Raven Stole the Moon (35 page)

T
HE AIRPLANE WAS TOO LOUD FOR
R
OBERT TO HEAR
E
DDIE
. O
N
the drive out to Livingstone’s house, Eddie was once again relegated to the back of Tom’s pickup while Robert rode in the cab. So when they got to David’s house, Robert knew little more than when they had left Wrangell. And he was really mad.

David greeted them at the door. He was dressed in jeans and a denim shirt decorated with beaded fringes, and he had a bright red blanket wrapped over his shoulders. In the living room, a fire raged in the fireplace. Outside, the leaves sparkled in the wind.

“I can’t believe I didn’t stop it,” Eddie said to David. ”I saw the whole thing. It makes so much sense now. He wouldn’t let me see his eyes.”

“They can be very persuasive. They can fog your mind.”

“I should have stopped it.”

“Where’s my wife, please?” Robert broke in, exasperated. He was tired of asking the same question over and over again.

“He doesn’t know?” David asked Eddie.

“First of all, I’m standing right here, so you can talk directly to me,” Robert broke in. “B, I don’t know shit. And, three, who the hell are you and what did you do with my wife?”

“I didn’t do anything with your wife, Mr. Rosen. Your wife was taken by the kushtaka.”

“And who are the kushtaka?”

“They’re Indian spirits. They took your son two years ago.”

Robert threw up his hands.

“Un-fucking-believable! In this day and age! You know, if this were Borneo or something I could imagine a shaman telling me this. But this is America! We have a public education system that’s second to none! I can’t believe this crap.”

“Robert,” Eddie interrupted, trying to calm him down, “I saw it with my own eyes. Someone who looked like David came to the house last night and took Jenna.”

“Hey, Einstein, did you ever think maybe it
was
David and this is all a big sham?”

“It wasn’t me, Robert, I was right here. The kushtaka are shape-shifters. They read your thoughts and appear to you as someone you trust. Usually it’s a relative; sometimes it’s a friend. If you don’t trust anyone, they’ll appear as a stranger.”

“Two words,” Robert said, holding up two fingers. “Bull and shit.”

David took the blanket from his shoulders and put it in his backpack, which was already heavy with supplies.

“I’m not asking you to believe anything, Mr. Rosen,” David said, moving to the door. “Your wife and son are with the kushtaka. You can choose to believe it or not; it doesn’t change the truth. I’m going to get them. If I’m lucky, I’ll come back. If I’m very lucky, I’ll bring Jenna with me.”

He opened the glass door and turned to Eddie.

“I need you to keep that fire going no matter what. That fire is my beacon. Without it, I may not find my way back.”

Eddie nodded.

“You two will be safe in here. You should stay inside until I get back. If I’m not back in eight days, I left the number for my wife in Vancouver. Call her. She’ll know what to do.”

David stepped outside and headed across the clearing toward the trees in the distance.

E
IGHT DAYS? IT
resonated in Robert’s head. For some reason he was having a hard time digesting the concept. Eight days. That’s one day more than a week. A hundred and sixty hours plus thirty-two hours is a hundred and ninety-two. How could Livingstone be gone that long? How could he expect Robert to be in the same room with Eddie for that long?

Robert and Eddie sat in silence for the better part of an hour. That left a hundred and ninety-one to go. And for that one hour they were together, everything that Eddie did drove Robert up the wall. Like fingernails on a chalkboard. Eddie, standing before the fire, poking it methodically with the poker, pushing at the logs to let the flames eat up the wood. Leaning down and blowing on the embers to make them glow. Delicately positioning a new log on top of the others. How annoying can it get?

He wondered what, exactly, it was about Eddie that Jenna liked. His brutality, probably. His mountain man mentality. How about the fact that he made fires. Robert hadn’t built a fire in their house for years. It smelled the place up and got the floor dirty. Maybe it came down to building fires. Robert had suggested replacing their fireplace with a gas unit a while ago and Jenna rejected it outright. Robert should have seen the signs.

If there was something to distract him. A TV so he could watch the weather channel or something. Anything. An old videotape of
Blade Runner
that he could watch over and over again. If he had to sit in the living room with Crocodile Dundee over here for another hundred and ninety hours he thought he would go insane.

“Don’t they have a TV here?” Robert finally asked.

“I doubt it,” Eddie said, shaking his head. “We’re pretty far away from anything.”

“They could get one of those new personal antenna deals. You know, the ones that get nine hundred channels.”

Eddie nodded silently, looking into the fire. Robert wondered if he watched any sports. They must have football in Alaska. Or basketball. Didn’t he see an article once about basketball being a cult thing in Alaska? High school teams traveling all over the state for tournaments.

“What happened to your arm?” Robert asked.

“Fishing accident.”

Robert nodded.

“You’re a fisherman?”

“Yep.”

“Is it true all fishermen are alcoholics?”

Eddie looked up at Robert, who was sitting at the dining table on the other side of the room. He couldn’t tell if Robert was being nasty or just had a grim sense of humor.

“No,” Eddie said, turning back to the fire.

Robert stood up and moved toward Eddie, taking a seat on the sofa across from the fireplace.

“I’m sorry, did I offend you? I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“You didn’t offend me,” Eddie said.

Robert watched Eddie poke at the logs and was struck by the idea that this guy may have been poking Jenna, too. He denied it, true, but still, Robert didn’t believe him. Robert suspected that Jenna and Eddie were conspiring against him. Maybe this was all a big hoax to lure Robert out into the remote wilderness and kill him. Maybe Eddie was just warming up the poker until it was white hot, and then he would run Robert through with it.

Robert suddenly felt repulsed by Eddie, and he decided he wanted a straight answer so everybody could see everyone else’s cards. It’s not fair to hide things if you’re about to spend eight days with someone. Let’s lay it all out. Let the chips fall where they may.

“Tell me, Eddie, did you fuck my wife?”

Eddie turned and raised his eyebrows, surprised.

“Excuse me?”

“Did you fuck my wife?”

Eddie stood up and brushed off his jeans.

“I don’t think that’s the issue here,” Eddie said, unsure of how he should respond.

“Oh, that’s the issue, all right. You know, you were very good back in the house last night, denying the whole thing. I believed it for a while. You know, that Jenna had come up here to get away for a while and get her head straight—”

“That
is
why she came up here.”

“I believe that. I believe that. But then when you put the dog in the truck and drove away, I saw the way she was sitting in the truck. She was too close, you know? She was right on top of you, and that’s when I realized you were lying.”

Robert fiddled with the zipper on his jacket, trying to act nonchalant, trying to calm himself in the face of his anger.

“So, I want to know, straightforward, you know? Man to man. Did you fuck my wife?”

Eddie didn’t want to answer that question. It wasn’t that he cared if Robert knew; he just didn’t like the phrasing. Fuck. He didn’t
fuck
Jenna; that’s not how it happened.

“I don’t understand,” Robert said, forcing a laugh. “Why can’t you answer me?”

Eddie looked at Robert and saw the anger and confusion in his eyes, and, man to man, he wanted to tell him.

“We slept together once.”

Robert didn’t react visibly. His face remained unchanged, his eyes focused on Eddie. But his insides were on fire.

“Did you like it?”

Eddie sighed and shook his head. He sat down on the brick fireplace and rubbed his forehead.

“You don’t understand. It’s not about that.”

“Have you ever been married?”

“No.”

“Then how do you know what it’s about?”

Oh, man, Eddie felt like shit. This whole thing was a mistake. If they hadn’t been greedy and gone on that extra halibut opening, he wouldn’t have hurt his arm and he never would have met Jenna and he wouldn’t be having this conversation.

“Mr. Rosen—”

“Call me Robert. After all, we’re practically brothers.”

“Okay, Robert—”

“Pussy partners. A friend of mine calls it pussy partners. Get it?”

“Yeah, look, Robert, I understand that you’re angry. But you have to understand: I’m not the problem here; I’m the symptom. Jenna is very upset and she feels very alone—”

“I wonder if you could do me a big favor and stop telling me about my wife.” Robert’s voice was shaking. He tried to appear calm, tried not to make sudden movements or let go of the sofa cushions so Eddie could see his hands shake. But he was very upset.

“I mean, maybe I’m out of line, Ed, but did you two just meet, or has this been going on for years behind my back?”

“We just met.”

“Okay, you just met. So here’s the deal. We just met, too, only about ten years ago. So do me a favor, don’t tell me what Jenna’s problems are. Okay? I think I have a pretty good idea.”

Eddie shrugged and looked into the fire, and Robert tried to slow down his heart rate. He hadn’t wanted to get upset, but it just came out. The idea that this guy would come in like he knew Jenna and tell Robert what was going on. Incredible. Robert had spent every day with her, slept every night next to her for almost ten years, and now this guy was going to explain Jenna to him. It was beyond words. It was frustrating. Aggravating. Infuriating.

Robert hurled himself off the sofa and to the back door. He went out into the yard and walked down toward the water. He wanted some fresh air and to be alone. He needed to calm down and get himself under control. Another hundred and eighty-nine hours to go. He would have to pace himself if he was going to make it.

D
AVID WANDERED
through the woods concentrating on keeping his mind clear. He must be blank. He must be no more conspicuous than a leaf on a tree. That is how a shaman moves. Reflecting his surroundings, not commenting on them. There is no room for interpretation in the shaman’s world. Things exist and that is all. Nothing is surprising; nothing is startling. It is no more unusual for a bear to talk to a shaman than a twig to fall from a tree. The sun may seem to rise and set in five minutes and then do it again. It is simply nature revealing a different side of itself to the shaman. No cause for alarm.

But the world waits to reveal itself to a shaman. It never happens on the first day. A shaman must fast. A shaman must not rely on earthly energy to see; he must rely on his internal energy. Therefore, he must deprive himself of food until the only thing that keeps him moving is his inner spirit. When his inner spirit is so exposed, nature may choose to reveal itself.

It may take a day; it may take eight days. If it has not happened by the eighth day, the shaman knows that the spirit world has not found him worthy and has refused his entry. Some shamans choose to continue the fast until they die, not wanting to suffer the humiliation of defeat. Others will return to their people, pretending they have the power. They are usually punished by the spirits and end their lives in misery.

David’s first fast, when he was eighteen, lasted eight days. On the sixth day, David didn’t think he could continue. He lay on the ground, his stomach cramping as it shrunk, unable to move because of the weakness in his legs. He lay on the ground in agony as the sun beat down on him. And as the sun set on his sixth day, and David had all but resolved to give up his quest and return to his father a failure, he was approached by a spirit. It was the spirit of the land otter. The kushtaka. The most powerful spirit and the most coveted by a shaman.

They sat across from each other, David and the otter, for two days, staring into each other’s eyes. The otter revealed things to David, shared its knowledge with him. Which roots would make him strong, how to look for coves where fish were plentiful, how to kill an animal without causing it undue pain, how to look into the sky and see what the future would hold. All of these things were whispered into David’s ear by the spirit who had accepted him into its realm. And then, on the eighth day of his fast, David was strong, so strong. The otter that had given him the gift was no longer in need of its earthly body and it fell over, dead. David cut out the otter’s tongue and wrapped it in a piece of chamois, binding it tight with a sinew of bear gut. In this little bundle was his power to speak with the spirits, and he wore it around his neck always. It told the spirits that he had the power, and they must regard him with respect.

A shaman must renew his power or lose it. Every year, a shaman must fast to prove his worth to the spirit world. Several years ago, David had not shown his respect for the spirit world in this way. He had abused his power, using it for selfish means, and he had grown weak and soft. At Thunder Bay, the kushtaka shaman had shown David the error of his ways and David had never forgotten it.

But David was strong now. He had fasted this spring, so he was sharp and ready. And unlike his last encounter with the kushtaka, David knew what to expect this time. He was afraid, true. When Jenna had first approached him, he was too afraid even to consider helping her. But upon reflection he realized that he
had
to help her. He had an obligation. Not to Jenna. To himself. He owed himself the chance to avenge the death of his child. He deserved the chance to strike back at the kushtaka shaman who had stolen from him.

So David wandered through the woods, open to the spirits, ready for something to show him the way. His path would open to him, he knew. The way would be made clear. He just had to be willing and patient.