joseph grinned at me, tongue lolling, and bowed to Loki with a flourish.
I looked around wildly, and noticed that Looks Far was here as well. But he wore nothing but buckskin breeches, heavily fringed, and
a buffalo robe that encircled his shoulders. His bare chest was that of a man in his prime, and his skin and hair were the deep mahogany of clotted blood. I suppressed a hysterical giggle. Blood Clot Boy. Oh, why the hell not?
And I realized a fifth being was with us in this strange place. White Buffalo Calf Pipe Woman stood behind me and to my right. The bright aura of her raiment lit the scene.
“Why are you troubling these humans?” She demanded. “Their business is none of your concern. Begone.” She made a shooing motion toward Loki.
Loki was not amenable to shooing. “Your pet humans,” he sneered, “are interfering in my business.”
“You have no business in this land,” She returned. “Your land is across the sea, far from here. Who untied you from your rock? Who slew the serpent that drips acid upon your traitorous face?”
“Ragnarok is coming,” Loki intoned, ignoring Her questions. “I prepare for the final battle. Your pets are in my way.”
Ragnarok, I thought with growing terror. The final cataclysmic battle between the Norse gods and the Giants. It was their faith’s interpretation of the End of Days. Loki was supposed to lead the Giants to slay the gods…and humankind, as well.
“What need have you for this land?” Looks Far asked. His voice, too, had changed – it now sounded gruff, almost rusty. “This land is sacred to My people. You have no right to take it from them and destroy it.”
“This land holds power!” Loki cried. “Power which You and your people refuse to use! Below the surface lie substances which my dwarves can use to create weaponry such as this world has never seen! With it, we shall be victorious!”
Substances of power? I thought. And then I remembered: gold, silver, even uranium had long been mined in Colorado. Was there a seam of uranium under Looks Far’s home? Did Loki have the knowledge to fashion a nuclear device? Or perhaps something worse?
There was coal beneath these mountains, too. Power indeed, for whatever armament Loki intended to bring to the final battle. No wonder Brock was pissed at Durant; he was screwing up Loki’s plans for world annihilation – all because of some crow feathers and cornmeal.
And no wonder Loki was pissed at Joseph, who had scared Durant into backing down.
The Giant’s eyes – vast pits of nothingness – had been trained on Joseph as he spoke. Now, with a cunning grin, his form seemed to melt. My stomach lurched as, in an eyeblink, Loki assumed the shape of a wolf and lunged at Joseph.
But Coyote was a Trickster, too, and was ready for him. Joseph swiftly changed into a bear and, which a single swipe of a massive paw, knocked Loki away. The wolf regained his feet instantly and launched himself at the bear again, but transformed in midair into a boa constrictor. The snake’s head passed over one massive ursine shoulder, and the creature used its momentum to whip its tail over the other shoulder so it could wrap its coils about the bear’s neck.
But there was nothing to wrap around. The bear had changed into a frog and hopped nimbly out of the way, as the snake landed in an ignominious heap.
The goddess’s fingers dug into my shoulders, pulling my attention away from the battle. “You must end this,” she growled close to my ear. “I gave you the power.”
“Me?” I cried, pulling away from her. “You want me to mediate this?”
Hissing, the snake untied itself and began to slither after the frog, tumbling itself into a fox as it went. I shrieked as the fox’s jaws began to close around the frog. But now the fox had a mouthful of angry bobcat. The combatants sprang apart and began to circle, eyes locked, each waiting for an opening.
“Naomi!” Blood Clot Boy pleaded. “He’ll kill Joseph!”
The ‘cat growled low in its throat. The fox barked once and crouched, ready to spring.
“Stop fighting!” I yelled, pushing with everything I had.
It worked. Or at least, they both paused to look at me.
“Good,” I said, still pushing. “Now change back into your normal forms.” Normal, giggled the part of my brain that was still on the verge of hysteria. I kill myself sometimes.
The fox expanded and resumed Loki’s blond hair and bulk. The bobcat rolled up on its hind legs and became Coyote/Joseph.
“All the way,” I said sternly to Joseph. Shrugging, he complied.
During the seconds it took for the shapeshifters to become their usual selves, I was undergoing a metamorphosis of my own. I tamped down my confusion, panic and fear, then mentally put them in a strongbox and turned the key. Shannon had told me those dark emotions gained power when locked away, and I knew she was right about that. So I promised myself I would take them out and enjoy them later. Right now, I didn’t have time.
Then I pulled out my professional mediator demeanor and put it on. It was comfortable and familiar, like a second skin, and immediately I felt calmer and more in control. This might work, I reflected. As long as I can stay focused. I knew that if I remembered I was dealing with two Trickster gods, I was sunk. Gods, spirits, aliens from outer space – whatever they are, they need my help. I’ve dealt with the powerful before. Their disputes are as petty and self-serving as anyone else’s.
I’ve got a job to do. Time to do it.
“All right, gentlemen,” I said. “Let’s lay some ground rules, shall we? First and foremost, we are going to discuss this as mature adults. No more fighting. And no tricks.” I emphasized each of my commands with a push. It seemed to work. Joseph and Loki kept a wary eye on each other, but neither showed any signs of dissembling or aggression.
I turned to Blood Clot Boy and White Buffalo Calf Pipe Woman. “You, too,” I told them.
The goddess’s triumphant smile vanished. “What?” she cried indignantly. “You dare to presume -- ?”
“You bet Your ass I do. You gave me the power,” I reminded her. “But you put no strictures on its use. If you want me to succeed, then everyone here must participate. Everyone. Even you.” I looked around the group and fixed a calm, pleasant smile on my face. “Let’s all have a seat.”
Blood Clot Boy nodded silently and sank, cross-legged, to the ground. Joseph and Loki did the same. Somewhat ungraciously, White Buffalo Calf Pipe Woman joined them, tucking Her feet to one side.
I plopped down last. “Good,” I said again. “Now, each person will get a turn to speak. Then I will summarize what I have heard. Please do not interrupt anyone else – wait until your turn. Agreed?”
Blood Clot Boy held something out to me. “I would like for us to use this,” He said. “It’s what the white man would call a peace pipe. Whoever holds the pipe has the right to speak.”
“That’s fine,” I said. “Is that agreeable to everyone?”
Heads nodded all around the circle, although the Giant rolled his eyes.
“I will start,” the goddess said, taking the proffered pipe from Blood Clot Boy and lighting it with a snap of Her fingers. She puffed several times, blew the smoke out of Her mouth and nose, and then sat meditatively for a few moments. Then She looked around the circle with an earnest expression. “Loki is correct,” She began. “What his people call Ragnarok is beginning. Other peoples have different names for it. Christians, for example, call it the Apocalypse, and fear it.” She nodded at me.
“But not all peoples view time as linear,” She went on. “Many see it as a Wheel. One era is simply followed by another. That is Our belief. Time will not end when this present era draws to a close; things will merely change.
“My goal, simply stated, is to make the next era a better one than this.” She passed the pipe to Blood Clot Boy and bowed her head.
He puffed in meditation for a few moments, then said, “I have but one goal as well, and that is to protect My people. I charged them with the stewardship of this land. But the whites have blocked my people’s mission and have exploited the land for their own use, polluting it, making it unfit for any life.” He puffed on the pipe again
. “My people have watched and waited, and taken advantage of opportunities as they were presented to us. Now this sacred land is once again under our stewardship. We will not give it up so easily a second time.” Brows knitted, he passed the pipe to Loki.
The pipe looked like a piece of straw in the Giant’s hand. I held my breath, half afraid he would snap it, either accidentally or deliberately. But he put it to his lips and puffed. “Good tobacco,” he told Blood Clot Boy, who bowed in acknowledgement. I began to breathe again.
Loki said to the goddess, “What You say is true. Ragnarok has begun. I must lead my people into war. The final battle will be grim. Many will die. Yggdrasil will fall.” He paused, passing the pipe idly from hand to hand. “I would be as strong as it is possible for me to be. That means having the most effective weapon ever created under my control. The raw materials for such a weapon lie beneath Your land,” he nodded at Blood Clot Boy. “I understand the meaning of sanctity, and I would not violate it, were the stakes not so high. I would not…” He paused, then went on in a strangled tone, “I would have things end differently this time. I would prefer not to spend another eternity in a cave, bound with my own son’s entrails.”
This time? I must have gasped, for he looked at me. The dark pits of his eyes roiled. “Yes, Ragnarok has happened before. And it will happen again, years hence. Time is a Wheel for our folk, too.” He looked back at the pipe and sighed. “I would that the Wheel turned a different way this time. But I worry that it is not possible.” He held the bowl of the pipe in one huge hand and passed it, stem first, to Joseph.
I watched Joseph as he placed the pipe to his lips and inhaled, then let the smoke out in a whoosh. “My goal,” he said, and stopped. Then he looked at me, amber eyes alight. “I have no goal,” he said softly. “I have a job. I have been charged with Guarding Naomi, who is the Chosen One, and I will do it with my last breath.” My own breath caught. Then Joseph turned to Loki. “I don’t know what you had in mind when you told Brock to stick close to her,” he said, “but know this: I will not allow her to be hurt.” His voice had the rough, guttural quality I associated with Coyote.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw White Buffalo Calf Pipe Woman’s fierce, proud grin.
Loki held out his hand for the pipe, and Joseph handed it over. “I never intended to hurt her. Nor do I now. My intention….” He paused; I could see him struggle, debating how much of his plotting to reveal. “Her importance had been revealed to me,” he went on, somewhat mysteriously. “My intention was to win her to my cause.”
Not a snowball’s chance in Hel, I thought. Suddenly I was absurdly grateful for White Buffalo Calf Pipe Woman’s intervention in my life.
Loki shrugged. “I would not have come forward now, but for the matter of the trick you played on Leo.” Unexpectedly, he grinned. “That was nicely done, by the way.”
Joseph grinned back, one professional to another. Loki offered him the pipe again, but Joseph waved it off; he had said all he meant to say. So the Giant handed it to me.
I took the pipe with some trepidation; I’ve never been a smoker. But when in Rome, as they say. I took a tentative puff or two, just for show, while I organized my thoughts. Then I put the pipe in my lap and gazed around the circle. “Good,” I said. “Thank you all for your cooperation. I am much more hopeful now that we can come to an agreement than I was when we began.
“It seems to me that you are not very far apart on the basics. Each of you is dissatisfied with some things that have happened in our current era, and would like to see things change next time around. And we’re agreed that there will be a next time around, which is a big deal,” I said with a grin. “That time is not linear would have been a huge concession for some people.
“Now here is what I’ve heard. Blood Clot Boy would like to keep Looks Far’s land intact. He and White Buffalo Calf Pipe Woman both want more respect for Their peoples. Loki wants more respect for himself. Does that sum things up?” I looked around the circle for affirmation, and each person nodded in turn. Then I said, “Good. I wonder whether we could find a way for each of You to have what You want.”
Normally, at this point in the discussion, I would solicit solutions to the problem, no matter how crazy, and write them on a chalk board. Back in the conference room, there was a white board, but I had no idea how to bring it here, or how to transport the discussion back there. So I had to be content with using my finger in the dirt.
“Can you think of any way,” I asked Blood Clot Boy, “that Loki could get what he needs without defiling the cliff top?”
The god considered the question, then shrugged. “He could make his mine shaft longer,” He said. “Begin it farther away, and make the slope more gradual.”
I handed the pipe to White Buffalo Calf Pipe Woman and printed “Longer mine shaft” in the middle of the circle.
“He could dig somewhere else,” Joseph suggested, cutting a look at Loki. I cut a look of my own at Joseph, but wrote that down, too.
“He could develop a different weapon,” the goddess said.
“I am all ears,” Loki told her.
“You could join with us,” she returned promptly. “The sheer force of will of all the world’s gods and goddesses, brought to bear on your enemies, could turn the tide.”
The cunning look was back on Loki’s face. “You and all the other gods would fight Odin with me?”
She laughed. “No, probably not. But I might send Naomi to negotiate a peace treaty among you.”
Now it was my turn to laugh. “One miracle at a time, please.” I wrote “Different weapon” and “New allies” in the dirt. Then I straightened up. “Anything else? Going once, going twice?” Hearing nothing, I resumed my seat at the edge of the circle. “Now comes the hard part,” I said. “Of the ideas I’ve written down in front of you, which do you think would be the most fair to everyone?”
Silence.
“Should we pass the pipe again?” I asked.
Loki fidgeted. “No,” he said with a sigh. “I will suggest a plan.”
“I am all ears,” Blood Clot Boy said.
“I will look for another sort of weapon for my people, or another source for the materials I need,” Loki said, “with the understanding that if neither may be found, I may come back to you with another proposal for mining the substances beneath your land.”
“A proposal that would not desecrate the cliff top,” Blood Clot Boy amended.
“Of course,” Loki said.
“And I,” White Buffalo Calf Pipe Woman said, “will speak to the gods about your predicament. You shall not have to go through Ragnarok alone again.” Loki gave her a grateful smile. “But,” the goddess said, “I would like to extract a promise from you that you will help Us in Our quest to rein in Jehovah.”
“Gladly,” Loki said, the conniving look back. “In fact, I have one or two ideas already.”
“Then we are done,” White Buffalo Calf Pipe Woman said. “Now we pass the pipe again.” She took a long drag and let it out slowly, eyes closed in enjoyment. Then she passed it to me, patting my leg with pride. I took a shallow puff and gave the pipe to Joseph. So it went, backwards around the circle. When it got to Blood Clot Boy, he took a long pull…
…and as the nondescript clearing faded out, the conference room faded back in. I blinked and glanced around quickly. Joseph was Joseph; Looks Far was Looks Far; and both White Buffalo Calf Pipe Woman and the mountainous shadow surrounding Brock were gone.
I glanced at Joseph with raised eyebrows: Did that really happen? In reply, he grinned and squeezed my forearm. Yes, he seemed to say, and you were terrific. I felt my face grow warm, and turned my focus back to the meeting we had ducked out of.
Apparently our mediation session had lasted only a second or two of real time. Leo still stood frozen, thanks to the competing commands Brock/Loki and I had given him. Leo’s eyes had begun
to bulge under the strain, and his jaw twitched. But his hands were still poised to begin ripping the sales contract to shreds.
“My point,” Brock said, picking up right where we had ducked out, “is that I believe my client is being coerced. In fact, I believe my client is the victim of an Indian curse.”
Charlie, bless him, didn’t even glance Joseph’s way. “Oh?” he asked. “What sort of curse?”
I assumed an expression of extreme interest. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Joseph bend his head forward, suddenly intent on studying the back of one hand.
Brock said, “On the past three mornings, upon arising, Mr. Durant has found corn pollen and feathers in his hotel room.”
“I see,” Charlie said. “I assume he didn’t place them there himself.”
“He did not,” Brock confirmed. “Leo, please sit down.”
Leo sat. He still held the document. His eyes were definitely bulging now.
“And what makes Mr. Durant believe that corn pollen and feathers would be the components of an…Indian curse, did you say?” Charlie inquired.
Leo burst out, “Because that Indian told me so!”
“Well, whoever this mysterious Indian was,” I put in, “he must have been misinformed.” I turned to my former fiancé. “Brock, remember the trip we took to the Navajo reservation a few years ago? Our guide told us corn pollen is sacred. It couldn’t be used for evil. Don’t you remember that?”
Brock nodded silently, his mouth set in a line.
“That’s right,” Charlie chimed in. “Mr. Durant, where in your room was the corn pollen placed?”
He eyed Charlie suspiciously, but he responded. “There was one line across the threshold and another along the windowsill.”
“Well, there you are,” Charlie said, spreading his hands wide. “Whoever put that corn pollen there was blessing the window and doorway, not cursing it. Sounds to me like they were showing you the way out of this mess.”
I glanced sideways at Joseph. His head was still bowed, but he was looking up through his eyelashes, watching Brock.
Leo turned to Perry and said miserably, “I haven’t slept in days. I just want to go home.”
That was my cue. “Tear up the contract, Leo,” I said, with a gentle push.
He looked at me almost gratefully and let it rip before Brock could say another word. In seconds, the conference room table was covered in bits of paper.
“Now, please shake hands with Charlie,” I pushed again. “And then I think we’re done here.”
Hands were shaken all around. Then Leo fairly shoved Brock out the door in front of him. Brock glanced back at me and glared. His alter ego was back, hovering around him as if the flesh-and-blood Brock were the tiny figure inside a nesting doll.
Joseph shifted in his chair. I saw Brock’s hulking shadow turn toward Joseph. Then Joseph flashed the two of them a big Coyote grin. The shadow seemed to raise a hand in salute, one professional to another. But Brock’s expression turned murderous as Durant chivvied him out, saying, “Holt, get me on the first plane out of this cow town.”
As soon as the door shut behind them, I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. It occurred to me that I’d won twice in the space of ten minutes. I felt exhausted and exhilarated at the same time.
Perry sighed more loudly than I had. Looking a little bemused, he said to me, “Nice work, counselor.”
“If you only knew,” I said with a grin. Still, I was surprised. Perry was typically stingy with praise.
But then he said, “You know, Naomi, if you’ve had second thoughts about leaving, your old office is still vacant.”
I got it now. He wanted me back. But I’d just had a heady taste of major league mediating. I’d gotten gods to agree, for crying out loud. And I knew Perry still worked for Leo Durant.
“I appreciate the offer,” I said. “But you know that Robert Frost poem about two roads in a wood?”
And Joseph, bless him, knew exactly which verse I had in mind, and recited it by heart:
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
two roads diverged in a wood, and I –
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
I grinned at Joseph and took his hand.
Perry nodded. “Well. If you change your mind, you know where to find us.”
“Again, too brief a visit,” Charlie said with regret. He held the lobby door open for us as we trailed out.
The wind had kicked up, blowing what was left of the snow into mini-drifts against the building. “Are you sure you can’t stay and celebrate with us?” Looks Far asked him.
“As much as I would love to stay and hear about how corn pollen got into Durant’s hotel room…”
“It was masa harina,” Joseph said quietly, but mirth tinged his voice.
Charlie ignored him. “I’ve got livestock that need looking after,” he continued. “And I want to get back home before all the festivities start. I hear they’re planning quite a show down here tonight.”
“That’s right,” I said, startled to have forgotten. “It’s New Year’s Eve, isn’t it?”
“Yes, indeed,” Charlie said. “Fireworks, drunk drivers, the whole shebang. Any sane person would want to be safe at home before all that gets going.” He shook hands around our small circle. “Naomi, many thanks for your help with all this,” he said when he got to me. “I’m not sure what was going on at the end there, but I could have sworn there was Someone Else in the room with us when Durant tore up that contract.”
“Nope,” I said with a grin. “Just me.” I wasn’t lying; by then, Everybody Else had left.
Charlie looked dubious, but he didn’t press for more. “Don’t forget to call me about those documents you need,” was all he said to me as he got in his car.
“So what’s next?” I said as we watched Charlie drive away. All at once, I felt a little lost. It hit home that I would probably never walk into the building behind me again.
“First, I would suggest getting out of this wind,” Joseph said, huddling into his coat.
“And then,” Looks Far said, “you two should round up George and Shannon and come on up to my place. We’ll have a celebration feast, maybe some dancing and drumming. Start the New Year right.”
“We’re in,” I told Looks Far. “I’ll call Shannon right now.”
Ten hours later, the five of us sat, swaddled in blankets, on Looks Far’s plateau. Dinner was long since over. While it cooked, George and Joseph had impressed us with their dancing as Looks Far drummed and sang. Now we passed a bottle while watching fireworks dot the plains below us.
“I think I can see all the way to Kansas,” Shannon said dreamily.
“I think it’s fuckin’ cold, that’s what I think,” George said. “Looks Far, how come you’ve never put in any of the common comforts up here?”
“You always ask me that, George,” Looks Far said, “and my answer never changes. I like it here just the way it is.”
I was drifting off, snuggled against Joseph, when he said, “You know it’s not over, right?”
I sat up a little. “What’s not over?”
“The war in heaven. We’ve won a battle, that’s all. But Loki will be furious when he realizes how much he’s lost. He and Brock are going to keep making trouble for us. And we haven’t even started on White Buffalo Calf Pipe Woman’s Jehovah project yet.”
I groaned.
“And don’t forget Naomi’s father,” Shannon said.
I remembered, ruefully, that I had never had a chance to resume searching for him. “You’re not helping, Shannon,” I said.
“Yeah, that’s right,” Joseph said, waggling a finger at me. “Don’t forget your father. We’re gonna help you find him.”
“Oh, so it’s a group project now?” I asked.
/> “Of course,” he said. “We’re a team, aren’t we?”
“Joseph,” I said, “shut up and kiss me.”
“Are you pushing me?” he asked with a wide coyote grin.
I hooked an arm around his neck and pulled his lips to mine. “Only if you want me to.”