Back Jacket Cover:

During his junior year at MacFarland, David receives some devastating news: his grandfather has fallen ill with an extremely rare form of brain cancer called Layette’s Syndrome. The tumor first develops in the brain stem and, as it grows, its tendrils bury deep into the neural pathways, altering the entire personality of the afflicted, before finally killing them.

Returning home, just before Thanksgiving break, Little Hawk learns Grandfather was told of his condition several months before David and his friends had returned to track down El Chupacabra the previous summer. In fact, the elder shaman had been studying a mystical device that would allow him to cross into the hidden realm of Chronos, to travel through time in hope of finding a cure, when he had the vision of the kids and Drizzle coming to New Mexico. But his attempts to access other powers of the apparatus had failed.

When Grandfather’s condition takes a sudden turn for the worse, David decides there is no other option but to travel to Chronos himself to find the cure. Can Little Hawk learn to use the powers of an ancient artifact his grandfather, a much more experienced and powerful shaman, could not? And if he does, will he be able to find the cure and return in time to save Grandfather’s life? For that matter, will he be able to return at all?​

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       Prologue

    What’s Past is Prologue

​

The young lady behind the reception counter checked Grandfather’s identification and annotated his arrival in the appointment scheduling system. She smiled, as she handed him his driver’s license and health insurance cards. “You’re all checked in, Mister Lightfoot. Please take a seat, and someone will call for you shortly,” she said.

“Thank you,” he replied, as he tucked the documents in his wallet and looked around the waiting room; the place was packed. Spying two empty seats, in the center of the second row of chairs, he started toward them.

“This place sure is busy,” Luisa muttered, as she followed him across the room. “I hope that’s a good sign.”

He nodded to acknowledge he had heard her. “Excuse us,” he said to several patients occupying the seats closest to the end of the row. The young man in the first chair stood and stepped aside, as the others moved their legs to allow them to scoot past. Taking a seat, Grandfather looked around the room again. “You are right, this place is busy; it does not look like we will be getting out of here anytime soon,” he observed.

Grandmother patted his knee and gave him a smile. “It can take as long as it takes, as long as they don’t hurry us out,” she replied. “I want to know what’s going on before we leave.”

“So do I,” he agreed. He looked at the television, mounted in the corner of the room, when a “Breaking News” banner flashed on the screen. “What is this?” he wondered aloud.

The image faded away to reveal the female local news anchor seated at the studio desk. “Good morning, I’m Jennifer Mixon with a KAKY 27 News special report,” she intoned. Her demeanor relayed the seriousness of the information she was about to share. “For the second day in a row, a dead cow has been found on a ranch outside the small ecotourism town of Watuska. The cause of the animals’ deaths has not yet been released, but sources tell us they are reminiscent of the cattle slayings that occurred over a long period ending about five years ago. When asked by KAKY 27 on the scene reporter, Meagan Barber, if this were the case, Sheriff Blake responded with ‘no comment’. So, once again, rumors of alien experiments, government cover-ups, and even the return of the creature known as El Chupacabra are running rampant among the residents.

“We will continue to follow this story and provide updates as details become available. Join us tonight, at six, for more on this and other news you may have missed. For the KAKY 27 News team, I’m Jennifer Mixon.”

Grandfather sighed, and shook his head, as programming returned to the talk show the special report had interrupted. “That does not bode well for the training I have planned for Little Hawk when he comes home this summer.”

“Well, there’s still several months, maybe the sheriff will get it all sorted out before then,” Luisa placated. She narrowed her eyes at him. “But why would the animal deaths have any impact on David’s summer vacation anyway?” she asked.

He raised his brow at her. “If Little Hawk finds out that a mythological creature is once again rumored to be killing livestock near his home, do you truly believe he will be able to resist the urge to track it down? I think we both know better,” he said.

“So, let’s just hope he doesn’t find out,” she replied, with a tight-lipped scowl.

“I do not plan to tell him,” he confided.

   ***

“Lightfoot, Charles Lightfoot,” a medical technician called from the doorway of a hall leading to doctors’ offices and examination rooms. Luisa stood, as he moved past her, and followed him across the room. This was the third time they had called his name. The first time, she was required to remain behind as he was escorted to an examination room to have his vitals taken and receive an injection of a contrast medium, then returned to the waiting room to wait for it to make its way through his body. After almost an hour, she waited while he was taken to a procedure room and placed on the bed of a cylindrical device to have scans of his brain performed. “The doctor will see you now,” the tech advised them, as she led them down the hall. They were surprised when she stopped at an office door instead of leading them to an examination room.

“Come in,” another female voice called, in response to the technician’s light knock.

The tech opened the door and stepped partway through it. “I have Mister and Missus Lightfoot for you, Doctor Able,” she said, as they moved past her.

“Thank you, Gabby,” the doctor replied. She retrieved a tablet computer, from a cabinet behind her, and moved around her desk to greet them. She extended her hand to Luisa. “Hello, Missus Lightfoot, I’m Cynthia Able.”

Grandmother grasped her hand. “It’s nice to meet you. Please, call me Luisa,” she replied.

Doctor Able smiled and gave her a curt nod. “Why don’t we sit over here,” she said, prompting them toward a sofa instead of the two chairs before her desk. Luisa caught her breath, as the doctor moved to sit in one of the armchairs opposite the couch. She knew from experience, when a doctor wanted you to feel more comfortable, the news they had to share was never good. She closed her eyes and let out a slow breath, to calm her senses, as she took a seat and Grandfather sat next to her. “So, Mister Lightfoot,” Doctor Able continued, “before I left you in the hands of our radiology tech, for your CT scan, you said that you told your primary care physician, Doctor Ballard, you were having debilitating headaches. They start around the base of your skull and spread up the back of your head.”

“Yes, sometimes they are so painful I do not want to get out of bed,” he reminded her.

She nodded. “I recall. That’s why Doctor Ballard referred you to our practice, so we could run some scans to see if we could determine the cause of your headaches.”

“And have you?” Luisa asked with a nervous glance at her husband. He gave her hand a reassuring pat.

Doctor Able tapped the screen of the tablet and stood up. “I’m afraid we have,” she said. She turned the device, so the elderly couple could see the screen. A single x-ray image of Grandfather’s brain was displayed within a window frame labeled: “Lightfoot, Charles- CT1”. “This area,” she said, pointing to a spot connected to the spinal cord at the base of the brain, “is the brain stem.” She touched her index finger to the screen and swiped left. Another image, showing an enlarged view of the region, replaced the first. “Do you see this dark spot that looks like a smudge?” They nodded. Doctor Able took a shallow breath. “I wish there were an easier way to say this,” she started.

“I have found the best path forward is most often the direct path,” Grandfather advised.

“Just give it to us straight, Doctor,” Grandmother agreed, “we’re strong enough to take it.”

Doctor Able nodded. “That smudge is a tumor deep within the brain stem. And you see these tiny dark lines?” she asked, indicating them on the image. Grandfather nodded. “Those are tendrils from the tumor.”

Luisa squeezed his hand. “So, what is,” she croaked. She took a swallow to clear the lump preventing her from speaking clearly. “So, what is the prognosis?”

Doctor Able retook her seat. “As I said, the tumor is deep within the brain stem, so it is inoperable.”

“What about chemotherapy?” Grandmother inquired. Grandfather’s eyes arched with interest.

“All current regimens have proven ineffective against Layette’s Syndrome; that’s what this disease is called,” the doctor informed them. “But the good news is, Layette’s Syndrome is not usually very aggressive.”

“What does that mean?” Grandmother asked.

“It means that symptoms come on slowly, and patients may live for years without the disease being too great of a detriment to their quality of life,” the doctor replied. She leaned forward and took both their hands. “This may not bring you much comfort, but elderly patients, with Layette’s, tend to pass away from other ailments before the tumor imparts too great a toll on them.” She sat back in her chair. “I know this was tough to hear, so take as long as you need to console one another, then I’ll gladly answer any questions you have.” She moved to stand.

Grandfather looked at Grandmother with the question in his eyes. She nodded. “We do not need to take a minute, we are fine,” he said.

Doctor Able scooted back in her seat. “Are you sure? Most people need…”

“We’ve been through a lot more than most people,” Luisa replied with a wan smile. “So, yes, we’re sure.”

“Okay,” the doctor sighed. “Then, do you have any questions I can answer for you?”

“I have only one question, with two parts,” Grandfather said. Grandmother cleared her throat and narrowed her eyes at him. “I have only two questions, but the first has two parts,” he corrected.

“I’ll answer as best I can,” Doctor Able assured him.

“First, what are the symptoms of Layette’s Syndrome, and when should I expect them to occur?”

“There are several symptoms you should watch for,” she advised with a furtive glance at Luisa. “The first were the headaches you’ve been having. But as the tumor grows, its tendrils will bury deep into the neural pathways, affecting most brain functions, before finally attacking the cerebral cortex. So, you can expect to experience memory lapses, loss of balance or motor skills, possible speech impediments, including temporary loss of speech ability, and bouts of personality disorders that may, eventually, become permanent.”

Luisa crinkled her brow. “Bouts of personality disorders… such as?”

“Well, bursts of irritability or anger, unexplained feelings of euphoria, anxiety, sadness, or depression are the most common changes I’ve seen; it’s hard to say exactly what to expect,” the doctor confided. “But eventually, the individual’s entire personality may be altered. And not long after that…” she let the thought hang. “As for the second part of your question, there is no way to tell when, or if, you will experience any particular symptom. They do not occur in any specific order or time frame; their development depends upon how the tendrils grow.”

Grandfather nodded. “So how much time do I have left?”

Doctor Able frowned and shook her head. “I cannot say. As I said before, Layette’s Syndrome is not usually very aggressive; so, you should have quite a few years left, unless something else happens.”

“Then there is still hope,” the old man said.

She laid her hand on his forearm. “Mister Lightfoot, please believe me when I say I wish that were true. But, at this time, it simply is not; nobody is even looking for a cure.”

Grandfather patted her hand. “As of right now, I am,” he replied.

    ***

“Hey, Shaman, hold up a minute,” a voice called, as Grandfather locked the clinic door and started toward his truck. He turned to face the speaker. Andy Long was hurrying toward the Tribal Council Hall with his six-year-old son, and two hunting dogs, in tow. “I was hoping to catch you before you left for the day,” Andy said as he approached.

Grandfather smiled at the boy, and patted him on the head, then looked back to his father, who seemed about to burst with excitement. “Neither of you seem to be hurt or ill,” the older man said. “And I am not a veterinarian; so I can only assume you have something to ask, tell, or show me?”

Andy chuckled. “Boy, I don’t know how you do that; but, yeah, I got something to show you.” He reached into a rawhide satchel, slung over his shoulder, and pulled out a rag-wrapped bundle. “I was hoping you could tell me what this is… and if ya think it might be worth something.” He handed the package to the shaman.

Grandfather opened the bundle and looked at the mud-caked item. It appeared to be a flat stone disk, with a graven image in the center. He stepped to his truck and pulled a kerchief from the driver’s door cubby to rub some of the mud off the item. A sculpted face surrounded by rippling sunrays, and several rune etchings around the edge of the object became clear. “Where did you find this?” he asked, his tone reflected only a smidge of the excitement he was feeling.

“I was hunting over at the El Malpais Conservation Area,” Andy confided.

“In El Malpais? I hope you had a permit,” Grandfather chided.

“Of course,” Andy declared, “the last thing I need is to get busted for poaching.” Grandfather chuckled, as the younger man continued. “Anyway, we came across this spot that looked like it was washed out during that last big rain we had. And the boys, here,” he reached down to pat his dogs, “went nuts and started diggin’. I went to see what they were after, and there it was. I wiped it off as best I could but, as you can see, I didn’t get it very clean.

“From what I could tell, I thought it looked like a sundial. If it is, I figured it has to be pretty old, and maybe it will fetch a few bucks. Ya know, maybe I can sell it to the university or a museum. What do you think?”

Grandfather nodded. “The shape does resemble a sundial; and there are some strange etchings here,” he pointed to the spot he had cleaned earlier, “that could be words, possibly in an ancient or foreign language. But I would have to clean it up to be sure. Would you mind if I hold on to it… to study?”

“Ya won’t forget where ya got it, will ya?” Andy asked with a sidelong look.

Grandfather gave him a light scowl. “Of course not, but it may be a while; I have some other things going on, and David will be coming home for summer break in a few weeks. I may not get to it until after that.”

“Alright, Shaman,” Andy agreed. “Just let me know what ya figure out about it. If it is a relic of some kind, I could really use any money it may bring in.”

“I will let you know what I find,” Grandfather promised. “But, if it is an artifact of any significance, I am not sure you will be able to sell it.”

Andy crinkled his eyes at him. “Why not?” he inquired.

“Because you should have turned it in when you found it; El Malpais is federal government land,” the elderly shaman advised him.

“Well, maybe I just won’t tell anyone else that I found it there. You can keep a secret, can’t ya?”

Grandfather sighed and shook his head. “Once I figure out what the item is, I will call a couple of the local universities and museums to see if they can determine its age and value; or if they can direct me to someone who can,” he said. “I will let you know what I find out, when I give it back to you. Then it is up to you to do what you think is right regarding its final disposition; find someone willing to buy it… or turn it in to the park rangers.” He laid the object on his front seat and climbed behind the steering wheel. “Personally, I would choose the latter of those options,” he offered.

“Thanks, Shaman,” Andy said.

“You are welcome,” the old man replied. He started his truck and gave them a wave as he headed home.

    ***

Luisa turned over in her sleep to wrap her arm around Grandfather, as she had almost every night for the past fifty-plus years. Her hand and forearm came to rest on his pillow. Propping herself on her elbow, she looked around the room; the waning quarter moon provided just enough light for her to see her husband wasn’t there. She listened for his footsteps in the hall in case he had gotten out of bed to use the restroom. The sound of running water came to her, but it wasn’t from the bathroom; the sound was coming from the hose in the back yard. She grabbed her robe and headed downstairs.

Stepping onto the back porch she walked to the railing overlooking the hose bibb. Grandfather crouched before the tap, scrubbing mud from what appeared to be a large stone disk. “That couldn’t wait until morning?” she asked, sounding more than just a little bit annoyed.

“It could have,” he replied, without looking at her, “but I had a strange dream and could not get back to sleep. I was hoping the exertion of scrubbing the mud off this thing would make me tired enough to go back to bed.” He gave the piece a final rinse under the spigot and groaned as he straightened his legs and back. “I should have washed it off in the sink; I am way too old to be squatting for so long.”

“You would’ve been sleeping in your truck for the next month had you done so,” Grandmother admonished him with a menacing scowl.

He chuckled. “Then it is good that I did not; I am too damn old for that, too.”

“So, what is that thing, exactly?” Luisa asked as he climbed the steps to the porch.

“I am not certain; Andy Long gave it to me yesterday,” he said. He laid a soft bristle brush atop the porch rail and handed the device to her. “From its shape, I thought it may be an old sundial; but there is no gnomon.” She furrowed her brow. “The raised part of a sundial that makes the shadow,” he clarified. “And the etchings around the edge of the top surface do not appear to be for tracking the movement of the sun or moon.”

She turned the item over. “What about these markings on the sides and bottom?” she asked, running her fingers over the engravings.”

He shrugged and took the disk from her. “They appear to be words written in several different languages,” he said. “So, I assume they are translations of the same inscription.” He pointed to an entry on the bottom of the slab. “This one surprised me, for it appears to be written in an ancient version of Keresan.”

Grandmother gasped. “Keresan? So, we can read it?” She reached for the stone again.

“I am afraid not,” Grandfather sighed. “It is an ancient dialect of the language I am unfamiliar with. However, I did recognize a phrase that looks close to g'awaweima y’auni.”

Grandmother creased her brow. “Sacred stone?”

The old man nodded. “I believe so; but I need to decipher the rest of the inscription to put it into the proper context.”

“How do you intend to do that?” Luisa asked.

“That, my dear, is a problem for the morning.” He kissed her on the cheek and reached for her hand. “I think I will be able to sleep now, we should go back to bed.”

    ***

A single shadow emerged from the dark cloud, swirling in the distance, and drifted toward Grandfather. He waited in silence as the spirit took shape and began to solidify. Within moments The Eldest of the Eldest stood before him.

“So, Wolf Who Waits, why have you summoned us from our rest?” the eldest of shamans asked.

“You are aware of the item given to me by a member of my tribe; are you not?” Grandfather inquired.

“I am,” the spirit replied.

“Then you also know, it has what appear to be several translations of the same inscription carved upon it; the last of which I believe to be written in an early version of Keresan.” The ancient one nodded, as the younger shaman continued. “Since Keresan is not traditionally a written language, this translation should not exist. I am hoping it was written by another of our shaman ancestors.”

“Indeed, it was,” the Eldest of the Eldest confirmed. “The other languages used on the dial are Yucatec, the language of the Mayan people; and Nahuatl, the language of the Aztec and Toltec peoples,” he confided.

“Would it be possible for me to speak with the shaman who created the Keresan translation?” Grandfather asked.

“It would not,” the elder shaman replied. “He transcended to reside with the Great Spirit many years ago.” Grandfather frowned as the oldest of shamans continued. “But it is not necessary for you to do so; I can tell you what the inscription says.”

“You can… how?”

“I carved the original Yucatec version, when I built the device,” the Eldest of the Eldest replied.

    ***

Grandfather stood praying before a small fire atop the mesa. This was the place he came to when he wanted to access the Spirit Realm or perform his most powerful shaman rituals. Many times, including tonight, he had cleansed the area of negative energy, evil spirits, and other befoulment by burning sage and piñon pine fronds. And, here, he had invoked the name and assistance of the Great Spirit on innumerable occasions. He could not think of a more hallowed space.

With great reverence, he knelt in front of the stone tablet the Eldest of the Eldest had informed him was a calendar stone which, when combined with a mystical gem of appropriate quality and power, would allow the supplicant to traverse the realm of time. His hand shook, with anticipation, as he laid it on the graven image of Itzamna protruding from the center of the disk. Itzamna was the supreme god in the Mayan religion mythos, as well as the god they believed responsible for the passage of time.

With a bit of effort, he pulled up on the carved face; a slight click indicated the dial was unlocked. The smoothness of the device’s operation surprised him; he had expected the ancient gears, or whatever pieces comprised its internal components, to be frozen from lack of maintenance and exposure to the harshness of the elements. He smiled as he pointed the tip of a pyramid, atop the god’s head, to one of the numerous small lines near the outer edge of the device.

Pulling up on the face again, he turned it back to its original position. The pyramid now pointed to an inverted triangle at the top edge of the device; but a slender, sunray shaped indicator, it had concealed, pointed to the small line where he had paused. He hoped this setting would transport him to a point, in the realm of Chronos, three weeks in the future. If his experiment succeeded, he planned to use the device to transport himself far enough into the future to find a cure for the malady that had befallen him.

Retrieving the emerald Quetzalcoatl and Xolotl had given him, from a pocket of his woolen tunic, he inserted it into a hole in the device that made the graven god’s face appear as if it were screaming. With a quivering breath, he pressed down on the jewel to lock the dial in place.

At first nothing happened; then a deep rumble rolled across the cloudless night sky, and an image appeared in the flames of his fire. David, another boy, and a girl were huddled around him, in what appeared to be the shed in his back yard. “It’s okay, Drizzle, you can trust Grandfather,” he heard his grandson say. He gasped when a pixie appeared before him upon the workbench in his vision. As fast as it had appeared, the image in the flames vanished.

Grandfather sighed, more in determination than disappointment. His test had failed, but it was not a complete failure; he may not have traveled into the future, but he was able to see into it. He chuckled. “So, Little Hawk is bringing some friends home with him over the summer break,” he mused, as he reset the device in hope of seeing more of what was yet to come. “Well, at least he will have help if he tries to track down El Chupacabra.” 

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     1

Back to the Present

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David grimaced, as his opponent landed a left-right combination to the abdomen, followed by a right cross to the jaw. He groaned as his player’s knees buckled, and stars appeared around his head, before falling to the mat unconscious.

Seamus threw his fists above his head. “Woohoo, another KO by the champ,” he crowed.

David dropped his retro controller onto his lap. “This game is ridiculous,” he muttered.

“Hey, ‘T-bone’s Heavy Weight Title Bout’ was the number one game for a long time, when the Indigo eight-bit gaming console was state of the art,” the champ retorted.

 “Yeah? Well, it sucks now,” David grumbled. “The controller is clunky, cumbersome, and slow to respond. And the graphics make it hard to figure out where your punches will land, or if you’re even close enough to make contact.”

“It’s a poor chef who blames his tools… or in this case, it’s a poor gamer who blames his controller or the console,” Seamus reproached him. “You just don’t wanna admit I’m a better gamer than you.”

A low tittering came from atop the couch cushions behind them. David glanced around, to ensure he and Seamus were still the only students in the dayroom, before addressing the spot with a grin. “Okay, Drizzle, show yourself.” With an audible ‘pop’, the mischievous pixy appeared hovering above the sofa back between them. She put her hand to her mouth and giggled again. David cocked a brow at her. “And, just what is so funny?” he asked.

She cleared her throat to stifle her giggles. “Ye be a-gettin’ yer butt kicked,” she snickered.

“Yeah, he totally is,” Seamus laughed.

“Oh, really?” David huffed. “Well, it’d be a whole different story if we were playing something from this decade, or this century for that matter. Where’d you even get this thing?”

“My dad saw it online and sent it to me. It’s not an actual Indigo system; they took little cartridges you swapped out to play different games. This just has a bunch of their old eight-bit games installed in it.”

“I can’t believe these games were once considered top of the line,” David scoffed. “I mean, where did people hook them up in their caves?”

Seamus chuckled. “The games aren’t that old. But, if you want to see extremely low-tech gaming, you should check out this one reeeeally old system my dad has.”

David raised his brow at him. “And why does your dad have a really old gaming console?”

Seamus shrugged. “He sorta collects ’em. Anyway, this one console has only a couple games built into it. You can play tennis or racquet ball, by yourself against the computer or against another person. And it comes with a big plastic gun you can plug-in to the system to shoot at a moving target.”

“Sounds kind of lame,” David muttered.

Seamus nodded. “Yeah, but what makes it worse is the players in tennis and racquet ball are just sticks; and the ball is a little square dot.”

David furrowed his brow. “The players are stick figures?”

“Uh uh, not stick figures, just sticks. No head, arms, hands, legs or feet… just sticks. And they only move up or down, not forward and back.”

“You’re kidding,” David said.

“Nope, but what makes it really bad is the target in the shooting game,” Seamus informed him.

“How could that be worse than playing tennis with a stick that just goes up and down?” David asked.

“It’s a big square dot, about ten times the size of the tennis ball, that bounces around the screen,” Seamus replied. “And even when you hit it, the dot doesn’t disappear; it just keeps bouncing. But the game does keep track of total number of shots and hits,” he added.

David shook his head. “Wow, you’re right, that is worse. What other games are installed on this brick?”

Seamus pressed the controller button to exit the boxing game and return to the main menu. “Let’s see,” he said, scrolling through the list of available titles. “Ooh, ‘Cycle Racer’ is cool, you race a motorcycle against each other and the computer. Uh ‘Cycling Masters- Tour de Europe’ is a bicycle racing game; it’s kinda lame. Oh, ‘Smash-up Derby’, now that is really awesome… for eight-bit graphics. Pieces of the cars actually fly off of ’em when you crash.”

“Well, as they used to say when these games were popular: sounds nifty, let’s give ‘Smash-up Derby’ a whirl,” David said. “Just let me set down my cane,” he added, affecting what he considered an old-timer’s voice.

“Ha ha, Youuu’re sooo funny,” Seamus sighed.

David picked up his controller as his roommate pressed the button to select the game. “So, Drizzle, I thought you went to the fundraiser with Jenny,” he said over his shoulder as he maneuvered his car to the starting line.

“Aye, I did,” she said. “I ‘ave never bin to a fun’raiser.”

“So how come you came back early?” he inquired.

“’twern’ very much fun,” she confided with a weary sigh. “A’leas no’ as much fun as watchin’ ye get yer butt kicked,” she added with a giggle.

David scowled at her. “Where did you learn that phrase?” he grunted.

“I be a-listenin’ to ‘ow the kids talk in the ‘allways, so I ken be a-talkin’ like ye do tuhday,” she confessed.

David chuckled. “Well, you are doing it very well.”

“Thank ye,” she said with a slight midair curtsy. Her eyes widened as Jenny stormed into the dayroom. “Oops, I fergot to tell ye… the two o’ ye are in trouble.”

“There you are,” Jenny growled. “What are you doing in here? I’ve been looking all over the place for you.”

“Hi, honey, you’re home,” Seamus quipped. He laughed as he slammed his car into one of several controlled by the computer, throwing crumpled parts into the air.

David opened his mouth to also make a sarcastic remark, but the irritation in her eyes gave him pause. “Uh, you okay, Jen? I thought you were going to be in town for the girls’ lacrosse team fundraiser all day.”

“As you can see, I was,” she huffed, swiping her hands along her sides to indicate the uniform she was still wearing. “We got back a little while ago, and I’ve been looking for you guys ever since. I looked everywhere I could think of… your room, the pier, the garage, your training spot in the woods. And I’ve been calling both of you for hours. I finally called Laird Angus, he said he hadn’t heard from either of you since you left the store after helping him deliver a china cabinet. Then he reminded me how excited Seamus was about the video game system his father sent him, and suggested I check in here. Where are your phones?”

David and Seamus reached for their back pockets; their eyes widened when they found them empty. Seamus slapped his forehead. “Oh man, I left it charging on my nightstand.”

She turned her stony face to David. “And you?”

He shrugged, as his car slammed into Seamus’s, knocking off the rear bumper. “I must’ve also left it in the room this morning. I wasn’t planning to call anyone before we went back.”

“Did you ever think someone may try to call you?” she asked.

David shook his head. “No. Did they?”

Jenny gave him a blank stare. A sigh escaped her, as her anxiety dissipated, and she chuckled. “Man, sometimes you two are just so oblivious; even for boys,” she said.

“Well, did they?” Seamus asked.

She giggled again. “Yes, someone did… I did. Plus, Billy called me several times over the day and said he couldn’t get ahold of you, David. He said he had something important to tell you.”

David squinted at her. “Billy called?” He glanced at Drizzle. “Did you know he called?”

She nodded. “But it slipped me mind to tell ye,” she replied. She disappeared as the sound of several voices, all talking at once, approached.

Three of Jenny’s teammates, also still dressed in their lacrosse uniforms, entered the dayroom and waved to her before spotting David. Two of the girls leaned close to the other and whispered something that made her blush. They laughed as they led her to the opposite side of the room, her face still a bright crimson.

“Hmm, I just talked to him a couple days ago,” David continued, unaware of the events that had transpired. “Did he say what he wanted to talk about?”

Jenny grinned at his lack of situational awareness, then straightened her face and shook her head. “Uh uh, he just said it was important,” she informed him.

David paced away from them, as he considered his former-nemesis-turned-renewed-friend. He stopped and spun around with his eyes wide.

“What’s wrong, Little Hawk?” Seamus asked, his brow furrowing in anticipation of the ominous pronouncement his roommate’s expression indicated was imminent.

“The moon,” David uttered with deliberation.

Seamus blinked at him without comprehension. “What about it?”

Jenny gasped, and locked eyes with David, as the implication of his statement sank in. “You don’t think…” she muttered. She looked at Seamus.

He arched his brow at her. “What?” he asked. He turned to David when she gave no reply.

Little Hawk glanced at Jenny’s teammates, sitting at a table by the window. They seemed focused on their own quiet conversation. “Last night, was the first night of the first quarter moon,” he replied in a tense whisper.

The significance of this fact was not lost on Seamus. “Oh, man; you don’t think he turned again, do ya?” he asked under his breath.

David shrugged and kept his voice low. “I don’t know. There’s been a lot of first quarter moons since we broke the curse, and he hasn’t changed. But I suppose if the curse did something to him, genetically, it might have come back.”

“You better call him quick, Little Hawk. It’s late afternoon here, but there’s still plenty of day left in New Mexico. Maybe you can talk him into chaining himself up in his barn again, if he needs to. Or at least ask James and the chief to check in on him,” Seamus suggested.

“That’s a great idea,” David agreed. “May I borrow your phone, Jen?” He held his hand out to her.

“Of course you could,” she said, turning the device so he could see its lack of response when she pressed a button on its side. “But I killed the battery trying to get ahold of you two all day.” 

“Sorry about that,” David replied. “I’ll see you guys back at the room.”

“Wait, we’ll come with you,” Jenny said. “If Billy has relapsed, he’s going to need the support of all his friends to get through it.” She turned to Seamus. “Come on, Shay, get that thing unhooked; our friend may need us.”

    ***

David breathed a sigh of relief when Billy assured him the curse of El Chupacabra had not returned to haunt him. “Man, you don’t know how freaked out you had us,” he told his friend.

Billy gave an apologetic chuckle. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you guys, but I didn’t know if I should tell Jenny what was going on before I talked to you, since it’s about your grandpa.”

David’s eyes clouded. “My grandfather? What’s wrong with Grandfather?” A prolonged silence answered his query. “Billy, you still there?” he prompted.

“Yeah, I’m here, David,” his friend replied.

“So, what’s going on?” David pressed.

“Well, if your parents haven’t said anything to you, maybe nothing,” Billy replied with hesitance.

“Quit hemming and hawing, Billy, just tell me what’s wrong with Grandfather.”

“You remember how I was made a member of the tribe?” Billy started.

 “Sure,” David recalled, “Chief Rising Moon and the Tribal Council thought it was a well-earned reward, since you worked so hard to keep El Chupacabra from killing our animals, and for killing the werewolf… even though he turned out to be a member of the tribe. You saved a lot of lives, Billy.”

“That’s kind of ya to say, but I just did what anybody in that situation would’ve done,” Billy muttered. “Anyway, I’ve been working around the reservation ever since,” he continued. “I pull a shift or two at the gas station once in a while, do odd jobs, run errands… that sorta stuff.”

“That’s great,” David interjected.

“Yeah, it doesn’t pay much, but it feels good helping out. Anyway, last weekend me and a couple of guys were painting the Tribal Council Hall; the chief said he wanted to brighten up the place. We had just finished the auditorium, and were cleaning up for the day, when we heard a commotion outside. We went to see what was going on, and your grandfather was yelling at one of the patients from the clinic.”

David’s eyes widened. “Wait a minute, Grandfather was yelling at someone?” He looked at Seamus and Jenny in disbelief.

“Yeah, I couldn’t believe it either. I don’t know what the guy did to piss off your grandpa, but the shaman told him he’d better leave, or he’d be sorry.”

“That does seem out of character for Grandfather, but I guess even he has his bad days. So why did you feel it was so important to tell me?” David inquired.

“Because it happened again, today, and this time I saw something in your grandpa’s eyes I’ve never seen before.”

“What?” David asked.

“The same feeling I had when El Chupacabra challenged the werewolf on the roof of the craft store: rage. And I swear, if your grandpa had his staff handy, he would’ve hit the guy with it.”

“That doesn’t sound like Grandfather at all,” David mumbled.

“Exactly. That’s why I thought you should know. I think you need to call him, or at least your parents.”

“I will. Thanks, Billy.”

“No problem, Little Hawk. See ya later.”

David ended the call and turned to his friends; their puzzled expressions echoed the feeling in his heart. “I’ll see you guys in a bit,” he said, “I gotta take a walk.”

“Want us to come with you?” Jenny asked.

David shook his head, as he tied his medicine bag to his belt and grabbed his shaman’s staff from his closet. “Not this time.”

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