Chapter 5

5

W ith every step she took, the closer she got to the only home she’d ever known, and every single time, the little butterflies in her tummy danced with excitement and joy. The Thorntree Reservation was special in so very many ways. There was no place like in the whole world. The Great Creator, the Universe, and The Powers That Be had taken a little piece of Heaven, Blessed with all their extraordinary powers, and created a haven that could never and would never be duplicated.

Sure, it was Magical. Everybody knew that. All a person had to do was get close to its borders, and they could feel how truly wonderful it was.

Yes, it was Sacred. It was the only indigenous land in the state of Texas that had always– and would always –belonged to the Cherokee people.

But what made it like no other place in the entire world, was all the people Abbie loved were there. The ones she held dear, the ones who she would do anything for, the people she would give her life to save, the Thorntree Res was where they lived .

It was home–and that word meant so much more than just a building. It truly was where her heart was, and for the first time, she could ever remember–something not quite right filled the air around the Res.

She couldn't put her finger on it, but with every step she took, the little voice in the back of her head screamed just a little bit louder. It refused to be ignored. Had it been corporeal, she had no doubt it would have also been jumping up and down, demanding her attention.

On one hand, she knew it wasn't the Timber She-Wolf with whom she shared her soul. It didn't matter that Abbie had never Shifted and probably never would. Faoiltiama–Faye, as she liked to be called, was always present and forever helping Abbie in any way she could. She was a gift from the Great Creator, the Universe, and most importantly, Abbie's dad.

On the other, she was starting to wonder if it might just be the Essence of the True N?nn?’h? Warrior she would someday become. She’d been told, and read many times that one day, one very specially ordained day, the true Spirit of the People Who Would Live Forever would be fully realized within her.

Abbie was also all too aware that if she hadn’t found her Mate, their union hadn’t been blessed by the Universe, and she didn’t wear the Mating Mark of her Dragon by midnight on her birthday of her one hundred and twenty-fifth year she would become a Natural N?nn?’h? Warrior and therefore, she would be invisible. Sadly, Christmas Eve, that very special anniversary of the day Abigail Annabella Addams first saw the light of day, was just around the corner.

Shuffling through the many levels of her mind, all the hundreds of thousands of ‘little boxes’ she’d created over the years to keep things somewhat organized in her crazy brain, there was always the one she couldn’t–or just didn’t–open. It was the one that had been there from the very beginning. It was where the little voice–the loose interpretation of Beannaichte Le Lomadh Spiorad lived.

Explained by her dad’s mom, Grandma Fione , Beannaichte Le Lomadh Spiorad meant Blessed With Many Spirits, and only the most fortunate, most special, highly extraordinary people received those gifts from the Great Creator, the Universe, and all The Powers That Be . For the longest time, Abbie thought her Grandma, who was as Scottish as the day was long, was just biased because she was her Nana.

Then, the little box started to talk. Well, it didn't really talk. What it did was more like send out psychic vibrations that, for the first couple of months, had Abbie thinking she was losing her mind. After consulting with Grandma Mary and Momma Maybelle, the Tribal Medicine Woman and Elder of the Wisdom, she was happy to find out that she was not going crazy. She was a little less happy to learn that the 'little voice' was something she was going to have to learn to more than live with; she was going to have to coexist and sooner or later, talk back to.

So far, the conversing part hadn’t happened. But what was occurring with more frequency were the times the box where the ‘little voice’ lived glowed, the times it shook, and the times–like the present–when that box vibrated like the washing machine during a spin cycle and little voice refused to be ignored.

Was it counting down to her birthday? Was it telling her she needed to have lunch? Was it..? Was it? Well, hell, was it telling her that her Dragon was nearby?

None of it made sense, especially the part about the man made for her by the Universe. And as of that very moment, she didn't know who or where her Mate was. That led her to wonder if she could live out eternity, not being seen by anyone or anything unless she chose to make herself known.

Some days, it sounded like a good thing. Most of the time, it scared the living shit right out of her. She figured with her luck, it would take her a millennium or two to figure out how to make herself seen, and by that time, well… She didn't want to think about it.

Snapping her out of her worries about the future, the little voice got so strong, so loud, so insistent that Abbie wondered if it might be time to take the lid off that specific box and see what all the hubbub was about. Would that speed up the deadline for her Mating? Would it change the way her Magic worked, who she was, or, most importantly, make her instantly invisible?

She just didn't know. But she was seriously thinking about throwing caution to the wind and going for it. Maybe meeting the little voice–or whatever was making all the noise–face to face would make things easier. It might even lead her to her Mate or, at the very least, call him to her.

But that felt all wrong. Somehow, and she didn't know how she just knew that it was not the right time to shake hands with the Essence of the N?nn?'h?. Her intuition was telling her that she had bigger fish to fry. That the little voice was so insistent because there was something much more pressing that needed her attention.

Then she remembered the weird feeling, the sense of something being not quite right, and she stopped mid-step. Laying her hand on Sydney’s arm, she waited until her friend had also stopped, then asked, “Do you feel that? Can you…?”

"Oh, thank the Great Goddess," the blond blurted out, an expression of relief instantly falling over her face. "I thought it was just me–like maybe I was losing my mind or overreacting to something nearby." Raising her eyebrows and bouncing her head, an action Abbie knew signaled that her friend was about to reveal something in confidence, something she wouldn't tell almost anyone else, Sydney spilled, "I don't always have a good handle on what all the crazy Magic whipping around inside of me is trying to tell me. “Everyone keeps sayin’ it’s gonna take time to get used to, and they could not be more right. There were days that I thought something totally over the top, cuckoo-banana-pants-crazy, was about to happen. I was positive I needed to sound the alarm and make sure everyone took cover because the sky was falling. Cross my heart, you would've laughed your ass off as I ran around doing my best Chicken Little impression. I raced to Shavon, bolted through the huge Council doors without even knocking, and screamed, "All hell was about to break loose."

Huffing with such gusto that the blond curls framing her face flew up and then floated back into place, she continued. "Boy, did I feel foolish? First of all, every damn Oracle, Visionary, Prophesier, Other Elder, and all the rest were there. When it ended up being nothing more than somebody important–highly Magical or Mystical or something Otherworldly way over my pay grade–arriving at the Citadel–like the people in that very room, I was mortified."

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.”

"Thanks, but that's not the worst. One time, I lost my ever–lovin' mind, and it was just the seasons being changed by the Enchantment of the Elemental Visionary on one of the other Realms." Shaking her head as a lovely pink blush colored her cheeks, she added, "Without Shavon or one of the other Oracles around to ask questions, I have pretty much learned to take a 'wait and see' approach. That way, I'm not embarrassed twenty-three-and-a-half hours out of twenty-four every day."

“Girl, I so hear ya’. I haven’t run into a room with people like that, but I have yelled my fool head off more times than I like to admit. And I still have trouble sometimes, but it’s nothing compared to what you got goin’ on up in that cute curvy behind of yours." Pointing with both her index fingers, she wiggled them up and down, shimmied her shoulders, and winked. "I can't even imagine how all of your Abracadabra-hoo-ha-woohoo feels when something unfamiliar rubs up against it.”

Twirling a stray red curl around the index finger of her right hand because it helped her think and gave her something to do with her hands, Abbie went on, “If I’m not puttin’ my foot in my mouth, I’m missin’ somethin’ as obvious as the nose on my face, and I only have about point-zero-zero-zero-zero one percent of the Enchantment you have. So, the fact that you’re still in one piece and so is the Refuge and the Citadel, says you are a freakin’ rock star.”

“Okay, yeah, whatever. You are one little powerhouse, Girlie. Don’t you ever forget that. You are the first True and Natural N?nn?’h? Warrior to walk the Earth in a really , really long time. Take some credit, my friend. Stop downplayin’ your gifts.”

"Well, I am not all the way a True and Natural N?nn?'h? Warrior just yet and still don't completely comprehend all that that really means. Then there's the fact that there's still stuff that needs handlin'." Tilting her head to the side, she huffed a short breath. "Ya' know what I mean?"

“Oh, pfft, do not sweat the small stuff, and findin’ your Dragon is small stuff. As a matter of fact, we’ll start lookin’ for your hunka-hunka-burnin’ Winged Warrior right after we have coffee and sweets.”

“Yeah, okay, if we get to it. Spendin’ quality time with you is way more important than any man.” Abbie tried to downplay the excitement she felt that Sydney was willing to help her find her Mate. She hadn’t even thought about asking, but somehow, her friend always knew exactly what to say to make her feel better.

Then she remembered something Syd had just said, and she needed to add, “And I want you to know that I don’t downplay my Gifts. I am more than thankful and grateful for each and every one of them. I just know what I’ve got goin’ on, and I’m more than okay with that. I also know, ‘cause I can feel it from a mile away, that you are wired for sound, and I am so damn proud to call you my friend.”

“Right back atcha,” Syd winked. “And for the record, I think we’re both pretty damn awesome.”

"You know it. We are all that and a big ass bag of chips. We even got the matching T-shirts." Snickering at her own joke and thinking about the ugly green and red Christmas shirts they'd gotten in place of ugly sweaters only last year, she added, "And while we're lookin' for my Dragon, we're gonna find yours too."

"Aww, thanks. I know Garrett's okay." She tapped her temple. "The Oracles keep tellin' me that I'll know when and if he needs me." Nodding, Syd's smile faltered as she got them back on track and asked, "So, what do you think this feeling is?" Holding up her arm, she pointed to the goosebumps. "These guys are dancing the Macarena, and the butterflies in my tummy are thinkin' about gettin' in on the act. It's close to the weirdest thing I've ever felt–and that's sayin' something, 'cause, in the last ten years, I have felt weirdness on a level I didn't know existed. "

“Yeah, I know you have. And I feel the same heebie-jeebies you do,” Abbie nodded. “I am so jumpy. It feels like I need to keep lookin’ over my shoulder because something’s comin’ for me or someone close to me that should not be there. I absolutely hate this feeling, especially when I have no clue what it is or where it’s coming from.”

“Ditto.”

"All I can be sure of is that something is way over-the-top cattywampus, and it's not gonna get fixed all by itself." Stopping to think for a second, she snapped her fingers when an idea hit her. "Let me holler at Auggie. She is pretty much always at the Res, and the eeriness seems to be floating from that direction.” She pointed to the west.

“Yep, sure does.”

Nodding in agreement, Abbie continued, "You know as well as I do that Auggie only leaves home if she's forced. Even then, she makes a big fuss and threatens to curse anyone in her path even though I'm pretty sure the worst she could do is Shift into her Timber Wolf and bite 'em in the butt." Shrugging, she winked. "She says everything she needs is right there, and home is where she wants to be. So, it only stands to reason that if anything is goin' on, Cuz will for sure have a handle on it. I'll find out what she knows. That way, if everything's good and we've just gotten our wires crossed, we won't have alerted anyone else, and I won't get accused of havin' a crazy imagination again .”

"If your imagination is crazy, then mine is nuckin' futs. So, go on ahead and holler for Miss Augustine. She's always had the answers before."

Without further comment, Abbie opened the unique mental connection she shared with her cousin, and as cheerfully as she could so as not to alert Auggie to anything nefarious, she sing-songed and called her cousin the one name she truly hated. “Hey, Miss Thang, whatcha doin?”

Waiting for an answer, an exasperated sigh, or anything that said Auggie had heard her was like the anxiety she experienced while sitting in the dentist's chair anticipating having a tooth pulled. It was almost as painful as the act itself–and it required a patience she did not have.

When no response came, she tried again, “Hey, Auggie, guess who’s here? Sydney! We’re headed to my house for leftover chicken and dumplings, followed by coffee, cookies, and silly holiday rom coms. I even paid for the Hallmark Channel after you got mad about me using yours. Can you believe it? I actually have a subscription in my own name. You wanna join the party? Aww, come on, you just gotta. You’ll finally get to watch something I paid for.”

Again, she waited. Again, there was no answer, but this time, Abbie was quickly running out of what little patience she had–which wasn't much. It was so bad, and the little voice in the back of her mind was pushing so hard that her feet had already started creeping toward the Res.

Ready to add some oomph to her voice and try not to yell even though it was all she could think about doing, she got as far as, “Okay, Aug, what’s…?”

“D-don’t don’t c-come home. N-not not s-safe.” Auggie’s voice was barely a whisper–actually a breathy wheeze–that had every protective instinct and need to help and heal Abbie possessed jumping to the forefront of her psyche. Then her cousin added, “C-can-can’t co-come h-here. B-be s-s-safe,” and her feet went from barely shuffling to beatin’ a trail to the Res before her brain caught up.

“Come on, Syd. The shit’s hittin’ the fan!” She hollered into the wind without so much as a backward glance, trusting her friend to follow along .

“I’m right behind you!”

With her bestie hot on her trail, their footfalls pounding the ground like a herd of raging heifers, Abbie shoved her hands out in front of her chest. Hitting the gate at the back of her garden with a blast of Magic that almost knocked it off its hinges, she raced under the white, wrought iron arch covered with flowering white ivy and yellow Carolina jessamine in full bloom. No sooner was she through than she really poured on the speed.

Around the side of her house, just barely missing the purple Texas sage and yellow and red hibiscus bushes trying to take over her yard, she took a sharp right then jumped over the rocks from the creek she used as stepping stones like she was playing hopscotch. Through her Auntie’s backyard, she kicked open the wooden gate to Auggie’s yard and ran full speed for the sliding glass door.

Ready to push it open with her Magic, the glass was already moving, and Syd was calling out, “I got this one. Don’t want you shattering glass like you tore up that hinge, Wreckin’ Ralph,” before she hopped up on the redwood deck.

"Ha," was all Abbie could force through her gritted teeth as the bittersweet sour scent of sickness and the cloyingly overpowering stench of pain invaded her senses and then shot through her system so quickly there was no time for her to do anything but brace for what was to come.

Coughing with such force that her eyes watered and she couldn’t catch her breath, she stopped just inside the kitchen. Forced to hold onto the dark, Mahogony crown molding around the threshold to stay upright, she panted as if she’d just run a marathon–something that would never happen.

The Magic of the N?nn?'h? combined with that of her Timber She-Wolf and instantly went to work. Sweeping through her system, it wiped away almost all of the offensive odor and allowed her to take one quick, cleansing breath. Finally, and way quicker than she'd ever imagined, she was able to block out what little of the offensive stench remained and take a second, deeper inhale. Wiping away the tears wetting her cheeks, she stood up to her full height just as Sydney rushed past.

Running when her friend gasped, "Holy Goddess," Abbie dashed into Auggie's room, stopping so quickly that her body swayed forward and then back. She simply couldn't believe what she saw. It made no sense. It was like something out of a horror movie.

The tall, brunette Augustine Addams, usually so full of life, always sassy, and absolutely drop-dead gorgeous, was laid out flat, tangled in a mess of sheets wet with sweat and stained with throw-up, looking worse than death warmed over. Her eyes were rolled so far back in her head that only the tiniest speck of her dark brown eyes was visible, and her long, beautiful brunette tresses were drenched with perspiration, stringy and matted on her pillow that was also sopping.

Abbie tried not to gasp as she took in Auggie’s usually soft, flawless, olive complexion that was at that moment horribly mottled and washed out to a dreary gray pallor, but she failed. Then, the worst happened. The moment she watched the way her cousin’s chest barely rose and fell as she struggled to breathe, the life was sacred out of Abbie, and her heart ached as if it had been stabbed.

The closer she got, the more glaringly obvious it became that whatever was attacking her cousin most definitely defied all the Laws of Nature. It had happened too fast. Nothing, no matter how infectious or life-threatening–worked that quickly. She had just seen Auggie that morning, and the older-by-three-years-old woman was fine, happy, healthy, and giving her hell for something she'd forgotten to do.

Not to mention, Auggie was a Timber She-Wolf–one who had already accepted her Magic from the Universe and Shifted under the cool Yuletide Full Moon the day she turned sixteen. There was no way anything of the Earth could have caused the sudden downturn Abbie witnessed. Nothing could’ve gotten past the Timber Wolf Enchantment or the Indigenous Magic of the Cherokee. Auggie was to be a Luna when she found her Mate. She would have her own Pack, maybe her own Tribe someday.

What Abbie witnessed was impossible. She wouldn't have believed it if she wasn't seeing with her own eyes, and still, it just didn't make any sense.

The disease, the sickness, the attack had to be wicked or malevolent or both. That was the only explanation for the lack of healing taking place within her cousin’s body. The Timber She-Wolf with whom she shared her soul would’ve taken over and done her damnedest to rush Auggie to her glowing health immediately.

Trying to reach out to the Timber She-Wolf, Fatima, who shared her very essence with Auggie, Abbie found all mental pathways blocked. She went one way and then another, trying to get in there to see what had happened, but it was no use. Fati had been silenced. She was under house arrest, and not even the Magic of the N?nn?'h? could break the lock.

Taking in the icky green pustules on Auggie's eyelids, lips, and the inside of her nose, Abbie's stomach rolled. Then she saw the red, fiery tendrils snaking their way up and down her body and knew her cousin's symptoms were unlike anything she'd ever studied in college.

Sure, she'd gotten her degree in photography, but that didn't mean she hadn't taken a ton of biology, physiology, anatomy, and other sciences. After all, she was about to be one-hundred-and-twenty-five, and that meant she'd had a lot of time on her hands. It also helped her understand bodies, how they moved, and the best way to get the right pictures when working with humans–which wasn't often but did sometimes happen.

Looking around, trying to find any physical evidence of what was happening to her cousin, she was just about to give up when the feeling of pure evil damn near smacked her in the face. There was no denying it. Someone, no, something had infected Auggie with the nastiest, blackest Magic she’d ever felt. The sheer magnitude of the warped alchemy permeating the airwaves was staggering. So, why hadn’t she…?

“You did not feel it when we first entered the house because it was being hidden,” Faye answered . “Not even I can get through all the blockages and blind alleys this Maliciousness is causing. It is absolutely infuriating, unbelievably strong, and Ancient. There is no doubt that it's Otherworldly, but I can't tell from where.”

“Wow, did you just wake up?”

“No need to be snippy, Isi. I have been in meditation, seeking answers for what is to come. I thought we should be prepared to meet your Mate as the time is drawing near.”

“Okay, I’m sure that’s important, but do you have to call me Little One every time I say something you don’t particularly like?”

“I do, and sometimes I do it just because I can. ”

“Well, what can we…?”

Not waiting for Abbie to finish her question or even so much as give her consent, Faye opened their minds to everyone in the Tribe. Pushing through the wall, the one wielding the Black Magic had haphazardly built around Auggie’s house, her innate N?nn?’h? Magic lent its Second Sight, and as one, they all checked on Abbie’s Family, her Tribe.

Slapping her in the face, what she found was even worse than she'd imagined. It was more of the same and, in some cases, much worse. Everyone, the old, the young, the strong, and those who needed a helping hand, were being attacked by the horrific, malevolent sickness. Whether they had just started to feel poorly or if they were as bad off as Auggie, every single person on the Thorntree Res was under siege from the gruesome, wicked illness.

Turning, she asked, “Syd, do you mind stayin’ with Auggie?”

“Not at all. I caught most of what y’all said and what you saw. I wasn’t eavesdropping. Y’all just weren’t shielding.”

“No worries,” Abbie nodded. “You know you are always free to eavesdrop in my crazy brain. Just enter at your own risk.”

“Cool, I just gotta ask, are you goin’ where I think you’re goin’?”

“Probably,” Abbie confirmed. “I’m going out to Sequoyah Hill.”

“Yep, I got it in one.”

"'Cause you know me so well." Abbie forced half a smile. "I was able to see everyone in the Tribe who should be on the Res, but Cheveyo and Momma Maybelle. For some reason, I couldn't even sense them. There was a hole where they should've been–their places in my Mind's Eye, in my heart, and in my soul. It's just empty. Then, when I used the bond I shared with only them, it was dark and solitary, just not… Well, it just wasn't there. It's like we somehow got unplugged from one another, and I couldn't find the outlet or the cord."

“Go,” the blond insisted. “You gotta find them if we’re gonna get to the bottom of all of this and help everyone. I’ll see what I can do to ease Auggie's pain. I've done quite a bit of training with the Elemental Healers at the Citadel. I might not be able to completely rid her of this infection because it's rotten to the core, but I'm pretty sure I can help."

“Go for it! I appreciate anything you can do.”

With no time to spare and not wanting to run because it was her least favorite activity in the whole wide world any longer, Abbie flashed to the two-story red brick house with a wraparound porch, white sills, and black shutters sitting atop Sequoyah Hill. It was and always had been Cheveyo’s home. Appearing out of the Ether with her feet on the steps to the entrance of the house, she stood perfectly still.

Something was really, really wrong. The front door was standing wide open. Sure, it was common knowledge that the Chief never locked his door, but he never left it open either. If there was one thing a person could count on in Texas, especially the Chihuahuan Desert, it was critters of the buggy, pinchy, and basically yucky variety outnumbering everything else a hundred to one. That was why pretty much every house had screens, and no one left doors or windows open if they could help it.

With one foot over the threshold, she yelled, even though she was certain there was no one there. “Hey, Cheveyo! It’s Abigail. You here?”

Waiting for precisely one heartbeat, she pushed her Enchantment in every direction within the walls of the home just to double-check that it was indeed empty. When she was sure she was alone, Abbie went through the dining room and kitchen and then out the backdoor. The minute the warm, dry breeze hit her cheeks she flashed to Momma Maybelle's cottage on the opposite side of the Res.

Atop Raintree Hill sat the one-story ranch-style cottage. Bright white with red shutters and a white picket fence, there was every flower, herb, and medicinal plane ever known to man and a few no one had ever heard of and never would. A familiar and welcoming creak filled the air as the wind blew the antique rocking chairs back and forth on the perfectly appointed porch. Momma Maybelle called it her little slice of Heaven, and Abbie agreed.

But on this occasion, things were very different. Something had soiled the safest place on the Res and pissed Abbie off as nothing ever had.

Once again, no one was home. Once again, she Magically checked every nook and cranny. Then, when she was about to leave through the side door, her gaze lit upon three tiny words scratched in the white baseboard behind the kitchen door: Find your Uktena.

“How did she…?” Shaking her head as she turned to leave, Abbie answered with a forced snicker, “Because she’s Momma Maybelle.”

"And because she is the oldest and wisest Medicine Woman to ever live. That’s why she is the one and only Elder of the Wisdom as appointed by the Great Creator,” Faye added. “That’s how she knew you would be the one coming to find her, and you would know to look for any clues she might have left behind. After all, she is also the Keeper of the Eternal Lunar Light and the great-grandmother to the renowned Cherokee Chief John Ross. She can damn near do anything. "

“Still freaks me out sometimes.”

Flashing back to Auggie's house, she was glad to see a tiny bit of color returning to her cousin's face. Whatever Sydney was doing was working, and that was the best news she could have gotten.

Sitting in the chair next to the bed, Abbie held her cousin’s hand and mentally asked Sydney, “Has her temperature come down at all? It still feels like she’s on fire.”

Before the blond could answer, Auggie groaned through gritted teeth, “Don’t talk about me like I’m not here. I can still whoop your butt if I need to.”

“Okay, Tiger, I know you’re tough.”

“Damn straight.” Wheezing then gasping, Auggie coughed and hacked, the sound gut-wrenching and heartbreaking.

Grabbing a cool, wet cloth to wipe her cousin’s forehead, Abbie hoped it would lower her temperature even a degree. Just barely opening her eyes, Auggie whispered, “No, my fever has not come down, and if you think I feel hot to the touch, you oughta be in here.”

Snorting a chuckle despite the worry beating at her soul, Abbie joked, “You always were the hot one.”

"Says the girl with flaming red c-c-." But that was as far as Auggie got before she again coughed and hacked, then gagged. Convulsing every time her lungs forcefully expelled air, Abbie just barely kept her cousin from rolling off the bed. Harder and harder, she coughed until bloody phlegm flew from her lips, decorating everything in its path in bright red and green splatters.

With her lips turning blue and only the whites of her eyes showing, Auggie coughed and barked until there was nothing left. Collapsing onto the bed, unconscious and once again struggling to breathe, she was so frail, so incredibly pale, that Abbie feared the worst.

“Dammit!” Syd spat, jumping to her feet and pacing the floor. “I thought it was working. I did everything I could. I spoke to Bane, and he told me what he knew, promising he’d get here as soon as he could.”

Wringing her hands and pacing from one end of the room to the other, she continued, "Then I called Dian, the Oracle Physician, the one with the ability to tap into the Primordial Healing Magic of the Earthly Realm to help Earthly bound Healers restore others." Waving at the air as if she were erasing a chalkboard, she hurried on, "Sorry. What she is and what she does is of no consequence. What is important is that I did exactly what she told me to do. I followed all the steps, said all the right words, and pulled from the Magic of the Earth.” Stopping midstride, she turned, motioned with both hands toward the woman in bed, and kept right on going, “And Auggie was getting better. You saw it. She was really gettin’ better. So, what happened? Why is she…?”

The pounding of thundering hooves filled Abbie's consciousness. It was all she could hear. It demanded her attention. It refused to be ignored. It was even louder than the 'little voice.' Her heart even beat in the same rhythm. Vision blurring and ears ringing, sounds of something large and vindictive coming straight for her grew louder with every passing second.

Trying to focus on Sydney, to hear what she was saying, to see more than a billowy shadow through the thick, black fog filtering in from every direction, Abbie opened her mouth to speak only to have the words blown back in her face. She tried to step in front of the blond, but her feet wouldn't move. Finally, she did the only thing she could think of–she raised her hands over her head, waved them all around, and jumped up and down.

Still nothing.

The conclusion she reached, the solitary thing that made any sense at all, was that she was the only one who could see and hear the signs of impending doom, and she was getting her first glimpse at what it would be like to be invisible–and that shit would not stand. She had to try to make Sydney see what was happening. There had to be a way. She couldn't stand idly by and let her friend, her cousin, or anyone else get hurt.

Trying a move that had won the Girls' Basketball Finals in her senior year in high school, Abbie leaned one way, then stepped the other, then tried with all her might to zig-zag through the intertwining, hazy plumes. As soon as she'd made the littlest bit of headway, she shoved her arms through the wall of fog and reached for Sydney. Sadly, she pulled back a handful of rotten flesh and dead vines from the grape arbors around the Res.

Again and again, she tried, and every time the same thing happened. Sydney continued to pace and explain how she was trying to help Auggie, and Auggie lay there struggling to breathe. It was time to call out the big guns.

Turning her Second Sight inward, she fought through the haze with a single-minded determination, refusing to be thwarted. Pouring all the Magic, N?nn?’h?, Timber She-Wolf, and Healing Enchantment she’d inherited from her dad’s dad, Papa Dayfedd, a Celtic Shaman she could summon, Abbie pulled an ancient Cherokee War Club from the Ether and started beating away at the wall of mist and muck before her.

Her muscles were on fire. She thought her arms might actually fall off, but she refused to give up. Punching through the pea soup hanging in the air all around her, she shouted with all her might for Sydney to pay attention and realize what was happening.

Nothing worked. Still, the thundering hooves grew closer and closer. Still, every sense she possessed was screaming for her to fight. Still, the 'little voice' demanded she pay attention to what it was trying to say.

Faye growled, “Never give up, Isi. Fight! Fight hard! You must get to the other side. You must destroy whoever or whatever is causing this disruption to the fabric of the Earth.”

“You can do this,” the voice of the Ditlihi commanded. “As you are Abigail Addams, you are more than the Great Creator's Chosen Warrior. You are a Warrior of Light. You are Beloved. You are the Hope. Do what you were meant to do.”

Tucking the shaft of the elaborately hand-carved War Club under her arm, she choked up on the shank with her right hand. Reaching across her body with her left, she hooked her pinky finger on the edge of the socket, pointing the heavy ball-shaped head with spikes made of bone, stone, and metal at the threat barreling toward her, and spread her feet shoulder-width apart.

With a slight bend of her knees, she pulled every ounce of power and strength she had into her core and inhaled deeply. Holding her breath, counting every strike of hooves against the ground, she exhaled slowly.

Shadows, long and dark, shimmered through the thick, dense fog. At first, they looked like long, gnarled fingers reaching out for her, beckoning her to trust when her every instinct told her to do the exact opposite.

Floating in the mist, they twisted and turned, bending and buckling into a broken outline, a dotted line that made no sense at all. It was no form she recognized. It was disjointed and malformed, appearing as random pieces of a jigsaw with no end, no beginning, no middle, and absolutely no hope of ever fitting together.

The longer she stood at the ready, the darker the scattered bits grew. They gained substance. They took the shape of something far scarier than anything she could have dreamed of in any nightmare.

The shadowy figure appeared to be upwards of thirteen feet tall. She only knew that because she'd helped Auggie remodel her house, and those ceilings had been a bitch to paint. Coming in at fourteen feet, they were some of the tallest in the Res, and Abbie, one the shortest, had been nominated to stand on the ladder and man the roller. It was something she wouldn't soon forget.

Watching as the sharp, pointed tip of the triangular blade of an incredibly ornate Ceremonial Tomahawk raised high left a glaring crevice where it scraped the ceiling, she thought about yelling, “Hey, Asshole! You gonna repaint that?”

But then her eyes followed the straight wooden handle that led to the rider’s left hand and couldn’t stop as she took in the twisted and curvy line of the blood-stained, skeletal arm disappearing into the thick black cloak of the creature riding the most grotesque horse she’d ever seen, and words failed her. Unable to stop her gaze from wandering, no matter how hard she tried and how much she didn't want to see anymore, she locked eyes with what had to have been a horse at one point in time, and her stomach turned.

Crimson eyes, the color of fresh-spilled blood with the Fires of Hell burning in their soulless depths, told the story of an unending torment that was far worse than any of the stories she’d been told. Bits of putrid flesh and foul gore hung from the tips of the huge, uneven fangs left bare by the lack of flesh and fur .

Legends of the Skeletal Horse were told by harsh parents to warn naughty children to mind their Elders and eat their vegetables. For the adults, Deid Cuddie –the Dead Horse–was more than a myth. It was the foretelling of the coming of the End of Days. It was the creature they'd been taught about from the Celtic Dragons, who they'd welcomed onto their land and into their Reservation. It was the Beast of Burden she'd heard about all of her life…

But what galloped toward her was far worse than anything her grannies, Auntie, uncles, grandpas, and even the Chiefs and Elders of her Tribe had described. What was barreling at an unnatural speed in her direction could only be powered by Black Magic at the hands of an Incredible Evil, and it scared the crap out of her.

Nineteen hands high at the tip of its withers, for the most part, the Deid Cuddie was nothing but bones. It pretty much looked like the creature from her imagination, but that's where the similarity ended. Everything was made so much worse by the ragged pieces of fetid flesh, moldy strings of what had to have been muscles and connective tissue and globules of rancid blood hanging from every crack, notch, and rounded growth–especially each and every joint that it had.

“That horse is fuckin’… fuckin’…. It has fuckin’ fangs. Nobody ever said the horse had fangs. Why didn’t they tell me?” The words, her words, floated through her mind to Faye's and the Ditlihi's just as her eyes met the rider's, and her blood ran cold.

Black as night, they were so dark they were the epitome of nothingness. More than soulless, they were vacuous with a pull that reached into the depths of Abbie's very essence, latched their vicious claws into the pulp of her existence, and tried with aberrant strength to absorb her very life .

Gaunt, almost skeletal, the rider’s face had more form than Deid Cuddie with transparent, wafer-thin skin showcasing the black and purple veins slithering and writing as they pumped the viscous fluid that kept the rider upright. There was no nose, or it was hidden in the shadows cast by the hood. Abbie couldn't tell. And honestly, didn't want to know. All she knew for sure was that whatever was sitting atop the Dead Horse made her skin crawl.

Then it happened. The rider realized she was there. Their eyes locked. The rider's head snapped to the left and then whipped back to the right.

What was it looking for? Was it getting the lay of the land? Was it surveying the torment it was inflicting upon the Tribe? And who the hell was the rider? She'd never heard a story in which Deid Cuddie had a rider.

Tired of waiting, sick of the anticipation, needing to do something–anything–she yelled, “Who the fuck are…?”

Swinging back to the front, the rider's jaw dropped to its chest, its head fell backward, and the air filled with an unearthly shriek that made the hair all over Abbie's body stand on end. As quickly as it started, the sound stopped, but the echo continued.

Head popping back up, the sound of cracking bones replaced the screech as the rider’s hood slid backward. Abject horror and total disbelief had Abbie’s hands tightening around the handle of the War Club as she gasped , “No fuckin’ way!”

“Your eyes do not deceive you, Isi,” Faye confirmed. “The rider is female. She is…”

“Uya,” Abbie, the Timber She-Wolf, and the Ditlihi snarled.

A plethora of emotions, too many to count or identify, washed over, around, and through her. Callous, cold, and cruel, the rider was indeed the Uya–the evil Earth Spirit who opposed everything good and right in the world. If the Deid Cuddie was the stuff of childhood nightmares, then the Uya was every person’s worst fear, deepest dread, and what could literally keep them up at night, all rolled into one.

Within the Uya, there was no spark of Life or Light. There wasn't even Darkness. There was quite literally nothing.

She did not feel. She did not want to. She did not think, at least not as any living being would understand those things. The Uya only acted on the instinct given to her at the time of her inception–which was always by a twist of Black Magic and a demented Practitioner of the Dark Arts.

No one knew who created the Uya, only that she existed to rob the world of Light in all its many forms. She was a Destroyer who did her job with extreme prejudice, accepting nothing but the complete annihilation of anything just, right, or good that stood in her way.

She acted upon a person’s worst fears. She projected what she wanted her victims to feel to make them weak, to control them, and then she took them to the brink of madness. Once there, she feasted on the delusion, the delirium, and the hysteria until there was nothing left but an empty husk.

Everything within the Uya was feral, insensitive, and subhuman. Her unquenchable desire to consume, warp, and defile everything in her path was incomprehensible for any living being to understand. Or so Abbie thought until that very moment. In a split second, she'd looked into the Uya's soulless eyes. She knew everything she needed to know–the Uya had to go, and she had to be the one to do it.

“It’s why I am here.” The words floated from her mind to Faye and the Ditlihi .

With every shield, mental block, and shred of protection she had, Abbie refused to back down. There could be no weakness. That was what the Uya wanted. She needed a place to plant the seed of her malice, cruelty, and spite into Abbie. She wanted to fill her up with anything and everything that would erase even the smallest shred of decency and goodness she possessed. She wanted the Spirit of the N?nn?'hi and everything it represented. She wanted to warp the beautifully perfect loving and healing Nature of the People Who Would Live Forever and kill it. She wanted to turn Abbie into a tool, a weapon that could be turned on the world.

Quite simply, the Uya wanted to kill Hope.

“Focus, Abigail,” the voice of the Ditlihi commanded, "Concentrate on the Light. Find your center. Hold your ground. Then, when you are ready, take in the rest of the Uya.”

“But I…”

“I know you don’t want to see it–to see her–but you must. For to defeat your enemy, you must know your enemy. To destroy the Darkness, you must know where to shine the Light.”

Feeling the infusion of Ancient Indigenous Magic and the Love and Kinship of the Ancient Cherokee, Abbie pictured her mom and dad. She thought about the stories she’d heard. She remembered what the Ditlihi had told her about the night of the Clash at Guadalupe Peak and how bravely they'd given all they had–even their very lives–to do the right thing, to save the people they loved and, most of all, to give their only daughter the best chance at life.

“This one’s for you, Agitsi and Agidoda,” she whispered, speaking mother and father in the Cherokee language. "I just hope I can be as brave as you were."

Forcing her eyes upward, she refused to gasp. She would not give the Uya the satisfaction of knowing how scared she truly was. Her parents had been strong. Her grandparents before them had been Warriors. Abbie's entire lineage was filled with those who had defied the odds, had reached deep inside themselves, and found the will to stand up against a force that seemed far more powerful than they themselves were.

Once again, she met the Uya's gaze, but she looked up and instantly wished she hadn't. The Evil Earth Spirt had no hair; instead, her skull was covered with a writhing mass of inky black and oily green tentacles with gaping maws, thin and gray bifurcated tongues, and ragged incisors dripping with a venom that popped and sizzled when it hit the floor.

“Holy crap! Is she Medusa’s sister? Please tell me she’s not Medusa’s sister. I won’t look good turned to stone. I think I’d rather be invisible.”

“No, Isi,” Faye reassured. “The Uya is not kin to the Gorgon Queen.”

As she first imagined, the Uya had no nose, nor did she have lips, just a mouth full of sharp, jagged canines that were brownish-yellow and filled with gore and carnage. Her chin was elongated and pointed and reminded Abbie of the blade of the ceremonial dagger that hung over the fireplace in Cheveyo's office.

Committing every detail of her enemy to memory, the stories, the legends, and the information her Elders had shared with her over the years returned. She heard her mom's mom–Grandma Cassie's voice loud and clear, “The Uya resulted from the Hatred, the Darkness, the Despair created when the chaos of war and famine were allowed to run wild. She sprung from the wasteland left behind when pure Evil was allowed to run amuck–even for a short period of time. She is ancient, almost as old as the Earth, and she wants it all to die.”

Then her Grandpa Johnny spoke, picking up where her grandma had stopped. "At first, the Great Creator and the Powers That Be believed the Uya was necessary. They saw her as a way to help people. They wanted people to understand the duality and potential danger of negative forces in the world. You see, Isi, without Darkness, there can be no Light. Without Evil, there can be no Good. We–the normal folk–have to have both. We have to know both to recognize the difference."

"The trick is the balance," Momma Maybelle began. "Even you, a child born of the Light, must know Darkness. You must see the Evil but not be a part of it because you, Abigail Annabella Addams, like all of your Family, are Good. There are few better. You, Isi, are the Hope."

Letting out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding, Abbie fanned her fingers as they held onto the handle of the War Club to get the blood flowing and stood her ground. In the cavernous nothingness of the Uya's eyes, she recognized the machinations of true Malice. The Evil Earth Spirit was formulating her plan of attack. There it was, plain as day, as her eyes shifted from Abbie to the right.

The Uya knew Sydney was there and recognized the prize both women were.

Without another thought, Abbie slid in front of her friend and her cousin, yelling, “You came here for me, Bitch. So, let’s do this!”

Roaring, the sound so piercing and unearthly that Abbie could literally feel her eardrums vibrating, the Uya spoke its first words, “I will have you, Abigail Annabella Addams.”

Tuning out as she continued to pull fortitude from the center of the Earth, from Mother Nature Herself, Abbie tuned back in just as the Uya boasted, “But first, I will have all you hold dear–your friend, your family, and your Uktena. Today is the day of your death. Today is the death of the Everlasting Hope!”

Opening her mouth to once again challenge the Evil Earth Spirt, a deep, rumbling voice burst into her mind, “ Hold on , Mo stór! From this day forward, we fight side by side!”