CHAPTER EIGHT TRUTH AND CONSEQUENCES
CHAPTER EIGHT
TRUTH AND CONSEQUENCES
“You have noticed that the truth comes into this world
with two faces. One is sad with suffering,
and the other laughs; but it is the same face,
laughing or weeping.”Black Elk
9:00 AM
June 14th
Pine Ridge Reservation
Greyeagle looked down the gravel road that led from the highway to their campground.
A big, blue extended cab dually pulling a horse trailer was heading their way.
Greyeagle watched the big truck pull up and stop.
In it were two people. One, he recognized as Declan Caine, but he didn’t immediately recognize the woman.
She smiled as they climbed out of the truck and headed toward them.
“Declan, thank you for coming,” Greyeagle said, shaking his hand.
“Aye, I would’na miss it, boyo,” Declan said. “Where are me manners? This is Abby Sartori. A dear friend and former cop, herself. I thought she might come in handy.”
“Nice to meet you,” Abby said, extending her hand.
Greyeagle shook it and nodded. He suddenly remembered that they’d met in the Absaroka Mountains a few months back.
“It’s a pleasure to see you again,” Greyeagle said. “We met in Wyoming last fall.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Abby said. “Up in the Absarokas.”
“Sorry, boyo,” Declan said. “Musta slipped me mind.”
Greyeagle liked that she had a firm handshake and didn’t seem put off by the circumstances at all.
“Where are Doc and Jed?” asked Greyeagle.
“Off on business,” Declan said. “Likely causin’ trouble o’ their own, no doubt. So, d’ ye think ye’ll need ‘em? It might take ‘em a day ‘r two t’ get here. Last I checked, they was in Italy.”
“No, you’re here,” Greyeagle said. “That should suffice.”
“I kin always call for White Horse and Six-Killer,” Declan said. “Riordan and Siobhan are in California, doin’ God knows what.”
“If things get worse,” Greyeagle said, “then you can call them. For now, I just need your help gaining access to an active crime scene.”
“Ye was a’ tellin’ me ‘bout that on the phone,” Declan said. “I made a few calls o’ me own. Due t’ the nature o’ the attack, the Marshals got me access t’ the site. I can bring ye in as me associate. I’ve got a Marshal’s badge, if’n ye need it.”
“It would probably help,” Greyeagle said. “I don’t have the authority of Team Odin behind me anymore. Not that it would’ve done me any good. My DOD credentials wouldn’t get me access to an active crime scene unless we’d been invited in.”
“From what I was told,” Declan replied, “they’re a’ considerin’ callin’ in the Wild Hunt, anyway. They’re a’ scratchin’ their heads tryin’ t’ figure out what happened there. So, d’ ye know what happened ‘r are ye lookin’ for clues yerself?”
“We think we know,” Greyeagle said. “I’d better tell you everything before we get started. It’ll save time later.”
Greyeagle spent the next half hour bringing Declan up to speed on what had been happening over the last few days. Once he finished, Declan leaned back and blew out a breath.
“So, this brother o’ yers can shift too,” Declan said, thinking out loud, “but as t’ what it is, ye don’t know. Whate’er these Makhótaneo’o are. I know ‘bout the Hotamétaneo’o, but Makhótaneo’o ‘r new t’ me.”
“Your pronunciation is near perfect,” Greyeagle said. “Do you speak Lakota?”
“After a fashion,” Declan said. “I learned Osage as a wee boy, and it’s a Siouan language. The Osage are related t’ the Sioux.”
“That explains the slight variation,” Greyeagle said. “How soon can you get us access to the crime scene?”
“Let me unhook the trailer, and we can go now,” Declan said. “I brought a few horses, just in case. Have ye got a place I can leave ‘em while we’re gone?”
“There’s a corral behind the cabin,” Greyeagle said. “We can put them there, and you can unhook the trailer wherever you like.”
After they finished putting away the horses and parking the trailer, Greyeagle gathered his gear. Declan and Abby were waiting by the trailer.
“Who all’s a’ comin’ with us?” asked Declan.
“Just me and you two,” Greyeagle said. “Maybe Cassie. She’s a former deputy sheriff and knows how to examine a crime scene.”
“Bring her along,” Declan said. “I’ve got badges for both o’ ye. Just wear it on yer belt next t’ yer gun and no one’ll ask too many questions. If they get nosey, I’ll show ‘em me own credentials.”
“How long have you been back with the Marshals?” asked Greyeagle.
“I ne’er really left,” Declan answered. “I know I told the Wild Hunt that I did, but havin’ the credentials does come in handy once in a while.”
“True,” Greyeagle replied. “I wish I had those to fall back on.”
“Well, now,” Declan said, grinning, “there might be a bit I can do ‘bout that. Ye see, I still hae the authority t’ recruit for the Nightmare Hunters. It’s still an active team with the Marshals. I can deputize all o’ ye, and ye can use the badges t’ help when yer hunting things like this.”
“You’d do that for us?” asked Greyeagle.
“Boyo, I wish I’d a’ done it a long time ago,” Declan replied.
“I shoulda thought o’ it a’for. Although it ain’t quite like it was in the old days.
Now there’s paperwork involved, not just a’ tossin’ ye a badge.
But we’ll take care o’ all o’ that, later.
Ye realize, though, only those o’ ye with law enforcement trainin’ should be flashin’ those around.
The others ‘ll have ‘em in case they need ‘em, but no real cop ‘ll be fooled by the Mohawk Twins, badge ‘r no.”
“I’ll take care of teaching them how to act around law enforcement,” Greyeagle said. “Let me tell the others where I’m going and grab Cassie. I’ll be right back.”
Greyeagle and Cassie emerged from the trailer moments later, both wearing their tactical belts and pistols.
Declan handed them both a round US Marshal’s badge already on a leather clip, and they hooked them to their belts next to their guns.
Both of them read “Special Deputy – United States Marshals.”
“There now,” said Declan, “if ye don’t look all official now. If anyone asks ‘bout yer hair, tell ‘em it’s a religious exemption t’ the groomin’ standard.”
“I will,” Greyeagle replied. “Ready?”
“As I’ll e’er be,” Declan replied.
They climbed into Declan’s truck, and they pulled out of the driveway. It was about an hour’s drive to the crime scene, and they rode mostly in silence. After a while, Declan finally broke the silence.
“So, boyo,” he began, “what’re ye plannin’ t’ do if it turns out yer brother’s behind this?”
“We stop him,” Greyeagle replied. “Hopefully peacefully, but I really doubt it will go that way.”
“That’s sad,” Declan said. “No one should hae t’ make that kind o’ decision. Fightin’ family ain’t no kind o’ choice t’ make.”
“I don’t make it lightly,” Greyeagle replied. “I had hopes that Kade could be brought back to the light, but our meeting didn’t go as planned. I’m less hopeful now that he can be brought back to the light.”
“I guessed that by the shiner,” Declan said, nodding at Greyeagle’s black eye. “I’ll call White Horse and Six-Killer. Maybe White Horse can help figure out what’s ailin’ ye.”
“I’d appreciate it,” Greyeagle said.
“Think nothin’ o’ it, boyo,” Declan replied. “Now, get yer game face on, ladies and gent. We’re fixin’ t’ pull int’ the crime scene now.”
Greyeagle looked up and saw a large contingent of marked and unmarked vehicles where the oil rig once stood. As they pulled up to the fence, a deputy stopped them.
“Something I can do for you folks?” asked the deputy.
Declan presented his credentials.
“US Marshals,” he said. “Here t’ take a look at the scene.”
“Hang on,” said the deputy as he checked a clipboard. “Here it is. Are they with you?”
Declan gave the man a confused look.
“No, dumb-arse,” Declan said, “they’re bloody hitchhikers I thought might want a’ feckin’ tour. Who the bloody hell else would I hae in me truck? Faith and bejaysus lad, use yer feckin’ head.”
Greyeagle, Cassie, and Abby held up their badges so he could see them.
“Sorry, sir,” the deputy said, grinning. “I have to ask. Park over there on the left and check in with the scene commander before you begin looking around. He’ll want to know whose on his crime scene.”
“Sounds good, boyo,” Declan said. “Sorry, I snapped at ye, there. I’ve driven all night and am in no mood for red tape, if ye get me meaning.”
“No worries, sir,” said the deputy. “Honestly, it was pretty damned funny.”
They pulled in and parked, then climbed out of the truck.
“Let me do the talkin’ when we get t’ the scene commander,” Declan said. “He’s likely a Fed. Those are FBI Suburbans o’er there. Likely some bloody bureaucrat who don’t know his arse from a hole in the ground. Scene commander, me dimpled arse.”
They walked toward the tent near the edge of the fluttering crime scene tape. Declan ducked inside and froze when he saw who was standing behind the table.
“Jake Wisdom[6], ye auld bastard,” Declan said.
“Caine,” Wisdom said. “I heard you were coming. What brings you out this way?”
“Well, this is more me type o’ investigation ‘n yers,” Declan said. “What brought PACT all the way out here?”
“What’s PACT?” asked Greyeagle.
“Paranormal Anomalous Containment Team,” Wisdom said. “If you’re working with Caine, I figured you’d know that.”
“They’re new,” Declan said dismissively. “Ye did’na answer me question, boyo.”
“The call went up the food chain,” said Wisdom. “They called me. Take a look at the tracks and see for yourself. Whatever did this, it wasn’t any cryptid we’ve ever seen before.”
“Are they wolf-like?” asked Greyeagle.
“No,” said Wisdom. “Like I said, go take a look for yourselves. If you’ve got any idea what made those tracks, I want to know about it.”
Greyeagle nodded.
“Alright, boyo,” Delcan said. “We’ll play this yer way, for now.”
“You cowboys,” Wisdom said, shaking his head. “At least Sandoval’s easy to deal with. I’d put money on him in a quickdraw against you, too. I saw him outdraw something that wasn’t even human. They call him the Sidewinder. Might be faster than the Widowmaker.”