Storm’s coming…
Title: CROSSWINDAuthor: Lynn Cantwell Genre: Urban Fantasy Pages: Approx 275 Published 11.20 - Amazon
Life on Earth is much improved since the pagan gods' return. As conflict eases around the world, attention -- and money -- has turned to more humanitarian goals: improving the lives of the First Nations peoples and others who were repressed for thousands of years.
But the former ruling class – the military, religious, and corporate leaders who profited under the old system -- are about to stage a last-ditch effort to bring their good times back.
The gods refuse to start a new war against those men, because that would make them no better than Their opponents. Instead, They have drafted three humans to help Them. Together, Tess, Sue and Darrell must find a way past their own flaws to ensure the gods' peace will not be destroyed.
Chapter 4 Copyright 2013 Lynne Cantwell
Two weeks after the kittens arrived,
Sue knew no more about Darrell than she had learned the first day she’d brought
them home. It was driving her crazy.
The more she saw of him, the more
intrigued she was. He was handsome, she thought, with his brown skin and brown
eyes. She knew he was an officer in the Navy – a lieutenant, according to the
Wikipedia listing for the insignia on his uniform – and that he worked at the
Pentagon. She knew he liked animals and that he was, apparently, an only child.
And that was pretty much it.
He continued to spend some time with
them every evening, giving the kittens a workout. He had found a seagull
feather somewhere and brought it home for them to chase. Puck would make
himself crazy trying to catch hold of it; Mrs. Norris was far more likely to
sit and watch unless Darrell practically waved the feather in her face.
Which was why Sue was so surprised,
early one Saturday morning, when Mrs. Norris paused at the top of the basement
stairs, meowed once, dashed downstairs, and didn’t come back up.
She considered going after the cat,
but hesitated. Mrs. Norris would probably find a bug to play with, or
something, and be back upstairs in a few minutes. So Sue finished making her
breakfast.
No cat.
She sat down and ate it.
No cat.
She finished her coffee. Considered
pouring a second cup. Went after the cat instead.
Darrell had pulled down the original
partition that had divided the basement roughly in half crosswise, and had instead
split the room lengthwise, with about two-thirds enclosed for his use. He had
cleaned up the four half-height windows, two at each end, so that they actually
let light in, and built his enclosure so that each part of the basement had two
windows. There was a narrow passageway next to the stairs to allow maintenance
access to the hot water heater in the back corner. Under the stairs, Darrell
had built the women a closet with shelves, and he had also constructed a closet
for off-season clothing storage in the front of the townhouse. Then he gave the
whole basement a fresh coat of paint – even the floor, which was now dark
green. Sue thought the new color was much more pleasant than the battleship
gray they’d had when they moved in.
He had shown them all his
improvements after he was finished. But he didn’t show them his “apartment.”
And he made sure to move in his stuff when both Sue and Tess were at work.
Sue thought it all very odd.
So she descended the stairs with
some trepidation, but also with a healthy dose of curiosity. Darrell, she knew,
wasn’t home; she had seen his car pulling out of the lot through the kitchen
window as she’d entered that morning. And when she didn’t see the cat after a
cursory inspection of their part of the basement, and when she noticed that
Darrell’s apartment door was ajar, she only paused a moment before letting
herself in.
“Mrs. Norris!” she called out, for
form’s sake. “Norrie! Where are you? You need to come out of here, Norrie. Come
on upstairs with me.” She looked over and under furniture – a sofa that had
seen better days, a round table with a folding chair, several plastic crates’
worth of books and movies – without success. Then she thought she heard a meow
from beyond a curtained doorway to the rear of the apartment. “Norrie! Get out
here!” she called again, and ducked through the curtain.
She stopped in surprise.
The room was chockablock with Native
American motifs. An elaborate dreamcatcher hung from the rafters over the bed.
A sort of shield hung on what appeared to be a closet door; a decorated drum
held pride of place in front of a trunk that was draped with a tanned hide.
Atop the trunk was a small charcoal brazier, an eagle feather, and several other
items, all carefully arranged. A staff decorated with more feathers leaned
against the wall next to the trunk. Hung over the altar – for she was certain
that’s what the display on the trunk was – she beheld an oil painting of a
rabbit-eared man clad in richly-embroidered deer hide.
“What are you doing in here?”
Her stomach dropped. Trembling, she
turned and faced Darrell, who looked murderous. “I was looking for the cat. For
Mrs. Norris,” she said apologetically, noticing, even in her embarrassment, how
well he filled out the jacket and jeans he wore.
“So you broke in.”
“No! The door was open! I would have
never come in here if it hadn’t been.” It was clear he didn’t believe her, so
she kept babbling. “Norrie darted down the stairs all of a sudden. I waited a
long time, but she didn’t come back up. So I came down here to find her. And
your door was open, and I didn’t want to come in but I didn’t see her anywhere
on our side and I didn’t want her disturbing your things….”
Darrell seemed to sag as her voice
trailed off. “It’s all right,” he said, sounding defeated.
“So you’re Indian,” she said softly.
At his nod, she said, “I thought all the Indians had to live on reservations
out west. The Trail of Tears and all that.”
“Not us,” he said with a bitter
smile. “The Potawatomi managed to convince the government that we were
Catholic.”
“Potawatomi? I’ve never heard of
them. You.” She risked a small smile.
“We’re Anishinaabeg. So are the
Chippewa – the Ojibwe.”
“Oh! Louise Erdrich’s tribe. I’ve
read some of her novels. She’s a great storyteller.”
He nodded. “Our beliefs are pretty
similar to the Ojibwe.” He pointed his chin at the painting over the altar.
“That guy, for instance. Nanabush. He’s also known as Nanabozho, and a few
other variations. The stories about Him vary, but He’s always the same – kind
of a doofus. And a Trickster.” He said the last part ruefully. “I expect He’s
the reason my door was open.”
Sue blinked. “I’m sorry?”
“He probably lured Mrs. Norris down
here, too,” he went on, as if talking to himself.
The kitten in question meowed
inquiringly from behind Darrell. “There you are!” Sue said in relief, scooping
up the cat. She turned back to him. “Well. I’d better go.”
“Yeah.” He didn’t seem to know where
to look.
She scooted past him. Then she
paused at the curtain. “So your mom….”
“Works for the tribe,” he said. “She
administers some of the educational programming. Including the language
school.”
“Do you speak…Potawatomi?” she
asked, hoping she’d said the name right.
“Yeah,” he said. He gazed sadly at
nothing, his thoughts obviously far away. Then he blinked and came back to
himself. “Look, I’m sorry for all this,” he said.
“For what?” Sue said. “You know I’m
Wiccan, right? I have an altar of my own upstairs. I’d be happy to show you
sometime.” The invitation escaped before she could stop herself. She hoped he
didn’t think she was flirting – come into
my room and see my altar, heh heh heh – but she admitted to herself that
she wouldn’t be upset if he did.
Darrell nodded. And then he said,
“And Tess? What does she believe?”
Sue thought of the goddess who had
chosen her friend – a goddess to whom, she was dead certain, Tess would never
dedicate an altar or anything else – and said, “You’ll have to ask her
yourself.” The words came out more harshly than she meant them to, so she
followed them with a smile. Then she let herself out, closing the door firmly
behind her.
“Thanks,” Darrell said as he
listened to Sue’s footsteps crossing the kitchen above his head. “Thanks a hell
of a lot.”
“You were never going to say anything,”
Nanabush said from where He lounged on the bed. “I merely got the dialogue
going.” He leered at Darrell. “She’s quite a dish, isn’t she? And she likes
you! ‘Come up and see my altar sometime’ – eh? Eh?” He studied Darrell’s face
for a moment. “Or is the short, skinny one more to your taste?”
“Shut up,” Darrell said.
“I’m just trying to help,” Nanabush
said. “We need these women. And you
need to forget about Ruthie.”
“Shut up,” Darrell said again, and
walked out of the room.
“Tess! I figured out Darrell’s
story,” Sue called excitedly from her room as soon as Tess opened her bedroom
door.
“Wait…what?” Tess blinked. “Let me
use the restroom first.”
Sue waited somewhat impatiently. It
had been a couple of hours already since her conversation with Darrell; she had
spent the first hour or so searching the web for information on his tribe, and
the rest of the time debating whether to drag Tess out of bed to tell her, or
wait until she woke up on her own.
Within five minutes, a yawning Tess
was standing in her doorway. “This had better be good,” she said. “I need
coffee.”
“He’s Indian,” Sue said, grinning.
“Isn’t that cool?”
Tess squinted. “Native American, you
mean?”
“Yes! Potawatomi. The Pokagon Band
of Potawatomi Indians has its headquarters in that little town in Michigan
where he’s from. He told me his mother works for them.”
“Cool,” Tess said. “I’m going to get
coffee, and then I’ll come back up, and you can tell me how you found all this
out.” She disappeared down the stairs.
Sue turned back to the picture of
Nanabush on her monitor. Then, smiling, she knelt next to the low table that
served as her altar and lit a candle next to her statue of Gaia. She had a
feeling things were beginning to come together, and that whatever Gaia’s plan
was, it would soon be revealed.
“So what’s the plan?”
Morrigan regarded Nanabush with a
supercilious stare.
“I mean,” the rabbit-eared god said
in the silence, “I’ve done My part. I’ve brought the three of them together.
What happens now?”
Morrigan turned Her gaze to Gaia,
whose expression was dreamy and unfocused. “Gaia!” She snapped.
“Hmm?”
“Our little friend here,” She
sneered, “asked You a question. And frankly, I would like to know the answer
Myself.”
“Oh. Well.” Gaia focused Her
sky-blue eyes on Her companions. “A convergence is coming.”
“A convergence,” Morrigan drawled.
“What sort of convergence?”
“Earthpower,” Gaia said, caressing Her
belly.
Morrigan threw up Her hands. “Will
You stop being cryptic and tell Us what We need to know?”
Gaia glared at Her sister goddess. “I
don’t know,” she said. “If I knew exactly what was going to happen, I wouldn’t
need You two to help Me fix it, would I?” She glanced at Nanabush, who was
staring at Her, mouth agape, and softened Her tone. “Oh, all right. Here is
what I perceive: several Elemental events are coming together, starting in
mid-August in Washington, the capital of the United States.”
“Yes, I know Washington is the capital….” Morrigan began, rolling Her eyes.
Gaia held up a hand to stop Her.
“These Elemental events,” She went on, a trifle louder, “are likely to be the
vanguard of a chain reaction. If left unchecked, I perceive – nay, I fear – that all Our hard work will be
lost.”
“That’s a trifle dramatic, don’t You
think?” Morrigan said.
“Nevertheless,” said Gaia,
unperturbed.
Nanabush ignored the goddesses’
bickering; He had grown so used to it that He was able to tune it out most of
the time. “So this is it,” He mused. “The attack We have feared, ever since Our
hard-won peace agreement with Jehovah.”
Gaia nodded. “And Our three human
avatars, for lack of a better term, are in the best position to thwart it.”
“But All signed onto the agreement,”
Morrigan said. “Even that troublemaker Loki.”
“He’s here, too,” Gaia said.
“Whose side is He on this time?”
Morrigan asked.
Gaia shrugged. “Who knows? His own,
I suspect. As ever.”
Nanabush nodded. “Nothing ever
changes with that one. But if All signed – and that was My understanding, as
well – then Who is stirring up the Elements?”
Gaia smiled at Him. “Think,
Nanabush. Who was missing from the negotiation?”
Nanabush shrugged. “There were a lot
of Us. I didn’t count noses. Except for this one.” He touched a finger to His
own nose and grinned.
Morrigan, lost in thought, didn’t
appear to hear Him. She frowned at Gaia. “You don’t mean Lucifer?” At Gaia’s
nod, Morrigan went off into peals of laughter. “But You can’t be serious! He’s
not a god – he’s some kind of…fallen angel, or something.” Her hands fluttered
for a moment before She crossed Her arms.
“Lesser beings have been promoted to
godhood on the strength of a shorter resume than his,” Gaia reminded Her. “All
it takes is for enough humans to believe in him.”
“Well…” Morrigan began, Her voice
trailing off.
“But he’s not a god,” Nanabush
insisted. “Or he wasn’t, the last I knew. Hellfire and damnation have been
falling out of favor with mainstream Christians for decades. All he’s got are a
few Satanists. And those snake-handlers.”
“Alas,” Gaia said, “he has picked up
more since Jesus returned to Earth.”
“The deniers,” Morrigan muttered.
“Precisely. And the godless men of
power. And all who seek to cause chaos for their own pleasure. Those who have
lost the most since Our reign began.”
“They are not actively worshipping
him, though,” Nanabush said. “The deniers, for one, believe they worship the
true Jehovah.”
“And who better to fulfill that
role?” Gaia said. “The shift in power has given him an opportunity, and he is
taking it. If We do not thwart him now, I fear We will be waiting longer than
two millennia for another chance to restore balance.” She stroked Her belly
again. “And the Earth may not last that long.”
“So it’s war,” Morrigan said, Her
hand going to the sword haft at her side.
“Oh, well said! Well said!” A round
of applause accompanied the sarcastic words. Loki, still clapping, emerged from
behind Morrigan.
“What do You want?” She said, eyeing him.
“I want to help, of course.” Loki spread
his arms wide. “I stand before you a chastened Trickster. Finally, I have taken
My rightful place alongside My brother gods and sister goddesses after My many
thousands of years of exile. I knew when Odin pardoned Me that My reinstatement
came with certain responsibilities – cooperation with My brothers and sisters
being paramount amongst them.
“I couldn’t help overhearing Your
discussion just now, and as I happened to be in the neighborhood, and as I have
a spot of unfinished business with some of the players in this Kabuki drama….
Ah, Nanabush,” He said, grinning. “Good to see You, Sir! You are a rabbit after
My own heart.”
“Coyote said as much,” Nanabush
responded equably.
“You’ve spoken to Coyote? Then You’ve
heard about Our clever victory over the Jaguar God.” Loki smiled in
satisfaction.
“He tells it a little differently,”
Nanabush said, stifling a grin. “I believe He said something about winning the
battle, but nearly losing the war.”
Loki waved one hand. “He has always
been one to over-dramatize. So,” He said, turning to the goddesses, “who’s in
charge?”
“Not. You.” Morrigan glowered at
him.
“Of course not! I am merely here to
assist.”
“Good.” Morrigan’s expression did
not ease.
“Come and sit next to Me, Loki,”
said Gaia, patting the ground next to Her. When He had complied, She said, “No
tricks, all right? None of Us will have time to do damage control.”
“That’s all in the past,” He said,
one hand raised as if swearing to it. “The only tricks I intend to play will be
against Our adversary.” Gaia stared into His eyes long enough that He threw up
both hands. “Honest!”
Morrigan snorted. Loki glared at Her.
“And Diana?” Gaia asked. “Can We
count on Her, too?”
“Of course,” said the Huntress,
joining Them. “And I promise that You need have no concern about Loki. Thor
gave Me more than enough ammunition when He entrusted Him to Me.”
Loki looked up at Diana, disgruntled.
“Oh, that’s perfect,” he complained. “Rein in the old Trickster. Make sure He
toes the line.” He pointed at Nanabush. “What about Him, then? Who’s keeping an
eye on the Hare?”
Nanabush chortled. “Oh, please. I’m
an amateur compared to You.”
“The more important question,”
Morrigan said, “is who is keeping an eye on Our adversary.”
Loki grinned. “Leave that to Me.”
Lynne Cantwell has been writing fiction since the second grade, when the kid who sat in front of her showed her a book he had written, and she thought, "I could do that."
The result was Susie and the Talking Doll, a picture book, illustrated by the author, about a girl who owned a doll that not only could talk, but could carry on conversations. The book had dialogue but no paragraph breaks.Today, after a twenty-year career in broadcast journalism and a master's degree in fiction writing from Johns Hopkins University (or perhaps despite the master's degree), Lynne is still writing fantasy. In addition, she is a contributing author at Indies Unlimited.
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Amy, thanks very much for hosting me today! I hope everybody enjoys the excerpt. :)
ReplyDeleteOne of my favorite parts of the book, and it's great to hear Lynne read!
ReplyDeleteI always love to listen to stories, so it was such fun to hear Lynne read the excerpt. Great to learn more about the story. Thanks so much for the giveaway. I love dream catchers and the cat's name is a nice shout out to Harry Potter. :)
ReplyDelete~Jess